More writing fun for you...

On Saturday, I was back in London, this time with a lovely bunch from the Norwich Writers Centre book club. We had been invited to attend the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize Readers Day, being hosted by the Free Word Centre, and it was an enlightening and enjoyable day to say the least.

I really wanted to share with you an exercise we were encouraged (playfully forced) to take part in, as part of a work shop by English Pen; an organisation that promotes the freedom to write, and the freedom to read.

Well you know how excited I got with Hotpenning, and how that spiralled into the Inspired Line project (which is still going on, so do jot down a sentence if you want a short story written and dedicated to you!). I'm hopeful these two little exercises will similarly inspire some creative writing from you :-)

Exercise 1 - Five little things

1. Write 5 things that are blue
2. Write 5 happy words
3. Write 5 celestial words
4. Write 5 verbs

You should end up with a list something like this:

Sky, my bag, flower, jeans, sea

Smile, jolly, beam, sunny, cheery

Red dwarf, solar, sun, twinkle, galaxy (whoops I wrote 6 words!)

Laughing, skipping, eating, munching, bouncing

5. Looking through the list, circle 1 word. Which ever jumps out at you and says circle me

6. Write a short letter to that word, its needn't take too long, perhaps 5 minutes.

Here's what I came up with:


Dear Beam,

How are you? You usual happy self, I hope. I've been stuck with sulk all day. God he does get you down. What have you been up to? Your usual madcap adventures, full of mischief?

Keep smiling, and come back soon

Lots of love

Face xxx


Well no, its certainly not literary genius, but its a good bit of fun, and it gets your pen moving, especially in times of dreaded writers block.

Exercise 2 - Poem Snippet

1. Find a poem, any poem
2. Pick 1 line from the poem, and write it down
3. Write 2 further lines under it, to create a new mini poem!

I've chosen to promote a lovely little poem, by a local champion of poetry Julia Webb

Snow

Winter comes with the half-remembrance of rain

and the sudden opening out of the city

into wide white vistas of snow.

A trail of footprints through unsullied whiteness,

brings a memory of shuffling home frozen-footed

where orange street light

created pools and shallows in icy gardens

and birds had left their twiggy signatures on the tops of cars.

Tonight will freeze the city beneath a brittle crust,

skid the cars onto frozen pavements,

wind the city down to slow:

as if it’s had its mouth stuffed full of snow

or the night raised a finger to hush us,

as if the sky whispered no.

I will now proceed to write an awful little poem, just to demonstrate how not to write poetry. Sorry Julia! 

As if the sky whispered no,

I hesitated, stalled and stood

But why should my heart say go?

I hope you have fun trying them, and do let me know the results.  I'm always keen to find and encourage writing.

Good luck! X

Day 26 - The big life plan decided!

Today I decided mostly to laze about in the sun, especially given I am going home in a few days and still have lilly white legs, well that's not quite true, I have lilly white legs with gigantic swollen mozzie bites. Hmm pretty!

My mind is definitely in going home soon mode, and I've folded my clothes, done a deep clean of the studio, tidied the garden,  limited my food buying and so it all looks spic and span and ready for me to mess it up, re tidy it and leave.

And so what am I going to do when I get back? I hopefully have a little work with elements of health but not enough to live on, and of course my stall to organise and prepare for, but can I really expect bumper sales from my first ever stall? I will certainly be trying to sell all I can, but again its not going to be enough to live off.

Actually a more important question, with what purpose am I going to live my life? After all this thinking and time away have I actually thought of what it is I should do with my life? Well oddly, or not for those that know me, some of the top things that came up in my 108 things include

• Own a Cow
• Run a dog rescue centre (wrote it twice)
• Own land
• Have a little shack
• Be self sufficient

These are all on my page of require a lot of time and effort, and so it got me thinking. If this is what I want, how can I go about getting it and to what purpose?

I have always wanted to be my own person and so it is no surprise to me, that I want to run my own business and own land. In the case of land there is just something wonderful about the thought of walking across your own land, owning the soil beneath your feet, or just sitting in the middle of a field and knowing that every blade of grass you can see is yours, and yours to protect. When I was young I used to dream about running through meadows, long grass, in MY Field, no one else there.

I met an uncle once, a distant one on my dads side of the family. He had a small farm, my aunt had homemade fruit cake in a tin, and they had a small veggie patch with rows of strawberry plants and a pen for the geese, and these fields. Rolling land, really steep, not overly practical but there's. I only met them once, but that memory is so vivid, even with my sieve like brain. When I heard they had sold it I was sad, they seemed to have everything. It was small but perfectly formed. My greatest aspiration.

But its not enough to just buy a square of land and plonk a cow on it, it wouldn't work. The cow would get lonely (despite my constant wittering) and how would I cover her food and shelter in winter - build a shack and let her live inside with me? Can't imagine Mark is going to say yes to that, although they did it in the middle ages and still do in Bangladesh and other places. But that's not really the point. I can't just have land, a shack and a cow. There has to be a purpose, otherwise it's just consumption. Having things foe the sake of having them.

So what if it's a rare breed cow, and she has a few rare breed friends? And the shack is used for educating people on sustainable living and saving rare breeds? And it's as self sufficient as it can be.. what then? Does that make it any less a daft idea?  Is this what I should do with my life? It ticks a lot of my boxes, and it really doesn't seem as daft as it should. Now I know Mark is going to be screaming Nooo! And praying no one gives me encouragement,  but its a thought and its nested, and my posters tell me that everything is possible given enough time and enough effort.

So, cows...rare breeds, fields, growing stuff, running a small holding?  I know nothing about any of this, up till now it's always been a dream, I've only ever patted a cow, and received the occasional kiss. Still I have wellies, some local cows, the farmers number, and numerous others I could approach if the first says no. Markles, I'd like to find out if I really could be a farmer. Expect mud, cow tales, early rising, lots of frustration, and a slow grind towards a realisation,  one way or another as to whether this is madness or a creeping sanity finally awoken.

You are no doubt hoping this is just another daft Maria idea, a fly by night. Perhaps it will be, but who know the gestation period of an idea?

I will of course continue my writing as this could equally be a valid purpose, and it too makes me very happy. Just expect a slightly bigger cow focus along with the Erna and Snail stories. Ha, I've got myself a farm right there.

Right onwards with reading...any books you can recommend?  Cow weekly perhaps? 

Oh wait, I still don't know how I'm going to fund all this...erm Sainsburys do you need a shelf stacker?

One eyebrow or Two for Debbie Reed

Into double figures and I couldn't for the life of me remember your eldests name. So sorry! Do tell me and I can change it :-) Hope you like it.

I'm only wearing one eyebrow today said Debbie, I'm sick of all this yummy mummy stereotyping. Damn it I will prove you can look good regardless!

In an instant it was gone, and in front of the mirror stood a mini Picasso. If symmetry is beauty then Debbie was hell bent on changing that view.

Her eldest son gave her a look of pure horror, 'no mum, seriously no you can't. All my friends are going to be there and they have only just stopped teasing me about your 'hip' one rolled up trouser leg stunt. Can you not just, not embarrass me for one day!"

He stormed off, crashing up the stairs, slamming his door shut, wishing it would for once fall off its hinges. God knows it had been slammed enough.

"It's not all about YOU! " hollered Debbie up the stairs

She had done it on a whim, a spare wax strip, a slightly unpreened eyebrow, and suddenly into her mind had flashed Sheila. Stupid Sheila, all boobs and no brain. She still had her model looks and was easily the best eye candy for every dad at parents evening, the school gates or what ever other reason they could think of to hang about on the off chance of a quick glimpse. Why were men so stupid? Why did they always go after the dumb blond with big boobs?

Looking back in the mirror Debbie flinched. Hmm maybe we have eyebrows for a reason? Maybe it would look better if I got rid of both? Maybe symmetry is better? Still why shouldn't she do these things, push the boundaries, make people think about what true beauty really meant?  If she'd had daughters would they have understood her better?

Probably not. After all they would still have been teenagers.  Surely it's a teenagers job to be mortified by every little thing their mum does or says? And god don't ever try to show them affection in public, their every fibre screams at them to kick you. Only the really good kids resist the temptation.

"O.k. I will do you a deal" her son stood in the doorway hiding something behind his back. "In return for going to that awful ladies lunch thing on Saturday, that you know I would rather be dead than attend, why don't you wear this?"

"A scarf? Yeh fine, its mine, I like it"

"Cool, just say you've got cancer, but not breast cancer, I don't want them talking about your boobs. Say its liver or something."

"What!" Debbie stood jaw gaping "You want me to pretend I've got cancer? What sort of sick person do you think I am?" She was fuming

"I told you, a liver patient..." he was trying to be funny but quickly thought better of it.

"Not on your nelly! I brought you up better than that. We are going to this football match and I'm wearing one eyebrow whether you like it or not. You shouldn't be so precious, they are only silly young boys, probably not half as silly as you can be!". Debbie threw the scarf on the sofa, and grabbed her bag, car keys and water bottle in a single swift movement that only mums truly perfect.

Trudging very slowly after her, Adam grumbled to himself, 'Great, those silly young boys will be kicking the shit out of me later!". Why did he have to have his mum for a mum? None of the other mums were so bloody odd and so purposely trying to ruin their sons life!

As soon as they arrived Adam scarpered as far as possible away from her. His friends had done much the same with their parents and so two distinct groups had inevitably formed. The youngsters on the pitch and the old folk hovering on the side lines.

"Why all the fire engines?"  Said Debbie to Gail, Percy's mum

"Did he not tell you? Its a charity match,  raising money for fire safety or something. Anyway plenty of dishy firemen wandering about. What happened to your eyebrow?"

"Oh god! No, oh...I had an accident..hard to explain." Debbie desperately tugged on her hair. "Is it obvious?"

"Er...not so much..." said Gail, her face betraying her

"Of all the days!" Debbie was cursing Adam, and cursing herself more.

Stuff the moralled principles, even a fool knows two eyebrows are better than one at pulling Firemen!

The End

Day 25- 5 strawberries = become a farmer!

