I haven’t written in a while…

… though I will undoubtedly be using this medium to assist with my Open University writing course. I tend to have a habit of writing more than I should! Hence needing my blog to post my latest exercise. Perhaps you can all comment on the quality of the writing too??

 

IMAGINING WRITING SPACES:

OK, I know it doesn’t really address the title of the assignment but this is what I have written in response.

Scene that is most suited to me:

Autumnal light shone blazingly through the large panes of glass that lined one wall of the room. The brightness was magnified by the white painted walls and the gleam from the chrome of the chairs. There was a hushed sigh of reverence from the other students in the library as Susan sat with head resting on hand, gazing sidelong out of the window. The screen of her laptop glowed as the curser flashed on a blank Word document. She knew she should have been writing. She had been sitting in her favourite room for half an hour now after getting up early, just to enjoy what was left of the morning sun. However, her eyes had wandered to the Sycamore Tree that burned red outside. Its leaves drifted to the road below burnishing the pavements. She had been watching a couple of Blue Tits flit about the boughs of the tree, pecking at the blackened bark before calling their alarm as a Magpie flew by.

Susan blinked and turned to look into the room she sat in. She started when she saw a pair of dark eyes peer over the rim of a cup at her. She subconsciously sniffed at the air and the comforting smell of roasted coffee reached her olfactory. Those eyes looked at her accusingly, knowing she should be writing. They made her feel very much like the day she had been caught dancing in her bedroom by her uncle. She couldn’t remember what he had said, but whatever it was it made her feel like she had been caught doing something wrong and something inside of her recoiled.

The owner of those eyes lowered the cup of steaming coffee revealing a handsome face with full lips and square jaw. Susan smiled shyly in reply. She knew he should have been working too instead of sneakily peaking at her. She watched as he picked up a paperback with something to do with tort written on the front and pretended like he was deep in thought. Susan turned to look at her computer screen and smirked. She began typing.

‘It was in the library that she first noticed him…’

People Should Visit these Places More Often!

With David taking the last two days off this week to join me in a nice break from work. We took to visiting some old sights of Liverpool.

I know with being a resident of Liverpool it sounds like I am blowing ‘my’ own city’s trumpet, but there are some good places to visit in Liverpool! Some places you may not even think would be nestled inside an urban conurbation!

One such place is Croxteth Hall and Country Park. It was always a staple place to visit for schools in the region when I was growing up. I remember visiting as a child but couldn’t remember much about the hall! It only cost David and I £14 in total to visit the hall (we were the only ones there!), the walled garden and farm. That’s cheap compared to other country homes!

The Hall itself has about 20 rooms open to the public. I presume that the other 100+ are left for public functions. They do cater for weddings! I was hoping to see a ball room, but the closest to this was the dining room!

Croxteth Hall dining room

Croxteth Hall dining room

David and I spent a leisurely half an hour walking from room to room, looking at the set displays of Kitchen and living quarters of the once residents, the Molyneux family. There was no tour guide or other visitors. It was lovely and peaceful. I had a riot on the elegant stairs. If only I had brought my evening gown!

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I had wanted to visit Croxteth Hall as I had been writing my ‘Jane Austen-esque’ novel… though at present it has gone by the by! However on a glorious ‘heatwave’ day, I thought where better to visit than a stately home with glorious grounds, where we could picnic under a blue sky!

The walled garden was awash with colour! Bees and butterflies milled about lazily and crops of artichoke and fruit graced wooden arches. The farm would appeal to families with small children. They had an array of cattle. David liked the Clydesdale horses.

David and Clydesdale Horse

David and Clydesdale Horse

We enjoyed a happy couple of hours at Croxteth. In the afternoon, David had an idea to take his Mum, Sister and Sister in Law with us to visit Liverpool’s Festival Gardens, made famous in the 1980’s! Now the site has been given over to the people of Liverpool to enjoy as a park! Though when we arrived there were only a handful of cars. Maybe due to the schools not ‘out for summer’ yet?

Bilgen, David’s Sister in Law commented that the park did not look like it was in a city! And it doesn’t with the iconic Japanese Pagodas set against a deep azure sky! Dragonflies skittered over the ponds and a shaded woodland walk was filled with the fluttering of butterfly wings!

