StreetSweeper

Not much happening

2009-10-29T13:35:00.002+02:00

Not been up to much recently aside from going to see Simon Amstell live.
He was terrific. How much of his material is real, how much invention I couldn't guess but he came across as complex and vulnerable; not an easy role for a stand up.

Nothing recent on the writing either owing to a combination of indolence and distraction by my late decision to do NaNoWriMo again with all that involves.

Lazy Lazy Lazy

2009-10-21T13:18:00.002+03:00

I really do get tired of myself.
I had a decent little piece about Autumn half written in my head and just never got around to writing it down and now it's evaporated. Serve me right.

Anyway I have uploaded chapter 1 of 'Emma' for perusal. I am working on subsequent chapters slowly.
Just this morning I decided to sign up for NaNo again. Why in God's name have I done that? I really am crazy; I haven't got an idea yet alone an outline and I've got about a week to find one.
I think I'm trying to pressurise myself into disciplined work, but myself is usually wise to that old trick so it may not work and then it'll be tears before bedtime again.

You care for nothing

2009-09-15T13:23:00.003+03:00

"You care for nothing but shooting, dogs, and rat-catching,and you will be a disgrace to yourself and all your family."
Erasmus Darwin to his son Charles.

It's hard to predict how anyone will turn out and it's easy to criticise younger people.

Children seem to have little similiarity to their parents. Having just had unpleasant dealings with Tony's son that comes from the heart !! Rejection of the older generation is commonplace and probably necessary for progressive thought, but sometimes it just seems like deliberate idiocy.
I'm not in a good mood this morning.

Monday mornin'

2009-09-07T12:27:00.002+03:00

Start of a new working week and I actually did some writing for the novel this morning. Have a look over on 'Whatever Comes' if you're interested....

While walking Razz this morning I had a flash of long lost memory. There was a nice little single funnel steamer coming up the channel. It was still misty and she had lights on her fore and main masts.I said to the dog'Oh they're her riding lights I think'.

While wondering if I had the nautical term right I remembered a house I'd not seen in 50 years. It was called 'Riding Lights'.
The memory was of a girl called Lyn and me.I'd stayed at her house overnight and we snuck out after dark and tramped around the woods in the moonlight. At one point, trudging through someone's garden, we found a swimming pool that had been drained. It's deep end contained a large pile of fallen leaves and we'd rushed about in it shrieking and throwing armfulls in the air.
Some time later her father's car picked us up on the road and took us home.
I was never invited there again.
Strange that I should remember it so clearly today.

Okay Foxy Woxy I still luvs ya

2009-09-04T10:29:00.002+03:00

This morning I fire up the old laptop and open Firefox and Shazzam there's my mail!
Apparently the Mozilla Fairy snuck in while I was sleeping and made things all better again. Thank You whatever you are. Even my morning headache feels better.

I have another fly in my ointment that is trivial by comparison, but I must mention it now.
I buy stuff online: it's easier than hauling the dog to a shop only to be refused entry which irks me somewhat, plus paying the delivery charge keeps somebody in work and decreases my carbon footprint, plus I'm lazy.

It took ages to find galvanised buckets even with all the might of Google, but I found some and ordered 2.
Box arrived,big box. I opened it and found shoved inside each other 2 galvanised incinerators- the ones that are really a modified dustbin.

Seeing as I want the buckets for forcing rhubarb, large and ungainly dustbins aren't gonna be adequate substitutes.

I have emailed the company and asked them to collect bins and replace with buckets. Watch this space.....

Today the sun is shining for a rare change. I must away to the borders and plant some bulbs, skippety skippety skip.

Driven Mad

2009-09-03T10:58:00.002+03:00

Help. I'm being driven mad....

It started when I caught H1 N1 Insomnia from a certain relative.
I've had older chronic versions of Insomnia before, the kind where you wake at 03.30, get up make a cuppa and grab a start on the day before the rest of the world.

Now I've got the 'Why go to bed at all' variety, which is very deadly. I hang around my laptop till well past beddies time then I read until my eyes fall out of my face, then I have vivid crazy dreams that don't fit into ANY context I can think of. Then I get up and drag through next morning with headache etc etc.Of course I liven up again in the evening and don't go to bed then either.

Added to this internal disease Firefox is making me crazy. I've always loved Firefox and been besotted since we first met, loving all his fun features.

A little while back I downloaded 3.5 and very snazzy he was too.There were few irritations,okay he was slower than the old Firefox, but I have more patience so we didn't fight about it. Pages weren't always showing up legible because the damn print size kept wobbling, but I just dug out my specs.

However 3 days ago Foxy Baby refused to let me read my email.Maybe it was a fit of jealous pique, so I let it ride.
Another day and still no email, just blank pages. So I tried tinkering to no avail.