Pebbles pebbles pebbles! I went pebble hunting again and naughty me couldn't resist doing just a few more, this time featuring snail.

Other than that, lots of reading, some work for Elements of Health, laundry, studio cleaning,  a trip to the market (where the ceramicist bowl lady had gorgeous new things and jokingly replied 'no worries we take card' when I said I had no money left) and rather excitingly writing and sending design proofs off for my website. It is coming along a treat!

The only majorly exciting news was that my new strawberry plant, which I planted last week, has 5 baby strawberries on it! This to me is sufficient proof that I can grow things and thus should seriously consider becoming a farmer. What could possibly go wrong?

And so sums up my day, sorry its not more exciting. I will start gallivanting again at the weekend. See what mischief I can get up to.

Bye bye xxx

Maria
Writer and Farmer of 5 strawberries

Day 24 - erm what luggage allowance...

Hmm I know the day is looming when I am going to have to pack my luggage up. Yep only 6 day's I am back in the Sunny UK. Now at the time I was rather chuffed with myself for cramming a months worth of maria life into 1 piece of hand luggage (thus saving me £30 to put a bag in the hold - the same price as my plane ticket!). However typical me has been buying random things including a ropey carrot toy for Jasper (shh don't tell him its a surprise!), two ceramic bowls and a leather jacket. I've also made 28 cards and 50 envelopes,  so you can begin to visualise my looming problem. So what do I decide to do today?

I went pebble fishing. Yep, took a big bag and walked the coastal path looking for small roundish pebbles. I found an isolated tiny bay, almost broke my neck scrabbling down the rocks to get to it, and went paddling sure in the knowledge that the best pebbles would be in the water. Guess what I found? Well yes, lots of pebbles but what else?

A snail diving group! Loads of them out learning, clinging to the rocks, slightly nervous of being so deep (the water was mid calf on me). I got talking to Maurice, he had been in the navy, spent his whole life diving and knew these rocks like the back of his shell. He had set up his own diving school back in 1982, and loved teaching his new recruits the ropes.

"None of that cumbersome diving equipment you see humans using, us snails are naturals, its just a matter of confidence. Knowing we are just as much a part of the water as we are the land".

He was so knowledgeable, and obviously very popular with his newbies. They were soon all happily settling onto the pebble sea bed and enjoying the experience. Maurice pointed out some great pebbles and I carefully navigated the water, being sure to avoid the numerous snails and scary sea weed clumps with my clumsy feet.

Heavy bag in tow I came home and spent the afternoon painting Erna pebbles to sell at the fair. I'm rather pleased with them and have done 28. However that does mean I've got 28 rather heavy pebbles to find a space for. Hmm, looks like I'm going to be wearing all my clothes on the plane home :-)

Oh also I contacted two magazines I subscribe to on the off chance they would be interested in featuring the 'Inspired Line' project. Its a long shot but you never know unless you ask.

Hope you have had a good day. See you soon xxx

Day 23 - It's like being at school again

It really is like being back at school, today I:

• Wrote a story for my mum
• Coloured in 50 envelopes with pretty pictures to match my 28 cards (will make more cards)
• Went to shop to buy card (failed)
• Ate pizza for dinner
• Wrote a letter to my sister
• Coloured in bits of paper and glued them on to old paper carrier bag to make 3 posters

Yes it does indeed sound like I've reverted back to my 8 year old self :-)

In actual fact it was all very grown up, honest!

The Inspired Line Project reached its 10th story! Yay! Though I only have 2 sentences left now so expect a begging message very soon. The envelope designing for my business venture are a delight to make, especially when sat out in the sun, although I've now ran out of card and can't find any of a high enough quality so will have to wait until I come home. I can't believe there is only 1 week left, wow time has flown!

I had hand written a very personal letter to my sister linked to my '108 things I want to do' list, and was thrilled to get a reply today, even if it did make me blub a little. I'm feeling very close to her now :-)

And the coloured paper and glue? Well do you remember how I had chopped my 108 things into individual slips of paper and then split them into four groups (me, business,  actions and family)? Well today I got my highlighters out. Yes despite only packing hand luggage for a months trip I still managed to pack highlighters, glue and my colouring crayons - I'm an over organised kid really. Anyway I assigned the four groups a colour, coloured them in, and then split all 108 things into 3 categories

1. Things I can do straight away
2. Things I could do with a little effort
3. Things that need a bit more planning

Thus there is a inherent timescale and  effort requirement across the 3 groups. I then glued them on to an old paper carrier bag I had chopped up, with a rough priority I should achieve it. Most important at the top, less urgent at the bottom. The 1 thing that was out of my control I decided to bin, along with 1 duplicate. Thus my motivational posters now say 'everything is possible given enough time and enough effort' :-)

And on that note, sweet dreams and happy living!

Xxx

Organised people are just to lazy to look for things - for Theresa Price

This my 10th story and I have much been looking forward to writing it. Hope you like it mum!

"Organised people are just to lazy to look for things. Yes of course we would rather have you believe it is because our scrupulous lives are so hectic that we wouldn't possibly waste a second of it 'find things', but actually its just plain laziness".

Theresa was sat, champagne in one hand, gesticulating her thoughts with the other. The other girls sat amused listening to her theories. There was a good mix amongst them. Sarah was the polar opposite to Theresa,  she had a phone, a wallet (no not a purse) and a vague idea that the day would likely involve doing something at some time or other. Maria was more similar, always a pen and paper, lists galore and diaries and calenders for everything, anything to make up for her naturally scatty and forgetful brain. And Bryany, well, she was a healthy balance of all three, not organised to the point of being annul but generally in the right place at the right time.

This was a typical girly lunch, starting with salad, ending with champagne and chocolate cake. Well hell you only live once, the bubbles would persuade them. Today's witterings were focused round Theresa's recent appraisal and unsurprising promotion. Modest as ever she had slipped it quietly into the conversation, and now the bubbles were flowing, she was off and jabbering away to her hearts content.

"I mean, why would you NOT do what ever is possible to secure an extra 5 minutes in bed? Why else do you think I sort my outfit, do the lunches,  check through the diary, and all those little things? It's so Brian can bring me my tea and breakfast in bed and I can have an extra 5 minutes peace and quiet before the madness begins."

"Yeh but you could just go to bed earlier the night before and it wouldn't make much difference would it?"quipped Sarah

"Can't Brain do the lunches?" said Bryany

"Well yes he could but they always end up soggy, god knows what he does to them, and do you know, one day he made me a tomato ketchup sandwich. Nothing else just tomato ketchup! I mean who would even think to do such a thing? Plus mornings are more sacred than evenings, I value them more."

Theresa wasn't backing down. She never did when she knew she was right. Maria just sat nodding, it all made complete sense to her. She ticked them off her daily checklist along with brush teeth and apply night cream, every night without fail.

Sarah shrugged and gulped down her champers. "Just making work for yourself if you ask me".

"Well no, your just a different type of lazy. You're so lazy you don't even think about how you could be more lazy." mocked Theresa

"Ha, well what can I say, I'm a natural born expert", laughed Sarah

The girls giggled. Regardless of wise words and copious champagne,  none of them would change. They were far to set in their ways.

'Ding' went a phone. They all scurried into their handbags, well except Sarah who just glanced at hers on the table.

"Ah mine" said Theresa "must dash, I'm meant to be meeting Brian at 3, no rest for the wicked! "

" Yes, I'm afraid I'm going to have to run too, I'm booked up till 8. Same time next week?" said Maria poised with pencil and diary.

"Yes, my diaries clear" said Theresa scribbling into hers

"Yeh sure" said Bryany, making a mental note

"Hm alright" said Sarah just sitting. Both Theresa and Maria would text her on the day anyway. You see really lazy people just delegate.


The End

Day 22 - Yay Maria is back in business!

Quickly to get the dull stuff out of the way, though even that was eventful. I was up early and forced into going to Geant (supermarket) despite noting that it was horrifically busy last Monday morning. I had no choice though, I had ran out of a fundamental life source - wheetabix! Given the urgency I had broached paying the €7 for a box of 24 that was local shop was charging but Markles said no, and I'm rather glad he did given they were €2.47 at Geant.

Anyway having been good and saved money I thought I deserved a treat, plus I was celebrating! Being my usual organised self I put the coffee filter machine on before scooting next door to the bakery. The idea being that by the time I got back I'd have a freshly brewed coffee waiting for me. Erm not exactly...typical silly me had forgot to put the lid on the coffee pot, so I had coffee all over the floor and rug, and I then stupidly chucked the used filter paper in the sink instead of placing it carefully, and of course sent wet coffee grains everywhere. Meanwhile my little chocolate cake is sat outside wondering what I'm up to and slowly melting. So sometime later I sat down with half a cup of salviged luke warm coffee and a half melted cake. And that's what happens to Maria's who go fetch cake while they are meant to be on a diet. It then started to rain.

It didn't matter, nothing could put a dampener on my day. I had woke and instantly updated my facebook status declaring myself as a writer. This 'inspired line' project, as I've started to call it, has really given me purpose and focus. Combined with my daily blog I felt I had earned the title. Last night I also thought of a little company name. Not another one I hear you say! Yes, I know my head is always so full of ideas I struggle to work out the daft ones from the slightly less daft ones, but this felt right and I was excited.

Still, rather than run head first as I usually do, I slowed down and consulted a few people. 2 yes's, 1 no, plus my optimistic yes...I went ahead and bought www.studiothoughts. co.uk for £8, which my dad is busy beavering away creating for me based on sketches I made on the back of a bread wrapper (Thanks dad!). I've now got 2 years to really try and push my writing, Erna, Snail and what ever new creations my mind comes up with. Don't get me wrong I realise this is a hobby business,  I still need to go find a job that pays, but not sideline my whole life when I do so.

