tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-901837319512920792024-02-19T15:53:39.607+00:00Thoughts of a tattooed accountantJo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.comBlogger116125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-19779896873610201592018-12-09T11:15:00.000+00:002018-12-09T11:15:10.166+00:00Granddad's Special School of Dance
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></u></b> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><strong><u>Inspired by Behind
the Nebulas Fog - By Graeme Piper - </u></strong>This story was written whilst listening to Behind the Nebulas Fog as written and performed by Graeme Piper. Depending on the speed you read this story can be read in the time it takes that tune to play.</em></span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you would like to listen to the tune as you read it can be downloaded from the link below</span></em></div>
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<a href="https://graemepiper.com/track/behind-the-nebulas-fog" target="_blank">Behind the nebulas fog</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I sit in the room as the lights go down and the parents,
grandparents and siblings of my dancers fall silent in anticipation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The music starts and before the curtain has time to rise I
am cast back to the first time I ever heard this tune.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was eight and it was about the time when dance schools
start selecting the children who can dance for their Christmas shows rather
than kids who just love to dance. Jessica Paige had been given the lead and I
had been set aside to possibly join in the group number but only if Andrew
Burton couldn't make it. I had kept up my best brave face but as soon as I got
into the car I had burst into tears.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Why wasn't I allowed to dance. I loved to dance. It made me
feel free. It made me feel beautiful.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'What did the teacher say sweetheart?' my granddad asked as
I wept on the drive home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'She said dancers have to flow and be delicate. She said I
was a little on the large side to be a true dancer.' I whispered through my
tears.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Well that's just silly,' he said. 'Anyone can dance. Me and
your grandma still dance and we aren't graceful.'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A week later when he came to collect me for dance class I
had refused to get ready. I didn't want to go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'That's okay sweetie but I need you to help me,' he said as
he pulled me up onto his knee.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Help you?'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Yes. I am making a new dance for your grandma and she
mustn't know. But I need a partner so will you help me?'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'But I'm not allowed to dance,' I cried jumping down off his
knee and rushing to my room.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A few minutes later there was a knock on my door.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Can I come in?' Granddad said.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I kept me head buried in the pillow but I heard the door
slowly open and then the end of my bed dip as he sat down.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'I think your dance teacher is a ninny but if I promise not
to tell her <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>you are dancing will you
help me?'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'She said I was no good.'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'This is different from the dancing she does. She doesn't
know about this kind of dancing.' He smiled and I wiped my eyes, sitting up on
the end of the bed next to him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'But where will we go?'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'I have cleared a space in the front room and the piano is
in there already.'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Piano? We have tapes in dance class.'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Not this time. That is why I need your help.'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Okay,' I nodded.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He held my hand as we walked together done the stairs and
into the front room. All the furniture had been removed except for the piano. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'First we need to warm up.'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Warm up?'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Don't you do that in dance classes?'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'No.'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'That dance teacher knows nothing. Right stand facing me and
raise you arms in the air.'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I did as he said.</span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Now shake them out.'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I looked at him as if he was an idiot. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Come on follow me and shake those arms.'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">For the next ten minutes I copied him exactly as he shook
his arms and his legs and his head and his hands and his feet and finally his
bottom. By the time we had finished I couldn't stop giggling.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Right now for the dance.' He sat at the piano.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'What are the steps?'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'I don't know.'</span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'But you have to tell me what to do. Teacher always shows us
what to do and we follow.'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'I told you that teacher was a ninny. What we do at Granddad's
Special School of Dance is let the music show us what to do.'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Don't be silly the music can't show us what to do,' I
giggled. 'You're the ninny.'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Just you see. Stand in the middle of the room and close
your eyes.'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I did as he said.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Now listen to the music and move when you want to however
you want to.'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I stood staring at him. This was silly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Ready? Eyes closed.'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He stood looking at me with his fingers poised over the keys
waiting for me to close my eyes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I finally did he started to play. After a few seconds I
felt the music wash over me and I started to move. The first time it wasn't
much more than a sway but we practiced each week and by the time of the
Christmas show I had my own dance that I performed in the front room to a
standing ovation from the whole family.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I open my eyes and the first bars of that very same tune
start to play for the first Christmas show of 'Granddad's Special School of Dance'
.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ten kids come running out on to the stage and moving to the
music. They are all dressed in the costumes they chose so none of them match.
