Writing – Page 5 – I Walk Alone

A hint of normality

On 14 March 2020 when we all said goodbye at the end of the four hundred and first Southampton parkrun none of us could have guessed that it would be more than sixteen months before we’d see parkrun number 402. In those sixteen months, the world had changed. We had all become conditioned to wearing masks, keeping our distance, touching nothing and disinfecting everything. The logistics of organising an event with hundreds of people running in close proximity, queueing for tokens and handing over barcodes was a nightmare.

Plagued

It has been a long time coming, but finally, the big project I have been working on for the last few years has come to fruition. All the research, head scratching, procrastination, imagining and working late into the night have finally paid off. My first novel, Plagued, has now been published and I can call myself an author rather than just a writer.

Truth and fiction

June had been a busy month, mainly taken up with research, writing and working with my editor. At least the weather was nice and I was able to sit on the decking at my little round mosaic table while I worked. Of course there was some walking, but nothing very exciting, or worthy of writing about. By mid July, the bulk of the work was done, and as the weather was still good, I was pining for greenery and off road trails.

Out of the blue

By mid may 2020, the lockdown restrictions were slowly being eased. It had been a strange couple of months. Many people had worked from home, others had been furloughed and were being paid to stay at home. Non essential shops were closed, as were pubs and clubs. Some people had been self isolating and not going out at all and the supermarket suddenly felt like a dangerous place. Despite all this, lots of unsung heroes had been working through it all.

Memories of the early 1960’s – the last long summer of freedom

1964

As winter 1964 drew to a close leaving me with memories of Dad lifting me up to snap icicles off the arch of the porch and sucking them like ice lollies (obviously no one had heard of acid rain and pollution in those days) I knew my days at home were numbered. Spring brought my fourth birthday and, in September, I would be going to school. Pappy was preparing me by teaching me to sing the alphabet, to tell the time on the arched wooden clock on the mantelpiece and to write my name. Continue reading Memories of the early 1960’s – the last long summer of freedom

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