C's Journal

Voting time

itsjustc — Thu, 13 Jan 2022 21:45:15 GMT

There are 2 entries in the Christmas tree photo contest, mine and supernutjapan's. Both are really pretty trees so pop over and vote for whichever one you like best xx

Holidays with Frank 🎄 — your works!: frank — LiveJournal

new visitor

itsjustc — Sun, 02 Jan 2022 23:27:53 GMT

I've got a new visitor who has recently started walking along the handrail and past my window every day.

He'd seen some peanuts hanging in the bird feeder next door!

Then he saw me taking his photo.

So he jumped across the walkway on to the birdfeeder which was hung up, took a peanut, jumped back on the handrail in front of my window and posed for me!!
I like that he was just chillin' and eating his peanut, while staring across the valley, watching the world go by!

Castleton

itsjustc — Sun, 02 Jan 2022 23:07:08 GMT

I took a drive out on New Years evening to Castleton as I hadn't been out there to see the Christmas lights. I got there at 9pm with the hopes that the village would be quiet, and apart from the occasional couple walking from one pub to another, the streets were empty!! I've never been able to take photos of the empty streets before as its always a popular village to visit, all year round.

Here are some photos I took.

Entering the Christmas tree photo competition

itsjustc — Tue, 28 Dec 2021 23:24:16 GMT

I got a new star for Christmas!

Well Hello! It's been a while!

itsjustc — Sat, 11 Dec 2021 22:44:25 GMT

Hi...
I've wanted to post for ages but I just haven't really got anything to say or to tell you!!

Soo....

Have a photo of my scraggy looking Christmas tree that I've just put up today!
I have spent the last couple of months looking to buy a nice new artificial tree - but I just haven't found one that I like!

But I do like my individual glass baubles that I have collected over the years.

LJ Idol

itsjustc — Tue, 17 Sep 2019 15:25:19 GMT

As hugely tempted as I am to join in with therealljidol this season, I think, regrettably, I'm not going to be able to.

For the last five Decembers, I have had to spend all month filling in massively long official forms that have taken up the whole of the month and have forced me to turn down Christmas get-togethers with my friends, be late sending Christmas cards and presents, not put up my Christmas tree or decorations, or simply just relax and watch some bad Christmas tv!!! As last years form was hopefully the last until at least Dec 2020, I made a new years resolution to treat myself, enjoy, and relax this December/Christmas without rushing or stressing. All year I've been turning down anything that is going to take up time in December as I'm determined to party/relax/do whatever I fancy doing, - I think I have forgotten what a non-rushed, non-stressful Christmas/December feels like!

Having said all that, I do still plan to be as involved as possible, reading, voting, commenting and recommending peoples writing - as I have really made a lot of friends in this groups and I look forward to chatting with everyone again.

So... I wish everyone competing in this season of LJ idol - all the best and good luck xxx

The meaning of life, the universe, and everything.

itsjustc — Wed, 03 Apr 2019 19:44:05 GMT

When I started in the second chance contest at the beginning of January, I honestly never expected to last more than a week, let alone end up going through to the main contest. Then, I never expected to last more than a week in the main contest. The next steps of reaching top 20, possibly the only non US person in the top 18, top 10 and finally, top 8, were all amazing.

I have really enjoyed my time as a contestant in this season of therealljidol. I have met some lovely, encouraging people and think it is wonderful and am thankful that everyone’s voting support for my writing has grown tremendously, from my first entry in the second chance contest, as an unknown, to this week, when I think I have gained my most points and highest position.

I have managed to keep every ‘sudden death write off’ day clear, since January 1st - ‘Just in case’ - but I knew last week when the closing date was announced, that ending up in the write off this week would be a problem, as a relative would be staying with me for a couple of days.

However, today’s arrangements with my relative ended up being cancelled. At 3am, as I woke up from an hour of sleep last night, I started being sick and I developed a very unpleasant stomach upset. As I have an ileo-anal pouch and no bowel at all, what would for others be a twenty-four hour bug, usually makes me really ill for five to ten days and I’m already fed up of travelling between the bathroom and the bedroom!

I am due to go away in sixteen days time, and feel it’s now quite important for me to work on getting some rest, getting better from this stomach bug, and being well enough to travel.

This will be the first holiday I’ve had in a couple of years, and it was booked in November. I’m heading to the Isle of Iona, on the Scottish Hebrides for Easter week (19th-27th April). It’s the place I wrote about in my ‘Happy Place’ entry. Again, I never expected to be still in the contest sixteen days before my holiday and now realise that if I by some miracle I had been lucky enough to still be in the contest in a couple of weeks time, I would have had to sacrifice before I set off, as the island is one of the last places on earth to not have any mobile signal or internet connection – which is also one of the reasons I go; to get away from technology for a week.

So… I have unfortunately had to make the very hard decision to sacrifice my place in the sudden death write off and let Sonreir go through to the next round. By sacrificing, I can get the rest I need, and Sonreir will be able to avoid going through the process of voting day, plus I think I also get to have the last position on the jury!

There is still a little voice in my head, that keeps telling me I was brought up not to quit, but when I add up the number of times I’ve quit something in my life, I can still count them on one hand! I know that I will probably have a ‘What if?’ moment in a few days time, but right now the thought of resting and getting better, gives me more brain relief than carrying on does.

I would like to say a big thank you to all the previous contestants and my LJ friends for all your comments and votes - I’ve really appreciated them.

And lastly, I wish the final six contestants all the best of luck. I’ll be happy with whoever wins. You are all fantastic writers, and I’m really pleased to have got to know you and to have played along with you this season.

So long and thanks for all the fish.

Carol xx

Voting

itsjustc — Tue, 02 Apr 2019 22:32:54 GMT

Well... there is two and a half hours of voting time left for this weeks therealljidol! The contest is now down to the Top 8, and all the votes are really close.