And so today I tackled an inspired line by Phillip Bissell that I had been struggling with and avoiding. It took a while but I muddled through. I need to leave it a day or two then review it before I will know if I'm happy with it. The Tale of  Two Stinkie Sisters and Bananas were falling from the Sky, are my current favourites. I also got to work on making greeting cards, I'm selling on my craft stall at the Greenpeace Fair on the 1st June (keep your diaries clear to come visit me and all the other amazing stalls at UEA). I've no idea how many I will need or what price to sell them, but I made 28 today, a nice mix of my 6 designs, and I thoroughly enjoyed it so if I don't sell them, well at least you can guess what your next birthday card from us will feature :-)


So its been a great day, hopefully one I can fondly recall in years to come when I've got a little Erna empire under my belt, but for now I'm just happy to have started the journey. Plus another perk, I can choose my own job title :-)

Take care, see you soon xxx

Maria
Writer and Creator of Marvellous Things

Strange noises in the depths - for Phillip Bissell

Naughty me I have been putting this one off as it didn't instantly grab me what that noise  could be, and I really struggled to form a story. I think it shows in the character and style I created, but hey here it is. Hope you like it Phillip :-)

Today's police officers seem to do nothing more than constantly moan about about the amount of paperwork they have to do. Every parking ticket, every 10p sweet pocketed, and every drunken ramble, all recorded on cassette then transcribed word for word, long hand, by a police man who wants to be doing proper stuff like what they do on CSI.

Well anyway, these records get filed away and largely forgotten, even the mysterious ones like this. Some youngster was found on the rocks of the lake and swore blind honest truth to the whole tale. The officers on the case had scoffed, so bizarre was the story, and added their own beginning to the youngsters account 'The sun was gradually rising abive the mists of the shimmering lake...suddenly from beneath the waters there came a sound, the likes of which had never been heard before'. Actually the officers were rather more gifted in the literary sense (although they did get the time of day wrong). The youngster was rather more babbly, always off on a tangent, his head obviously not in a good place. But still, here is the transcribed account, make of it what you will:

"There was a noise, from in the lake, I hadn't heard owt like it before

Sergeant Baker: could you try and describe it?

It was like a gurgle, a long groaning gurgle, kind of like a plug hole draining the last of a bathtub, but obviously it wasn't,  the lake was still full of water, so..well I'm not sure what it was.

Anyway I stood looking at the lake for a while after, I half wondered if we had our own version of the Loch Ness Monster. I was going to call it the River End Monster, get it? The holy monster that swallows naughty children and drunken sinners?

Sergeant Baker: Yes, very good


Ha, well if he ain't real I might just make him up, spread a rumour or two...or is that arrestable?

Sergeant Baker: Yes it would be

Ah well I won't bother then. Anyway I must have wasted half an hour or so just standing there like a muppet, but hell I had nothing better to do. Moping kind of suited the time. Me ex had just gone dumped me. Had told the whole bloody pub every bad habit, every supposed personality flaw and mocked my beer gut, though its not even a beer gut, a slight paunch maybe. She was just being a cow, left me feeling about 2 inches tall, even put me off my drink in case she was right about the beer gut. And so I had wandered into the night, and found myself in the most ridiculously romantic setting. Moonlight, glistening lake the full works. We'd had nooky there on a night not to dissimilar. Don't suppose you care about that? That's not arrestable is it?

Sergeant Baker. It is, but I will let it slide this once

Ah cheers. Well stupid woman, its not like she's perfect. Just cos she acts all mature all the while. Boring more like. She never used to be so straight laced, so sensible. She used to find my pranks funny, and why shouldn't she, they are funny! It was funny. It was a classic. I had to warn every other woman in the bar, to make sure it worked. Everyone else thought it was funny. They roared with laughter! How was I to know she had just been to the hairdressers,  it was only water, its not as if she was going to have a shower in the morning anyway. Her huff had only made it funnier, initially, until the others realised I was being dumped. And then the silence. She'd stormed out and the landlord had patted me on the back and said 'sorry mate' whist handing me a mop and bucket. The shame, ahh. Stupid village, bet they are having a field day coming up with stupid jokes. Anyway, I really am rubbish at this story telling stuff.

Sergeant Baker: Your doing fine, its just for our records. Please continue

Basically the lake was making odd noises and I was the only one near by, so I was either losing my mind, about to be eaten by the River End Monster (in kudos with the ex) or somethings else was happening. Sanity left me and I decided to dive in, paunch and all. Firstly, fuck was it cold! Like freezing, proper freezing. Thought I was going to die right there and then I was gasping so much. Obviously didn't,  but I ain't jumping in no rivers again, I'm not a complete idiot.

Turned out that glistening wasn't the moon and refracting light (or reflecting light - I don't know, whatever the physics blokes say), no its actually millions of tiny glow fish. You know the ones? They've got a cousin that flies with a light in their bum. Well anyway it was loads of them near the surface making it shimmer, so I was like swimming around with them and stuff, and they were in this massive swarm stretching down really deep. It was amazing! At first I was a bit freaked you know, I mean I was only wearing my pants, they could have blatantly eaten me. But then I spotted they were all like attacking this big orange thing. Like its massive, so I went to look, and the bloody thing moved! Its a fucking massive octopus, like huge. Size of a bus, I'm not joking! And these fish were all pecking at it! Well I know this sounds odd but it looked at me, like square in the eye, real intense, and I got this feeling he was, you know, sad. Well it makes sense,  what with all these fish bothering him. And then he like yawned but groaned at the same time. You know how the sound comes out funny? Well it was like that. That was the odd noise I'd heard.

Well like I needed some air, but felt bad leaving him, so I filled up and then started boxing these daft glow fish. Can you imagine? Me and a massive octopus boxing with a million glow fish! It was amazing, like I was on such a high. I felt like I was really helping this octopus,  and you know we were winning, they started to swim off. And then it was just me and him, I don't know what happened next, its all a bit blank..."

The police record states a young white male of medium build was found on the rocks near Lake End covered in small red bites and one very large 'sucker' mark on his chest. To my knowledge no further investigation was carried out, and no similar accounts have ever been recorded.

So what do you think happened?

The End

Day 21 - ok you smug brits, so its raining here...

Well you will likely have a chuckle to yourselves,  that while you enjoyed a day of glorious sunshine, I was sat in a little studio in France watching the heavens open and feed my plants bucket loads of water, but hey at least the plants got fed, and I did manage  a couple of hours outside before it came.

Fortunately I had made the most of the sun and had breakfast outside, visited the market (a daily pleasure) and as I was feeling restless decided to eat pizza and dance about in the garden. Oh the joys of a private garden, I can act my usual self without fear of a french doctor turning up to take me a way to the 'nice safe place' round the corner.

Anyway, cooped up I decided to empty the fridge of its contents, write two more stories, and then set about designing some Erna and Snail inspired greeting cards to hopefully sell at the Greenpeace Fair on the 1st June at the Forum (stalls still available, contact Markles). This will be the first time I have  ever tried to sell something of my own creation so I'm nervous and excited in equal measure and have no idea if people will like, let along buy my little creations.

Well regardless, it kept me out of mischief and I now have 6 cute proto types on the dresser :-)

Night night, I've got my fingers and toes crossed for sun tomorrow xx

Wives, who'd have em - for Fred Smiff

I'm not sure what you are going to make of this Fred,  I can only apologise that my brain thinks in such odd ways!

Congratulations miracles do happen! said Pearl with not a hint of sarcasm but a trowels worth.

Depending on who you were to Pearl or should I say, who she thought you were to her, she was either your best friend or your worst nightmare.  She knew everybody and the whole villages business. 'A person of the community' she had said, or a real nosey neighbour, others had whispered. You certainly wouldn't say it to her face, gosh no, only an idiot would get on the wrong side of her. Yet somehow her husband Fred had. Long suffering Fred. For him 'the woman really was alright right'. So bad was it that sometimes he was torn, should he say the wrong thing just so she could be right, or say the right thing and have her correct him with her version of the right thing, even if it was the wrong thing? Huh, life was wearing him down. No, that's not fair on life, Pearl was wearing him down.

I'm not taking the bait, he thought to himself. He struck up the mower and zoned out to the engines buzz. And then a half chewed dog toy whacked him in the back, followed quickly by a thud in the back of his legs, Boris, their stupid dog who still hadn't learnt to apply the brakes rather than overshoot the toy every time, as he had for the last 7 years. Stupid mut.

Switching off the mower, a new noise took over

"For heavens sake Fred, I've been calling you for 10 minutes! Watch the frogs, I've got toad watch on Tuesday and I can't have you mowing them down in the back garden. What ever would the neighbours say?!'

Urgh Pearls incessant voice. He had only been mowing for 3 minutes, only done one length, she can't have been yelling at him for 10 minutes and so what, the neighbours would hardly know if a daft frog failed to hop out of the way. Can't see them hurrying over with forensics any time soon.

"Ok love"  he said, his voice monotone.

He took refuge in his shed, well their shed, she had her pink trowel and fork carefully hung, ready for the next village in bloom competition.  Not that she did much, no the garden was Freds job. Wouldn't want her breaking a nail now would we?

Perching on an old painting ladder he contemplated his options.

1. Do nothing - live like this for perhaps another 30 years, 10 if he was lucky
2. Divorce Pearl, skip the country with what pittance he had left and find a shack where he would slowly learn to like people again
3. Stand up to Pearl, tell her what a horrid old goat she was then kick her out of 'his' house

Well option 3 was a dream, he couldn't even muster the energy to question her dinner choices. Another irritant. Option 2 required so much effort, and why should she win. Of course there would be the initial shame of having such a treacherous husband, but then she would revel in the sympathy. Put a brave face on, be a good soldier. Urghh it made him feel sick that she wallowed in the attention.  Any card you played she would trump it. And so option 1...

Grabbing the rake he trudged out to the garden. He would walk the lawn length by length with the rake. A stupid frog can't ask for more than that.

"Now what are you doing?" She hollered "You will stab the poor things"

Really? Stab them? Have all these frogs got dicky hips or something? Are they blind?

"Brush your hand over the grass and warn them. We don't want any accidents" she yelled from the kitchen window.

Seriously?  She wants him to crawl on his hands and knees, stroking the grass, talking to frogs who may or may not be there. More likely the neighbours recommend she get him sectioned if they saw him doing that!