Then I went for help only to find that Foxy has been screwing over his other buddies and they like me are getting a bit pissed at this anti-social behaviour.

This morning, headache an' all, I backtracked to a previous Foxy Woxy , it cost me a few passwords but what the Hell.
I started again
................. (long pause for unprintable expletives).........

The old version won't let me read my email either.

If you're reading this Foxy Socksy I'd like to tell you that you are jeopardising my long held affection for you.

Get back on track, straighten up and do right by me!!!!!

Been busy: which is GOOD

2009-08-30T12:30:00.003+03:00

I've been mentally and socially active recently.
Taking grandaughter on holiday for a week, getting a visit from an old friend, starting agility classes with the dog and joining a real knitting group. That's more in the last month than I've done in the whole of the last year.
I've also been more active online, chatting on Facebook and Ravelry etc etc.
So here I am again as well.

Today I'm uploading 3 short stories to my writing site. Look for the link on the right of this page. These are all stories submitted in different competitions over the last year or two. None of them won, but at least they're legible. Take a look if you like.

The Icelandic effect

2009-07-25T14:50:00.001+03:00

I've been so deep down in my own muddled head that it was only last week I realised a sea change has been working through me.
I was in Iceland, no I'm not being pretentious; but Iceland has lots of big sky and 360 degree panoramas that even the most slug-like mind has to expand to cope.

I noticed while gawping that I was happy; free of stress, free of pain.I was on the outside of me among the glaciers and the lava fields and it felt damn good.
Quite possibly the latest incarnation of me crawled out of those ashes and flapped it's stubby wings.

Of course being in Iceland just brought things to a head; a lot of 'stuff' has brought me to this point. The list is long: but I think the most important steps have been the presence of Razzle in my life, Kate's illness and recovery which have altered our relationship from mother/daughter to best friends. Oddly too my estrangement from Aileen has taught me not to dwell on things I can't change. All of which and more has made me decide that I'm no longer passing through life as Tony's Relict but as Norma mark 3.

Nobody reads this blog, so note to self: hold on to this good feeling and keep testing the wings.

Mamma Mia

2009-02-13T11:47:00.004+02:00

I watched Mark Kermode's video review of this on

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=61UolzFTVPI

before seeing the film. I agree with every word of it. It's a great review for a really odd movie. Do watch the review.
I think Mamma Mia is a strange movie because it was made for we ageing farts who still hanker for a LIFE and that's why it did so well at the box office; grey power rules! Cooooool.

Dronesville

2009-01-11T19:17:00.003+02:00

I have started on my New Year Resolutions in so far as I've begun the second draft of Lizzie and signed up to the 2yr novel group on Forward Motion ( I did start this class 2 years ago but my head still wasn't glued on and the story's seed fell on stony ground) I've no idea what I'm going to write but goals are good, goals are good, goals are good.

This week Razzle has been ill with a nasty bug. I think he ate something very dead when we were on the beach last weekend. Anyway £50 poorer and with lots of stains on the rugs it looks like the anti-biotics are winning.
I've got a stiff back and neck from working on a jigsaw, but I'm being brave about the agony. It's tough here in Dronesville.

The signs are hopeful

2009-01-08T15:27:00.003+02:00

So what else am I doing apart from maundering here?

I'm knitting again too. Now this may not sound much to you, but I seldom let a day pass without needles in my hands back in the days....
I have proudly completed TWO sweaters in the last 2 months: one for my daughter Kate and another for her husband Chris. This I find vastly reassuring because I've been a knitting addict since I was five. I have been buying yarn and knitting books in the last year, so I'm glad to be gaining some control over my stash.

Buying books has been a major addiction these last months. Buying but not reading.
New Year's resolution number 685 MUST read something all the way through. I am hopeful of accomplishing this one because Christmas tv was such utter tripe that even I, the Complete Vegetable, was appalled.

Yes I feel a degree of optimism coming on.

Now I can look at this without crying (much)

2009-01-08T15:17:00.002+02:00

I thought it was about time that I put a photo of Tony here.I haven't looked at this picture in over a year
because this was the last photo I took of him. It was November 2004 and he was going into hospital for surgery the next day.

Still love you so much

Today a fresh start ( how many times have you heard that one before}

2009-01-05T11:47:00.003+02:00

This IS a fresh start because I am going to begin editing my NaNo novel.
If you follow the link on this page to 'Whatever Comes' you'll see the original first draft of chapter one. I intend to edit chapter by chapter on the second draft because I'm reasonably happy with the storyline at present.

