Passing

This Mr.M typing  a quick message to say that Ladkyis passed away on Friday.

Back in writing mode

It's quite strange isn't it, that when you are ill you don't really know how ill you are because you are too wrapped up in being ill. I just felt lousy and weak and tired. I couldn't think straight and Mr M was hovering, watching me with a anxious look on his face.
It irritated me because I couldn't understand why he was looking so worried. Now that I am breathing better and I can feel that the blood-clots on my lungs are getting smaller so I have more room for air I understand that I must have been quite ill and he was worrying about me - a lot. He doesn't hover anymore so I know I am definitely not as ill as I was a few weeks ago
I spent those weeks staring at FB or gazing at something on TV. All the writing I had done in the preceding months was forgotten, no it was avoided because I had been writing almost to the point I went into hospital and somehow my mind had decided that it was the writing that had sent me there.
I know, stupid right? but the thought was firmly fixed so I stayed away from the books.
I can't remember if I've mentioned this before but I have written three of them and started number four. Anyhoo, I have gradually begun to think about my story - which still doesn't have a title - and the other day I opened book one and began to edit a bit.
I have now re-read the first three books and today I opened book for and was surprised to see that I have seven chapters. I read them all and found that chapters six and seven are unfinished. Now this was a shock because I distinctly remember writing a huge amount of chapter seven but it wasn't there.
I pondered for a while and then did what I hope all writers do at some point, I gazed into nothing and let my mind go.
"you must have written that in hospital" I thought and immediately I could see myself in the bed with my notebook (the one I write the plot and character sheets in) and I had written something in hospital.
I've just read it through and do you know it's not bad. No, not at all bad for a person that was attached to the wall with oxygen tubes and feeling like she had a rock in her chest.
I'm off to copy it to the computer now and to email some more chapters of book one to Mr M who has just begun to read it.
Oh, and to continue trying to find a good title for the series.

My point of view

I reported a post on Facebook today. Not something I have ever had a need to do before and just clicking on two buttons left me shaking.
Now I feel a need to explain why I did it. I know I don't have to, I know that the process is anonymous but the person whose post I reported should know better and their blatant ignorance and laziness has left me angry and frustrated.
You see the post was a group of pictures of various former presidents of the USA. They are all pictured with the flag of the USA and the word flag on each picture = except one. this is a picture of president Obama standing in front of a gold-coloured curtain and printed on that picture are the words Muslim Prayer Curtain.
Now anyone who has the slightest grasp of hate speech will see how inflammatory this would be and I would have thought that a person with any common sense would not share this. I am wrong, so wrong because the person who shared it didn't check to see if such a thing exists - I mean a prayer curtain? what and where would one of those be used? they also didn't check to see if the post they were sharing bore any semblance of truth and the worst thing? oh by far the worst thing for me is that the person who shared it is a teacher.
This person is in a classroom every day, moulding the minds of the next generation and yet they couldn't be bothered to look at what this post was and to take two inutes to research it before passing it on.
I'm not really sure why it has had such an effect on me, I just know that I sat and stared at it for about fifteen long angry minutes trying to decide what to do, knowing that I couldn't just ignore it.
I reported it and within five minutes the posts were gone! Not just a notice saying that the content was not available but completely gone.
Now I am writing this to explain because I feel guilty for having to do it. Isn't human nature a strange animal? I'll survive and will continue to view all such posts with contempt and now I won't be so afraid to report them.

What do you do?

This picture is my first year in school. I could already read. My Dad used to read a chapter of a book to me every night at bedtime. I was sure he was missing bits out so I would look at the pages and I taught myself to read by remembering what he had said and then matching words. What? oh yes, he was missing bits out. So, there I am in school and having my first school photograph age five.
Then the most wonderful thing happened.
They taught me to write.
They did! Miss Grey taught me to write and from that day onwards I have written. I remember when I was seven and we were asked to write a story and the teacher, who was instantly forgettable, turned to me and said
'You can't write more than two sides of paper'
Of course I can, I thought, I can easily write two sides, probably four sides.
What she meant was that I was restricted to only writing two sides because she couldn't be arsed to read more than that.
What's this got to do with now?
Well, from my last post you know that I now have breathing issues and the condition is progressive. So I was feeling very sorry for myself and doing the Not-long-for-this-world-thing and decided that we would either have to move or we would eventually have to move our bedroom downstairs. Thank goodness we haven't fallen for this open plan living fad eh?

I went into the study and looked at the shelves full of cr*p and began to empty folders that have stood on the shelves for twenty years untouched and I found the first draft of The Book.

I wrote it during the two weeks I was at my daughter's house in Rochdale, dog sitting back in 199? All I had to do was take the dog for a walk every day and then nothing. So I walked about five miles or more in the morning then went to the market and got food and then came back and sat at the computer and wrote.

So here I am in 2019. I have retyped that first draft and improved it to a second draft. I then started the next book and had written ten chapters and realised that I really needed to write the book that came before all I had written = anyhoooo. That was the end of February and here I am in May and I now have three books written and all into second draft.

Sounds good eh? all formatted ready to submit as soon as the editing is done and last night I had a dream. The upshot of which is that this morning I wrote the first 600 words of book four. I know, I know I should at least try to finish one of the darned things before going onto the next but I have to write it down when I dream it.

So that's how things stand at the moment. Pulmonary rehabilitation means I will be learning exercises to keep me fit (excuse me while I laugh hollowly) and for the rest of the time I can sit with my legs elevated (freaking oedema) and write to my hearts content. If I can find a publisher I'll be laughing into my oxygen won't I?

Health update

Feeling decidedly down at the moment. The experts have diagnosed Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis. So let's look at this. Idiopathic means haven't-got-a-clue. Pulmonary is pertaining to the lungs. Fibrosis is hardening or scarring. So, something has damaged my lungs, but "they" don't know what or how or why.
I have to carry an oxygen thingy with tubes that go up my nose - but only for exercise. AS exercise includes walking to the bathroom, having a shower and even getting dressed you can see why my world is monochrome. I hate it. but I must have it.
Takes the bloody shine of everything, I can tell you!
It's dark and miserable in the belly of the wolf so I won't stay long in here. I will get used to it, but not yet, ok? I haven't finished wallowing in self-pity, but I'll get there

Just thinking

He has his, 'oh gawd, she's taking my picture again' face. This man restored my trust and gave me wings. He gave my children the confidence to go out into the world and above all the be themselves.

A Zero Birthday

Today Mr M is 60. we met when he was 21 so we have known each other for two thirds of his life. He still makes me laugh and if he appears in my line of vision I still get that funny fizzy feeling in my tummy.

Isn't this just too sweet! The expression on his face is just the same now when he concentrates on the TV