"Darling, a baby frog" he scooped his hands into the long grass "I will put him in a pot for safety. You want to come and take a look?" He shouted back

He walked to the shed, his hands cupped

She came scurrying out, "That's not proper protocol,  but perhaps the children at the school could have it." Yes he thought, except the school children would know a baby frog was a tadpole.

Thwak!

Boris barked

Fred smiled

Pearl said nothing. For the first time ever Pearl said nothing. Well how could she, she was dead.

30 years prison or 30 years hell, there was no competition.

The End

Bananas in the Sky for Helen Marshall

I was so looking forward to writing this one, and it has turned into a sort of political comedy. I hope you like it Helen :-)

Bananas were falling falling from the sky. Little green ones, big yellow ones and the occasional squidgy brown one.

There on the streets of Norwich the opportunists gathered each displaying their own strand of human nature.

The 'money makers' collected as many green ones as their hands could carry, with the hope this was a one off fluke event (a fair guess given nothing similar had ever been reported,  at least not in Norwich). With any luck they could store them and sell them on for a profit.

The 'live for today' types caught a falling banana and wandered on with their day, munching as they went.

The 'make do and mend' generation along with the 'earthy' types saved the poor brown ones and scurried back to their kitchens to make banana loaf for fear they be wasted.

Rebellious oiks jumped and squished them, before a scolding from their parent or any other person who deemed it disrespectful.

The puppet man swapped his mic for a banana and continued his slow dance with Sweep.

And the odd doomsday preacher cried 'Repent repent, for God has sent us a plague!'. Well its not the most obvious choice for any God but hey, each to their own. Actually its quite a funny concept to think of god sat on his cloud throwing bananas, shouting 'and that's for you Helen - teach you to stand and crush my heavenly snail creation!'. How very vengeful.

Anyway, there was of course another group of people. The group who just stood, transfixed and pondering, why on earth are bananas falling from the sky?

A cargo plane perhaps? The pilot accidentally pressing the 'release hold' button? Perhaps he fell asleep? Had a heart attack? Or more likely if its a virgin plane, a misconduct with one of those shapely air hostesses? Hmm what to wonder?

Perhaps the Russians or the North Koreans? They were always prone to strange antics. An attack? Fruit warfare? Each banana injected with a slow release poison. A mass extinction by fruit, who would guess it?

But no the cargo plane is the more likely. Unless...

A new Labour campaign?  Equality to all. Everyone should have the right to free banana? Surely a branch of the new NHS reforms, in a fight against obesity? Hmm but aren't bananas one of the more calorific of fruits? Maybe melons were too big. Too high a risk of death by plummeting melon. And berries to soft? Instead of your five a day, a trip to the dry cleaners as they explode on contact with your cream coat?

Nah its got to be the cargo plane, and yet perhaps...

A left wing animal rights group, or Greenpeace? They are always pulling daft stunts. Who was it I read about, Greg?Hank? Something like that. Anyway some new gorilla plucked from the wild and plonked in the local zoo. Always a contention. Fair play though, at the cost of wasting rather a lot of bananas they should get their media coverage, and the gorilla will be happy, or at least happier.

You've guessed it I'm one of those people just standing in my garden pondering, although I am a little peckish so I'm going to hope I'm wrong about the Russians and eat one. Mm tasty, no trace of poison, not that I can taste anyway.

Yeh I'm bound to be right, its a cargo plane lost its load.

Radio news: ' The news at 10 o clock. A cargo plane has accidentally discharged its load showering the town of Norwich with bananas.  The virgin plane was due to land in Heathrow but experienced a difficulty. A virgin spokesman said it was unclear at the moment what had happened but a full investigation would take place. Reports on the ground have said there have been no fatalities,  although one elderly lady was left with a slight concussion, and ice cream sales have risen rapidly as locals clamour to make banana splits. The newest member of Norwich Zoo, Frank, is said to be in especially high spirits...

Ha I knew it. Pesky virgin pilots cant keep their own bananas in their pants!

The End

Day 20 - Come on Mr Harley Davidson, give us a lift

Hi all,

You are probably sick of all my blogging. I confess I am torn between wanting to give the stories to those who have shared a sentence with me, and holding them back so as to not deluge the blog with constant writing. 3 in a day is really all I can manage, when I factor in the editing and typing time as well, and I shall run out of sentences by Tuesday,  unless you have new ones for me? I hope I'm not irratating those who do read my bloke - you are out there aren't you?

Well I hope you are enjoying reading them as much as I am writing them. Please do give feedback both good and bad. And you will be pleased to know I've fixed all the spelling mistakes lol

Well on to today, I woke up ridiculously happy, put the radio on, which was playing The Moody Blues, so of course pranced about in my nightie while brushing my teeth. Dancing is all in the elbows don't you know. Lol those who have seen me dancing will likely have the horror that is that sight whizzing through your mind.

Anyway, I decided to drive to St Maxine as I have been daydreaming about a Cesar salad I had there, for 2 days now. So off I went to treat myself. I know, who is this impostor who dreams of salad and not cake! Well it was as scrumptious as I remembered and given I had my notepad and pen, I happily whittled away 2 hrs not worrying about sitting on my own surrounded by couples and families. When at last I had written my 3 stories with just 1 page of my pad to spare, I tootled off to find a new notepad, thinking I would treat myself to a particularly pretty one. No such luck, its all clothes and food in France. And so home to St Aygulf.

On the off chance there was a pretty pad here, I wandered about, and at the roundabout saw a group of Harley Davidson chaps. Now I was already green with envy from having them whizz past me on the drive. They look so cool, and really are just powerful beasts in leather straddling an amazing machine. What's not to love? And so I cheekily put my thumb out and tried to cadge a lift. Sadly no such luck, though a few smiles and a ciao from a sexy Italian biker. Hmm I suppose it's for the best. I've done enough gallivanting in just being here lol.

This evening has been a lovely mix of eating (wheetabix my joy) and typing, and now to give my hands a rest I'm going to read.

Night night xxx

Every relationship has its squabbles - for Gaelle Kermin

Hmm today's writing seems to be about relationships, perhaps I'm feeling all loved up and silly :-) Well anyway, the key to this story is what I instantly thought about when I thought of you Gaelle, hope you like it.

And then she pulled her tongue as if to say...well she didn't know what she was trying to say, but she wasn't happy. She was only half mocking him.

"Come on ducky poo, you know I didn't mean it" he cooed

Oh god, the sloppy stuff always came out when he knew he had done something wrong. It's as if he thought butter wouldn't melt if he said 'sweet' names to her and spoke like a child. And hence her response was to pull her tongue. It seemed apt. With a hot fiery Latino lover perhaps she would have screamed and thrown the crockery in mock rage? But no, for John, her usually wonderful but sometimes infuriating, calm headed English partner, she pulled her tongue.

"Just please don't do it again" she sighed

"Ok, I wont, I promise, but perhaps you might want to share?"

Aghh her mind fumed, why the BUT! A but in a sentence annuls all that is before it and highlights the true meaning after it, I.e. he wasn't sorry, he would do it again, nothing in this house was private, and nothing was her own! Her mind ranted, her fists clenched, but still she bit her tongue. He is a kind loving man, she forced herself into a mantra, he is a kind loving man, he has few faults...except this ruddy massive one. Her blood boiled again, why could she not let it go.

"Just leave it John" she snapped

He skulked away, tail between his legs. In her moods it was best to stay out of the way. He busied himself, he wandered off, he visited his shed and around dinner time he pottered back into the house.

"How about pancakes for dinner" he suggested gently

"Fine but you can make them" she was on a roll and not ready to back down yet. Let him suffer.

"Nutella darling?

Her eyes whipped up. Before her two jars, a little one with a blue lid and the word John, and a second huge jar with a pink lid and the word Gaelle.

"That's very stereotypical to use those colours.." but she stopped, she couldn't be mean. A smile was already creeping across her face. She laughed, if the worst thing they argued about was Nutella she was very lucky indeed!

The End

The Rainbow at the dark side of the moon - for David Allen

As eccentric as ever, this took a little getting into but seemed to flow o.k. in the end. Hope you enjoy it.


'I found the end of the rainbow on the dark side of the moon', a Pink Floyd lyric? A quote from a drunk Irish man? Who knows but it was twiddling round and round his head like a hamster on speed.

"Damn hamster" he muttered, thinking to himself but actually saying it aloud,  thus raising an eyebrow or two from the other people waiting at the bus stop.

"What's he done?" Said a little voice

"What?" His head spun round to see a small girl, about 5 years old with large blue eyes questioning him.

"What's who done?"

"Your hamster"

"What hamster?"

"The one you just said a naughty word about"

His mind was obviously in slow mode, until it finally clicked.

"Oh that hamster, well erm..I don't actually have a hamster"

The girl wrinkled her nose and looked at him bemused, then shrugged.

"My friend Bob has a hamster, he is brown and bites. His name is Snuggles and I don't like him" she said.

"Sounds like a damn hamster to me" he quipped without thinking

Oh if looks could kill he would have been vaporised in an instant from the glare her mother gave him. Sensing the gaff the little girl struggled to smother a giggle behind her cupped hands.

"Oh!..er.. sorry..er..flowers are pretty aren't they, do you like flowers?

What nonsense was this pouring from from his mouth. Honest gov I'm not inappropriate with children,  just a blithering idiot. Oh god even his thoughts were muddled and sounded dodgy. Best to shut up.

But you know little girls, once they have made a friend there is no stopping them. How else do you account for  a woman's seemingly innate ability to witter endlessly about anything and everything?

"I like daises, I can make daisy chains, my friend Bella made a really long one. Can you make daisy chains?"

Hmm a conundrum, should he, a grown man some 6 ft 2 admit that he can indeed make daisy chains (courtesy of having a sister, not some weirdo closet habit) or should he act all macho and say no. He took a quick glace at the lady he presumed was her mum. She was actually rather attractive, young, perhaps 30, slim, well dressed. What answer would she like? he pondered.

"Actually I can, my sister and I once made the longest daisy chain at our school"

Wow a new low. Bragging about making daisy chains. He hadn't seen that it any of the chat up line books.