I would appreciate it should any of you choose to read a chapter, if you would add your comments.
Please tell me what you think especially where you find boring bits or sections that you think are complete rubbish.
As I progress through the chapters I'd also be glad if you would comment on the story and characters.
If you think the hero is a big Woos or the heroine is a ball-breaker I'd love to know that especially if you tell me WHY.
Hopefully we will all get to the end of the second draft.

Then we'll go for the third and final draft................

NANOWRIMO '08 VICTORY

2008-11-27T18:51:00.002+02:00

I finished my Nano novel today. It was 50536 words when it went through the counter. If I could remember how to do it I would upload my certificate, but I can't.

I could have gone on writing too.

The first time I did NaNoWriMo was 2005 and I scraped through then. I never revised that work because it was rubbish.
This time I just dropped into the Zone and wrote. I wrote almost every day with the aim of 2000 words a day. Sometimes I was exhausted and limped through to my total and on others I had to double check my word count because it seemed too easy.

I feel good.

snakeskin

2008-11-08T13:10:00.003+02:00

Yes I've been sluggish, but it's damned hard to slough off of your old skin and get the new one working right, but I'm all gleaming and wriggling now.

I'm tackling NanoWrimo again. Partly to see if I have any writing in me, because the last one was done to save my sanity. but also because it's fun.
I'm enjoying the slog and punching in my daily total. I get the writing done in small bites and it's largely physical discomfort that gets me up and leaving the laptop.
I walk the dog with more pleasure because the fresh air tastes better. I enjoy the TV programmes that I do see. I'm rationing myself to one maybe two per day and they are my reward for working hard.

Ok if you don't believe that I'm really trying hard I 've posted chapter one first draft aka load of rubbish over on 'Whatever comes'. and I HAVe written chapters two and three as well!

I'm back and this time I think I'll be staying

2008-09-08T10:26:00.001+03:00

Well it's a long time since I posted, but I think I'm going to stick around this time. I've realised it's time to change. I'm used to change and I miss it, there's no fizz any more.

Since I doubt that life is going to throw anything new my way aside from bad news, bad health and slow decline into terminal Bleah I must create some interest to divert my attention. So I am going to start writing properly; in other words I shall be professional about it. I shall set myself targets and write every day; I've done that before so that's not a problem.
This time however I'm going to submit stuff to publishers.I always shied away from that before because I didn't want rejection, but now I realise that there'll be tension and excited anticipation while waiting for those letters telling me 'No Thanks'. I shan't mind the failures because I'll be able to tell myself that there's always another publisher so there'll always be fizz in that, plus the enormous buzz from actually finishing stuff.
I'm getting excited just thinking about it!

It's odd the way my mind makes decisions. I've been in an old pattern recently but failed to realise it. I've been slothful and sad, but little things kept popping into my mind. I was remembering snippets from stories I'd written and I've been having vivid dreams with intricate story-lines. That pattern of depression and day/night dreams has always preceded any major decision I've made but I'd forgotten because it's been a long time since I took any action.

It's been a while

2007-11-25T10:10:00.000+02:00

Almost a year has slipped through my hands without any posts. My life hasn't been uneventful, but I deal in tiny events now like seeing otters in the wild.

I have one major event to tell- my sister and I found each other. Neither of us knew of the other's existence but we were coincidentally wading in family history waters trying to find something in the murk.
We bumped into each other online and at first neither of us could believe the other was real, but now we've met and it's true and it's great.

Life is easier now. I suppose partially this is due to the passage of time although nothing dims my memories of Tony. I think it's more because I have built a life that has good things in it. I was extremely lucky to move to this flat in the Spring. I now live comfortably in a place that has revived my delight in the natural world. The pains have eased.

Written something!!!

2007-02-09T16:20:00.000+02:00

I've written a short short piece of fiction for a competition and entered it. Maybe it's no good but it's better than nuffin. It's over on 'Whatever Comes' if anyone cares to look at it.
Strange ? But I do perform if there's a deadline. Maybe I should go on a creative writing course, I was always able to turn essays in on time.

If you made it up they'd never believe it.

2007-02-08T12:19:00.000+02:00

An article from this morning's Guardian newspaper almost beggars belief. Even quoting it I find it hard to accept , but her'es an extract that refers to a memorandum prepared for the House committee on oversight and government reform which is examining Iraqi reconstruction...........

"They also found that $774,300 in cash had been stolen from one division's vault. Cash payments were made from the back of a pickup truck, and cash was stored in unguarded sacks in Iraqi ministry offices. One official was given $6.75m in cash, and was ordered to spend it in one week before the interim Iraqi government took control of Iraqi funds."

The minutes from a May 2004 CPA meeting reveal "a single disbursement of $500m in security funding labelled merely 'TBD', meaning 'to be determined'."