Some kids are on the floor, some are running around with scarves floating out
behind them and one small boy is standing alone on the edge of the stage. Just
as I start to get up to go to him two of the other children walk over and take
him by the hand. Cathy and Bill both has Downs and they were my first kids.
Tommy only joined this summer and is partially sighted so fears the stage and
the edge he can't see. Cathy takes Tommy's hand and slowly guides him out to
the middle of the stage while Bill runs round herding all the children into the
centre. As the music reaches its crescendo the boys gather round Tommy and with
one massive effort lift him above their shoulders while the girls open their
arms and point towards him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tommy looks so nervous I am terrified he will fall. They
never did this in the dance classes that we laughingly called rehearsals. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As the music reaches it ending Tommy holds out his arms and
smiles the biggest smile I have ever seen on his face.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The audience launches to its feet almost as one. Applause,
whistling and cheering ring out around the hall.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The children stand at the front of the stage with Tommy in
the middle and take their bow.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">As parents rush to congratulate me I am in
tears. I look to the heavens. 'Thank you Granddad.'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you enjoyed this story please don't forget to download the tune that inspired it</span></em></div>
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<a href="https://graemepiper.com/track/behind-the-nebulas-fog" target="_blank">Behind the nebulas fog</a></div>
</span><em>If you would like to know more about Jo Jenner and her writing why not check out her author page on Amazon</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Jo-Jenner/e/B00DP57TXI" target="_blank">Jo Jenner's author page</a>Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-75548778754623010202017-09-23T15:37:00.000+01:002017-09-23T15:37:58.491+01:00JK 'Strikes' gold again<br />
I have to admit that I am loving 'Strike' currently showing on the BBC and I have read both The Cuckoo's Calling and Silkworm and enjoyed them for what they were; reasonably well written private detective novels.<br />
<br />
I didn't question Rowling's motive for writing under a pseudonym or the convenient leaking of the authors real name when the book had only sold a few thousand copies (granted still more sales that a lot of us will ever manage). There have been many articles about reading between the lines and hearing what she has to say about the world of celebrity and the publishing industry but would those questions even have been asked if Robert Galbraith really had written these novels?<br />
<br />
However do we really think that had Robert Galbraith been real that he would have got a TV deal after just three 'not bad' books? I doubt it, but change the name of the author to JK Rowling and suddenly a TV deal is a forgone conclusion assuming Hollywood doesn't get there first.<br />
How many novels did Ian Ranking write before Rebus hit the small screen? or Val McDermid, Colin Dexter and the thousands of great authors whose written words never gets anywhere near a TV deal.<br />
<br />
The thing I liked about Strike was that it was relatively close to the book with the obvious need for abbreviation to get everything to fit into three episodes. Again I think this is the power of Rowling. If you are a fan of Hamish Macbeth on the TV don't read the books by M.C.Beaton as the only thing that remained the same was the name.<br />
<br />
I enjoy Rowling and I believe she is a great writer with a gift to write the best children's books of our generation but I am sure that Strike would not have been made into a TV series with the DVD box set that will obviously follow if the author really had been a debutant by the name of Robert Galbraith.Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-22146954903567233672017-09-02T13:50:00.000+01:002017-09-02T13:50:14.989+01:00The difficult secondHow often do we hear 'oh well that was the difficult second album?' It seems if you have the talent and the perseverance to make an album or write a book the second one is never quite as easy.<br />
<br />
It seems that the first time we do something that is good enough to be shown to the public at large we have been working on it for the whole of our lives up until that point.<br />
Then either through personal or peer pressure the second album or book is required before the furore of the first has died down. So often the second is a disappointment and the star wains until five years later they reappear with a third that is reminiscent of the first.<br />
<br />
I looked today and I published my first novel a little over three years ago. I had written it as part of the 2012 NANOWRIMO and had then taken two years to tidy it up and eventually get it to a state that I was happy with and able to publish it.<br />
As part of NANO 2013 I wrote my second novel. Then I got ill. Once I was better and ready to write again I turned my pen to writing about my illness and produced what I consider to be a passable non fiction book about my health struggles and the British NHS.<br />
Then I started to go back to my second novel. It lacked something but it was okay I had an idea. I have sat down twice in the last six months to write that idea and started with all good intentions to find the following day that I need to go to work and I am too busy to carry on.<br />
<br />
Yesterday I saw an article about a fellow writer who has just won an award with Amazon. In it he talks about how he would write at night after the kids had gone to bed and how he discovered self publishing through KDP. Eventually he 'discovers' he has earned enough money to give up his job and write full time.<br />
I read that article and was immediately overcome with jealousy. Wouldn't it be amazing to just discover that the account where your royalties are paid into suddenly has enough money for you to give up work. Why does that never happen to me? Why do I not have an army of fans buying my books? Why can't I write full time?<br />
<br />
The reason I can't is because I have published one novel in the last five years. How are people supposed to become fans if I can't give them more things to read? I'm not Harper Lee.<br />
<br />