"Florence come away now, leave the man alone, the bus will be here in a minute" said the young lady

Well that proved it, no chance of getting into her knickers!

"It's ok mummy, he's my friend" said Florence pulling a cute little pouty face

"She is alright, passes the time until the bus comes" he said

Oh wait was that a faint smile?  Hey hey chances my chances are are on the up. Quick conversation while she is still looking..

"I don't suppose you know where this quote  comes from 'I found the end of the rainbow on the dark side of the moon'? Its been bugging me all morning.

"It's the skittles advert, the one with the astronaut. Consider yourself brainwashed" she laughed

The bus pulled up, and he sat there for a moment feeling like a muppet. Of course it was the stupid skittles advert, he had seen it over breakfast. Still back to the matter in hand, she had laughed, so she liked him yes? Or thought he was an idiot? Why were women so difficult to fathom?

"We're going to eat pizza, want to come? Said Florence jumping onto the bus.

"No no he's busy" her mum interjected far to quickly

"Ah sorry, I'm offf to work" he lied "enjoy your pizza"

And that was that. They went upstairs and on got on with their day and he sat downstairs with his mind flipping between daydreams of what could have been and that darn skittles ad.

The End

'Nothing a drink down the pub can't solve' - for James Oakes

Story number four, written in the glamorous St Maxine, hope you enjoy.

Hmm, I really do wish I could come up with something witty for this, oh well if wishes were horses...I'd actually be in quite a lot of trouble, come to think of it, what am I going to do about his awful presentation? Grit my teeth and blag it I suppose?

Round and round, James had mused, pondered and procrastinated for what seemed months now, and still his only solution was to blag it. Surely there was a little more nous in this head of his?

The presentation was a 'big deal', friends, family and colleagues would or should be waiting on his every word, to discover the results of 5 years of pondering. Some had thought him bold, others stupid, that he should take on a project with such revolve.

Looking back it seemed so daft. "To what is my purpose in life?" He had declared to his small audience quite out of the blue. Yes he was prone to day dreaming, but that was at the cost of not speaking much. Not to say he didn't have deep thoughts, challenge big questions.  He did. He just never usually talked about it.

"To sit and drink beer with friends" Chris had joked

James had considered this, his eyes already misting over in thought. " perhaps, but I'm going to crack it. I'm going to think about it, really work it out. It's a puzzle it must be solvable".

And so he had. Night after night he mused, read about the subject,  completed numerous life coach surveys, listed his strengths against his weaknesses,  dreamt imaginable and unimaginable dreams, and the time slowly seeped away.

Given how doggedly he had pursued it Chris had figured they make an event of the 'revelation day'. Same day, same time, just 5 years on and with a bigger audience,  all eager to know what twist awaited James's life.

Speculation was rampant amongst his friends

" He is going to jack it all in and draw comics" said one

"Nah robotics! Back to school to study robotics" said another

"A playwright"

"A banker"

"A philosopher"

"An archaeologist"

James had consider all of these guesses. His friends knew him well enough. It intrigued him what they thought he might do with his future. None were close though, none were even near, except perhaps if you allow someone who thinks a lot to label themselves a philosopher?  Perhaps at a stretch he could be that? He wouldn't mind that as a job title. Imagine, to be able to write that on your passport application!

He chuckled, thinking to himself,  "sometimes I sits and thinks and sometimes I just sits". If I could be paid to think, and mastered the art of disguising the gormless expression that crosses my face when I am indeed just sitting, how would they know? I could be paid to 'just sit'! Hmm sounds easy enough. Might get boring though.

Anyway you can see how easy it was for James to go off on a tangent. All those evenings,  all that reading, sitting and thinking. How much had been 'just sitting'? And how much golden insight had he gleamed when actually thinking? Evidently not much if his current predicament was anything to go by.

Perhaps an epiphany?  A voice from God?  A miracle sign that would come to him at the exact moment he stood to address them? He was clutching at straws.  5 years and not a clue what to say.

He googled 'witty quotes on life'. Scanned through the results, chuckled at a number, and then realised he was procrastinating again, and slammed the laptop shut. He flicked through his note pads, spread his mind maps on the bed, looked and looked again waiting for something to jump out and smack him square between the eyes. And when that didn't happen he put on his coat and slumped of to the pub to face the music.

"Welcome oh wise one" hollered Chris from the bar.

A crowd had already arrived, a pint ready and waiting opposite the mock throne that was his bar stool at the head of the table. He sat heavily, half hoping the seat would give way, anything to distract from...

Too late.

"Well come on then mate, don't leave us in suspense any longer" Chris was back with a round and obviously giddy with excitement and prior liquid fuel.

James shrank down on his seat, but another friend pulled him up.

"Well..erm." come on lighting bolt, come on clarity, anything please! Nothing came. James gulped and quietly said "I haven't the foggiest, I guess what I'm doing now. I'm happy".

His audience sat stunned, a few mimicking fish with their mouths gaping. His answer had been honest, sincere. He was happy. He had good friends,  enjoyed his work, nice house etc, did he really need a greater purpose? Hey, with any luck his answer may even have scored him a few brownie points at work. They must surely have thought he would quit?

"Really,  that's it? 5 years of philosophising and your great words of wisdom are 'havent a foggiest'!" His friend laughed a deep belly laugh

"Well hell at least he is happy, not everyone is" quipped another

"Only you could whittle away 5 years only to say 'haven't the foggiest' scoffed Chris.

And so it continued,  with friends in friendly banter, all answering life's big questions with a pint in one hand, supporting their chin with the other.

The End

Day 19 - Step 1 attach stamp...erm whoops!

Wow what an amazing day! I woke early with a writing project in my head. Basically if you give me a sentence, I will write a story and dedicate it to you, the original source of inspiration!  Its worked a treat, I have 10 sentences and have so far written 3 stories

1. Tale of Two Stinky Sisters for Sarah Price
2. Do you hear me Commander Womb for Tim Toni Harrison and,
3. Doggy Yoga? Really? For Daniel Lassiter

They are all typed up and on the blog, if you want to take a look. All feedback is much appreciated and if you have alternate titles that would be super too.

Plus don't forget to leave me a sentence in the comment box, if you haven't done so already.

Thanks!

I must say, all this writing is giving me such purpose, I love it. And as I write long hand I'm very soon going to have to buy a new writing pad.

Other than writing and typing the stories into my blog, thus editing along the way. I did my daily venture to the market, made a picnic, posted some letters, without the stamps thus forcing me to go into the post office, try and explain in very poor french that I was a numpty, and could she open the post box? Well yes she could, so after fixing the stamps, and reposting my letters, I then decided to take a wander along the coastal path and try my best not to over tax my obviously dimly lit brain.

I found a lovely bay, all to myself and set up camp (well towel and picnic). The waters are crystal clear and so I knew I was safe from one of my irrational fears. Seaweed. Arghhh that long kale stuff is just awful, especially when you have seen The Grudge with all that long hair that tries to kill you. Seaweed kale looks just like that, thus my fear is not irrational, it's blatantly trying to kill me! Arghh!

Anyway this beach didn't have evil seaweed kale and so I ventured for the first time into the sea. Oh to feel so free, it I such a joy. Although I'm scared of stuff touching me in the water and get a little panicked in foreign waters (in Britain at least you know its only the cold and seaweed kale that can kill you), I still love to do it. And so I had two swims, wrote on the beach, ate my picnic and wondered how on earth my legs had remained lilly white despite not wearing trousers for the best part of 2 weeks. Stupid legs.

I then came home, had my usual whitterings on facebook, made dinner, talked to Francis and started typing.

And now to bed. Night night, lots more writing tomorrow xxx

Doggy yoga? really? for Daniel Lassiter

Lol I actually struggled a little with this one initially and its taken a rather eccentric route as you can likely tell from the title. The hardest bit was writing in first person (I). Hope I got your doggies names right.

It was a gloomy day in this 'supposed' paradise, the dogs had been playing up all morning and I ready for a spritzer and it wasn't even 10 o clock.

Everything seemed to be about work, the constant treadmill; get up, feed dogs, drive to work, work too many hours, drive back, feed dogs, fall asleep. These little monsters were meant to save my sanity, give me something to look forward to. But as Jasper and Josh wrestled over a dirty sock they had plucked from the washing basket, and Jacob barked incessant encouragement,  my mind was at the end of its tether.

"Right you three, pack it in! We are going to try doggy yoga, see if we can get your minds to a higher plane. Hopefully a quieter one at that." I yelled. "Might even save my own mind in the process" I grumbled.

"Breath in and out, slowly releasing the anxieties of the morning,  and bend down into downward dog"

Josh and Jacob ignored me, the sock was too much fun and they thought I was just being odd. Jacob stood panting, watching, his head cocked to one side in puzzlement.

"What on earth is dad doing?" Jacob pondered

Ushering him over, I sighed, " Ah glad to see I've got at least one of you on board. Come here Jacob, copy me".

Jacob tootled over, his tail wagging. Coaxing him with a ping pong ball, Jacob excitedly went into the 'lets play' position, the yoga gurus call downward dog.

Far from being serene and in a higher plane, Jacobs mind and heart were racing

" ball ball ball, throw it dad, throw it, oh please please throw it, throw it dad, throw it"

And of course the other two had spotted what was going on.

Well for the briefest of moments had you glimpsed through the window you would have been amazed. There is the lounge a grown man and 3 dogs all doing yoga, all in the downward dog position.

However 3 of them were thinking 'ball ball ball, throw it dad throw it, throw it please dad throw it, throw it!'

And the other was thinking 'well I suppose I had better throw this darn ball'

But all three were smiling and as I threw it I thought ' oh to have such simple pleasures'

The End

Do you hear me Commander Womb? for Tim Toni Harrison

This one is for Tim Toni Harrison, it's totally random and made me marvel at the oddity of my brain. I'm sure neither of your little boys are like this lol

Today my two year old, who doesn't say much, said "That's enough, I've had it! No more molly coddling and wandering about in this ridiculous nappy, I'm off!"