My entry is here if you care to vote for it, and the link to the voting poll and all other stories is both here and at the bottom of my entry page.

Thank you xx

“Must Try Harder!”

itsjustc — Tue, 12 Mar 2019 21:32:10 GMT

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I was born at the latter end of the baby boom in 1964.

By the time I started at Infant and Junior school, the tiny, stone-built, Victorian village school, originally built to hold two hundred and forty pupils in two classes of fifteen pupils per year, had exploded to an exceedingly cramped six hundred pupils with three classes of forty pupils per year.

The school’s solution was to install multiple temporary outdoor Portable-style classrooms which had to be placed in the only available space, the playground.

By comparison, the extremely large comprehensive school I attended, was purposely built in 1963 to accommodate the demands of the baby boom. It provided education to over two thousand five hundred pupils in fifteen classes of forty three pupils per year.

I was always in the highest of the fifteen classes. I was good at maths and science and, at a time when it was still compulsory for girls to be taught Baby care, Housewifery skills, typing, and needlework, I was the first girl ever to be allowed to study Chemistry, Biology, and Physics as optional subjects.

But English was by far my worse subject. I just didn’t understand it! I felt as if somewhere in my early days of infant school I had missed out on the early building blocks of how English grammar and punctuation worked!

Whenever it came to end of term reports, I would get A’s in Maths, Chemistry, Biology and Physics and ‘E’ in English, along with the all too common phrase, ‘Must try harder’. But, as I didn’t actually understand what I was supposed to be doing, and nobody told me what I was doing wrong or how to correct my mistakes, how could I possibly know what to do, to try harder?

The day I discovered, aged thirty-three years old, that I, and thousands of other people born in 1964, had been part of a national experiment, I was angry, but not totally surprised.

It was actually my best friend who found out. He decided to return to education as a mature student with the intention of qualifying to teach English in secondary schools. His university interviewers asked him his birth year and looked at each other knowingly when he told them 1964. They informed him about an experiment the Department of Education had decided to run on all pupils born in that year. They wanted to know what the future would hold, for the children as adults, if they were not taught any English grammar and punctuation at all!

Now I understood why I had always had problems with my English!

With this knowledge, I decided to retake my exit level English exam at night school. I proudly left my first lesson knowing all about nouns, proper nouns, adjectives, adverbs and much more. The second lesson introduced me to punctuation, including commas, periods, and quotation marks and after the third lesson, I had a list of notes with definitions to words like: onomatopoeia, simile, homophone and first person.

My night school course was a revelation and I learned more English structure in those first three lessons than I had ever learned in the whole of my school life!

After being directed to a livejournal fan fiction group in 2007, I quietly read and commented on other people’s stories and, after five years, I finally wrote a fan fiction story.

A livejournal friend suggested I enter LJ idol in 2014 and, for eight weeks, I wrote factual essays and humorous traveller’s tales. Then my mom was diagnosed with cancer. I felt I needed to leave the contest to spend as much time with her as possible. I will always remember the kindness, friendship, love and support I received from members of the group at that time.

Still having only written six short fictional stories since leaving school in 1980, for some bizarre reason, in late 2015, I got really excited when I saw a poster pinned on the local noticeboard about a new monthly writer’s group at the village library.

I was nervous at the first meeting, believing they were all going to be brilliant writers who would look down their noses at me for not knowing punctuation. Of the six people at that first meeting, two were indeed scary intellectuals, three seemed quite normal and one gentleman, claimed he was only there to support his wife and put the kettle on.

Attending the writing group is the best thing I have done in years. The seven of us who were at that first meeting are all now firm friends. The intellectuals are no longer scary, none of us are ‘normal’ and the gentleman now writes, too. They have been encouraging and honest about my work, which I appreciate especially when it comes to grammar and punctuation, as I still believe that most people in the world know far more than I ever will!

This Christmas, kehlen, whose writing I greatly admired when I was in Ljidol in 2014, sent me an invitation to therealljidol second chance. Having decided to enter, I set myself the challenge of writing a short fictional story for each round rather than writing about myself.

Having been set the challenge of creating five pieces for week 17, I decided to have an attempt at different styles and themes for each one of them. Therefore, it seemed right for this prompt to be a factual piece of writing.

As a procrastinator, sitting down to write is not something that comes naturally to me, but in these last few months, I have found that setting time aside each day to write is really pleasurable and I am enjoying the results of my productivity.

I continue to have many insecurities about my writing. I still see myself as a relatively new writer. I find it hard to accept that it is okay to write in first person, after years of being told by teachers that, “Writing ‘I’ in a story, is lazy writing!” I naturally have ongoing problems with grammar and punctuation and don’t have the confidence to post anything online without getting it proofread first.

I have discovered my love of writing late in life, but now have a real passion for the everyday structure of working hard to get a piece completed, and will hopefully carry on for many days, weeks and months to come.

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This is my entry for therealljidol

Week 17 (5 of 5) -
"Being a writer is like having homework every night for the rest of your life"

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North beach, Isle of Iona, Hebrides.

itsjustc — Tue, 12 Mar 2019 21:15:32 GMT

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Traigh-an-t-suidhe (Scottish Gaelic) - The beach of the seat (English)

Warm summer days roll away
Tides turn
Time has no place here
Remote
Serene
Pure white sand
Aqua sea
Gentle waves
Small soft voices of nature
The peaceful sound of silence.

Traigh-an-t-suidhe
My happy place
Spiritual home
Sacred
Holy
Where heaven and earth collide
I am present
Calm
Content
Complete.

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This is my entry for therealljidol

Week 17 (4 of 5) - My Happy Place

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Traigh-an-t-suidhe

The Guest Speaker

itsjustc — Tue, 12 Mar 2019 21:10:13 GMT

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“Detritus.”

