When I Come To It

creek-and-bridge

I thought I’d cross that bridge when I came to it. And now I had. It didn’t look so rickety up close. Even had a certain look of strength about it. And it wasn’t exactly crossing a ravine. Somehow, having approached it leisurely, in my own time, I was ready to cross it. I didn’t break stride and put to the back of my mind what lay ahead on the other side. For all I knew, the path might open to the valley of the dolls. Or perhaps another bridge. But I’d cross that one when I came to it.

I like to take my challenges when the time seems right. This flash fiction challenge appeared in my inbox today and appealed to me on a number of accounts.

I’m on holiday from school for a week, which also means so are my kids. You know how weans can nip your brain with, ‘what are we doing?’ Well, that doesn’t work too well with me. I’m not a big planner, having learned years ago, to go more with the flow. As a result, we’ve done something different each day, more on the spur of the moment than through any planned itinerary. I like it that way. Crossing my bridges when I come to them.

The challenge asks us to include a little about our week, a song to sum it up and to include, within the body of exactly 100 words, a favourite childhood toy.

Tick. Tick. Ticking more below.Looking out from Largs

Looking out from Largs. The sun does shine in Scotland sometimes. October’s good with me. 🙂 I headed off for the day with three of my daughters as everyone else was working. Poor buggers.

My eldest

My eldest, Claire. She’ll kill me!

My youngest

My youngest, Anna. She’s too wee to. 😉

Louise and I were camera shy. Which is surprising for her but not for me. I’d had three hours sleep the night before – it having been the first day of the holiday and sitting up Twittering politics and drinking whiskey and coke. Somebody’s got to do it. Occasionally. I just kept my sunspecs on and nobody was any the wiser. Except maybe the girl who took our lunch order and wondered why I was wearing them indoors. She never said though.

Inverkip Marina

Inverkip Marina. No, I don’t have a boat. But I like looking at them. 🙂

Last night was a quiz night with all of my crew and a few and a pile of fajitas. My team came second but I had the two youngest which I thought was a bit unfair considering the game was for over 16’s and they’re 8 and 14. And I was up against umpteen universities and an auld guy called Frank. Love him to pieces but he doesn’t half know shit what with all that age on his side. His team won. Sods. Do you know from which film the following statement comes? ‘There is no spoon.’ Well, I didn’t. Till after I heard the answer and then I was fuming. I don’t watch all that many movies so I was rubbish at those questions. But I love this movie. I blame the noise and everybody telling everybody else to wheesht. My excuse. Sticking to it.

Yes, so, going with the flow. Today I’m a lady of leisure which is brill. Everyone has something on. So have I right enough. I got up and put clothes on. Had a coffee. Ate some grapes. Had another coffee. It’s hectic.

Tomorrow we’re thinking – not planning – on the East Coast. I love St. Andrew’s and the area all round. Beach, sea. Loads of craft shops and book shops. Coffee shops. City with a country town feel. I always try to get a wander around it every year. Kinda late this year. But I’ve had a lot of bridges to cross.

Oh! Song!

This one. Because ‘I’m On Top Of The World’. Yass!

Please, Miss…..it was the Guinness…

I’m not up to date with my writing and blogging because…

..the dog ate my homework

…my wee sister ripped up my jotter…

…some sheep put me off my stride…

 

…I was hypnotised by an evil witch and forgot…

…I was in a cottage with some wee people  and this old woman stopped in passing and made me eat a bit of an apple that was infected by an amnesia serum and it was just so peaceful…

an old hippy invaded my brain…

…an old hippy did invade my brain…

 

…and I’ve been in a semi-automatic state of meditation…

…contemplating tracks…

.. at the beach…

…and I couldn’t be bothered so I just read books instead…

…I had to work out some cloud formations…

…and there were some views I had to check out…

…a beautiful church I had to explore and photograph…

…I had to  climb a few mountains  sit at the bottom of some mountains admiring the view, reading and drawing, while my husband ran up and down them…

…I had to pretend to keep an eye on the kids while my husband stared into space did his own contemplating and played at caveman built a few fires…

 