Sam seethed. He was a quiet boy who said little but thought lots. He sucked his dummy hard and pondered intently the world to which he had been born.

Womb commander had lied, blatantly lied. This mission was clouded by plush toys,  garish colours and giggling subordinates his mother made him sit with at 'playgroup'. Oh how it infuriated him. Why would he want to play in a group? Far better to take control of the only useful thing, the mobile.  Cleverly disguised as a plastic toy, his mum had thought it cute the way he held it to his ear and babbled in it at such an early age. Fair enough he had learnt the action from her, but he was not babbling. This was Morse code, a special strand of which only those like him knew.

"Abort mission" he had signed "world sterile of use"

He had heard nothing back, no instruction,  no rescue mission, nothing. And so he had sat, and thought, and sat some more. What to do...until it clicked.

"I'm going to amass the most brilliant minds amongst this sorry lots of dribblers and take over" He chuckled to himself already giddy on power. He was no charismatic leader, his approach lay in bribery and bullying. Of course taking candy from a baby is easy, how else had he amassed so much? It was keeping the blighters from crying that was the hard part, though shiny stuff seemed to work.

Armed with sweets he sat in the centre and waited for them to descend. And there he played God.  To those he deemed worthy, he gave sweets, to those he didn't, just the shiny wrapper. If they kicked up a fuss and he liked their attitude more sweets. All he needed now were friends. Allies.  And how quickly friendships form at this impressionable age, especially when chocolates involved.

The bigger kids started work on a fort. One brave girl led the playgroup manager to an office to look at her teddy. Sam ordered the giant soft squares be brought against the doors, trapping them both. 'Its a sacrifice of war' he mused.

Likewise with the main doors. They were barricaded. No one should come, no one should go. This playgroup was now his kingdom within which he held his subjects.

Except of course in every playgroup there is a gobbler. A kid for whom chocolate and sweets are not a desire but a need. Tommy's eyes had lit up, his mouth salivating at the prospect of all that chocolate.  Of course Sam had put it in the protection of the only diabetic child. The one whose mum had brainwashed her into believing all candy was bad candy. But everyone has their price, and Tommy knew hers.

The secret weapon- rice pudding.

"Want to share a bowl with me" Tommy said wafting the bowl under Jazzies nose (fancy naming a diabetic child after a sweet!). She didn't blink, fixated on the bowl, they sat and she ate, until the inevitable nap time. Jazzie dozed, Tommy did not. Sam was too busy lording it above. King of the Castle and all that nonsense.

At the base of the fort the treasure glistened. Red, yellow and some other others Tommy couldn't remember. He sat, he munched. He munched some more and then he stopped. Creeping to the treasures edge he whispered, "Want some?"

The passing child jumped, startled,  "what?"

"Some treasure, not just a wrapper, some real treasure" said Tommy.

And so it continued, as every child passed, a whisper, "want some? Shh don't tell, its a secret"

And soon Sam's kingdom thinned for there nestled right below him were his subjects. All happy, all munching, all equal. But what of Sam?

He had presumed them sleeping and yet that faint rustling sound, what was that?

"My chocolate! " he suddenly roared, springing to his feet and sliding down the castle walls.

"Treason, Rotten treason, the lot of you! I will make you pay for this!" screamed Sam

20 eyes blinked back at him. " Or you could just join us?" Said Tommy.

Sam stared. There in front of him, equal piles of sweets. The wrappers in the centre, some of which had been made in to pretty things.

"Hmm seems this world does have its uses" he mumbled into his mobile before sitting down to join them.

The End

The Tale of Two Stinkie Sisters for Sarah Price

This is the first of my stories, whereby the dedicated person has provided the first sentence (in bold) thus inspiring the stories creation. Some have been harder to start than others. This one just flew out of the pen.

For Sarah, my stinkie sister, I hope you like it:

Once upon a time there were two sisters, a big one and a little one. Both were stinkie, really stinkie. They never washed their socks, they never combed their hair and they never ever had a bath.

Fortunately they lived in Stinksville, where the castle torrents rose higher than anywhere else, if only to avoid the rubbish building up below. The smell however rose and filled the air with a noxious gas no visitor went near. But to the locals, it was pleasant, akin to roses even (though their roses were brown rotting affairs, but that was all they had ever known).

Living amongst this the two sisters fought wildly.

"I'm far stinkier than you" cried the big one

"Not at all, I'm the stinkiest, just look at my loyal flies" roared the little one while stamping her feet.

Just as a side note I should explain. Here in Stinksville, flies are a sign of prestige. The more you have the better, and so they are collected as you would designer handbags, shoes and fast cars.

This fight was endless, stretching back many years, and although the big sister was 4 years older and should have had an advantage, the little sisters habits were so disgusting that truth be known she had overtaken her big sister on the stink stakes a long time ago. Deep down, big sis new this and sulked. Why was her nature not strong enough to be a garbage diver? It's not as if little sis even got paid to retrieve lost items from the mounting rubbish piles. Oh no, she did this for fun, a hobby, and she was famous for it! Her ghastly pong would surely always overcome that of Big sis, unless...

Big sis hatched a plan. A naughty evil little plan, as all the best plans are.

In the centre of the city was the Smell Bank. Millions of glass capsules each containing the original scent of what ever item you requested. The perverse even bought scratch and sniff cards of their favourite scents. The more obscene; freshly cut grass, laundered clothes and the likes went for a lot of money, but then it was only weirdo stooped men that bought and snuck away to their dark rooms to sniff those. Dirty beggars!

Still within those millions of capsules lay her plan.

A rumour existed that some clean blood outsider had insisted as a matter of health and safety that every capsule to be fitted with an emergency release valve. The sceptics said this was so outsiders could release the toxins trickle by trickle and poison them with honeysuckle and daises.

Well the truth was not too far removed. In fact so desperate were neighbouring towns, that when the usual methods of disease and reduced birth rate failed to kill of the city (the city was immune to such things), they had presented the Smell Bank as a gift. 'A celebration of the most intoxicating', was the swindle, or should I say marketing spin. What the locals didn't know about was the master plan of operation Flower Power. At the flick of a switch a bomb so intense in perfume would detonate and eradicate the city in a whiff! But why the delay in pressing it? No matter, Big sis had her own plan.

Luring Little sis there was of course easy. The promise of a particularly rank gift did the trick. And so then to the plan...a screaming contest. To stand in the centre of these glass capsules and each scream. Being sisters they would compete obviously, each would try harder, a higher note achieved each time. 'Little sis would partake in her own downfall', chuckled Big sis.

She whispered the dare into her ear , to make it seem all the naughtier. And Little sis took the bait without a moments hesitation.

Arghh!

Arghh!

Arghhhh!

They screamed and screamed, their faces red with effort, and finally the first glass capsule shattered to the floor. Its scent released,  the relatively harmless smell of custard, but those near still screamed in horror and scarpered as fast as they could.

And so with more screams, more capsules broke, more scents released, encouraging the panic and yet more screaming. Around them chaos, and something worse. A silent invisible poison. Rasping, their throats dry, the poison entered their lungs, clung to their clothes and seeped into their skin. But the sisters stood on, planted in their duel their heads thrust back, screaming ever louder at the ceiling.

They fell, let it be said simultaneously,  into the silence.

Above them, the most prized capsule, it's crack glistening in the sun light. Sewer Gas H2S

The End

Day 18 - Muddling through my strawberry box of thoughts

Apologies for the cake withdrawal symptom induced story earlier. I'm back to normal self now.

Before I march into my strawberry box of thoughts, to run through my day, its been lovely. I visited the market for more fresh food, and came back with two gorgeous ceramic bowls. I've eaten far too much and been reading 'What should I do with my life" by Bo Pearce, which I am very much enjoying, especially the range of stories from others that have broached this huge question.

It has struck me though that I may be taking this all too seriously. I don't know why I feel so compelled to make the 'right' choice and not waste life and its opportunities, but I really do. If I let my mind think on it, it is like a huge weight. So many possibilities, too much choice, so many roads that could be taken. I'm not the most decisive person at the best of times, so this not knowing and lack of focus is a struggle in itself. I'm presuming there is a right choice, a purpose that will make me feel fulfilled and complete. Happy; not that I'm generally unhappy, that's the odd thing, I just feel a bit lost. If ever I have a project I doggedly pursue it, in my work I'm a self confessed workaholic and now it seems this search for purpose is my new challenge.

When I started this 6 months ago in leaving the gallery, I thought I just wanted to set up my own business,  but its beginning to look increasingly like a quarter life crisis lol.

Anyway having been desperate to analyse my list yesterday, today I avoided it. I left my strawberry pot of thoughts on the floor fearful of what it might reveal. My nature is to organise, place things in neat piles, draw explanations, over think. What I could do with is a neon sign going "oi oi this way, this ones important! ". Given no neon sign has appeared, I split the 108 into 4 categories:

1. Me - things I felt my soul needed (sorry for using heavy words)
2. Family - anything that related to them
3. Business - my many 'own this...'
4. Actions - things I wanted to do that didn't fit into other categories, very broad.

I'm sure if I were to mix them all up again, I would likely place some things in different groups but hey ho. I've now got four envelopes,  each to be tackled. The first to tackle was the hardest 'Me'. I very quickly split them into 2 further categories.  It's really hard to describe the 2 categories, but it resulted in something like: If you do these things (pile 1), you have more chance of doing these /feeling like this (pile 2). Interestingly there were 21 in pile 1 and 20 in pile 2, so very equal and 40% of my 108 are things about me. Not that surprising I suppose.

I'm going to leave them spread over the bed, and tackle another envelope.

Did anyone join me in this exercise? Get any interesting results?