Lucy Jennings let the word excitedly roll off her tongue in a voice that could have easily passed on a phone line for Cruella Da Vil.

“I’m sorry? What did you just say?” The older lady in the hand-knitted fluffy pink mohair jumper sat opposite her asked, her face scrunched in disgust.

“DETRITUS,” she repeated, slightly louder.

“As in dirt and rubbish and stuff?”

Lucy laughed, “Exactly!”

The elderly woman wearing a knitted brown wool beret, sat next to Lucy, slowly leaned as far away as possible from her.

Lucy was used to people behaving as if she was contagious or something.

“What kind of stuff exactly?” The woman in a pristine white blouse with frilly collar enquired.

“Well.” Lucy smiled politely. “Basically, anything and everything from prehistoric times to now, that people have ever dropped down a hole, poured into a drain or flushed from a toilet.”

Pink fluffy jumper lady’s face turned a shade of green.

“It can range from dinosaur to modern excrement,” Lucy enthused. “via stone age axe heads, Roman coins, and Tudor rubbish. Then there’s all manner of Georgian, Victorian, and Edwardian stuff, old first and second world war discarded bullets, and more recently, we acquired a dried piece of the ‘Whitechapel fatberg’ which contains things such as solidified fat, modern wet wipes, condoms, and disposable nappies.”

“Oh dear!” the lady in the maroon cardigan to her right exclaimed, politely placing her plate containing a slice of homemade Victoria sponge on the coffee table as if it were suddenly poison. “Well!… erm… that’s… errrr… different, isn’t it?”

“Well yes, it certainly is, but I do enjoy my job very much.”

The elderly lady wearing an expensive pearl necklace to her left, who had been quiet so far, stated with a sarcastic tone. “Well, I’m sure you do, my dear. It sounds every bit a delightful job!”

“And you say people actually come to see your exhibition of erm… detritus,” The white bloused woman enquired.

“Oh yes.” Lucy said enthusiastically. “Our ‘City Now, City Future’ exhibition is very popular. The fact that it explores urban changes in London and around the world fascinates people, and our chunk of the ‘Whitechapel fatberg’ is by far our most viewed item.”

The lady in the pearl necklace laughed “I’m sure a detritus exhibition is a very pleasant way to pass half an hour,” adding sarcastically under her breath, “if all the shops were shut, it was pouring with rain, a typhoon had blown away every possible form of shelter and there was absolutely nowhere else to go!”

Everyone laughed at her comment.

Brown beret woman thought quietly for a second. “If someone handed me a suitcase and said ‘here’s a million pound in cash, which is yours right now if you visit the ‘City now City future’ exhibition,’ I’d go along and take a look.”

“I think I’d need more like four million!” Maroon cardigan lady added, shaking her head.

“Ladies!” The woman in the white blouse said politely but firmly, as she checked her watch. “May I suggest that we finish this meeting very shortly, as those of us who are members of village bowling team have a very important quarter final match this afternoon, which is due to start in thirty five minutes.”

Everyone present muttered and nodded in agreement.

She continued, “I’d like to say a huge thank you to Miss Lucy Jennings for coming along as our guest speaker this afternoon. It’s been delightful having you come and chat to us and tell us about your job as one of the curators of The Museum of London and explain all about the interesting and different… ermm… detritus you’ve dealt with in your exhibition. Thank you very much, Lucy.”

Everyone in the room clapped politely.

Lucy narrowed her eyes. “… I’m Sorry! But I’m a bit confused. I thought you had invited me all the way up here, from London to the North of England today, to talk to you about fatbergs, and to help you understand what they are, what serious problems they cause, and to inform you of how to get rid of them. I haven't had a chance yet to discuss them with you at all! Do any of you actually understand exactly what a fatberg is? How big they can possibly grow? What huge problems they cause? Or how you would go about getting rid of one?”

“I’m not really sure I want to know any more details to be honest,” Pink fluffy jumper lady replied already forcefully stuffing Lucy’s handout sheets roughly into her handbag. “I mean, it was absolutely delightful, having to here to speak to us, but really, your topic of discussion is all very horrid and dirty and smelly isn’t it? I don’t mean to be rude to you, my dear, or anything, but, to be honest, I don’t really feel as if I want to be talking about the disgusting stuff you deal with any longer than I just had to! It turns my stomach just thinking about it!”

“But...” Lucy tried to add.

“... Oh my dear,” The pearl necklace woman told her “It looks like there has been an awful mistake. I’m afraid that it was Mrs Price from our neighbouring village who arranged and paid for your visit to our meeting. She told us that you would be 'interesting and relevant', but I’m afraid that seems not to be the case!”

“But...” Lucy tried again.

The woman in the white blouse glared at Lucy and tapped her watch impatiently to remind her it was time for them all to leave the building.

Lucy shook her head in amazement as all the other ladies in the room fell silent for the close of the meeting, and realised there was absolutely no point at all in trying to continue her conversation.

The white bloused woman coughed, “I’d like to thank you all for coming to today’s meeting. As chairwoman, of the environmental committee of the Parish Council for the village of Daleworth, I’d like to officially close this meeting. We will next meet two months from today, same time, same place. At the next meeting we will continue our discussion about the ongoing smells and drainage problems the Daleworth residents have kept PERSISTENTLY complaining to us about. That is, of course as long as the date of the meeting doesn’t clash with the date of the bowling team league grand final match. If it does, then I think we are all in agreement that the game is far more important than a silly old boring environmental meeting isn’t it?”

She over-dramatically pretended to yawn. The other ladies giggled.

"… Meeting adjourned.”

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This is my entry for therealljidol

Week 17 (3 of 5) - Fatberg

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It’s a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it.

itsjustc — Tue, 12 Mar 2019 20:58:51 GMT

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As departmental head, he keeps a close eye on all his employees. He knows everything about their activities at work and knows exactly who takes their breaks, and when. He has full access to all their computers and monitors their usage closely. It’s just something he has always done, as part of his job, to make sure no important government secrets are given away.