I hope the Merseyside people get to enjoy these beautiful places that are on their doorstep! I know I did! 🙂

 

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Interview Nerves.

An extract from ‘After Plato’.

Charlotte stood buttoning up her blouse as her reflection smiled back at her. She shrugged on a grey jacket that matched her knee length skirt. She remembered the lines in the typed letter that she had received. ‘We thank you for your application and would like to invite you to an interview.’ Charlotte had stood frozen to the spot as she read the letter out to Harry after the postman had delivered it a week ago today.

‘Do you think they will like me?’ Charlotte asked, stroking down the creases of her skirt.

‘I don’t see why not, you know your playwrights, you would probably be more useful in the press office than the box,’ Harry replied. He was sitting on the edge of the bed watching Charlotte get ready for her interview at the local theatre.

‘Well it’s a start. I could work up the ranks.’

‘A career woman eh?’ Charlotte giggled as Harry grabbed at her, pulling her onto the bed next to him. He felt her body tremble as she lay in his arms. ‘You don’t have to be nervous. They will adore you, like I do!’

‘Oh Hal, you are sweet,’ Charlotte smiled throwing her arms around his neck and welcoming his soft kisses on her lips, her neck.

‘Just take deep breaths and think what you are going to say before speaking.’

‘I will,’ Charlotte sighed. ‘I’ll think of you when I am in the interview. Your love will carry me through,’ she closed her eyes and held Harry close.

‘Don’t think of me too much or it’ll leave you breathless.’ Charlotte smiled and clung to Harry like he was the sustenance that gave her life meaning.

 

Christine Lucas 2014.

It’s all About the Pheromones!

Recently, I have noticed that the insects have been enjoying the plants in the little ‘garden of Eden’ we have created for them.

Garden of Eden.... on a small scale

Garden of Eden…. on a small scale

When the sun burns down brightly, the visiting bees have a riot! Today I counted at least five bees in amongst the flowers, feeding at one time.

bee on honeysuckle

bee on honeysuckle

We visited Lady Green Garden Centre this May Bank Holiday Monday and I came away with a Phlox and Polemonium! Amongst the display of flowers for purchase there was a bee keeper attending to his hives! 🙂

Back at home, sunbathing in the sunshine before the clouds came. I spotted many bees on the Cat Mint. Amongst the visiting bees there was one I thought had become trapped in the mints foliage and then she popped out with a male on her back!! I was shocked! I did not know bees ‘mated’. I always thought they laid eggs and then the males fertilized them afterwards! What do I know!! You learn something new everyday! 😀 Anyway, the male clung to her for over half an hour. I was fascinated! I took some photos, (as you do!) and then left them to it. She was still foraging amongst the Cat Mint flowers while he was ‘doing his thing!’ lol 😀

Mating Bees!

Mating Bees!

I had my eyes closed enjoying the sunshine, while David was painting the yard floor! Then I opened my eyes and saw coming towards me, the female and her mate! She was buzzing at me and tried to land on my arm! I freaked out! I don’t mind buying plants to feed them, don’t mind them buzzing around the garden and merrily mating, but I do mind when they try to include me in their antics! lol. I am rather ashamed now, but I stood up, screaming as they tried to land on my back! Why come to me? I am no flower!! David came to the rescue and herded them away! I was left shaken and embarrassed for screaming like a girl! I did not want to become The Bee Dancer!

I later found out that the bees may have been Bumblebees. The female a Queen, (or a new Queen). I was sad to read from The British Bee-keepers Association, that the male, a drone, usually died after mating! Poor little chappy! He was far smaller than her!

Poor male and Queen Bumblebee

Poor male and Queen Bumblebee

The whole incident made me think of a poem by Sylvia Plath, about bee keeping. She and her husband Ted Hughes when they lived in Devon had attempted to keep bees. It doesn’t sound like she was that ‘fussed’ with the whole idea!

The Arrival of the Bee Box, by Sylvia Plath. 4th October 1962.

I ordered this, clean wood box

Square as a chair and almost too heavy to lift.

I would say it was the coffin of a midget

Or a square baby

Were there not such a din in it.

 

The box is locked, it is dangerous.

I have to live with it overnight

And I can’t keep away from it.

There are no windows, so I can’t see what is in there.

There is only a little grid, no exit.

 

I put my eye to the grid.