The memorandum concludes: "Many of the funds appear to have been lost to corruption and waste ... thousands of 'ghost employees' were receiving pay cheques from Iraqi ministries under the CPA's control. Some of the funds could have enriched both criminals and insurgents fighting the United States."

So now the US government is the banker for Al Quaida?

Blue and Orange

2007-02-06T10:26:00.000+02:00

The video I referred to yesterday has emerged. It seems to confirm that the A10s fired on british troops with orange badged vehicles.
The only comment from the US government is that they 'would view whoever leaked the video as "criminally responsible". Can we be assured that the pilots will be held responsible too?

Blue on Blue

2007-02-05T16:06:00.000+02:00

'Blue on Blue' is a new anodyne term used for conflict situations when ally fires on ally.
This is an obvious improvement to the previous phrase 'Friendly Fire', which had the unfortunate connotation of possible harm resulting from shooting up your own side.

I came across 'blue on blue' in a news report on the stalled inquest into the death of Lance Corporal of Horse Matty Hull, aged 25, who died in March 2003. He was travelling in a column of light armoured vehicles near Basra, in southern Iraq, when it was reportedly attacked by a US A-10 "tankbuster" aircraft.

American video evidence of the incident hasn't been released to the court.
My personal opinion is that this footage might well show that american forces were not at fault, but the delays so far make it more likely that the evidence doesn't support that view.It certainly seems suspicious.

The worst aspect of this case in my view is the awful slowness. It's almost FOUR years since this man died and his widow still has no peace. What reasonable excuse can there be for such delay?

I'm also intrigued to ask how many american service widows have to wait so long for closure when their husbands are killed by fellow americans ?

The inquest resumes on February 16th

Hard work

2007-01-22T07:50:00.000+02:00

Writing is proving very hard work.and I have little luck with it either.
Awake at five this morning I started a descriptive piece about dead ships becalmed on a deathly sea; a metaphor for the way I feel these days; you never guessed that I’ll bet. I’d almost finished it when I hit the wrong button and all the text disappeared. This caused some expletives , but undoubtedly saved the world from some very disturbed prose.

Maybe my psychotic ramblings should stay put, but then that leaves me nothing to write about because in the world of the Bewidowed nothing ever happens.

I’ve been tidying my cell because space is precious and there’s no room for oxygen in here. Calmly I threw out several binbags filled with recent comfort shopping until I came across the few things I still have of Tony. I tried and I cried but I couldn’t discard his old T shirts, his slippers or his battered sun-hat. They can be packed away but must stay within reach.
I’m a sad case I know, but I’m like a witch with her dried herbs and her mummy dust. She can’t conjure her demons without them and I can’t reach the comfort of Tony’s love without the feel and smell of his possessions.
Love may not last forever but you can blow on the ashes and get a little heat.

It's ALL in the mind, sometimes

2007-01-11T11:42:00.000+02:00

I've been reading Michael Allen on Sarno's mind/body studies. I agree completely about back pain and strong emotions . I had 'fibrositis' as a child , adolescent and young woman, during which period I was not a happy or well-adjusted person. Later my emotions stabilised and so curiously did my back trouble.
I have had back pain since, but I can always attribute it now to picking things up badly or twisting my leg on a stone etc.

Anyway my mind is currently limiting my capacity to live to the max. I'm far from sorted, but I am trying to get both bits to work together so more Tai Chi today!

Must get a routine

2007-01-08T09:31:00.000+02:00

Get a routine...........Right......................... A routine means something I do every day or every few days right?

Like wishing I didn't have to wake up? No.... too negative.
Like weeding the garden? No.........too wet.
Like getting a job?.........at my age?

OK

Like going back to Art class?............ Yes, class starts again this week, still time to make my mark.
Like getting some exercise?.......... Yes,Tai Chi this time, slow and gentle, not too painful afterwards.
Like emailing my friends?.......... Yes,well I've sent them this url.
Like writing.........Yes, mostly positive, psychologically therapeutic, creative sortta. All that good stuff.

Okay I am writing.
Unfortunately I haven't come up with any new story ideas yet and I can't face the old ones.
But I am writing sortta, reminiscing over on 'Whatever Comes.......' It gets the arthritis a little movement anyway.

Caution: Don't look if you're feeling low, it won't lift you up.

Resolutions

2007-01-06T02:31:00.000+02:00

'resolutions' sound like a special kind of promise.
I s'pose that's because they get broken faster than any ordinary promise. So none here.

I shall endeavour to be healthier, wiser and kinder this year, but the superhuman effort required to formulate these desires may test the limits of my strength.

Already I have prevaricated until tonight before writing anything .

I love the word 'prevarication' don't you? It sounds long-winded and overblown, just like me when I say I'm too busy to write. You saying you didn't notice?