Recently, he has taken to watching his new secretary and does it quite often.

He can’t help but observe her during the day, as she carries out her duties. He scrutinizes every tiny detail about her, is fascinated by her laugh, finds irresistible that broad beaming smile she gives to those she likes as well as the slightly smaller lopsided one she presents to those of whom she doesn’t. He has a weakness for the way she raises her eyebrow when she is questioning his order and is even attracted to the strange way she contorts his face when she gets angry with him.

Naturally, he has bugged all his employees’ homes. He loves to watch them at night and obviously considers this the most enjoyable perk of his job.

But in the last month he has really got to know his secretary’s routine and knows exactly the best time to watch. He has become acquainted with every smooth curve of her elegant naked body, appreciates every silent aspect of her slender figure shown off to perfection by the lamplight in her room. Is aware of the mole above her left knee, the tiny birthmark on her right shoulder blade and even the faded appendix scar that no-one else knows about.

He is thrilled and excited by her.

And aroused by the fact that neither she, nor any of his employees, have any idea they are being watched.

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This is my entry for therealljidol

Week 17 (2 of 5) - Vigilance

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He lives in hope.

itsjustc — Tue, 12 Mar 2019 20:42:34 GMT

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“Truth, dare, kiss, or promise, Zac?” she asks me.

“Oh Kiss,” I answer excited. Any opportunity to kiss Lily and I’m right there! “No doubt about it. Definitely kiss!”

She sighs. “Oh Zac! You are so predictable! You always pick kiss!”

“I know Lily,” I sigh wistfully, “but I live in hope that one day you’ll let me kiss you.”

She smiles at me angelically. “You know what, Zac, I might actually let you kiss me later if you go and make me a drink of hot chocolate.”

I hurry into the kitchen, fling open the cupboard door and grab the ingredients. I love Lily. I’d do absolutely anything for her. She is just the prettiest girl in the whole wide world, and if making her a hot chocolate puts me in with a higher chance of getting a kiss, then that’s absolutely fine by me!

She adds sweetly from the dining room, “And don’t forget I want cream and marshmallows on top as well, will you.”

A few minutes later, I present her with her lovingly prepared drink.

“Do I get my kiss now, Lily?”

“I only said ‘might’ Zac!” She teases. “No, for this round, I want you to flick through your Dad’s old vinyl LPs and kiss the sixth women you come across.”

I sigh “That’s boring! All I ever do whenever we play this game, is either kiss strange women on various record covers or ugly women on the TV screen! I think I should be allowed to kiss a person who is actually alive, and one who is sat not far away from me right now!”

Lily stands up quickly and paces across the dining room once before her face lights up. “Ah-ha!” She smiles. “I have it! As you are fed up with kissing the women I usually arrange for you to kiss, the only other person who sat down near to you, is Michael! Yes that’s it! I want you to go into the front room and kiss Michael!”

“What!… Yuck!… No!...” There is no way I am kissing my older brother! That’s horrid! Absolutely not! Michael is definitely not the person I had in mind! “I don’t want to kiss him!”

“Zac,” she says, as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth “I know you don’t want to do it, but, to be in with a chance of kissing me, you have to go and kiss Michael first. And if you don’t kiss him, your forfeit will be to take off all your clothes and walk naked to the newsagents shop at the end of the road and buy a pint of milk.”

I contemplate my options. Kissing Michael or naked shopping? Both sound extremely humiliating and neither involve me kissing Lily! I sigh and figure that kissing Michael is the lesser of the two evils. As I hurry out of the room, Lily follows and waits in the doorway.

I run up to my older brother who is sitting watching TV, as fast as I can, kiss him on his lips and run away. Michael is taken by surprise and automatically reacts by trying to swipe me across the head. It’s a close shave, but I successfully manage to avoid his attack. Lily laughs as I hastily scamper past her.

“Right, Zac it’s my turn to choose,” she informs me as she walks back into the dining room. “You have to ask me whether I want Truth, dare, kiss, or promise now.”

I’ve got a strong feeling she’s conned me somehow. “What happened to my kiss?”

“You just had your turn. You kissed Michael. You’ll have to wait until it’s your turn again.”

“This game just isn’t fair!” I tell her grumpily. If there’s one thing I hate it’s getting conned! “I don’t want to play any more!”

“Look, just ask me, Zac!” she replies sounding bored.

Suddenly a brilliant idea suddenly comes into my head. One so fantastic Lily will have to kiss me. It can’t fail! “Kiss, Kiss, Kiss or Kiss, Lily?” I laugh triumphantly.

“You know that’s not the name of the game, Zac” she sighs, “and if you don’t ask me properly, I shall go home. I’m starting to get quite bored with you now.”

“Oh, don’t go.” I beg. I hate the sound of my voice when I’m begging, it squeaks in all sorts of unusual and uncontrollable directions, but if me begging her to stay is what she wants to hear, then so be it! “I’ll ask you properly Lily, honest! - Truth, dare, kiss, or promise?”

She smiles sweetly, “Dare!”

SHE IS JUST NOT BEING FAIR!! SHE SHOULD HAVE SAID KISS AND THEN SHE SHOULD HAVE KISSED ME!

“Don’t pull a face like that at me, Zac!”

I pout, “Well! You're not supposed to pick dare. You’re supposed to pick kiss!”

“No, I’m not. I can pick whichever one I want to pick!”

I sulk. “I don’t want to play this game anymore!”

“Just pick a dare for me,” she sighs.

I realise I’m not getting anywhere with the ‘kissing Lily’ part of this game and today’s probably not going to be my lucky day.

I give her ‘Dare’ a bit of thought and knowing how close, a few moments earlier, Michael had been to hitting me, and knowing how much I hate him most of the time, I decide it would be great fun to annoy him further.