It is dark, dark,

With the swarmy feeling of African hands

Minute and shrunk for export,

Black on black, angrily clambering.

 

How can I let them out?

It is the noise that appalls me most of all,

The unintelligible syllables.

It is like a Roman mob,

Small, taken one by one, but my god, together!

 

I lay my ear to furious Latin.

I am not a Caesar.

I have simply ordered a box of maniacs.

They can be sent back.

They can die, I need feed them nothing, I am the owner.

 

I wonder how hungry they are.

I wonder if they would forget me

If I just undid the locks and stood back and turned into a tree.

There is the laburnum, its blond colonnades,

And the petticoats of the cherry.

 

They might ignore me immediately

In my moon suit and funeral veil.

I am no source of honey

So why should they turn on me?

Tomorrow I will be sweet God, I will set them free.

 

The box is only temporary.

 

‘Amongst the Bluebells.’

You courted me all day long,

And my heart believed your song.

You said I was ‘pretty,’

And I thought you were mightily witty.

 

By the hand you whisked me to a dell,

Where you said ‘I love you’ until I fell.

Around us shimmered a pale hue,

A mass of heads swayed blue.

 

By John William Inchbold,

 

There we lay, just you and I,

As a stream trickled nearby.

Dappled light glistened through the trees,

As we listened to the sound of bees.

 

Sharing a kiss here and there,

Your hands wandered everywhere.

Breast to breast we did embrace,

As I let you untie my lace.

 

Cold air on skin,

Surely this must be a sin?

‘Palm to palm’ do lovers touch,

Oh this really is too much!

 

A lone doe skittered past,

As you held me fast.

I looked into your eyes, wide,

How your love filled me with pride.

 

In ecstasy I cried out your name,

I really should blush with shame.

You made me feel all warm inside,

And your gaze left me nowhere to hide.

 

Afterwards we shared our dreams,

We talked until we saw moonbeams.

Stars shone bright up above,

As we revelled in our love.

 

‘Will you come here again?’ you asked,

In answer, I simply gasped.

‘Will you lie with me amongst the bluebells?’

Yes, as long as nobody tells.

 

Christine Lucas © 2014

Picture by John William Inchbold, British, 1830–1888, Mid-Spring, c. 1856, oil on panel

Broken Bones, New Friends and Anniversaries!

I haven’t written a blog in a while.

Life has been mainly about work and life back home, doing lots of cooking and writing the new novel. 🙂

This week saw the eighth anniversary of the first meeting of David and I… time passes so quickly! For our anniversary David bought two Gouldian Finches (males). I named them Spectrum (Purple and yellow chest) and Aura (white and yellow chest). I love them, though Chocolate and Romeo have not accepted them into the new aviary as yet! Time will tell!

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

For our dinner we ordered in a Saffron curry. We both had a Shahi, but as David had chicken I had the vegetarian option. We are both very full now.

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I have been doing a lot of treadmill exercises since David and I have moved into the new house. Everyday, for 20-30 minutes I have been sweating buckets! I have been eating healthily, lots of salad and I think I have lost weight. My work trousers have indeed become looser. I do not stand on the scales for fear I will revert back to my obsessive teenage years!! (It is so easily done.) Though having the curry tonight (we have not had one in a while) and a nice glass of wine, I am feeling rather swollen lol, and add to the fact that I will not be able to do too much exercise this week, due to me having dislocated/broken my little toe, I fear I will start to put back the pounds I have lost!

Dislocated/broken your toe? I hear you asking! Well it seemed quite innocuous at the time. I was getting ready for bed on a Sunday, it was almost 12 am! I was preparing myself for the working week ahead and since we have a mattress that likes to shift from time to time, I went to shift it back again. This act was fine and the mattress fitted into place and then I went to walk around the bed to my side and *bang!* my foot caught one of David’s shoes under the bed! I smarted at the impact, bent down and looked at my little toe, it seemed queer, out of place. So my instinctual action was to bend it back into place. It clicked, so hopefully it is in its correct alignment! I did not think much at the time, save for the pain and then ‘popping’ it back into place! I hope I have not done any lasting damage? I complained to David and then went to bed with a red, hot and swollen toe! I wanted more comfort! 😦

Monday came too quickly and I had work all day, I had to go otherwise I would’t get paid! The bruising seemed to get worse as time went on! (Sorry for the not so well manicured toes!)