So now is the time to start writing. Time to put aside that 30 minutes each day and get out that old manuscript and turn it into something that will generate fans.<br />
James Patterson has millions of fans but then he has written and co-written hundreds of books.<br />
<br />
Time to stop waiting to be discovered.<br />
<br />
And so to my difficult second book. Is it worth finishing? Of course it is. Will it take hard work and perseverance? Of course it will. But I've done it once and I sure as hell can do it again.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-79726599809307739012017-08-28T17:38:00.000+01:002017-08-28T17:38:38.217+01:00Teenage Dream
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Twitter challenge<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></div>
<br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This story was written
based upon a prompt I was given by Twitter which was:<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">'It wasn't that he
didn't want to be with her, but rather he didn't want her to be with him'.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Teenage Dream<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Chantel was the prom queen, the one they all wanted and for
the last two years she had been on the arm of the star quarterback.</span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That was until she had caught him making out with her best
friend. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Chantel had cried off going to the gathering at Shannon's
house, but feeling better later in the evening she had snook out and arrived as
the party was in full swing.</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As she walked in people turned and stared. The room had
fallen silent of the general roar of a teenage party and only the banging base
continued to beat out from the stereo.</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The glances towards the garden sent her running through the
crowd. Teenagers easily parting. No one even attempting to stop her. No one
wanting to get involved.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As she emerged into the garden she was ignored by the
couples making out. She looked around unable to see what she already knew she
was looking for. Then she heard it. Shannon's giggle and she knew what she
would see even before she pushed through the bushes into the back corner of the
garden. There snuggled under the arbour with his hand up Shannon's top and
slobbering into her left ear was Brad.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Before Chantel knew what was happening and before the two
lovers could realise they were being watched she grabbed the hose conveniently
lying on the ground and she blasted them with ice cold water.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Shannon lunged towards her soaker, almost halfway there
before her brain registered what her eyes where seeing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Chantel,' Shannon stopped dead. 'I thought you were ill.'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Chantel dropped the hose and turned, pushing her way through
the crowd that had gathered to see the inevitable cat fight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>***********************************************</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That was how I ended up with Chantel the prom queen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I'm Andy. The head of the debate team and used as a punch
bag for the football team even since high school began.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have spent the last five years dreaming over Chantel.
Offering to carry her books home and buying her shakes if I ever see her in the
diner without the other cheerleaders and football jocks.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Last Sunday she was there alone and I offered to buy her a
drink. She accepted and asked me to join her. We talked about the debate team
and somehow ended up discussing the role of women in Tolstoy's War and Peace.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Before long I had to go and mow Mrs Petersen's lawn but we
agreed to meet to next day.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I walked into the diner the next day and there she was
surrounded by the rest of the cheerleader troop.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Chantel. I'm here,' I said as I walked over.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Beat it geek. We're busy.' Shannon said from her place next
to Chantel.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It looked like the natural order had returned. I dipped my
head, turned and headed to a booth the other side of the diner.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I ordered my food and sat with my head bowed.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Can I sit here?' </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I looked up and there was Chantel.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'I thought you were with those guys,' I said nodding towards
the cheerleaders sitting in the booth by the door.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'They sat with me while I was waiting for you. Shannon isn't
the sort of person I want to hang around with anymore.'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I nodded at the seat opposite and then waved at Mindy, my
favourite waitress, to let her know to bring Chantel a milkshake along with the
rest of my order.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was halfway through
my frothy coffee when, as if the gods of tension had decreed it, the jukebox
stopped and Brad walked in.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He started heading towards his usual crowd when out of the
corner of his eye he saw Chantel sitting with me.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Chantel why you sitting in Geek corner?'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'I'm sitting with Andy because we're together. You've got
Shannon now.'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Come on Chantel. You're the one who let me down. You
weren't expecting me to go to the party alone were you?'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Seriously Brad, this is my fault?'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'I'm glad you realise that now why don't you get back where
you belong?'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Brad I was being sarcastic. I am not coming back with you.