“Okay, Lily” I reply giggling, “I dare you to go and tell Michael that you really, really, really, really, really really, fancy him and you want him to be your boyfriend.”

Lily nearly chokes on her hot chocolate and flushes with embarrassment. She talks slowly and gently to me as if I’m some sort of idiot. “You don’t really want me say that to him, do you, Zac? That probably wouldn’t be a very wise thing for me to do. I know I tease and torment you all the time, but you really are my best friend in the whole wide world and to be honest, saying that to Michael really wouldn’t be fair to you at all. Why don’t I give you another a minute or two to think of a different dare for me to do while I drink my hot chocolate?”

I can’t believe my luck! I can suddenly see another chance to kiss her. Oh I can’t believe how cunning and clever I am. I am so pleased with myself for coming up with such a brilliant plan “You’ll have to pay a forfeit of kissing me naked if you don’t.” I grin.

She looks intently at me before shaking her head slowly in disbelief. Putting down her drink on the dining table, she turns and slowly walks out of the room.

OH BLAST! Lily is actually going to go ahead with the dare instead of kissing me!

DAMN! Why did I stupidly suggest the naked bit? I shouldn’t have suggested the naked bit! Why did I try to push the game that bit further? She might have actually kissed me if I’d not asked her to take her clothes off! I am such a stupid, stupid, stupid idiot sometimes!

Following her into the living room, I watch from the doorway as Lily slowly and deliberately approaches Michael. She speaks to him in a hushed whisper, and my brother blushes slightly before he replies.

Then Michael takes her in his arms and kisses her in the way that only I, myself, should be allowed to kiss her, and not only that, but she seems to be kissing him just as much.

Damn! Not only have I lost the SILLY kissing game, but I’ve lost Lily as well.

“STUPID, STUPID, STUPID KISSING GAME!” I curse, as I kick the door frame hard, and stomp back into the dining room on my own.

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This is my entry for therealljidol

Week 17 (1 of 5) - Salad Days

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The Dinner Date

itsjustc — Sat, 16 Feb 2019 22:47:57 GMT

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I’ve had a suspicion that he’s been seeing someone. He thinks I haven’t noticed the subtle changes, but when you’ve known someone for as long as I have, you can’t help but spot them – the recent haircut, dressing smarter, showering more often.

I shouldn’t have looked at his phone, I know, but just couldn’t help it; I needed to know if I was right. His unlock code was easy to work out, he’s not a difficult man to understand. My second attempt cracked it – his birth year.

Wednesday 17th March 10.29am
Thank you for a delightful evening last night. We’ll have to do it again soon.
Love Sarah x

Sarah...

So... that’s what she’s called.

Sarah...

Her name mulls around in my mind for a while.

So much for his ‘Going out for a few drinks with his pals’ last night.

I notice his reply.

Wednesday 17th March 10.38am
Why don’t you come round for dinner on Saturday night at 7pm? Lou’s away on a girl’s night out with her friend Steph. She’ll not be back until the morning. I’ll return the favour by cooking dinner.
Love Jack x

He’ll cook dinner! Ha! He never cooks anything and he’s certainly never cooked anything for me. I make all his meals, have done for years. The only ‘cooking’ he ever does, involves popping one of the frozen meals that I prepared beforehand, in the microwave.

So she’s coming to dinner, is she? Looks like I’ll just have to ‘accidentally’ catch them together!

Grabbing my handbag at the usual time on Saturday evening, I remind him not to forget to pop his dinner in the microwave later. Kissing him goodnight, he instructs me to have a great time and to be good.

I drive around aimlessly for a while instead of going over to Steph’s place, arriving home around eight thirty. An hour and a half should be long enough for them to have got settled and relaxed.

There’s an unfamiliar red car in our drive. I quietly open the front door of the house and silently tiptoe down the hall. There is laughter from within the dining room. I open the door suddenly and startle them. Half-expecting to find a young, leggy, brassy blonde, I am shocked instead to see an older lady who bears an uncanny resemblance to my mother, who passed away more than a decade ago, sitting across the dining table from him, sipping red wine by candlelight.

“Oh, Lou, I wasn’t expecting you!” he says in shock, nearly spilling his own wine. “I thought you were out this evening!”

My eyes flick instantly and uncontrollably between the older woman at the table and the picture of my mother on the mantelpiece. To be honest, I am quite taken aback by the striking similarity.

“Sorry, I just had to pop back for a cardigan” I lie. “It’s cold out tonight.” I smile at the two of them “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

They both blush like teenagers. He stands up and walks towards me. He’s looking younger and happier than he’s looked in years, but looks scared and guilty at being found out. “Lou, I’m really sorry, I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I just didn’t quite know how to. This is Sarah.”

I hold my hand out in greeting towards her and smile, “It’s lovely to meet you, Sarah.” Shyly and politely, she shakes my hand and replies that it is lovely to meet me, too. I can see why he likes her. She’s pretty and elegant, just as my mother was. I kiss her on her slightly rouge-powdered cheek and tell her that she must be doing something right, as I’ve not seen my father this happy in years.

He has been lonely and sad since my mother died and I’m delighted he’s finally found someone to have dinner with. I suspect, meeting Sarah might be the best thing that has happened to him in a very long time.

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This is my entry for therealljidol

Week 16 - Inkling

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Maybe today

itsjustc — Sat, 09 Feb 2019 23:21:40 GMT

.

I know I almost see him every day, as I work outside in my garden, but I can never be sure. He forever skits about in my peripheral vision. An indistinguishable swish of brown that moves around swiftly in the corner of my eye, flitting incessantly. However in the millisecond it takes to look at him, to focus on him, he manages to skitter away and disappear behind a tree or hedge.