20140304_162432😦 Sadly and licking my wounds. I tottered to work with a bandaged toe. I have had broken toes before so know what it’s like, but it doesn’t make it any easier when you have to walk 10 minutes to the bus stop, fight your way onto the bus and then more walking to the university buildings the lectures are in!

I have managed two days of going to work with a limp but thankfully Wednesday is my day off and I expect to just rest up! I will probably listen to more Hans Zimmer and try and continue some more novel writing! I have written 27,000 words already but most of it is the plan!! I am excited to progress but there is a lot of research and planning to do for some of the scenes, so it will probably be painstakingly slow!

The Day After a Storm…

…often there is no sign of the tempestuousness that came before.

And today was just like that. The sky was a deep azure and the sun shone brilliantly into my bedroom as I reclined under a cosy duvet listening to Hans Zimmer’s Lasiurus on my day off. I had protected this day off work with all my might. My spirit is in much need of a rest.

Last night I sat curled up on the sofa, brow furrowed with worry as I listened to the wind rush violently down my road. Drafts escaped into the house and rattled the doors and the electric lights flickered on and off. Though I think Liverpool got off lightly compared to other parts of the UK.

Amongst all this wildness I was stuck by the writing bug! It had been over two weeks since I had sat down in front of my laptop with a purpose of continuing my new novel. So guiltily, knowing David was bored I monopolised the computer and wrote from 8-11pm!! I wrote a maximum of 2000 words and finished the epilogue even though I have not actually written the main narrative yet!

So today, if I can pull myself away from listening to music, I may carry this momentum and do some more writing…

First Impressions.

The Pig and Whistle was like any other old English pub, full of dark stained wood, hazy lighting and chintz. A thick bank of cigarette smoke hovered over the regulars’ heads, mostly men, their surprised faces momentarily raised from their pints as two young women walked in with a cold blast of air from the outside.

With full wine glasses in hand and slightly tipsy from the alcohol already consumed, Charlotte and Anne stood propping up the bar giggling like children.

Harry had seen Charlotte first. He had seen her as she walked into the crowded pub, young looking and with a worried expression on her face that she never seemed to shift. Her hair was brown and fell in straight strands down her back, but it was her eyes that struck him the most, beautiful dark eyes that when you looked closer were of light grey. He had been sitting at a table with friends, gaily drinking and laughing at some joke or other, he couldn’t remember what about now. Then he noticed Charlotte and her friend, her unremarkable looking friend, all the more unremarkable for she was standing next to Charlotte! Harry had always mocked people for saying that love at first sight existed, more ‘lust at first sight,’ he thought. He couldn’t see how with one look a person could be totally smitten by another, and then it happened…

In just one look!

Charlotte had raised her eyes from her glass for a brief second; just to take in the room they were in, when her look met that of Harry’s sitting across the room. It seemed that their eyes locked for a moment, both gazing at each other, eyes widening trying to capture the other person. Feeling at first, surprise at being caught looking and then stricken by wonder at why the other was still holding their gaze. Charlotte broke eye contact first, her eyes had relayed something to her brain and then to her heart that made it quicken and hammer against her ribs like it was a wild animal panicking to get out! Harry felt the same, but being bold, he held his gaze transfixed on Charlotte, his eyes dilated with interest. Did he notice her blush when she lowered her eyes? When she shyly raised her eyes towards Harry a second time, it was Harry’s turn to lower his gaze in a nonchalant manner, and so the game continued until Harry couldn’t take any more of this childish teasing.

Anne hadn’t been naïve to the sly looks her friend had been shooting towards the corner of the room, she was interested as to who could have had such a profound effect on Charlotte. She lowered her head looking to seek her confidence when the tone of a man came from behind her, asking if he could buy them both a drink. The two girls stood in shock, this had never happened to them before! The man’s dialect was rich and seductive, unlike the common tongues they could hear all around the pub. He spoke very like a gentleman should; though to Charlotte he looked nothing like one. None of the man’s clothes seemed to correspond with each other; it looked like he had just grabbed the first things he found in the wardrobe and threw them on saying, ‘this’ll do.’ His mop of brown hair was as disjointed as his fashion, his fringe hung down over his forehead and his curls caressed the nape of his neck. To Anne he looked like an artist while Charlotte didn’t know whether she should be jealous of his hair or be attracted to him! ‘I’m Harry!’ he smiled down towards Charlotte, a perfect wide toothy smile that she reflected back.

