Autumnal Mornings

Mornings in late September are inclined to make me sleep in and wake as though life is not so special as it is when the sunshine is filling the bedroom with promise and warmth.
That was how I felt recently and with guilt that I had slept so long due to lack of sun and the threat of rain.
Kettle on and the post arrived, nice to receive mail but did I really want a letter telling me to act now to secure my funeral costs were covered!
Goodness me I found myself becoming more depressed by the minute, then a text arrived from my grand-daughter requesting my full address and all I could think was that perhaps tomorrow I would receive a delightful letter or a beautiful card made by her to cheer me up when I felt so down with the approach of shorter days and colder weather.
What a difference a day makes the sun is shining, the postman has been and there on the mat a pink envelope addressed to 'Nanny'. On opening, a card, not hand made but inside decorated with the sweetest decoupage cut outs of teddy bears and a note saying this will brighten my day, love you lots.
How did she know that I needed this so much, today of all days?

Waiting for that envelope to arrive.

Almost one year ago I decided to enrole on a creative writing course and was filled with enthusiasum. First items I produced gave me confidence and my head seemed full of ideas, however when it came to actually sending articles to my tutor for marking I became very apprehensive, did I want someone else to see my ramblings, would they be seen as something I did not want to know-that  I had no chance of ever having anything publishhed.
Actually finding the courage to physically post the large brown envelope through the pillar box took two attempts, first time I drove home with it still in the car, on purpose but making excuses to myself as to why I would do it later.
Then when I did pluck up courage, came the long wait for the return of my marked work,which took about three weeks.
I needed a coffee before I opened the envelope and read the contents, wow I thought, sounds like I might one day make it in some small way.
I had never thought of payment for any kind of writing whilst doing the course but I am being encouraged to submit articles for certain types of magazines.

So far a letter in the local paper that specified 300 words plus the editor had the right to alter, if it was considered unsuitable, was however printed-500 words and just how I had presented it.

It was a tribute to a special charity worker in the community who had died and it would have been wrong to shorten this accolade of his generosity to many local groups throughout his life

Well I am on to my next assignment now and enjoying having something to focus on.

Catch up with more news from time to time.

Someone is knocking at the door

Many people knock on my door, meter men are regular callers and the guy who tries to deliver parcels and knows he can usually rely on me to be available if someone is at work and there is nowhere to safely leave there perhaps long awaited items.
However a visitor late the other afternoon really was a first and one I wont forget in a hurry.
Sitting typing and engrossed in my thoughts I paused when I heard a faint knock, then a second slightly more frantic noise coming from my patio door.
Looking up in amazement I saw a pigeon pacing back wards and forwards in between
Adding a distinct louder call, I could tell this was an emergency.
Polishing my spectacles in case I was seeing things I glanced at the garden chair and there towering above my nervous ‘new best friend’ was a black cat about to pounce.
I rushed to the door which luckily wasn’t locked, burst out and scared the cat away, however the pigeon looked up at me with eyes that said it all and proceeded to adopt me for the next three hours.
Seeming almost unable to move I tried water and three small nibbles of bread but to no avail, chatted away, like you do. I used to have budgies and had long conversations with them in hours on need when I found myself alone after being bereaved
Time passed and a slight hop and a walk round a large flowerpot then eventually another hop on to a small concrete toadstool that was the resting place of a concrete frog, green in colour, so authentic. This became it’s chosen position and allowed me to go indoors and grab my mobile phone and take pictures so close it almost seemed like this feathered friend would at that point have done anything to please me.
As darkness began to fall I was concerned because it would not leave me, suggestions from my family were not what I wanted to hear ‘why not bring it indoors for the night.’
This bird was in shock and I was not about to share a small sip of my favourite brandy with it so I gently encouraged it to flutter on to the lawn where it was greeted by two other mates who resembled its colourings, so I guessed members of the family who were concerned and had been sitting on the roof, waiting in anticipation of its departure from the toadstool.
However too early to fly yet I gathered when an attempt was made, even with encouragement from its mates but walking slowly with me ushering it along it made it to the back of bushes and there it rested.
I checked several times during the evening by the light of my ‘wind up’ torch but found no trace.
Hope it made its way home and now I will wind up the hose pipe because had that cat returned to once again cause havoc he would have had a shower to contend with.