Issue 2, three years late!

I just had a wonderful conversation with a very good friend about the Paper Cafe Booklazine I created in August 2013.

I had slipped a copy into a handmade book, that was a gift to her and her newly born baby girl. The other copies of the booklazine were given away (in fact I don't have a copy left for myself) and I had almost forgotten that it existed.

Until today, when much to my delight Amy told me that Evelyn always asks her to read the booklazine out loud to her, every page, every word. How sweet.

Amy also said the words 'oh no, not this again, I hope there is another one soon.' Hmm not so sweet but perhaps more powerful, as I came home and immediately started planning issue 2. It's only 3 years late, but Amy it's on it's way I promise!

I'm not saying it's going to be a regular thing, but for now at least Amy and Evelyn will have something new to read.

Someday I'll live in a big house with a big car...

I heard that a man wrote a song for his love, he poured his heart and his soul into the page and the microphone and he sang for her heart, for her hand and for the future. Now what did he say, let me think... it was amazing it was so beautiful and engaging. He sang about her lips, about her eyes and her fingertips. He sang about his heart, about her hair, about her voice and then I swear he sang about her dancing! How he'd take her dancing around the streets of Paris, Rome and how he'd take her home. He wanted to grow old with her and that's the part I liked the best. The part where their love lasted forever and how their love would grow into their family and the home they built and the plants they grew and this tree he would plant to make sure their love lasted for 100 years. 100 year, or more, imagine that. 100 year or more.

How I'd love a man to sing a song like that, to pour his heart onto the page and the microphone and tell me how he loved me.

They say though that the girl was not impressed, she said he was persistent and annoying. She didn't like the song or him and then she sent him away. He disappeared out of sight, away from all of his friends and family. Just for a while. Just for a thought. Just to see what life would be like without her. And guess what he found? It was okay, okay to write a song about a girl and for it not to be heard, not to be sung. It was okay to love someone and for them not to love you back. It was okay. He was okay.

I've Always Hated Extendable Dog Leads

I know hate is a strong emotion and ordinarily I wouldn't use it to describe such a mundane object, but unfortunately this week I had an encounter with an extendable dog lead that I wont forget for a long time.

Reasons I hate extendable dog leads:
1) They allow a dog to build up momentum and pull you over.
2) They break, at weddings, when you're asked to look after someone else's dog!
3) They give dogs a false sense of freedom.
4) They often teach dogs bad habits.
and now 5) The Unforgettable Experience

The Unforgettable Experience

On Friday (13th of course), I was minding my own business doing some vehicle checks on my new work van. It isn't new new, just new to me. I've called her Gypsophilia and I'm trying to look after her as well as I know how. The checks were going well and I was just looking at tyre treads when I noticed a man across the car park struggling with his dog and a wild goose. The dog, whilst on his extendable lead, had run around the goose and managed to get tangled up in its wings.

Now as Wildlife Trust employee, wearing a 'I Love Nature' coat and sitting in a Trust van I felt unable to ignore this predicament. And as I grumbled under my breath 'bloody extendable dog leads' I made my way over to the man and offered some help. The man handed me the dog lead as the clever little pooch managed to wiggle out of it's harness, so desperate was he to get away from the great slapping wings and prodding beak of the bird. So the gent picked up his dog and took him to the car, leaving me stranded in the car park with what appeared to any new onlooker to be a Canadian Goose on a lead! I whispered 'please come back, please come back' as I tried to untangle the bird, getting wing-slapped for my kindness and thank fully the man reappeared, dogless and determined to untangle the mess. He too was slapped away and retreated back to the car for a blanket that was duly ripped from his hands by the stronger than you would think bird. Sensing that all was lost as the giant goose dragged us ever closer to the lake I began to suggest that we contact the RSPB, then all of a sudden there was Cliff. Cliff the saviour, like a Matador he waved the blanket in front of the goose and within seconds 'dink!' the lead hit the ground and the bird waddled away.

In the end it was a bit of an anti-climatic ending to an event that probably lasted only a few minutes. I resisted the urge to suggest to the man that he buy a different type of dog lead and instead asked him to check my break and reverse lights, after which we thanked each other and went our separate ways. I think I'll avoid spending too much time in the work car park from now on.

They are Still Rounding up the Horses

My thoughts are often scrambled,
I have to unwind my mind,
A journey, for meditation.
Nobody knows it but a gate is fallen.

I started from the south,
A reptile with a kick,
And wind my way up east before north.
Reports of an equine escape.

My tangled trail unravels,
Past turbines, cities and seasides,
Into the land of fathers; ancient and beautiful.
Hooves stamp and echo amongst the engines.

I continue past food and mountains,
I stop
Red kites swoop and feed.
Twenty or so are loose, non injured.

Lakes and hedges pass and grab my thoughts,
The sun has moved, rise and release,
Hours pass and I pass ours.
Somewhere the road is closed, the police have arrived.

I have arrived,
Like a neat ball of wool,
Though I feel better.
They are still rounding up the horses.

Challenge no. 7: 100 word flash fiction (to be record)

I was reading in Mslexia magazine about how there are loads of women out there writing and writing but most of what they write never gets submitted into competitions or for publication. I find my problem is slightly different, I love the idea of writing but I hardly ever seem to put it into practice. So I've set myself a challenge for October; I've written down 31 different writing challenges, some easy, some hard and folded them up into a box. Some are as simple as '100 flash fiction' and others 'spend an hour working on that novel you've been meaning to write for two years.'