I'm with Andy.'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'You,' Brad said pointing at me. 'Will regret this.'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Brad walked towards the crowd and grabbed Shannon, kissing
her full on the lips</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Let's go, this place is getting to geeky for me.'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The rest of the afternoon was me and Chantel. It was the
best afternoon of my life. That evening I walked her home and she kissed me.
The sweetest strawberry lip-gloss kiss.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was still floating on air as I walked across the playing
field and round the back of the school towards the alley way that cut through
towards home. I entered the alleyway not aware of anything. It was only when I
was half way along that I noticed the two large shadows at the end. I glanced
over my shoulder and noticed a similar two shadows approaching behind me. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'She's mine Geek,' one of the shadows said as all four of
them piled into me.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next thing I remember was waking up in hospital with a
young woman sitting by my side.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Chantel?' I whispered.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The girl blew her nose, wiped her eyes and squeezed my hand.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'It's me,' she said. 'Mindy. I was so worried about you.'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Mindy?'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Yes. Chantel popped in but she left with Brad. It seems
they're back together.'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'But Brad did this?'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Then you need to let the police know. He can't get away
with this.'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Just then the door pushed open and Chantel appeared.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Andy, can I have a word?'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Mindy do you mind?' I asked.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'No problems. I'll go get a coffee. I'll be back in five
minutes.'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mindy got up, left and Chantel took the seat she had left.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'How are you?' Chantel asked.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'I've been better. What the hell did Brad think he was doing.'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'What do you mean? Brad didn't do this.'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Chantel, Brad did this. I heard him.'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'You can't prove it. He was at football practice. I saw him
there.'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Chantel how can you say that? I had just left you at home.'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Brad wouldn't hurt you. He had no reason to. And he's not
that kind of guy.'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Has he threatened you?'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Don't be so silly. I don't know why you think he would hurt
anyone.'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Chantel I thought you were better than that. Brad has
hospitalised me and he cheated on you with your best friend. How can you defend
him?'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'If you're going to start slagging my friends off I think
its best we don't see each other anymore.'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'Chantel you are a beautiful girl but you really need to
choose your friends better.'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Chantel stood and turned tossing her mane of perfectly coiffured
hair over her shoulder. She stomped towards the door, pushing it outwards and
nearly knocking the cup of coffee from Mindy's hands as she headed back into
the room.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'What's wrong with her?' Mindy said as the door closed
behind Chantel.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'She feels that her boyfriend isn't the type to beat anyone
up.'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'You are joking. She knows he did it.'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'But she and the rest of the cheerleader, football player
gang are going to give him an alibi.'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'So what are you going to do?'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">'I thought I might keep my head down, get better and then
see if the best looking diner waitress in town wants to go out sometime.'</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mindy put her coffee cup down on the nightstand and leaned
in towards me for a kiss that beat any strawberry lip-gloss kiss by a mile.</span></div>
Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-73482061513999006652016-04-07T06:00:00.000+01:002016-04-07T06:00:13.670+01:00F is for Fable - #AtoZchallengeA <strong>Fable </strong>is a story with a moral and the famous are Aesop's Fables.<br />
<strong>Aesop </strong>was a Greek story teller. No writing by him exists and there is a question as to whether he really existed or not but there are a number of stories accredited to him. His stories include 'The Lion and the Mouse', 'The Goose that laid the Golden Egg' and 'The Boy who Cried Wolf'.<br />
