Sunday, 22 April 2012

Catching Up

Hello there dear readers, if , in fact, any of you are still around ! I'm afraid I have neglected my blog dreadfully recently, all my good intentions felled in one swoop by the dreaded 'house move' !!

Those of you who have been following for some time will be aware of my daughters impending divorce and the sale of the house. This meant that I would have to move as I currently reside in a 'Granny flat' at my daughters home.

It was decided that we would all go our separate ways and , as you can imagine, the logistics of such a move have been rather difficult to arrange. Urgency crept into the equation when the house sold extremely quickly and I was in danger of becoming homeless, of flinging myself on the charity and  'kindness of strangers' , but luckily OH and I found a place in a charming little village in East Yorkshire, an area with which we are very familiar.

And so it began, the packing , the dreaded packing ! I cannot believe how much 'stuff' I have accumulated ! Stuff that seems essential, that seems impossible to discard, impossible to live without ! However, the existence of such 'stuff' is brought severely into question when I am faced with sorting it and packing it and then finding room to store the boxes.. I write this, surrounded by full boxes and packing cases and the thing is ............... I can't really see where its all come from !  There  seems to be an awful lot still to pack !

I haven't even started on my clothes. OH did his a couple of days ago, managing to fill two black bags for the Charity shops in the process. Now his wardrobe and drawers contain only that which he will need for the next few days.  I have five wardrobes, twelve drawers and various boxes under beds and in cupboards, all containing clothes that hardly see the light of day but cannot be discarded ............. I may need them someday.
Doesn't everyone need over forty jackets  ? And I dare not count my skirts. Hat boxes sit precariously on tops of cupboards and as for my handbags ........................... I could re-stock Selfridges !

Yes, I suppose you could say that I have been a conspicuous consumer, but it has all been accumulated over many years and is all good quality and I can remember the purchase of almost all the items, they all hold memories.

But, I have only mentioned my personal 'stuff'.  I also have had to sort through a veritable 'library' of books and me, being me , there is the danger of discovering a long lost 'treasure' , beginning to read the first chapter and then suddenly realising, hours later, that it is dinner time and nothing has been done !

And so dear readers, I am now left with very little time and a mountain still to climb. We are down to just a couple of plates, cups, pans etc. in the kitchen . Spare towels, bed-linen , cushions and such are all packed. The spare bed has been stripped and dismantled and now the room resembles a warehouse, with packed containers piled high. My shed has been emptied of my art equipment and my easel leans morosely against the wall. and you can, I am sure, understand why I have been AWOL from Blogger.

I am about to embark on a new chapter of my life and will keep you all posted of my progress . Hopefully, once I am settled, I will be back with my silly stories. But now I must go into my dressing room and try to work my way through a life time of clothes ...................... I wonder if I should phone the Arts Council and ask if I can get funding to start a sort of  Museum, there must be quite a few of you out there with far too much clothing and a dread of throwing it away !!

Wednesday, 4 April 2012

The 16.45 to Westby.

This blog post is also published on Tearose Blog.

Light as a feather, she made her way through the crowded carriages, searching; gazing into each face, looking at every passenger; he must be here somewhere.
The train was packed with commuters, shoppers, day-trippers and holiday makers. No-one moved out of her way and she cursed quietly to herself as she almost fell over a student who was sitting on his back-pack, in the middle of the aisle. Claire wrinkled her pretty nose in disgust,  the guy obviously needed to bathe more often, but he sat there , fiddling with a loose molar, totally oblivious to her presence.
Some little boy in a Western outfit, complete with toy gun and stetson, dropped the orange he was peeling and Claire watched as it rolled under the dustier of the two seats next to her. She bent to retrieve it , but a chap grabbed it and, smiling ruefully, handed it back to the lad, who pouted and threw it, ungratefully, to the floor. Then Claire observed him methodically kick the facia on the next seat, while his Mother continued reading her 'chick-lit'.
Claire pushed on, anxiously searching; he must be on this train, he always caught the 16.45, where was he ?
Carriage after carriage was searched and she became tearful and distraught. Trying to catch her breath, she sat down next to a group of business men, all discussing the pros and cons of various tyres. The man nearest to her, dressed in a smart, dark grey, city suit, was extolling the virtues of some special radials that he had recently bought. Claire touched his arm and tried to speak to him, maybe he had seen Mark. But the chap ignored her and carried on with his tale and Claire rose in disappointment.

                                 " Ponces ! " she thought, as she pushed on and on through chattering passengers, " no-one cares !! "

On she went , through carriage after carriage, some people were reading, others listening to iPods and some were beginning to gather belongings, anticipating their destination. Claire felt sick, she had to find him, she had to warn him. Tears poured down her cheeks as she came to the last carriage. She was frantic now, her red hair streaming out behind her, her eyes wild with fear as she scanned the faces of the final few passengers. The train was speeding towards the level crossing. She hadn't found him; she would have to try tomorrow .....................................................................

The 16.45 pulled into Westby, startling a pigeon, who flew up into the roof of the station, flapping in alarm. The passengers alighted and dispersed, other travellers boarded, there was a flurry of activity on the platform and then the train departed and all was calm. The ticket collector chatted casually to a couple who were waiting for their train,

                                " Oh, aye, youse want the next train, me ducks ! That were the 16.45 ", he nodded knowledgeably and sucked on a hollow tooth,  " Aye, unlucky train, that 16.45 ........ Big crash t'other month at the level crossing back there, "  He pointed with a nicotine stained finger,  " A bloke killed ... would've been ok but he were standing up to look for a glimpse o' is girl. But the worst was when't blokes girl-friend threw 'erself  off't platform th'  next day. Distraught, she were.  Threw  'erself  right in front of't 16.45, she did ..........Aye , shame, Claire Hudson were a right bonny lass "

Light as a feather, she made her way through the crowded carriages, searching .....................................

This is this weeks entry for Matt's word game and contains the words ;

          Feather, Molar,  Western, Orange, Bathe, Dustier, Ponces, Radials, Group, Facia, Pigeon.

If you would like to join in just visit Matt's blog page at for rules and links to previous entries.