Five Sentence Fiction - Awkward

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Linking up with Lillie McFerrin for five sentence fiction - click on the button above to read the other entries.

What it’s all about: Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. Each week Lillie will post a one word inspiration, then anyone wishing to participate will write a five sentence story based on the prompt word. The word does not have to appear in your five sentences, just use it for direction.

This week: AWKWARD




Waking slowly, unfamiliar shadows dappling her face, her body slick with sweat, limbs heavy in a long forgotten yet familiar way.

Cautiously stretching her legs she eased them gently from beneath the covers feeling for the polished boards under her feet.

As she pushed with the palms of her hands sliding into a sitting position her reflection was caught in the mirror facing the bed.

A tableau captured in a moment of time, hair damp and dishevelled, make up smudged beneath her eyes and beside her, his breath a whisper in the silence, a faint smile curving his lips, lashed tipped with gold, heatbreakingly beautiful, heatbreakingly wrong.

She turned away, her eyes shining with unfallen tears as the heavy scent of regret stole across the room.

I Really Want A Linen Press

Ok, at this point I should really confess that I'm not entirely sure WHAT a linen press is but that doesn't stop me wanting one!

Of course, along with the linen press I'd like a French farm house complete with red bricked, walled vegetable garden and a donkey in the orchard ...

Failing that, I'd quite like an airing cupboard.  I never really appreciated how lovely it was to have a cupboard full of warm, sweet smelling towels and sheets until I got my combi boiler.  I might have hot water on tap these days  but is it really such a great substitute for a tank full of hot water that you can warm your PJ's on in the winter?

I woke up to brilliant blue skies and warm September sunshine this morning and decided that as my washing machine is still f*cked I would hand wash some bedding ....

I have some really stupid ideas!  Do you have any idea how hard it is to wring out sheets and duvet covers by hand?  I hope not and let me tell you, you really don't want to know.  The bloody things will probably take 3 days to dry and that's if it doesn't sodding rain!

It's not like I even HAD to do them by hand.  SD offered to take a load over to the farm this evening and run them through for me but it SEEMED like a good idea at the time.

They do smell nice though and it might save me watering the flowerbed under the washing line.  Hopefully the plants wont object to Ariel flavoured water.

Would it surprise you if I said I'm not really sure where this post is going ...

'No really!' I hear you gasp ....  (Or maybe not ;)

It was going to be about how wanting things (even when you're not really sure what they are) can actually blind you to the things that you do have.

It could have been a 'grateful' post and I could have told you that while I may not have a washing machine right now I'm grateful that I'm able to wash by hand and that I have a garden I can dry it in but hang on ....

I've never really been good at the grateful posts.  Id rather lie on the floor drumming my heels at the fact that not only did my washing machine blow up but the wheels fell off my bloody Vax the other day!  It doesn't actually fix anything but it does make me feel a bit better!

I am not ungrateful for any of the things I have but right now I'm a little restless.  I want something more.  I'm not talking material things, yep, that WOULD be nice but I'm not that bothered.  I guess what I am talking about is personal fulfilment (ok, I confess yet again to not being entirely sure what that means either ;).

For one reason or another I've been drifting for too long.  I've had the beginings of plans that I haven't seen through and Im frustrated with myself.

I've been reading some of the many RUOK posts.  I've considered writing my own as I did last year but I haven't, and I probably wont because the timing doesn't seem right for me.

Maybe I have everything here that I need right now and I'm just not seeing it.  Maybe I'm investing too much time thinking about the things I think I want to see that what I have is actually worth so much more.

Ok, emo post alert!!!

Now that's REALLY not how this post was designed to turn out, who knew that hand washing a couple of sheets could have that affect on a person?

From now on I'll stick to shocking my neighbours by hanging my (probably far too frivolous) smalls on the line :-)

Not Just A Pretty Face ...

"You are the most useful woman I've ever known"

"Mwmump, murrmp, errgg"  I replied.

SD looked at me with slight confusion and some consternation as my eyes welled up and I sniffed loudly.

"It was meant to be a compliment you know" he said hurriedly, "I mean, you're ok looking and you're funny and clever too and, and ...  stuff"

Spitting the nails out of my mouth and laying the hammer drill down beside the rip saw I waved the spirit level at him.

I sniffed again.  "I'm not upset you prat".  That's possibly one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me!

One of my Grandmothers most damning comments was "she/he is neither use nor ornament".  This was usually levelled at Bonnie Langford as she simpered and danced her way across the telly on a Saturday afternoon.  My Grandmother had little time for people who didn't work hard and pull their weight.  She didn't have much in the way of modern conveniences (well, few people did back then) but her house shone and her cupboards were full of home grown, home made goodies and she still found time to knit the four of us matching (hideous!!!) jumpers each winter as well as being an active member of the mothers union and a sewing circle that helped raise money for the local church.