I often try to catch sight of him while I am indoors as I hide behind my net curtains. I leave him food on the ground in front of my window, which he seems to enjoy. Blurred by the material, I squint hard to unsuccessfully bring the image of him into focus as he frenziedly feeds. Yet move the barrier between us a fraction to get that clearer glimpse and he vanishes.

Occasionally on frosty winter evenings I sit quietly in the silence of my darkened room, the net curtains drawn back. He seems to like the shelter my ancient house provides. There are various old dark cavities and crevices in the crumbling brickwork and I often seen him arrive just after dusk to settle down for the night. However, due to evening shadows and my senior eyes, he is just brown body against brown brick, indistinct, never quite in focus.

I’m jealous of anyone who claims to have seen him clearly, although I tend not to believe the ones who tell me they have seen him ‘hundreds of times.’

I would be delighted just to see him the once in detail.

I realise that many people consider him dull and insignificant, common even, but he is beautiful and special to me. He’s more than just a welcome visitor on the periphery of my otherwise busy life and means so much more to me than just another tick off my list. From the day I first saw his picture in my childhood bird book, I fell in love with his tiny, fat brown body, and unmistakable upward pointing tail. He is the reason I became a bird watcher.

I long to view him in sharp focus, to be able to recognise him. I yearn to become someone who can claim to say, ‘Yes, without a doubt, I have seen a Eurasian Wren.'

Fingers crossed, maybe today will be my lucky day.

.

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This is my entry for therealljidol

Week 15 - periphery

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The Eurasian Wren (Troglodytes troglodytes)
is a very small bird, and the only member of the wren family
Troglodytidae found in Eurasia and Africa.

Outbreak

itsjustc — Sat, 02 Feb 2019 23:33:00 GMT

.

The whispers were becoming louder. The rumours were growing stronger. The deadly threat was virulently spreading northwards from the south, getting ever nearer.

At noon on the moor, by the large standing stone, we met; my love and I - a midway point between his hamlet and my town.

Held in his loving embrace, he spoke of a meeting.

Two days. That is how long the elders had given people. Decide whether to leave and head north while still fit and able, or stay put. Under the cover of darkness, the newest incomers, a wealthy family, had already packed up and left. Every other member of the tiny hamlet built on the only road through the peaks, felt it was their steadfast, unwavering duty to stop the danger in its tracks. Besides, they knew if they left, deciding to be selfish, many thousands more lives would be lost. Wherever they settled, the illness would catch up with them eventually.

Brushing my windswept hair from my mouth, he spoke of quarantine plans. From sunrise tomorrow, a village sacrifice. A cordon line circling around the hamlet would be drawn. There would be no access, until six months after the last death. They were farmers and self-sufficient, able to survive without outside contact for a couple of years.

He kissed me tenderly and told me he loved me, that he would always love me. We spoke of marriage, of children, of growing old together. Then with a strength I had never seen before, he bade me goodnight. Wiping away my tears, he firmly sent me away, back to my own town.

Throughout the next seven seasons the distant country air smelled of sickness and decay. My people, filled with immense gratitude for saving our town from death, gifted the hamlet with items the farmers couldn’t produce. The weekly provisions were left by the standing stone on the cordon line. During every single visit, as I journeyed, I hoped and prayed that I would see my love. I saw no one and nothing, other than the occasional coin left on the stone. We never allowed ourselves to touch the money, as no one knew how the illness spread.

One morning as the sun rose, in the eighth season, twenty seven tired, hungry and weary men, women and children walked into our village and told us it was over. They spoke of the hamlet’s death and destruction. It began just days after the quarantine. They were the survivors. Sadly, my love was not amongst them. He died in the fourth season.

I had lost him forever.

My heart was broken and my tears flowed.

Even now, as the many years have passed and old as I am, I love him as much, if not more, than I did then. I hope with all my being that the sacrifice of my love and of all the people of his hamlet will be remembered forever. Their bravery saved the people of the north by preventing the spread of the disease.

I give thanks for being alive today.

.

A fictional story
Based on a true event that took place in the village of Eyam in Derbyshire, UK.
In the 1660's the village chose to isolate itself after the Bubonic Plague was discovered there,
preventing the infection from spreading to the cities of Sheffield and Manchester.
.

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This is my entry for therealljidol

Week 14 - Firebreak

A firebreak is a gap that acts as a barrier to slow or stop the progress of a bushfire or wildfire.

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Remembrance

itsjustc — Fri, 25 Jan 2019 23:57:29 GMT

It is a warm late July day. The dining table is extended to its fullest, and covered with the best tablecloth. The centre piece: a beautiful home-made cake. Mom has worked hard and the spread looks wonderful. Cheese sandwiches have been lovingly cut into crustless triangles. The green moulded jelly wobbles precariously on the plate. The delicious food is washed down with a diluted orange drink. Everyone stuffs themselves to bursting. It’s my party. I’m seven. Money is tight but none of my school friends have money, so no-one notices or cares. Dad, although nearly immobile with Parkinson’s, sits in his armchair officiating a game. Dead Fishes: a favourite. A game which involves him poking silent still children, who are curled up on the floor, gently with his walking stick. It makes them giggle. They wiggle. They are disqualified.

**********

It is a sunny summer of far less money and a near bed-bound father. No-one suspects our poverty as Mom provides a sixteenth birthday party that everyone enjoys. Food is displayed decoratively. Cocktail sticks bearing cheese and pineapple stand smartly in half an orange. Around a fancy glass of pink Marie-Rose sauce, prawns are arranged. There is an ‘alcoholic’ fruit punch. Mom’s own recipe. A wink and a promise to get everyone drunk. As we prepare the punch together, no alcohol appears. “Ginger beer,” she says. “It’s the secret ingredient. It tastes like you are drinking alcohol”. Fun is had by all. A roomful of sixteen year olds stagger. They giggle. They fall over. They leave, singing Mom's praises for allowing alcohol at an under eighteen’s party. The punch’s non-alcoholic content remains a tight lipped secret.