I count rain drops and huff on the window to make one drop go faster than it's neighbour, now that's busy.

long time no post

2006-12-28T09:25:00.000+02:00

I think I'm about ready to start writing again.
It's been a long time since I felt up to this, but I won't bother you with the details.

I'm back and that's that.

2005-12-02T07:51:00.000+02:00

Today I painted Tony’s tomb.

2005-11-13T13:56:00.000+02:00

Today I painted Tony’s tomb.

Why?

Well, here in Greece people are buried fast. Often less than 24 hours after death. Every village has a cemetery and every cemetery has a few ‘common’ graves. Most people are buried in family tombs, but these common graves serve for strangers: visitors and foreigners.

When Tony died in July there was one vacant grave in our village cemetery, so I was able to have him buried close by.

The law here says that a grave cannot be opened for at least 3 years. After that time a body in a common grave is removed and re-interred in a family tomb or in an ossuary (bone store) if the family is poor. The common graves are re-used and so get a little scruffy.

I decided it was time to spruce Tony’s grave up a bit. He already has a great pot with silk flowers (real ones wither in an hour or two in the summer heat here) and a potted plant. He also has an incense burner and an all-weather oil lamp (must-haves if you want to keep in with local custom).
Next week his name stone will be ready to go on. In order to get the grave ready for that event I gave it a coat of acrylic white this morning.

You would have laughed to see me. I picked a Sunday morning because that’s the quietest day in the graveyard. These common graves are all together forming one monolithic slab. Tony’s is the 3^rd one in a row of 4. I had to crawl across Giorgio's next door then along Tony’s tomb on my hands and knees to get the job done.

Imagine a middle-aged English woman wriggling backwards over a large concrete box, wire brush in one hand and paint brush in the other, while my dog sits and stares at me as if I’ve gone completely crazy. Fortunately my timing was perfect and nobody saw me.

By the time I’ve finished Tony’s temporary resting place will look respectable. It will be used again when Tony’s remains are moved on to a new tomb in the planned graveyard extension.

Then he will have a smart marble tomb with room for me, no painting required.

Coughing and Spluttering

2005-11-09T20:46:00.000+02:00

Up to 9300 and 81 whole words now. WhoopdeDoo! I'll make a novelist yet, maybe.

I'm honestly wanting to get on with writing, but the Fates seem to conspire against me. The ramifications of Tony's death still cough and splutter on every day. Buying him a tombstone from a stone mason who can't spell english names. Dragging along to the court to hear the Will being questioned by a local judge; with me not allowed to speak at all. Oh it's all good fun.

NaNoWriGloom

2005-11-05T06:17:00.000+02:00

It's the 5th of November and I've not written more than 2000 words for NaNoWriMo so far.

I churned out the first chunk (see NaNoWriRoman blog) effortlessly on the 1st of the month, but since then I've decided I don't like the plot as it stands. So I've been p*ssing about instead of writing.

Why care about the plot? I ask myself. Nobody but me is ever gonna read it. That's the harsh truth.
Therefore today and tomorrow and every other day of November I'm just gonna bang out any old drivel that is even vaguely Romano-British Romance.

A Story to tell

2005-10-26T06:53:00.000+03:00

Its time I tried writing again. I'm about to start NanoWriMo and see if I can churn out something novel length.

So far my production has been limited to short stories. I thought I'd start putting my stories on this blog.
If you happen to read any of them and like what you read , good.

Here's a recent one. A love story and tragedy because I'm still not over cheerful. The next one will be humourous.

THE HUNNISH PRINCESS

A great many years ago in the wild lands between Istanbul and Novgorod there once lived a beautiful and happy girl. This girl had no fine jewels but she had rich furs to keep her warm on horseback. She had no solid house but she had gaudy silks to decorate her tent.

She was a Hun, a girl who had sat her own saddle since she was four years old. She rode as well as any man and her skill with a bow was better than most.

Her name was Salska and it was her curse to be loved by two men.

The man who first loved her was called Basiat. He knew her from a child and all her life stayed always by her. So it was that he saved her from a fire. The fire destroyed all her belongings and killed her sister Maykor. Afterwards Basiat took Salska and her mother under his protection.

Despite his love Basiat never asked Salska to marry him, although at first her mother begged it. Basiat said someone so lovely deserved a young and virile partner. He was an ageing horse-master with burns that scarred his face, but he always cared for Salska and dreamed of her at night.

The other man in this girl's life was called Csaba and he was a handsome youth. Csaba had fine moustaches and far-seeing eyes.

After Salska came to his attention Csaba developed a habit that caused much giggling among the women of the clan. He began to hang around the tents, instead of sitting in the men's huddle. He would stand with hands jammed in his belt chatting to the old widows, while those deep eyes watched Salska's every move.

