I haven’t posted for a long time. I haven’t had the heart for it. We had a three-week pause in April to stay away from crowded museums and beaches during the school holidays, and just as we were plotting a return to days out, our youngest cat was killed on the road. Just like her brother, except that she did not like going near the road. Something must have scared her, and we’ll never know what. We’re just grateful to a passing motorist who turned and came back to see whether the cat lying still by the side of the road was alive and who would be looking for her. There are some good people in this world.
So all that greets us on our return home now are the two elderly cats. Their affection is enough, but I still hope there’ll be other cats in our future, and I hope one will be a sparky tortie like Genie.
I’m still writing. I took part in the last Shallow Creek competition, which is still in the judging stage (so not saying a word about what it was about yet, apart from being creepy horror – ticking off the challenge given to me by a friend in December to write a horror story). I put in an entry for Globe Soup’s seven day challenge in May – write a short story up to 2,000 words long on the theme stated, in the genre randomly assigned to you. I saw I had Historical as my genre – having just finished writing a Jane Austen themed story for another competition my thoughts went straight to the early 19th century.
If you ignore the pampered daughters of gentlemen that Jane Austen wrote so much about, the early 1800’s packed in a lot of history. I started looking up the small idea I had and was drawn into a history I thought I knew and clearly didn’t. Again, the research threatened to take me over – every time I chased up a source on what the lives of those in trade would have been like at that time, I found another reference to fact that I would never be able to pass as fiction.
Add to that an entry to a memoir competition, and by the end of May I was face down and not wanting to write anything. I was shot in the heart about the sudden death of our youngest cat and felt that there was not much to look forward to.
Luckily, our local cattery owner had asked the village via FaceBook in February whether we should have a village party for the Queen’s Platinum Jubilee in June. There are people who like the idea, and people who make it happen. We’re blessed in having a group of people who were determined to make it happen, and this Saturday we had a huge party for the whole village and anyone close enough to drop in. The weather did us all a big favour, and the sun shone from the moment the gates opened to the moment we walked home knackered after helping to pack away the stalls in the evening. I missed the Tug o’War, but I suspect there’s some sore muscles in the village today.
I won’t post photos in case I put up images of people laughing in the sunshine who told their boss they couldn’t work ‘cos they were ill, but the local grand house opened its doors and we filled their lawn with picnicking people. It’s cheered me up, set me back on the road to being human again. I went out to my greenhouse and polytunnel and for the first time in weeks felt there was something good to look forward to. Slugs, stay away from my tender plants.
Julia Chalkley 