**********

I am too old for a party at my parents' house at twenty one. In a poorly paid job, there is no money available to hire a room. Ten friends go out together to the local restaurant; having previously agreed to pay for our own meals. The invite had extended to Mom and Dad. Dad is too ill to leave his bed. Mom needs to stay at home; care for him. An envelope had been presented. There is money inside. “We can’t afford to pay for everyone's meals,” the note inside, handwritten by my Dad, said. “But there should be enough for everyone's drinks all night”. By my twenty second birthday, Dad is sadly no longer around.

**********

Five huge tables are filled with food in the hired hall. It is my thirtieth birthday. Mom, I, and a brand new food processor, had prepared it all. My best friend is DJ; he plays my favourite songs. Two hundred guests dance. The disco lights flash. The party rocks. We over-cater. Mom stands by the exit. “Thank you so much for coming” she smiles. Hands them food. “Here’s your complimentary birthday quiche to take home with you.”

**********

A party doesn’t feel appropriate for my fiftieth knowing it could possibly be the last birthday celebration with Mom. I decide on a quiet day, just her and me. Party food is eaten, gin and tonic is drunk. Youtube videos watched. Nat King Cole, Judy Garland, Cole Porter songs are softly sung. My present: her beautiful necklace. My favourite. An antique. Over the years we have discussed its elegance; unsure whether it is decorative glass or diamonds and sapphires. I wear it at her funeral. Its value remains a secret. I treasure it with all my heart.

**********

In memory of

my Mom
(9th September 1928 - 22nd January 2015)

&

my Dad
(5th August 1924 - 31st October 1985)

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This is my entry for therealljidol

Week 13 - Enjoy Every Sandwich

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(Mom with an 'o' is an uncommon spelling of Mum in the UK, but is the way it is written in the dialect of the city I grew up in)

.

The Wind Beneath My Wings

itsjustc — Tue, 08 Jan 2019 21:31:30 GMT

.
It’s turned into yet another one of those nights.

I need to consume alcohol in vast quantities and this dive of a bar is as good a place as any. I’m furious. We’ve only been here for a short time and already Izzy is shining majestically, masterfully controlling the whole place, flirting and manipulating people into buying her drinks.

The music is deafening and I’m angrily forcing myself into a silent drunken stupor. Through my bleary haze, I see Sam, looking as gorgeously mean and moody as ever. Half hidden in the shadow of an alcove on the far side of the room, he is too preoccupied with Izzy, who is swanning around looking radiant, to notice me. He has never once acknowledged me, and believe me, I’ve tried. He has always been in love with Izzy. Of course he loves Izzy. Everyone loves Izzy. Izzy the exquisite. Izzy the wonderful. The spotlight is always on Izzy, and I’m getting extremely tired of being in her shadow.

“Of course I need you. I always need you, You’re my hero. I’m nothing without you” she continuously tells me in that condescending tone she always uses whenever I try to complain, “You are the wind beneath my wings,”

Bloody ‘wind beneath my wings’! That sentence has always felt like a backhanded compliment; all just hot air! Am I ‘content to let her shine because that was my way’? NO I’M BLOODY NOT! But while ever Izzy casts out her light, there is always the shadow that follows behind.

Something is developing between Izzy and the attractive guy in a leather jacket she has homed in on. He whispers in her ear and Izzy laughs loudly, grabbing the attention and admiration of everyone nearby. A grimace of jealousy sweeps across Sam’s face.

I need more bloody alcohol!

Carelessly, a drink is plonked on the table in front of me. Sam joins me, forcing me to slide further along the bench. There is no smile, no acknowledgement, just silence as he stares at Izzy. She is still talking to leather-jacket guy, but suddenly, she turns and looks back at me across the room. Our eyes meet. Her expression is thunderous. Abruptly, Sam kisses me as if his life depends on it! I’m not stupid. I realise he is trying to make Izzy jealous, I also know he is not likely to succeed. If I’d been sober, I’d have slapped him and told him to get lost, but foolishly, a tactical kiss from Sam feels like a better option than no kiss at all.

Izzy storms across the darkened room and speaks firmly to me. She tells me angrily it’s time to go home. I’m drunkenly insisting that - nope! - I need to stay and kiss Sam again! Izzy is enraged, she grabs my arm, pushes Sam out of the way, drags me from my seat and before I’ve have chance to argue, we are out in the bitter cold air of the night. It looks as though her hissing and scolding that I’ve had far too much to drink, is going to last all the way home.

I’ve collapsed in a heap on the living room floor, trying hard to undress, unable to do much for myself. Izzy roughly, helps me upstairs. She undresses me, puts me to bed, and aggressively tucks the covers tightly around my body. All the while she tells me I’m a bloody fool for kissing Sam and as much as she hates me at the moment, she still doesn’t want to see me hurt; insists that he is just not bloody worth it.

I can hear my own voice; a drunken slur with a childish whine, moaning that I hate her for always having the attention of every single person in the universe.

She looks at me with a stunned expression and asks me if I realise why she is so angry with me right now. I’m mumbling that Sam’s jealousy plan must have worked, but she spits an assurance at me that the one person she is NOT jealous of is Creepy Sam.

Izzy tells me that she really, really, liked the leather-jacket guy, “but...” she says slowly and clearly as though I’m a young child “…yet again, it didn’t take him long to start asking to be introduced to you!”

I’m staring at her in surprise at this revelation.

“It really pisses me off!” she rants at me. “Every single time I like someone, they always ask about you! Why is it always you? Why don’t they ever like me? Why do they always prefer you more? Why do I constantly have to live in your shadow?”

Suddenly, Izzy is like an uncoiling spring, spewing forth tales of hatred and jealousy towards me, going right back to our childhood.