For most of my life (like most other women) I've been judged on my looks and the fact that Im female.  Maybe judged isn't exactly the right word here.  Maybe it's just that assumptions have been made and mostly I've played along with them because ...  Well, I don't know really, maybe the real truth is that it's suited me too.  I've done the child rearing, the house cleaning, the gardening and stuff (as well as working full or part time outside the house) and I've let men get on with the manly, power tool wielding stuff.

Since my marriage to ex lax ended I've looked at things differently.  I've also looked around my house and thought, "FFS, he really was pretty shite at this DIY stuff".  Now ex lax isn't my favourite person but I do like to give credit where it's due and he did try, and,  if you discount the nail through the pipe that flooded the house, the dodgy electrics in the two way lighting in the dining room, the half finished bathroom and kitchen and the fact that he took a fecking chainsaw to my decking, the boy did good!

BUT!

Anything he can do .... ;-)

Ok, so we all know that I am not a plumber, Im also not an electrician or a roofer, although I have tried my hand at them all with varying (mostly disastrous) result.  But Im a fairly good decorator, Im a bit of a carpenter and Im pretty damned good at making stuff that looks like tatty old crap look good again.

I keep meaning to write 'Battleship Grey on a Budget" aka 'the redecorating of Miss Mac room' and I will just as soon as Ive been in there with a JCB and industrial strength bin bags to restore it's former beauty so I can take some pics.

Talking of Miss Mac, I worry about that girl.  She's too funny and smart by half but she's got some shocking habits.

Glancing through the window on my way in from the garden the other day I spotted her looking at something on the table.  I couldn't see what it was so I waited.  She stood up and walked to the other sofa where there is one solitary cushion.  I keep the cushion (and I hate cushions with a passion!) for SD as for some god forsaken reason he finds my lovely, squishy, bedded in leather sofas give him back ache if he doesn't tuck one behind him.  Anyway, Miss Mac picked up the cushion and then carefully, using one edged, wiped up the juice she had spilled on my coffee table before replacing it on the sofa and sitting down again! 

Later that day I'd left her eating her tea (can't remember what it was but it involved gravy).  As I walked back into the room I caught her LICKING HER PLATE!!!  She didn't see me at first (her face being covered in plate).  As she lowered it, a dribble of gravy running down her chin she contemplated my silent horror before smiling and saying 'some man's going to be really lucky to get me isn't he Mum?'

Anyway, I'm rambling a bit now.  The point of this post was that while SD's compliment might not on the surface of things (or even if you dig pretty deep ;) have been romantic, it meant as much and even more than many of the hundreds of compliments I've received based on how I look etc because it's enduring, it's looking past the surface, it's appreciating ME, the real me.

Don't get me wrong, I love compliments in all shapes and forms and I am very much a girly girl so of course I love to be told that Im beautiful but behind all that there's an electric sander, paint brush wielding force at work who can put up a fence, pimp your shed (pics soon ;) and help take a motorbike to pieces.

Not everybody notices THAT me.

Five Sentence Fiction - Memories

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What it’s all about: Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. Each week I will post a one word inspiration, then anyone wishing to participate will write a five sentence story based on the prompt word. The word does not have to appear in your five sentences, just use it for direction.

This week: MEMORIES

It's such a long time since I've written any fiction (thank you Car for the gentle nudge :).  The obvious starting point for me seems to go back to the story I know.

Linking up with Lillie at Lillie McFerrin Writes.

As her hand smoothed the pale blond wood, the scent of bees wax hung heavy in the air.

Her fingers trailed across the cool pewter of the handles as she counted, one, two, three, and paused ....

Sliding the drawer open the box was revealed, untouched but often thought of since it was placed there so long ago.

Inside her Elpis, her spirit of hope, the one remaining thing from that fateful day when Pandoras box was opened, it's contents spilled scattering in the breeze of her confusion, swirling in the mist of her pain.

All but hope had eluded her, tarnished by time  and neglect, muted colours encased in velvet it lay waiting for her to believe again.

They didn't belong together.

In a room full of people a stranger would never have matched them as a pair.  Two halves of different stories, different outlooks, different perspective, different, and yet ...

As a whole they made sense, they fitted.  Together they were complete

Fetch Me A Tiara!! (aka - a princess moment)

Today I could write any one of a million posts - ok, maybe not a million, but hundreds, well, perhaps 47 ... hmmm, 6 ...

I don't know.  It's such a long time since I've blogged, I mean properly blogged.  There's been the odd post, a couple of photos, but nothing much really for what seems like the longest time and I don't know why.  Stuff happens, THINGS happen.  I have ideas, I have words, snippets, pictures in my head.  The beginings of posts but they just drift away from me.

I haven't lost my love of writing.  I haven't lost my love of reading your posts.  Sometimes I read them and click to comment and just sit there waiting for the words to come. The thoughts that filled my head when I was reading it just turn to vapour and I can't quite grasp them.

So what's going on?

The truth is I don't know. I've lost touch a little.  I feel a bit like the kid at school outside the circle, looking in, watching everyone else having fun.  Wanting to be a part of it but not knowing how.

