Dear Blog Readers

Dear Blog readers and especially those of you who leave me your lovely comments.

I seem to be experiencing a pile of spam in my Blog, and I’m really not sure why now.

So if I do not reply to your comment and you happen to be a real person then I apologize wholeheartedly as I’m just experiencing a level of uncertainty as to what to do about this spam, as I’ve not had spam on my Blog before.

However, I did wonder if this delightful spam *hint of sarcasm here* has arrived because I changed the settings on my blog to satisfy A to Z blogging challenge?

Perhaps some of you out in cyber space who know more about this technical issue could enlighten me… Would be muchly grateful ;-)

Hope you’re all having a fabulous weekend as I am about to settle down to write another short piece that I may share here later…

Childrens Parade

Last weekend, Saturday, there was Children’s day, a celebration day and down in blustery Worthing the local schools held their kid’s parade. Drums were beaten to a great rhythm, voices were raised in song, whistles were blown loudly and in general all the kids in the procession appeared to love dressing up in costumes and carry amazing effigies ably assisted by willing adults. I especially liked the big green Dragon.

The wind blew, the sun shone and the parade snaked its way around the town and bought the traffic to as a standstill as the kids & papier-mâché cartoons were shepherded across the main seafront road into the heart of the pedestrianized shopping street. You’ll have to take my word for it as sadly I don’t take picture these days of other peoples children as it seems to be not the politically correct thing to do.

Later on during the day Worthing hosted a jubilee celebration tea party along the length of the seafront promenade and residents braved the onshore breeze and had tea by the sea. They looked happy enough but it was jolly breezy. The bunting flapped in the breeze. The tablecloths had to be anchored in place with pebbles and baskets.

By the time I left that evening the sea was raging, a thick brown frothy mass, which reminded me that during half term, I took my nieces to the seaside. The wind was blowing a gale force wind that day too.

The foaming mass crashed onto the shoreline. The promenade was almost deserted. Cyclists need not pedal with the wind at their backs; they were ably assisted and blown along.

And my Sarah wanted to take a beach towel with her just incase she could lie on the sand! But as you will see from the photo below, lying down wasn’t possible but we loved every second of out brisk afternoon walk, propelled along to the nearest café for a reviving hot chocolate!

The funny thing about Dads

Today is Fathers days. Funny thing but my dad never used to like having a fuss on this day, he thought it was a whole load of stuff and nonsense, just a commercial gimmick. It’s only today that I wish I had made more of a fuss of him as I can’t do this now. I’m sure I’m not alone in thinking this and that there are many others on FB and here in the ‘Blog-o-sphere’ that wish they could share one more day with their dads!



I know how lucky I was to have spent so much time with him, more than most as I was the eldest. He had seven grandchildren and now number eight will have to learn about this lovely man from our collective stories because I have lots of photos of him with his grandchildren. How they loved being encouraged to build and help him mend things and follow him pottering about in the garden.

Miss you loads Dad.

Happiness is...

Lat year I wrote about people & situations that bought me Joy.

Gethen brings me Joy. I’d like to introduce you to this adorable little boy who is the youngest member of my family, and my newest nephew. At just 17 weeks he’s a big hit with his rather dotty Aunt.

He is truly the happiest baby I’ve met in a long while and his father assures me that each time I pick Gethen up, I’m the only person who makes his son gurgle and babble and laugh with so much delight.

Of course I’m not sure this is actually true however, before Gethen grows much bigger I should like to capture his happiness on a video whilst I pull faces and make strange uninhibited noises (off camera) that normally wouldn’t be shared in public.

Because it is a great joy to hear his contented giggle.

He is great exercise, as lifting him frequently should do wonders for my bingo wings! And the best part of this deal is that I get the good bits and can hand him back just as soon as my arms start to ache…

Molly

I’ve decided to go back to basics and share ‘things’ that make me smile, and bring joy.

Last week I looked after Molly, a seven week old kitten. She was adorable, so cute & cuddly. Except, she was learning to be an attack cat!! I have the scars to prove it! She may have an identity crisis soon as she thought she was an ankle snapper!

I would be reading a book or watching the telly when suddenly pincer sharp fangs bit my ankle. I yowled in pain. Then she would run away and shin up the curtains. Glad they weren’t my curtains! I can still hear the fabric scagging…

She liked to sleep between my thighs; I know how that sounds a bit peculiar however it did make getting up off the sofa much harder for me than normal as I tried not to disturb her!

She also tried to read magazines with me simultaneously, as a shared activity…if only I could have taken photos. It was hard enough reading with the giggles.




Trying to teach her to drink from the tap!

Getting back on the hobby horse...

Waving… not drowning in rejection notes.

If you thought I’d been a bit quiet, well quieter than usual lately, you would have been correct in your assumption.

I took a little time out to reflect on which direction I’m headed with my writing. And I’ve come to a conclusion:

I need to change the way I think about my writing and the platforms I submit my work too. Around a month ago I received a rejection note. A critique that took me by surprise and knocked me off my perch. In fact it sent me spinning off my axis a bit. What’s worse is that I didn’t take my own advice on how to survive ‘rejection notes’ which I wrote more than a year ago.

I was caught off guard and I took the harsh rejection note comments, personally. Foolish really, when I come to reflect on the matter.

Luckily I’ve come into land now and realised something important: I have to change the way I react to a ‘harsh critique.’ And moving forward from this incident I have to accept a ‘critique’ however it is delivered is a ‘tool’ and not a teachers report. And it should not matter if it’s been delivered by a grammarian.

Given that I already knew, that what I write, and the writer’s voice I use, will not satisfy all editors or readers. I simply forgot this detail when my enthusiasm and expectation turned sour.

I needed the wake up call because until that email the absolute majority of rejections I had received have been less abrasive, and more amenable to my disposition. This one wasn’t and I ended up asking for help. I approached a couple of writer friends, people whom I trust. These lovely writers came to my aid, reviewed my story and restored my faith in human nature. I am grateful and know that I am extraordinarily lucky to know these people.

I may not be the best writer… yet!

I may not have won any writers’ awards…yet.

But I enjoy writing. I love observing people. I love writing about what makes people tick, what jars and dials up emotions in any type of relationship. So I’ll continue to write and keep the unsympathetic rejection note on a big spike.

Because who knows what’s round the next corner… I mean, not all marriages are made in heaven… who thought Waterstone’s would form an alliance to sell Amazon Kindles!