She pauses for a second. In the silence she takes a purposeful deep breath, “Anyway, now that I’ve got that off my chest, baby sis, we should try and get some sleep, it’s late. Annoyingly, I suppose, we are who we are, and the show must go on!”

Much calmer now, Izzy’s sweet and friendly smile sets solid once again. I’ve known that smile for years. I’d recognise it anywhere. It’s the one she puts on for the world. The one that everyone loves. The one that makes Izzy shine.

“You do realise that I need you, don’t you?” she asks me in her usual condescending tone, “I always need you, You’re my hero. I’m nothing without you.”

She places a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“You are the wind beneath my wings.”

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This is my entry for therealljidol, second chance,

Topic 2 - Shade

A fictional story
Based on the 'friendship' between two real people I knew during my time at art college
All names have been changed

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Wind Beneath My Wings
(written by Jeff Silbar & Larry Henley)

It must have been cold there in my shadow, To never have sunlight on your face.
You were content to let me shine, that's your way. You always walked a step behind.
So I was the one with all the glory, While you were the one with all the strength.
A beautiful face without a name for so long. A beautiful smile to hide the pain.
Did you ever know that you're my hero, And everything I would like to be?
I can fly higher than an eagle, For you are the wind beneath my wings.
It might have appeared to go unnoticed, But I've got it all here in my heart.
I want you to know I know the truth, of course I know it. I would be nothing without you.
Did you ever know that you're my hero? You're everything I wish I could be.
I could fly higher than an eagle, For you are the wind beneath my wings.
Did I ever tell you you're my hero? You're everything, everything I wish I could be.
Oh, and I, I could fly higher than an eagle, For you are the wind beneath my wings,
'cause you are the wind beneath my wings. Oh, the wind beneath my wings.
You, you, you, you are the wind beneath my wings. Fly, fly, fly away. You let me fly so high.
Oh, you, you, you, the wind beneath my wings. Oh, you, you, you, the wind beneath my wings.
Fly, fly, fly high against the sky, So high I almost touch the sky.
Thank you, thank you, Thank God for you, the wind beneath my wings.
.

By Royal Appointment

itsjustc — Tue, 01 Jan 2019 13:34:45 GMT

Elizabeth stepped out of bed and stared at the woman glaring back at her from the full length mirror. Dressed in a long blue faded flannelette nightgown, red woolly bedsocks and with green curlers wound tightly in her white hair, she looked exactly like any other elderly lady. Her wrinkled face was kind and gentle but extremely pale and tired. Feeling as exhausted as she appeared, she wondered whether the shopping centre visit this morning was such a good idea. It wasn’t the sort of place she would normally go to, but it was so nearby, and she knew she would have fun once she got there. Suddenly, in defiance of ageing, she twisted a silly grotesque face at the old woman in the mirror. The reflected childish gurn amused her, causing her to giggle and wonder whether anyone would recognise her if they were to see her right now.

After washing and applying her make-up, she opened the wardrobe and decided to wear the iconic 90th Birthday outfit that a friend had made for her last year; A neon green jacket with silver buttons, matching hat, white gloves and handbag, pearl necklace and earrings and a sparkly brooch pinned onto the left side of her jacket. All her life she had tried hard to look her best whenever she left the house. As a young woman she would turn heads as she went by and had quickly learned how to politely smile and wave at anyone who stared at her.

At 10.30am precisely, the doorbell rang. Opening the door she was delighted to a see a well dressed chauffeur. He politely greeted her, than walked over to open the back door of what appeared to be a beautiful black Bentley State Limousine. As exquisite and as comfortable as the car was, her hips ached and she was thankful for the exceedingly short journey. The shopping centre was only around the corner from her home but it all added to the illusion that she had travelled a long way. At the sight of her arrival, the enormous crowd that had gathered in the high street square cheered in excitement.

As the door was opened by the chauffeur, she stepped gracefully out of the car. She smiled and walked slowly down the plush red carpet toward the loud gentleman stood at the doorway who was dressed in a smart black suit with a garish, red and gold shiny dicky bow. He shouted excitedly with an extremely broad local accent into the microphone.

“Ladies and Gentlemen it’s my great honour and privilege to present to you this morning at our brand new branch of ‘World of Kingdom Carpet’s’ our official guest and ribbon cutter – our local, home grown lady of royalty, Mrs Elizabeth Webster, who many of you will know, for over 50 years, has worked as THE BEST Queen Elizabeth the Second lookalike. Your Majesty, would you kindly do us the honour of officially opening our shop.”

Stepping up to the microphone, the people silently waited in anticipation, as the suited man handed her the golden scissors. Her Received Pronunciation accent amplified across the busy pedestrian square in front of her. “This is a very happy day for me; as I declare this carpet shop open!”

Cutting the large purple ribbon that ran across the doorway, she turned and waved royally at the large applauding crowd, and said a silent prayer of thanks for all the opportunities in life, that her looks and voice had given to her, and wished for future good health and happiness to the real Queen Elizabeth.

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This is my entry for therealljidol, second chance,

Topic 1 - First Impression

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lj idol second chance

itsjustc — Thu, 27 Dec 2018 15:43:14 GMT

This is me signing up for lj idol Second Chance at therealljidol

Just For Fun Poll - V

itsjustc — Mon, 26 Feb 2018 18:08:57 GMT

View Poll: Just for fun poll - V

Just For Fun Poll - U

itsjustc — Sun, 07 Jan 2018 17:27:00 GMT

View Poll: Just for fun poll - U

Sorry I missed it!

itsjustc — Sun, 07 Jan 2018 16:10:26 GMT

Happy (belated) Birthday
to

whipchick

I hope you had a great birthday x

Sorry I missed it!

itsjustc — Sun, 07 Jan 2018 16:07:53 GMT

I hope you had a very
happy birthday
cjhm

itsjustc, you rock in blogging!

itsjustc — Wed, 27 Dec 2017 21:43:37 GMT