<strong>The Boy that cried wolf </strong>is the story of a shepherd boy who claims that there is a wolf attacking the sheep and the villagers rush to help but find there is no wolf. He does this again and then the third time when there really is a wolf no one believes him. The moral of the story is that you shouldn't lie because people won't believe you when you really need them.<br />
Another well known story which includes a wolf is <strong>Peter and the Wolf. </strong>This is a composition written by Prokofiev and is assumed to be an allegory for the situation in Russia at the time. Russia and the soviet state was written about in secret by many of its great novelist including Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy and<strong> Solzhenitsyn.</strong><br />
Solzhenitsyn wrote many semiautobiographical books including Cancer Ward - about his time on a cancer ward - and <strong>A day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich</strong> .<br />
A Day in the life document a day in the life of someone serving in the gulags in <strong>Siberia</strong>.<br />
<br />
And so from the fables of ancient Greece and across eastern Europe to the wilds of Siberia.<br />
<br />
Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-34263965910749546382016-04-06T20:35:00.000+01:002016-04-06T20:35:03.828+01:00E is for Each - #AtoZChallengeSay the word <strong>each</strong> to me and I always think about people selling raffle tickets. '20p each or 5 for £1' was how the sales pitch used to go. <br />
I remember as a child often attending Christmas parties and works socials where there would be a <strong>raffle</strong>.<br />
With a raffle, tickets are drawn at random from a tub and the holder of the winning ticket gets to pick a prize and then draw the next number. This continues until all the prizes have gone. The prizes usually included a few bottles of wine, some beer and a <strong>cuddly toy</strong>.<br />
A cuddly toy was also one of the prizes in <strong>The Generation Game. </strong>The Generation Game was a game show shown on a Saturday night where three couples competed against each other in a number of tasks. Which ever couple made it through then had to remember prizes as they passed them by on a conveyor belt. Everything they could remember they won.<br />
The Generation Game was hosted by Larry Grayson and <strong>Sir Bruce Forsyth.</strong><br />
Sir Bruce also hosted Strictly come dancing up until 2014 when he retired due to the pressure of live television. The show is now hosted by Tess Daly and <strong>Claudia Winkleman. </strong><br />
Claudia is also co host of the BBC's film programme Film16. The Film programme was originally hosted by <strong>Barry Norman </strong>between 1972 and 1998.<br />
<br />
So we move from Each to Barry Norman in six easy steps.<br />
<br />
Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-45841649666866785082016-04-05T06:00:00.000+01:002016-04-05T06:00:00.178+01:00D is for Dab - #AtoZChallenge<strong>Dab </strong>Can be many things but I like to think of it as the dab of ink you put on a bingo card to denote that one of your numbers have been called.<br />
<strong>Bingo </strong>is a game where people have a number of cards all with 15 numbers on them. 5 on each line. Numbers are called and prizes are awarded for the first person to get a row, two rows and then a full house. Bingo had a resurgence in the nineties with Gala and Mecca setting up clubs that were a huge step up from the grimy bingo halls of the sixties and seventies.<br />
At the seaside bingo callers us different names to highlight the numbers. Calls like 'any way up 69', 'legs 11' and 'two fat ladies 88' are often heard.<br />
<strong>Two fat ladies</strong> was also the name of a cookery show which featured Clarissa Dickson Wright and Jenifer Paterson and two chefs who travelled around the country with a motorcycle and sidecar.<br />
Another couple often see out and about with a motorcycle and sidecar where Wally and Nora Batty in <strong>The Last of the Summer Wine. </strong>This was a<strong> </strong>comedy set in Yorkshire and highlight the pit falls of three elderly gentleman and the scraps they somehow managed to get themselves into. One of the main characters until his death was Compo played by <strong>Bill Owen. </strong>In everything else I have ever seen him in he was always smartly dressed and well spoken but in Summer Wine he is a grubby little man with holes in his clothes and often weasels in his trousers.<br />
Bill had a part in the very first <strong>Carry On</strong> film - Carry on Sergeant. The carry on films are much loved comedies based upon the seaside humour of saucy seaside postcards. These films starred many stalwarts of the British film industry in the sixties and seventies and you will often be amazed by some of the bit part actors who starred as youngster in the early films and went on to enjoy there own success.<br />
They had Juliet Mills - daughter of Sir John Mills - and a future bond girl <strong>Shirley Eaton</strong>.<br />
<br />
And so once again the six degrees of separation has led on a magical mystery tour that took us from Dab to Shirley Eaton. Strange were these things lead us.<br />
<br />
Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-2434928923829475652016-04-04T06:00:00.000+01:002016-04-04T06:00:20.065+01:00C is for Cab - #AtoZChallengeToday we start with Cab.<br />
<br />
Being English I always think of black <strong>cabs </strong>like the hackney cabs that drive around London. In order to be a black cab driver in London you have to take a test called The knowledge. This is a test that shows that a black cab driver can get anywhere in London without the use of SatNav. One of the most famous black cab drivers was <strong>Fred Housego.</strong><br />