The difference is that it's of my own making.  I've stepped outside of the circle.  When I write a post a few friendly hands reach out to pull me back in, I smile and look down at my feet but I don't take that step forward.

I see old friends making new friends and new people joining groups that I used to be a part of and I know that it's only me stopping myself being a part of that and I can't quite work out why I am.

It's such a beautiful day today.  The sun's shining, there isn't a cloud in the sky.  I sat in the garden earlier drinking coffee surrounded by animals.  Tillys kittens have all gone to new homes and I have temporarily taken on two adorable black kittens from the farm in order to get them used to being handled before re homing them.  I took them into the garden for the first time since they arrived last weekend and they made a beeline for my tub decimated by Tillys kittens, curling up amongst the lobelia, soaking up the warmth of the sun.  Gus sat by my feet and Tilly curled up on the decking next to me.  Even Bear rubbed against my legs for a moment before disappearing over the fence into next doors garden.

I've been BUSY.  I've been doing STUFF.  THINGS have happened.  Silly, stupid, fun stuff.  I've partied hard, I've been to the beach, I've gardened, cooked, decorated, flirted, laughed.  I've carbooted, been on holiday, watched the sun rise and set over the sea.  I've swum, I've climbed cliffs, I've stood on a tiny bridge and watched the waves crash on the rocks below me while the spray misted my face leaving my skin dusted with salt.

I've lain awake in my bed thinking about all of these things and wondering how it's possible they don't seem to add up to contentment ...

I've never suffered from the princess syndrome.  Being one of four teaches you pretty early on in life that you aren't the centre of the universe and that's ok.  I'm not a demanding sort of person, simple things make me happy.  Being with the people I love.  Sharing my life with people who care about me.  Surrounding myself with my friends.  Taking time out by myself.  So WTF is wrong with me?  What is it that's blocking that feeling of contentment?

Truth be told, some pretty horrible stuff has happened over the last few years and the ramifications echo on in the background and possibly always will.  I sometimes wonder if I could or should blog about them, would that help?  Maybe ....  It wouldn't change anything, it can't turn back time, it probably wouldn't make any difference at all.

I want my enthusiasm back.  I want to wake up with that feeling that I can't wait to put down in words (fact and fiction) the things that I see, the things that happen, the stupid stuff I say and do (it's still all going on) and I think ..  WHAT, what it it that's stopping me?

And that's the thing I don't seem to have the answer to.

I could write a great post about my washing machine blowing up on Monday and no, that's not an exaggeration, the bloody thing literally blew up. Think loud banging noises and lots of smoke!  My initial reaction was, 'damn, wish I'd got a photo of that' as I opened the door and was enveloped in a cloud of acrid black smoke which left the house stinking of burning rubber for two days.  The sequel to 'My Shitty House Strikes Again' maybe and seriously, if you'd seen Miss Mac and I standing there wondering if the bloody thing was about to actually explode taking us with it you probably would have laughed.  And then it hit me, I have no fucking washing machine now.

Great!

I can live without my dishwasher, actually, I quite like washing up.  I can live without the tumble dryer, Id rather watch it blowing on the line or have it filling the house with the smell of fresh linen as it drys on the clothes horse (over the banisters, radiators, hanging on the backs of doors and every other available space you could possibly hang wet clothes to dry).  But how the hell am I going to cope without a washing machine?

When big D was a baby I lived in the middle of nowhere.  A tiny cottage high up in the Quantock hills.  It was stunning. We had a huge garden with fruit trees and a view down the valley to the sea and I had no washing machine.  I used to wash his little baby clothes by hand and peg them out on the line.  Every couple of weeks we would go to the laundrette and wash the bedding, towels ect.  It was tough at times but it was ok, I was happy, enthusiastic and life was good.

Big D is now 28, planning his wedding next year to the lovely L and here I am back to square one without a bloody washing machine and what was ok then is NOT ok now so Im pissed off!

Of course I know I'll get it sorted, I'll work something out (and if you're thinking why don't I just go out and buy a new one, well, finances dictate otherwise just at the moment I'm afraid).  It's not the biggest deal in the world, I know that, like I said, the sun's shining, I've hand washed all the small stuff and it's drying as I type.  It wasn't hard and it'll be dry by lunchtime. There's a laundrette just down the road, or, failing that, I have numerous friends who would happily let me run a few things through their washing machine until I get this sorted.

So, it's time to get over myself, stop feeling sorry for myself because, lets face it, in the grand scheme of things, it's not really so bad is it?

Funnily enough, this is yet again NOT the post I sat down to write, I'll actually need to re read it to know what I've actually said.  I was going to either give you the 'funny' version of the washing machine or another instalment of my childhood (the village fete edition, it's hilarious ;) .  Failing that I've been dying to tell you all about my trip to Cornwall, it was FANTASTIC and I got some great photos, and I will, just felt the need for a little moan and a bitch and now I've got that out of my system I'm off out into the sunshine to sand down my shed ready for painting while the weather is still good.

If you've made it this far down the page thank you, I feel MUCH better now :-).

Silent Sunday