He grew to know all her ways. He sighed with envy when stray hairs fell across her face. He smiled because Salska stuck her tongue out when she strung her bow. He praised the speed with which she skinned rabbits. In short he fell in love with her.

Csaba was an elder son and likely to inherit the leadership of his clan, which made him a worthy suitor; so when he came to ask for Salska her mother sighed and agreed the dowry. There were no flaws in Csaba's nature, other than those of all young men and Salska was not in love with Basiat or anyone else. Therefore when at last Csaba summoned his courage and told her to marry him she accepted the decision.

But Maykor didn't.

Maykor, when living, had daily determined Salska's life. Maykor was the elder by an entire morning, having been born as Dawn rose while her twin hadn't struggled free of the womb until after Noon. Salska had never been allowed to forget this and she grew used to her sister's high-handed ways. Salska was easygoing by nature and biddable. Thus when Maykor died Salska simply waited for someone else to tell her what to do.

Marriage to Csaba suited Salska; her life was not much altered. When her new husband demanded her attention she gave it to him. When she had free time she played with the dogs and the babies.

Maykor had been unable to prevent the wedding, her spirit being now constrained in the body of a Golden Eagle, but she began to haunt Salska. There were many nights when Salska had strange dreams. She dreamt of flying far up in the sky to where the blue turned black, but her days were bound up with the tasks of women and she shrugged the dreams away.

In time Maykor's approach grew more direct. At every camp-site Maykor came to Salska and called her name. She flew past low and fast whenever Salska rode out. She sat on the poles of her sister's tent. She hopped after her sister when the girl collected berries. It didn't take long before Salska recognised the voice of her sister in the Eagle's cry.

"You must kill Csaba. He must die and you will get his gold. Then you can marry Basiat and be happy for my sake."

As Salska rode, sat and walked Maykor repeated this message; day after day. Her sister stopped her ears. Maykor grew ever more frustrated and increasingly angry. Whenever the clan made camp the Eagle would pester Salska continually and the other women began to mutter that she was bewitched.

To gain peace Salska eventually spoke to the bird. "I do not want to kill Csaba. He is a good husband to me. He loves me as he should. Men sing of his deeds. He gets much ransom and he brings me silken trophies. Why should I kill a good man?"

"You must kill him in order that you can marry Basiat. Csaba is too strong to die of a fever or a fight."

"But why do you want me to marry Basiat? He is kind and always thoughtful, but he is old and spends too much time with horses."

"Because I love him, you stupid girl. On the night of the fire I asked Basiat to come to our tent. I wanted to give myself to him. He is wise and gentle and I longed for soft hands on my skin; the likes of Csaba are always rough men."

"I still don't understand." said Salska "How could my marriage to Basiat help you? It would surely make you jealous to see me in his arms."

Maykor's voice softened with laughter. "Once you are married to Basiat we can exchange places. You have lived three summers since the fire. I want my turn."

Salska paled and could no longer bear the Eagle's fierce gaze.

"You must agree that it is only fair. You have a good man. Life as an Eagle has it's compensations, but I have longed for Basiat every day. I will give you only a short time to think for I have had too much brooding. Meet me tomorrow and I will instruct you how best to take Csaba's life."

The Eagle slipped sideways from it's perch then soared into the clouds above.

That night Salska could not find sleep. She lay in Csaba's arms while tears wetted her hair. Finally understanding drifted into her mind. She realised that she cared for Csaba; she wanted to give him sons. She loved her life and it was not her fault that Maykor was dead. She didn't want to do as Maykor ordered; she wanted to fight her sister.

Eventually Salska fell into a restless sleep, in which she dreamt of the Eagle's eyes boring into her and stealing her spirit. She cried out in terror and reached for Csaba, who woke and covered her face with kisses. Salska rubbed her breasts and moaned. He grunted and pulled her to him and their love-making was very sweet that night.

Before daylight Salska was awake again. She had determined to seek Basiat and enlist his help. Quietly she crawled from the bed but Csaba woke.

"Come back to my arms Pretty, it's still early." He patted the furs.

"No, no my Love. I must wash myself. There is a rite this morning for a woman sick in her blood." she said.

Csaba sighed, there was often women's business. He lay down again but he was uneasy. He said nothing as she dressed, but he noted how she stole away through the tent-flap like a thief. Csaba decided to follow her.

"Basiat Basiat." Salska walked around the ring of horses calling for him. A figure pushed through the steaming flanks.

"Why are you here?" He asked soft and smiling.

She clutched at Basiat and said through tears " My sister wants me to kill Csaba. Come with me please and speak with her;I fear her reason has gone. You can talk with horses, perhaps you can talk sense to a bird." Then Salska hurried off towards the rock where she had last seen the Eagle.