Fred won Mastermind in 1980. His final specialist subject was <strong>The Tower of London.</strong><br />
The Tower of London was built in 1078 and added to over the next 300 years. It sits on the North bank of the river Thames. It used to house a zoo and still has ravens living there.<br />
Rumour has it that when the <strong>Ravens</strong> leave the Tower the kingdom will fall.<br />
There is a Raven Master and there are seven Ravens in the Tower of London. The ravens are fed 170g of meat and bird biscuits soaked in blood every day.<br />
Ravens are carrion birds and are part of the same family as the crow and the blackbird. Another member of this family is the <strong>Rook.</strong><br />
The Rook was once used in a sketch by the <strong>Two Ronnies. </strong>Ronnie Corbett and his partner go to a restaurant called the Rook and try to order a meal. The menu is made up of many dishes all containing rook. When they eventually make up there minds they are told 'Rook's off.'<br />
The Tow Ronnies were of course made up of Ronnie Barker and <strong>Ronnie Corbett.</strong><br />
<strong>Ronnie Corbett </strong>sadly passed away last week but I will never forget the time he fell off the travelator during the filming of Peter Kay's Is this the way to Amarillo video. True comedy gold.<br />
<br />
And so today we have managed to get from Cab to Ronnie Corbett in six degrees of separation and in the process pay my tribute to a comedy legend. RIP Ronnie.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-16255146945015758142016-04-02T06:00:00.000+01:002016-04-02T07:42:12.168+01:00B is for Babbit - #AtoZChallengeWelcome to today's six degrees of separation.<br />
<br />
<strong>Babbitt </strong>is one of a number of alloys used in bearing metal. When someone says alloy to me I immediately think of copper and <strong>Brass.</strong><br />
Brass brings to mind the well known saying 'where there's muck there's brass' which was the main premise centred around the old TV show called Brass and staring <strong>Timothy West.</strong><br />
Timothy West is famously married to <strong>Prunella Scales</strong> who I can not think of without smiling fondly when I remember her wonderful portrayal as Sybil Fawlty in <strong>Fawlty Towers.</strong><br />
The sitcom is set in Torquay and tells the tale of Sybil and her down trodden husband Basil as they try to run a guest house. This would work perfectly if it wasn't for the guests who Basil finds particularly difficult to deal with. <br />
Only twelve episodes of Fawlty Towers were ever made and it was written by the real life husband and wife team of John Cleese and <strong>Connie Booth.</strong> <br />
Booth is no longer an actress of writer and is now a trained psychotherapist. This was a very similar career path to ex not the nine o clock news writer and actress <strong>Pamela Stephenson</strong>.<br />
<br />
And so today we have somehow found our way from Babbitt to Pamela Stephenson in just six degrees of separation.<br />
<br />Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-86326820618868998812016-04-01T06:00:00.000+01:002016-04-01T06:00:24.839+01:00A is for Aardvark - #Ato ZChallenge<br />
<br />
Day one of the A to Z challenge and I am going to see where the word aardvark leads me.<br />
If you want more details about the A to Z challenge and what I am going to try to do in blogging terms over the next month check out my launch blog <a href="http://jojenner.blogspot.co.uk/2016/03/a-to-z-challenge-theme-reveal-6-degrees.html">here.</a><br />
<br />
<strong>Aardvark</strong> is a kind of anteater but is also the name of many building and taxi firms. They used Aardvark in attempt to get their adverts shown first in the yellow pages. This worked fine until people realise that numbers came before letters and then the million and one taxi firms called <strong>A1 </strong>appeared.<br />
The A1 is also one of the longest roads in the Uk and runs from London to Edinburgh. Another thing that ran from London to Edinburgh was <strong>The Flying Scotsman</strong>.<br />
The Flying Scotsman was a steam train that could hit speeds in excess of one hundred miles a hour and was called the Flying Scotsman due to the journey it took. The Flying Scotsman is probably one of the most famous steam trains of all time only beaten in fame terms by the <strong>Rocket.</strong><br />
The Rocket was built by Robert Stephenson and was one of the first operational steam trains.<br />
<strong>Robert Stephenson</strong> should not be confused with Robert Stevenson an engineer who built lighthouses, most notably the Bell Rock Lighthouse in the North Sea. He equally should not be confused with <strong>Robert Louis Stevenson</strong> who was his grandson and famously wrote <strong>Treasure Island</strong>. <br />
<br />
And that is how on day one of the A to Z Challenge we get from Aardvark to Treasure Island in just six degrees of separation.<br />
<br />Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-59724339169141414182016-03-21T06:00:00.000+00:002016-03-21T06:00:05.013+00:00A to Z Challenge Theme Reveal - 6 degrees of separation<img alt="A to Z Challenge Theme Reveal 3-21-2016" height="105" id="Image3_img" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl-XyOsYgo6bN1Z2wUjFDXee_ucgS95MqdMKXUVnCosF-dtXrgXAFpclKBa7iZB_VqK7OPB6-mbybX8IWXj0JGcIZtnK2egcSgdEqr8TgQDWT-7uEAXCof23Y8pJ-XQ-TiGF7TOGG4BMqS/s230/atoz-theme-reveal-2016+v2.jpg" width="230" /><br />
<br />