‘His smile,’ she thought ‘was perfect!’

Harry on the other hand was more appreciative of Charlotte though he was astonished at how small she was in stature. From behind to a casual glance she looked very like a child, however on closer inspection, her womanly curves and ample breasts betrayed her mature figure. She wore a long black dress, ‘quite Goth like’ he thought though her dress sense was infinitely better than his own! He noticed her skin was pale like porcelain and he wondered whether ‘if I touch her, would she break?’ To Harry she resembled a fine English figurine, the ones your grandmother has behind glass cabinets, all standing prettily carrying parasols and with red lips that are set in a pout ready to be kissed. Harry was overwhelmed with a feeling that he wanted to kiss Charlotte more than anything else!

Christine Lucas 2013.

Happy New Year!!!

In 2013 I was energetically typing a narrative about two young lovers who meet 15 years after their initial break up. Most of the novel was about their relationship before things turned sour and the instant attraction they had for one other.

In this scene, Harry at a wedding reception reminisces about Charlotte’s and his first New Year together…

‘Come, dance with me?’ Charlotte asked waving a tumbler of spirits in her hand as church bells rang out over London marking the beginning of a new year and the voices of people in the street below sang ‘Auld Lang Syne’. The bang and flash of fireworks going off from the park opposite Harry’s flat illuminated Charlotte as she held her arms out to Harry, saying that she hoped that the new year would be ‘their year.’ Charlotte had pulled back the blinds from the windows so that she could see how others brought in the New Year while she stood in her black negligee that clung to her curves. She was looking at Harry with expectant eyes. ‘Happy New Year, my darling,’ she mouthed as Harry swept her up in his arms and held her tightly, whispering into Charlotte’s ear.

‘My only wish for the new year would be that we continue to remain as happy as we are now.’

‘We have so much to be thankful for,’ she continued, wiping tears away from her eyes. ‘We have found each other!’

‘You have no need to cry, Lottie,’ Harry said, kissing her salt wet eyes and then her mouth passionately. ‘I am so overwhelmed by you. I can’t begin to explain how I feel! ’ The radio blared out the bells of Parliament’s Big Ben through the airwaves and then the sound of the 90’s streamed through the speakers of the stereo. Charlotte sang badly to Kylie Minogue
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The Jailer.

I was just sitting enjoying my cappuccino from Costa in a very quiet university study area as most students have all gone home for the summer. I was recharging my batteries before the second dentistry exam I was to invigilate in the afternoon. (I had a three hour one in the morning.)

When breaking the quietness of the room came the jangle of keys as someone walked past. It brought to my mind the poem by Sylvia Plath, the Jailer. Though not my favourite of hers, I thought I would post it here for you all to read.

Christine x

The Jailer by Sylvia Plath.

My night sweats grease his breakfast plate.
The same placard of blue fog is wheeled into position
With the same trees and headstones.
Is that all he can come up with,
The rattler of keys?

I have been drugged and raped.
Seven hours knocked out of my right mind
Into a black sack
Where I relax, foetus or cat,
Lever of his wet dreams.

Something is gone.
My sleeping capsule, my red and blue zeppelin
Drops me from a terrible altitude.
Carapace smashed,
I spread to the beaks of birds.

O little gimlets—
What holes this papery day is already full of!
He his been burning me with cigarettes,
Pretending I am a negress with pink paws.
I am myself. That is not enough.

The fever trickles and stiffens in my hair.
My ribs show. What have I eaten?
Lies and smiles.
Surely the sky is not that colour,
Surely the grass should be rippling.

All day, gluing my church of burnt matchsticks,
I dream of someone else entirely.
And he, for this subversion,
Hurts me, he
With his armor of fakery,

His high cold masks of amnesia.
How did I get here?
Indeterminate criminal,
I die with variety—
Hung, starved, burned, hooked.

I imagine him
Impotent as distant thunder,
In whose shadow I have eaten my ghost ration.
I wish him dead or away.
That, it seems, is the impossibility.

That being free. What would the dark
Do without fevers to eat?
What would the light
Do without eyes to knife, what would he
Do, do, do without me?