Basiat frowned but he followed her; he'd heard the women's talk. She was hurrying ahead, but he dropped farther back when he saw the Eagle swoop, then settle on a crag. It's voice, the voice of Maykor came clear to him.

"Ah sister, you are prompt, good; let's to work. Look on the ground and you'll see a mound of berries, poisonous but kind. Mix these in Csaba's beer and he'll not notice. He will sleep deep enough so you can smother him."

"When Csaba dies what then? What happens next?" Salska asked loud enough for Basiat to hear.

"Then you raise the alarm and say your husband choked on his beer. I do not want you blamed for this. Cry bitter tears, rend your clothes and when Csaba is cold go to Basiat and declare your love. At that point you and I will change places. I shall have Basiat and you shall soar above my wedding feast."

Basiat had heard enough, he left his hide at a run and shouted. "No, you cannot do this Maykor.I have never loved you; I love Salska. I shan't let you harm her."

The Eagle screamed." Treacherous bitch!" and flew directly at Salska's face with talons spread.

Basiat pounced. He grappled with the bird, seizing it by one foot and stabbing at it with his knife. Salska struggled to get free.

The shrilling of the Eagle ended abruptly as an arrow sang its way into the melee.

All movement was caught in a hearts beat.

Then the bird fell to the ground, with Basiat's knife sticking in it's breast.

Salska remained on her feet only because Basiat held her upright; blood running from the arrow in her back.

Csaba rushed up, his bow dropping from his hand. "My lovely Bride, how could she plot my death with you Horsemaster?"

He pulled Salska into his embrace."I loved you always Salska. Pity me for I still do."

The girl's eyes focussed and she whispered.

"I never loved you till last night. Forgive me Dearest. But I never loved Basiat at all.."

Basiat said "She speaks the truth, as we all must at point of death. It's true I loved her but Salska never looked my way.

"Maykor did offer herself to me, but she had no value in my eyes. I rejected her and it soured even her new life." He touched the bronze feathers caught in Salska's hair and bit hard on his lip.

On the funeral day the men stood a long while around the grave. Salska was lain in the ground wearing her wedding gown. Her mother placed evergreens all around her. Csaba laid gold leaf on her breast; Basiat spread the Eagle's body over Salska with it's wings stretched out protectively.

Then Basiat cut his beard and the mane from his mare and dropped these offerings onto the corpses. He said "In future lives may they both be always happy. I look forward to our next meeting" then he turned his face away.

Next Csaba slashed his arm and gobbets of his blood dripped on the ground. "This woman shall be mourned without tears but I give my blood in token of our reunion."

He gave an order for the grave to be filled. Basiat fetched the horses and the clan rode West.

StreetSweeper

2005-09-13T17:00:00.000+03:00

I'm still here. I'm doing a lot of crying and a lot of thinking, but the writing won't come back.

I'd like to say something beatiful but everything that I think of is too trite for the feelings I have.

Please, bear with me.

StreetSweeper

2005-08-01T12:37:00.000+03:00

StreetSweeper

On Saturday the 23rd of July my darling partner lost his fight with cancer.

I'm too numb to write or think.

Freshen to force 4

2005-06-21T15:57:00.000+03:00

After too many weeks in the writing doldrums I've finally caught some wind in my sails.

This week so far I've written the first draft of a short story, a poem (see below) and I've half done two crucial scenes in 'The Novel'.
One scene is the major turning point for my hero . It comes about midway through the book. It's the point where a terrible event shocks him into re-evaluation and change.
The other scene deals with the failure of his hopes in the last pages of the story.

I shall now have three strong pegs to hang this novel on. I already have an outline, but that's a vague and changeable entity.
With these scenes I have an opening situation (a Hook, I hope), a crisis (with loads of dramatic effects cascading over the reader) and a satisfactory resolution(please God).

This may not be quite as significant as Virginia Woolf's
"Mrs Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself.",but it feels GOOD.

I'm hoping for things to freshen up to a force 4.

“Seventy-six per cent of Finland is covered in trees.”

2005-06-14T11:59:00.000+03:00

One vast firry blanket. How many trees is that?

I can’t do the maths. I never could, too many variables.

But I looked on a map and all the rest is wet.

So where would you find the folk?

Do they stand amid trees, arms pressed close at their sides, listening as the forest falls? Do Gnomes make sport and haunt poor woody Finns?

I don’t know. Can this be?

The map says people live in the South, where the water is.

Maybe up to their necks in lakes, catching fish in their mouths? While runic eels entwine their legs ?

Then again, perhaps not.

Whatever did happen to the humans; now, maddened Moomins work the factories, drink vodka and plot ‘The Doom of Europe’.