On the first of April I shall once again attempt to complete the April A to Z Challenge. The premise is that you write a blog post every day (except Sundays) and each day it starts with a different letter of the alphabet.<br />
In 2014 I created a novella set around the kidnap of April Summers' parents It was called <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00K3NCQ7E">April Fool</a>.<br />
Last year I was unfortunately unable to compete and so this year I have decided to do something a little different.<br />
<br />
My posts will be centred around six degrees of separation. I have taken the first real word in the Oxford English dictionary and I am going to just write and using stream of consciousness see where I end up at the end of six degrees of separation.<br />
I would love it if you would like to follow me on this journey and to whet your appetite below is a list of my starting words.<br />
<br />
Friday 1st April - Aardvark<br />
Saturday 2nd April - Babbitt<br />
Monday 4th April - Cab<br />
Tuesday 5th April - Dab<br />
Wednesday 6th April - Each<br />
Thursday 7th April - Fable<br />
Friday 8th April - Gab<br />
Saturday 9th April - Habanera<br />
Monday 11th April - Iamb<br />
Tuesday 12th April - Jab<br />
Wednesday 13th April - Kabob<br />
Thursday 14th April - Label<br />
Friday 15th April - Ma'am<br />
Saturday 16th April - Nab<br />
Monday 18th April - Oaf<br />
Tuesday 19th April - Pa'anga<br />
Wednesday 20th April - Qintar<br />
Thursday 21st April - Rabbet<br />
Friday 22nd April - Sabbath<br />
Saturday 23rd April - Tab<br />
Monday 25th April - Ubiquitous<br />
Tuesday 26th April - Vacancy<br />
Wednesday 27th April - Wacky<br />
Thursday 28th April - Xanadu<br />
Friday 29th April - Yacht<br />
Saturday 30th April - Zaire<br />
<br />
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Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-1149259921159956852016-01-31T19:21:00.001+00:002016-01-31T19:21:56.829+00:00Viva Las Vegas
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I knock on the door and wait. It is a thin wooden door that
was once green but is now weather marked and dull. Large chunks of the paint
have peeled off. The door belongs to a mid-terrace house sitting in a row of
identical houses that have stood hear in Eversley since the turn of the last
century. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m here to interview Elvis Lord. I mean me, interview Elvis
Lord. I had absolutely no idea who Elvis Lord was until the editor of the
Eversley Gazette rang me last night and asked me to do this interview. He had
thought of me because as I came from Eversley and was the same age as Elvis so
I must have gone to school with him. I can’t say I remember an Elvis at school.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The door was opened by a small aged woman. She was about
seventy, couldn’t have been much more than four feet ten inches tall and was
wearing a floral house coat. The kind that looks like a dressing gown but is
worn to stop clothes getting dirty while you are cleaning the house.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Are you here to see Paul?’ she asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I looked at her blankly. ‘I’m Sharon Somersby from the
Gazette. I’m here to interview Elvis.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I’ll never get used to that silly name. Come in.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She walked back inside and she opened the first door that we
came to. The front room. Wow I was honoured. In these sort of houses the front
room was only ever used for funerals and royal visits.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Take a seat,’ she nodded into the room. ‘Do you want tea?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Yes please.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Paul, I mean Elvis will be down in a minute.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She headed towards the back of the house to where the
kitchen must have been. The front parlour was exactly as I remembered my Gran’s
house looking thirty years before. There was a dining table set up in the
middle of the room with six chairs around it. Squeezed around the sides of the
table were a sofa and two matching armchairs and under the window was an old
oak sideboard. The whole room looked like it was filled with the best furniture
but unfortunately there wasn’t enough room for any of it to be used. I sidled
between the dining table and the sofa and managed to sit down with my legs sticking
out to the side. I hoped Elvis would opt for the first armchair. If he didn’t I
wasn’t sure how he was going to get passed me and if he did whether I would be
able to see him to carry out the interview.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The door opened and
in walk the lady who had previously opened the door. She was carrying a tray
with a tea pot, two cups, a milk jug and a sugar bowl. She placed them on the
edge of the dining table.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I’ll leave those there for you,’ she said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Thanks Mrs Lord.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Oh no dear, I’m Mrs Burrows.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I’m sorry I assumed you were Elvis’ mum.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Uh hu!’ the noise from the door made us both stop and look
up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The small door in the small house was filled by Elvis. This
was the Vegas Elvis. He just fitted in the door frame and from where I was
sitting it looked like the top of his quiff might be touching the door frame.