So far so good, I've stuck to my challenges for a week and I'm quite enjoying the results. I wasn't intending to post any of them, as because as they are quick challenges the results are not very polished, but seeing as it's National Poetry Day I thought I might just share my '100 word flash fiction (to be recorded)' that turned out to read more like a poem...

'On one, stacked black morning, whilst walking Jack-attack,
I came across a shambled shack, deep down in cackling wood.
The Trees were dense down, in the dark and mossy oaked corner,
Above the door was a crooked name and a crow cawked on the roof.
I swear I saw the shadow of a hand, on the window sill,
I backed away into the black stacked morning.
Tip toed away to safety, with Jack-attack,
Packed next to me.'

Wild Life: A Snow White Complex

Two things happened the other day that I wasn’t expecting.

1. I got offered a job as Wildplay Officer for Staffordshire Wildlife Trust
2. We found a ferret in the garage

After my interview a dandelion seed flew in through one of my car windows, it danced around my windscreen for a few seconds and flew straight back out again. I remember thinking maybe it was a sign; maybe I should make a wish.

About half an hour after I got the call offering me the job, we decided to go for a celebratory drive in the MG (it’s not ours we are just babysitting it for a while) and as we opened the garage door Si stood back in shock. ‘What’s that!’

There was a small white animal poking it’s head out from under the car, sniffing the air and totally unafraid. A pet, lost in the maze of gardens in the village. To be honest I was a little afraid, I had a bad hamster when I was younger and just kind of assume small fluffy things are going to bite. But it turned out this little fellow was very friendly and even allowed Si to pick him up.

A couple of inquiries later and satisfied we weren’t going to find his owner quickly (our neighbours said they had seen him a couple of times over the last few months behind their shed) I took him off to the local vets.

As he settled into his cage he rubbed his fluffy head and back into the bedding and I’m sure he smiled as the vet cooed and petted him. She promised to find his owner but she seemed so smitten I wouldn’t be surprised if he was sitting on her sofa with her right now.

Now I’m not saying the two things are linked, I get a job with the Wildlife Trust and suddenly I’m rescuing animals from the garage! However I have been thinking about buying the makeup to make my ‘skin as white as now, my lips as red as blood’ and dying my hair ‘as black as ebony.’ You know so I can be ‘the fairest of them all.'

The Sundew Barmaid

Many years ago a scientist came to live in Cadair Idris to explore the plants and wild life living in the area. He had been warned that strange things happened in the Welsh hills and that some people never returned. He ignored the warnings and booked a room at a local Inn. As an outsider nobody was nice to the scientist except for one of the barmaids. This barmaid was beautiful with long red hair, she was very quiet but she always smiled when she delivered his food. She wasn’t normally the sort of girl he would have fallen for but he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Everyday the scientist went walking in The Blanket Bog, this is an area on the gentler slopes of Cadair Idris, and was named so because of its wet and acidic terrain that was low in nutrients and had little to offer plants. The scientist was so distracted by the beautiful barmaid that he didn’t see any plants, he just thought of her all day long.

One day when he returned back from a wet and miserable day in the bog he found a plant specimen outside his door. It had no note but as the barmaid was the only person to ask him about his work he guessed it was from her. The plant had red hairy leaves that always seemed to be crying, it always had dew droplets hanging from its spiky hair and so the scientist called it Sundew. He noticed that the dew drops still gathered even though the plant was inside and realized that it wasn’t dew at all, the plant was indeed crying, droplets were produced by the plant, but why? The crying plant reminded him of the beautiful barmaid and how sad he was that he couldn’t tell her how he felt. The scientist stared longingly at the Sundew plant into the night and watched the flies dance around in the fading light. He saw a fly get caught in one of the plants tears and watched in amazement as the fly struggled but could not get free, he was stunned to see the leaf of the plant begin to curl, trapping the fly inside. Over the next few days he saw the same act over and over again as the carnivorous plant ate fly after fly.

On his next walk he spotted the Sundew growing in the Blanket Bog, every time it reminded him of the barmaid. As he stood up from examining one plant he saw a figure walking in the distance. At first glance he thought it was the young barmaid, he shouted and ran towards the figure that seemed to try and run away but stumbled and fell. As he reached the person he noticed that it was an old lady with straggled red and grey hair and who looked very familiar, the woman's bag was full of the Sundew plant. He escorted her home and she invited him in for a cup of tea as a thank you, as he entered her house he noticed an array of Sundew plants in her home, he also saw hundreds of vials of liquid. When he excused himself to use the toilet he saw lots of vials at her dressing table and next to the bath. He had a strange thought and suddenly couldn’t get the image of the Sundew plant wrapping their leaves around the flies out of his head. He returned downstairs and tried to make excuses to leave but the lady kept on thinking of reasons for him to stay and help. At one point she left him alone and he went to open the front door but it was locked, he heard her coming back downstairs and was shocked to see not an old lady but the young red haired barmaid.

Like many men that visit Cadair Idris the scientist was never seen again and people say when they are walking in the Blanket Bog on Cadair Idris they see an old lady collecting Sundew in her bag. Some say she walks the roads of the local town selling vials of what she claims is the elixir of youth.