Nokian ringtones taking revenge for the lumber industry.

It's the little things

2005-05-30T15:55:00.000+03:00

I've changed my template AGAIN!

I like this one because of the ancient, yellowed vellum look. It think it gives me gravitas and makes me feel like a right Pseud.
It's akin to the way that a new pair of shoes used to make me feel sexy; back in the days when I could wear high heels.
Expect more pretensions in the days ahead.

Just-a walkin' the Dawg

2005-05-30T11:57:00.000+03:00

When I was working in daily thrall to frustration and stupefaction, dogwalking gave me energy. We lived in a busy seaside town so walking the empty coastland gave me space, the literal space of wide skies and 30 mile horizons. The dog seemed to find it life-enhancing too, although his view was concerned chiefly with bitch location. We'd find golfballs, chat to friends and fetch the papers. Both of us would return tails wagging, fit for the fray again.

Now, retired from the world but within sniffing distance, another dog and I totter over cretan hills.Walking here is more hazardous, you must skirt sheep shit and pick-ups to get off the tracks and explore through wire-locked fences. We get our kicks watching mobiles of clouds and light and chasing lizards. We imagine mythic creatures come to life and say 'Kalimera' to all and sundry, then we come home to rest.

Sometimes I get writing ideas while we walk, more often my mind empties the recycle bin. One morning will be calm and cool, with birdsong everywhere, another day will be dessicated by hot winds and dust gets in our eyes and noses.
Just recently we've had unseasonably late rains. For three days the dog and I splashed through puddles and watched the garden drown. Zeus came and roared from Psiloritis. When that was ignored he struck hard with lightning and power cut out across the island.
All this has greened up dead grasses and encouraged another round of mating and nest-building. Today we have warmth and light and flourishing weeds in the garden. The dog is catching up on her sleep.

I’ve done something useful.

2005-05-22T11:38:00.000+03:00

The planning stage of my writing resembles one shakily planted footprint followed by another wobbly tread, rather like a drunk’s homeward trail through mud. It lurches along, but now and then I get to put the next step down on firm ground. Today is such a day.

I’ve been fretting over my hero’s character for three months. I know a lot about him, but I couldn’t decide what made him tick. I needed some episode in his life before he comes into the book that would rationalise his behaviour.

I tried various motives on him for size, but none of them fitted. I tried to change him into someone different, but then he wouldn’t fit in with any of the other characters.

It came to me this morning, and it was so bloody obvious that I nearly didn’t see what had happened then. My hero needed to have been hurt as a child, but he also needed to have erased that because he couldn’t live with it as an adult. He doesn’t know he’s damaged, that’s why he’s such a difficult person. No wonder the other characters don’t understand him or like him much.

But now I understand him; so I can love him and I can write him. That makes everything worthwhile. I'm a happy Bunny.

Chemo Crusader

2005-05-19T05:46:00.000+03:00

The knight in rusty armour, fists clenched in pain, lies on his back, exposed.

His folfox’d shield upon his breast, the mighty sword Avastin at his side.

Fetched low by the monster, hobbled by the weapons handed him.

Not skilled in aggression, sometimes despair wins.

Grendel roars within and he has no answer.

It should be me on that embattled bed.

My teeth and claws are itching for the fight.

Does it weaken him if this frail damsel, leads the charge to rescue him?

My ferocity transfused would surge victorious through his veins.

But this fight is his alone, Poor Lover.

The Reason for this blog

2005-05-18T08:12:00.000+03:00

Do I need a reason? I suppose I do, that's the kind of person I am. Therefore here are reasons.

I'm a writer in training. I've so far written half a dozen short stories and around 5 draft chapters for several different novels. I'm currently on the 'Only a Novel' two year writing effort over at fmwriters.com and I hope to get something finished that I'll feel good about.
I have read vast quantities of advice to would-be novelists that boils down to read, read, read and write, write, write, no matter how crap the product.
So rather than write and toss it all in the waste basket I decided to blog. (Is there a difference?)

In the unlikely event of anyone stumbling across StreetSweeper I should say that I am an OLD novice. Most writers starting out seem young and fresh and convinced that the world is waiting for their words . I am just hopeful.
If there are any other ancient scribes out there, Hail !

The Name of this blog

2005-05-18T07:59:00.000+03:00

Many centuries ago in a far distant place.........
My Headmistress told me that I would "end up sweeping the streets, because you are nothing more than a Vandal." Little did she know.
I do sweep the street outside our house now. I live on Crete and in our village there is fierce competition in efficient removal of dust, olive leaves and food wrappers.
I am not up to the level of my neighbours, but I keep trying. I just thought you'd like to know, Miss White , that I've never forgotten your words and this blog is named in honour of you.