Do leave me comments, it helps me know I have an audience to my ramblings :-) xxx

Day 18 - The Confectioners Perfume (a very short tale)

A short tale for you:

"Venture not into the light", cried the svelte figure
Delve my pretty, your hearts delights beckon you forth", cooed the rather plumper figure

Head swaying back and forth, left to right, she hesitated. Her mind cast back to the contents of that light? Was it worth it? She ummed. Plenty of greenery, succulent fruits and lakes of refreshing water. It was true, it was not the sinly Eden it had once been. Gone were the towers of fresh cream cakes, the dark jar enticing her forward to savour its warm rich velvet. Not just any warm rich velvet, M&S double truffle dark chocolate warm rich velvet. Oh how her mouth salivated for just a teaspoon of that nectar. But it was a dream, gone. It no longer took pride of place on her centre shelf. In its place. An unshapely monstrosity.  Green, limp, without even the most basic self pride to bother investing itself with taste. Lettuce, oh this bain. This trial that must be trod, and for what? Health, vitality, youth? Can those really not be found from cake? Surely smiles, laughter and joy, a prerequisite, a basis for all cake. Surely these offer more to life than lettuce? And so to the conundrum,  to enter the light or not?

I have decided to leave the tale short, perhaps you can think of your own ending? To enlighten you as to my choices. I'm afraid I followed the sinners path. I delved, gorged and remorse that there was no cake. What little comfort that every ounce of food available has been devoured and yet it unlikely totals one slither of decadent perfection. Oh cake, where aren't though cake?

Well I ruddy know where you are, you are in the bakery next door wafting your confectioners perfume. Who's silly idea was it to go on a diet whilst living next door to a bakery! Heaven help me. Hmmm Maria heaven, what an image - candy floss clouds, rain of chocolate raisins, pavements of butterscotch,  windows of jazzies, lakes of dark warm chocolate...oh the possibilities are endless

Until later adui my friend's xxx

Day 17 - A mini challenge for you...

Well I said I would get back to you with what I had been up to this afternoon, and so to summarise, writing, whittering with mum and markles, market, eating and the biggest thing a little think as to what I'm going to so with my life.

Being of the typical google generation, I typed 'what do i do with my life', and I found a couple of interesting links both of which focus on a similar idea of listing important things to you. I popped a very thorough approach on the Elements of Health facebook page but decided personally to do a quick 20 minute exercise. I obviously dont have enough patience lol. I wondered if you might like to join me in the exercise. You only need 20 minutes,  paper, pen and a quiet space. The full link is: http://www.wisebread.com/feeling-stuck-100-ways-to-change-your-life#comments

The aim is to sit quietly for 20 minuets and just try and write a total of 100 things you would like to do/careers you would like/ people you would like to meet.

While writing I found it quite difficult to use all 20 minutes, I looked at the stop watch a couple of times, but persevered. You are also not meant to look at the list until the next day, I however must confess I was naughty and having done the exercise I had a skim through and me being me chopped them into individual things and decided to try and group them. But I now feel bad, I know I am best to sleep on it so will scruff them up again and do it again in the morning.

I dint feel I should talk about my main themes yet, but if you want me to type out my 108 as it ended up, do let me know as that will take a while :-) I must say it seems rather apt looking at my minds thoughts all in a messy pile dumped in a strawberry box. Looking forward to organising it though lol.

For the sake of 20 minutes the process and results are very interesting, and I'm hoping it will help guide me.

Anyway I'm going to curl up with a book and get an early night. My mind feels rather heavy.

Night night, sweet dreams

Love Maria and Francis (my new snail friend not a french fancy man lol) xxx

Day 17 - Great news! All new Snail Tales...

Bonjour mon folks,

I have woken feeling so happy with the world, and as long as I don't think too much that is how I plan to stay. I cruised the midnight waves and finally finished my fifth book (Slowman by literary giant J M Coetzee - very good!) And fell into a deep slumber.

Thus I was all springy and awake this morning, ready for May 1st pinches and punches, giggles and mischief. Well I don't know about you but I love to start a month productively, with everything spick and span and looking lovely. So the studio had a spring clean (ah the joys of having a tiny pad, it takes no time at all), gave myself a scrub and realised that i must have fallen asleep in a weird patch of cloud as I have burnt right bum and thigh (still sore), burnt left under arm and burnt right ear and neck. Hmm not looking like the most fashionable lobster at the moment. Anyway covering the burnt bits as best I could I ventured to the market for mushrooms and who should I spot on the way but a new friend!

His name is Gregory and he is very grumpy. He doesn't like the fact I have noticed him living in the fern outside my studio, and reminded me as such; "we are neighbours, nothing more, and I prefer to be a private neighbour at that!". Well that's his view, I have other plans and decided to make it a challenge to change his mind and invite him round for a lovely meal (no dont jump to the awful conclusion that I'm going to eat him, and sshh he doesn't know about Mersoir Escargot!). Anyway Plan A of operation friendly neighbour was to go to the jardineir and buy lots of nice smelling herbs and pretty flowers, which I then planted in studio garden. I then as nonchalantly as I could mentioned to him I was having  tossed salad, of basil (two sorts), ray, thyme citrine, rosemary, mint and fingers crossed a strawberry of my new plant, and would he like to join me? Honestly if snails had teethmI'm sure I heard them grate. His reply, " how do you English say it...er bugger off!". So fine, be like that Gregory, see if I care, I will eat my salad on my own and add cous cous too. Its not like I'm losing my marbles or anything and making up snail stories just to amuse myself.

Anyway having eaten my lunch in my lovely little garden, I noticed a very handsome fellow looking at me intently. Sat by my door I have no idea how I missed him except I'm ridiculously unobservant and was likely still upset from being snubbed by Gregory.  Anyway he is tanned, has lovely long eyes that blink in the sunlight and a wonderfully large caramel brown mobile home. He introduced himself as Francis and we had a delightful natter about the garden and the struggles of learning French without practising lots. He travels a lot and is quite the free spirit but I shall just enjoy his company while it lasts. Also given he is happiest on my door he has offered to stand guard. What a gentleman :-) This made me rather nostalgic as I used to have a guard snail in my cabin on the Isle of Man. Best part of two years Snail stuck tight to the ceiling above my door. And would you guess it I never had a single robbery or bump in the night. Great little guard snail he was.

Anyway moving the conversation away from snails. I should get one with some French and give some thought to what I'm going to do with myself. I left the gallery almost 6 months ago, and despite coming up with numerous hair brained ideas I have yet to settle on anything. So many choices, so little brain capacity and decisiveness. I shall let you know how I get on lol

Day 16 - Burnt bum but feeling human

Well I'm relieved to say that as of 2pm today I woke feeling human. Having had all of 4 hrs sleep last night I woke this morning feeling weak and still poorly but forced myself to yet again try and sort this stupid internet out. Finally having got it sorted I uploaded all my blogs - so sorry they have taken such a while and headed home via the market for strawberries.

I managed to eat two then despite telling myself I wouldn't sleep during the day, fell asleep face down on the swing chair and woke with hilarious tan lines and a bright red bum, which is still sore to sit on. But still at least I feel well again. Having not been able to think about food this morning, I have had to make do with the left over lettuce, tomatoes and cous cous lounging about in the fridge, so yes the diet is going very well!

Other than that more reading and trying not to sleep, I am hopeful tomorrow will be more exciting!

Day 15 - Disgracing myself at the supermaket. Death come quickly!

Arghh a most horrifying day. My poor belly. I felt so poorly. Having not had internet for several days, I forced myself out of bed to Geant (supermarket) and spent 2 hrs trying to get internet credit, milk, wheetabix and petrol. The truth was I was mostly locked, crying on the floor of a public toilet. I am a useless sick person. I always cry and feel sorry for myself, plus I had never been sick like this.

The lowest point was having to rush out of a shop, leaving everything (bag, money, purse, keys, coat) with a poor startled young lady. I made it as far as the shop door and was sick. Not a highlight, especially as i then had to try and run to the bathroom only to spend another 30 mins wondering whether the shade of yellow was vile or my healthy pineapple breakfast. Sorry far too much detail.

Anyway when I finally got home, I crawled into bed and fitffuly slept...so im afraid nothing very exciting to tell you. Plus rather annoyingly,  the internet the young lady had said was fixed, was not fixed, so I felt compelled to call Markles and let him know I was alive, if only just. Apologies for sounding like death warmed up.

On the plus I only managed to eat 1 wheetabix all day, so the diet has started well :-)

P.s. dont go to the cow on the quey, the burger is scrumptious but the food poisoning less so.

Day 14 - Rain and cows...

Its absolutely tipping it down. Torrential rain and thunderstorms and obviously I havent packed sensible shoes so ive got wet feet. I also have the worlds most tastiest burger - yay my last before the diet tomorrow.

I decided to go to frejuis to a restaurant,  which translates as The Cow on the Quey. It has big bright cow art, cow ornaments and lots of cow on the menu, so im in heaven.

The chap who served it gestured to his belly to say I would be very full afterwards and it was delicious. He wasnt lying, I was absolutely stuffed, when I eventually waddled out of the place. My one negative, is that the meat was almost raw in places, and I asked for medium. They really do have a different definition of cooked meat here in France.

Anyway I needed sleep and a book to read while I digested, and thats exactly what I did. I could hardly move. Needless to say I did nothing more with the day, and didn't eat a scrap until almost 9pm when I decided ice cream was a compulsory partner to a film. Really my diet is shocking I know!

Day 13 - Happy birthday Stinkie

Today is my little sisters birthday, and Ive sent her a terrible card, which she thought was an anniversary card instead of a birthday card. It could have been, I hadn't a clue what it said, it just had a naff puppy holding a bouquet of flowers. Sorry sis, though at least I remembered :-) Hope you had a nice day stinkie (this being my affectionate name for her).

The weather was very cold and miserable,  so I was glad I had booked a wonderful massage to start the day. I then went to the chocolatiers for breakfast (yes before you ask my muffin tops are very happily growing outside of my trousers, thank you!), before pottering back to the studio for a nap. I know its such a hard life!

In the afternoon I ventured back to St Maxine, which you have a probably guessed is my favourite place, and toodled about the town. I found a shop filled with hats so amused myself for a while in there, before deciding I didn't need a hat and opting to buy an ice cream instead. I then found a second hand boutique filled with designer clobber, sadly even the second hand christian dior scarf for €40 was too much to justify, so I escaped while I still had a few pennies to my name.