When I returned from holiday, someone had eaten every morsel of food in the house except for some mouldy cheese and festering tomatoes  and I had to spend days stocking up…

… I’ve been catching up blethering  with friends and family I haven’t seen in a while…

…my laptop’s been playing silly buggers  freezing constantly and I had to save it from the blue screen of death…and it’s taken me ages!…

…Mrs Muse came on holiday with me and she missed the return ferry but may be back soon and decided to stay on supping Guinness, which, by the way, is the best I’ve she’s ever tasted……

…I took photographs of my homework instead…

…and drew a bit…

…I had to go out and trail round the shops doing school uniform buying… no, wait, that was a dream…

…I’ve still to trail round the shops doing school uniform buying…

…I’ve been watching the Commonwealth Games…

….Wait a minute….

I’M the teacher…no excuses… just chilled to the point of comatose!…

Still to do those feckin’ uniforms though and only a week left before school….

but like the Guinness, I’m not bitter…

My haze is lifting…I think…so back to normal fairly soon. Maybe.

 

 Slainte!

 

Imagine A Hug

Imagine, if you will, for a moment,

Soft feathers alight on your heart,

Like a balm to skin when it’s broken,

Soothing, by touch, to impart.

 

Imagine their strokes, almost fleeting,

Whispers of breeze blown within,

Tendering comfort and easing

Scalded and blistered of skin.

 

Imagine a cloak made of feathers,

Down of the fluffiest fleece,

Enfolding and holding together,

Protecting and giving you peace.

 

Imagine a hug made from heaven,

Lined by all angel wings,

Inviting, with arms always open,

Embracing relief that it brings.

I’ll be on the ferry by now, off to Ireland for a week or so for a family holiday. I’ve been rushing around like a maddy getting bits and pieces organised so my reading has been scant at best. This is the only post I have scheduled and I’m going to have a break away from all things techy – well apart from my kindle and maybe my phone! Hugs to all you lovely people and see you on my return, God willing.x

Sad Tears. Happy Tears.

I’ve cried a few times over this holiday period. Yes, Hogmanay, I find a very melancholic night. I hate it actually. I don’t want to view it as the end of a year and reflect on another year of life passing. I want to see it as one more day in the unfolding days of life. But, for some reason, every year, I find myself weeping. I’m fine the following day, as if it never happened. It’s not alcohol induced. It’s just a sad sort of melancholy I cannot avoid in the hours leading up to the bells. And I know I was not alone in feeling this way. I have read a number of posts from others who felt exactly the same.

I want to share with you though another evening of tears. Happy tears.

Christmas Eve. My 20 year old daughter came home to spend Christmas and gave me my Christmas present on Christmas Eve.

It’s a beautiful leather bound journal with carvings and leather bindings. It’s gorgeous.

But she inscribed it to me. And here is what she wrote. I cried. And I hugged her for her love and understanding.

To Mum,

I got you this journal to say that not everything you write has to be read by the world and not everything that is read by the world is actually how you feel.

When you feel angry or frustrated or sad or lonely, I want you to write in this and be reminded of how proud I am of you. How proud that you’re my mother. I want you to write in this and remember that I love you very much, that we all do and that will never change. I want you to write in this especially when you feel that no one is listening or that something is just too difficult to say and know that I will always be here to support you. I want you to write in this, mum, even if it is just one word and I promise you that everything will be okay.

And then one day, if you allow me, I’ll read it. I’ll read it and be reminded that it’s okay to have flaws and faults because the strongest person in my life also did. I’ll read it and remember how brave you are and how your courage helps me through my darkest days. I’ll read it and know it all already because nothing you could say or do could ever disappoint or surprise me. I’ll read it mum and be in absolute awe at your talent. You’re amazing – never forget that.

Merry Christmas.

MK xxx

I’m crying again as I type this up. It is the most beautiful gift I have ever been given. The journal is lovely. The words take my breath away.

I am sure we all have people in our lives who feel this way about us. I happen to have a daughter who, like myself, loves to articulate what she feels. I am honoured she feels this way.

We all have those who love us unconditionally, I hope. And maybe we should try to say what we feel to let others know our love too. This has set me up for the rest of my life let alone the new year.