It was then that I did a naughty thing, something I never do...I did a major splurge. You see it wasn't my fault I was happily minding my own business, when I heard a little voice..."come inside Maria, we have pretty things to show you". Looking about I was instantly drawn to a gorgeous boutique on the other side of the road. "Welcome my precious, make yourself comfy, look around at the delights we have for you". Hmm this is a new sales technique - subconscious shop coaxing. Well I gave in and instantly fell in love, fortunately with something I really needed. A black leather jacket. Yes Markles, I don't care what the bank manager says, I did really need it. Its pretty, and oh so soft and I look like a biker chick (in my head at least) which is a must for a Manxie.

However, I also did something daft, you see they use silly European sizes over here, so while I tried on other things and my jacket, the shop lady kept on politely handing me size 38. To which I refused "no no Madame,  moi size 36". To which she responded with more honesty than any English sales assistant has ever mustered "Hmm pardon Madame but that is too tight, just a little, you try size 38?".

I was devastated! Who would have thought a diet of cakes, croissants, bread and cheese would put me up a size in 2 weeks! Horrified, I refused out of principle. In my head the size 36 leather jacket looked great, so I bought that and left the poor lady folding up all the size 38 things. It was until I got back to the restaurant and checked on google, that I realised I had bought a size 8 jacket and the lady had been trying to sell me size 10 clothes - my usual size! I thought 38 equalled a size 12! How stupidly vain of me. Anyway having bought that jacket Markles will murder me if I ever don't fit in it, so its a good thing Monday is only 2 days away. Diets always start on a Monday, don't you know.

Content that I was still my usual size I celebrated with steak and chips, and choc pud with custard for dessert. Well Ive got to store strength if I have a diet on the horizon!

Day 12 - oh to be a zillionaire...

Today I was meant to be going to a big market in Aix de Provance, about an hrs drive away, instead having had yet another night of bad dreams, this time involving a house full of dead and dying animals as part of an extreame ecologists natural experiment, I wake up far too late in my little studio, and steady my fears by making my usual wheetabix in bed.

I follow this with reading, drag myself out of bed with the thought of tottering about in my platform red shoes and little red dress and decide a trip to a chocolatiere is in order as my kettle has blown the fuse in half the studio leaving me without a coffee making source (or electricity in that half of the studio). While slurping coffee and munching cake, I have a lovely stilted conversation and am encouraged to visit Canne. Having been before I know it is an upmarket version of St Tropez,  so I can expect more parading and drooling in shop windows.

Canne was exactly that, and it is nice to experience the high life occasionally. That said having spent a few hrs window shoppings, obviously unable to afford even a designer name tag let alone a full handbag, I decide two things. Number one - I need the loo and Two, im going to spoil myself! And so I swan into the Carlton Hotel and entered the marble elegance of their restrooms (Sean Penn, Micheal Douglas and George Clooney have also used the hotels facilities, and who knows maybe a posh girl celebrity has even graced the same toilet seat as me - oh dear, how sad!). I then decided there was a strong likelihood of getting a proper cup of tea here, so made myself comfy in the lounge. There, despite paying €10 for a cup of tea, I had it served in a teapot with a British crown on it, a dirty tea cup and no milk! But oh isn't it a joy when these haughty establishments get it so badly wrong and you get to complain. Mumble grumble, I will stick to my builders mug of tea thank you very much!

I was now into hour 5 of wandering streets in ridiculous heels, and was still surviving. I walked the marina looking at the huge boats, clocking those registered on the Isle of Man, and wondering what it would be like to swan about all the hot places of the world, set in such yachting luxury. The crews for some of them must have entered double figures! Oh to have zillions...but I'm sure it would get boring. For a start I would forever have to be flying my friends out to see me, or else I'd get lonely. Can't have pancake parties on my own!

I felt happier after pizza, driving back (singing dreadfully to 90s english pop classics) to my little studio. Basic pleasures are always more satisfying in the long run.

Day 11 - Please officer I'm not a complete numpty

Given I am in this part of the world, I thought I really should make the effort and drive to St Tropez. It used to be 'the' place to go, but I dont remember being overly impressed last time I was here.

Indeed I decided to have lunch in St Maxine on the way as I didnt feel any hurry to get to St Tropez.  Upon arrival, the marina is heaving with tourists getting off the boats, its dirty, dated, and has mass produced art being pawned on the promenade. I know it makes me sound snobby but this area is just so tacky. However persever! Nip into the cobbled lanes and there are wonderful boutiques and everything becomes so much more pleasurable.

It can be a lovely places to saunter, shop and eat ice cream, just avoid the marina front. I wasted the afternoon, wondering if I should have eaten so much cake, pastries and cheese loaded bread - the clothes were just so tempting but you cant help but feel like a 10 ton tessy compared to the locals.

For dinner, I headed back to St Maxine,  found a wonderful little Moroccan inspired place and opted fpr a slighly more healthy stir fry. Fortunately with no wine as lucky me got stopped in the random breath tests by the police! This was my first time...how exciting...so I didnt know what to do, or the language, but knew I hadnt had a drop to drink all day so just nervously enjoyed the experience. However I was still nervous and upon passing the breath test promptly stalled the car in front of the police man and seemed to take an age to drive away. Oh golly what a numpty!

Never mind though, its all good fun :-)

Day 10 - sun glorious sun!

Day 10

It is fair to say the weather has been rather disappointing. I've had to wear jumpers and my rain mac on a number of occasions which wasn't really what I was hoping for, and the forecast is for a week full of rain, but today is glorious sun, so out comes the lobster body (though turning more albino lobster by the day).

Here at the studio is a shared bbq, an old style thing that uses wood not charcoal, with a cute chimney. What with my many man accomplishments,  I decide fire making will be easy, and potter off to the butchers. The butcher had a special burger making machine, so I could choose how big I wanted it ( myveyes are always bigger than my belly!), and a spicy sausage as well. Now team wood, waste paper, matches and a hungry Maria and what could possibly go wrong? Actually nothing...I know disappointing...there was lots of smoke, but sufficient heat for me to have a scrumptious meal, complete with salad and pan fried mushrooms cooked in lemon - Yum!

I then whiled away the rest of the day reading in the sun...until bedtime.  So not the most productive of days but a wonderful one non the less.

I should say if anyone wants to come visit, book the studio, villa or apartment, you can take a look at the website:

http://thecotedazur.moonfruit.com

I'm loving it here!

Day 9 - I need 2 chickens, 2 lovebirds, a rabbit, vegetables and...

Day 9

Yay market day! Not that I'm sad or anything but I've been waiting all week for another potter about the big market. Huge bag in tow, I tottered off to practise my French and buy lots of fresh food. But not before a trip to boulangerie for a morning pastry to go with my coffee. I know all this indulgent food is coming back to bite me. I'm definitely sporting more of a waddle than a swagger. Paps, I don't suppose you want to adopt a Maria as your guinea pig for healthy living? I could make courgette cake, surely that is a veggie portion?

After a successful purchase of enough salad to feed 10 rabbits, I decide it would be a lovely idea to smarten up the tiny garden as a thank you to my host for letting me stay. So off to the jardiniere (garden centre), which rather excitedly also called itself an animalerie. Roll forward to two hrs of me imagining how lovely it would be to have chickens, rabbits, a giant grey parrot, a pair of cute loved up love birds....and some nice flowers. I really could waste my life away in those places.

Having I initially picked up lettuce, strawberry plants and other veggies. I reign myself in and pick up lilies, anenomies and some pretty red flowers instead. Though in the following 3 hrs of gardening I did find several mini terracotta pots so maybe I can sneak a few cute herbs in? Yay another excuse to go back! I am so loving this way of life.

Cue more wine, fresh fish and salad for dinner followed by a box of chocolates while reading in bed and who could fail to be happy?

Enjoy your day, catch up soon xxx

Day 8 - A visitor in the night

Day 8

So whats a poor girl to do...innocently sleeping alone in my studio (in an as yet undisclosed specific location), and yet as I catch my much needed beauty sleep, I receive a visitor in the night! Only after the deed did he bother to tell me his name...Frank. So obvious a name for such a devient I could have guessed it. And so yes, I'm wounded and feeling the shame of some stranger stealing from me in the night, but you can bet your bottom dollar, that blighter Frank wont know whats hit him when he gets a whiff of the my new defences - Moziblast 2000!

Ok and back to semi normal conversation...I smothered my many bites in savlon and got on with the day. Now I'm feeling happy pottering about in the car, I ventured further afield to St Maxime. Just as lovely as Frejuis, perhaps even slightly more up market, it is filled with gorgeous boutiques, restaurants and the compulsory marina full of ridiculously expensive yachts. To give the french due credit all bar the tourists are well dressed and thus in some vain attempt to fit in I had teemed a nice skirt with platform red suade shoes.  What I hadnt accounted for was cobbled streets and teeming rain. And so as I tried my best to totter at speed without breaking my ankles to avoid getting drenched (no I didnt think to coordinate an umbrella with my outfit) I so almost fell, and accidently grabbed hold of some unsuspecting chap, and shireked "oh pardon mersoir!". In fairness he was nice about it, although I'm left with the delightful knowledge that I'm just as capable of looking a tit in France as I am in England. Actually I seem to have a greater propensity for it here in France. I suppose it could have been worse, I could have shrieked "oh balls!", or something equally eloquent. Anyway I very much enjoyed St Maxine and would gladly go back, but next time with an unlimited credit card. Well a girl can dream...oh and sensible shoes!

I've also decided that I need (not to be confused with want) a little leather jacket. Everyone seems to have one and it so smartens up a pair of jeans in that effortless smart/casual sort of way.

Back at the studio, I whittered away on facebook with my mum for most of the evening all the while slurping wine until I realised to my horror that I'd gone drank the whole lot! And so sitting sozzled on my own I thought it a good idea to pull the sofa bed out and watch an ancient comedy film (free with the sunday suppliment) about a dying mans last wishes to have his ashes spread at Morecambe Bay - a riveting storyline I know. In fairness the start and end were great...as for the middle, well god knows I was sound asleep :-)