His black hair had a few touches of grey at the temples. I couldn’t see his
eyes for the large gold rimmed sunglasses he wore. As my eyes moved down I
could only stare at the white jump suit and I was fairly sure when he moved it
would reveal he was wearing a cape. Finally my eyes were drawn to the white
platform boots he was wearing. It seemed Elvis Lord wasn’t quiet as tall as the
King and was wearing platform boots to give the impression that he was a bigger
man than he was. However width wide he was right on the mark. This was the
burger eating Elvis at his fullest. The American size portions had been used to
full advantage to replicate The King’s final physique.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘You run along now Mum,’ Elvis said in a deep American
drawl.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Paul I wish you’d stop using that silly voice,’ she said as
she tried to leave the room. With Elvis in the doorway there was nowhere she
could go. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Elvis flatten himself against the side wall and Mrs Burrows
squeezed passed, closing the door behind her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Welcome Miss…’ Elvis said extending his hand for me to
shake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Somersby, Sharon Somerby.’ I replied awkwardly shaking the
left hand he had offered me. It was only later I thought that the offer of the
left hand might have been because he expected me to kiss the ring.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I was expecting someone else.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Unfortunately the other reporter has a stomach bug so they
asked me to step in at the last minute.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Okay, shall I be mother?’ he nodded towards the tea tray.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Please.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I left my tea cup on the tray and got out my notepad, pen
and Dictaphone. ‘You don’t mind if we record this do you?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Well I’m not sure. I thought this was just a small piece
for the local rag.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘It is but it just helps me to get everything straight. I
don’t want to write down you didn’t do something when you did. The recording
just helps me get everything straight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Okay. You carry on.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We started off talking about how Elvis had left school at
sixteen and had a variety of nothing jobs. He’d been just plain old Paul then.
He had been bored and when his dad had died he had gone off the rails. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Oh my god now I remember,’ I cried. ‘Of course you’re Paul
Burrows.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He looked at me obviously shocked by the outburst.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I was Sharon Bates when we were at school. You used to
torment me all the time. Pulling my pigtails and taking the mick out of my
braces.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I’m sorry I don’t remember.’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘No they say the bully often doesn’t but the person bullied
never forgets,’ I said with a scathing tone. ‘You don’t know how glad I was
when you didn’t come back to school after the summer holidays.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He hung his head looking genuinely sorry that he’d hurt
someone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Anyway we’re not here to talk about bullying are we? Get on
with your story.’ I lower my head and poised my pen over my pad to indicate I
wanted him to continue.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It appeared his mother had been at her whit’s end and hadn’t
known what to do. Luckily there was a cousin in America, his great aunt had
been a GI bride, and this cousin needed help on his farm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Paul had gone to help out on the farm and after a couple of
years had started to get his head on straight. The hard work and long hours
hadn’t left much time for fooling around and the cousin was only too happy to
use his cattle whip if Paul did get out of hand. Then Paul met Gilda. She had
been passing through the small town and Paul had fallen hook, line and sinker
for her charms. She had been running from a boyfriend who later turned out to
be her pimp and Paul had hidden her away on the farm telling the boyfriend she
had headed north.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Together they had then set off south and eventually ended up
in Vegas. Gilda found work as a showgirl and Paul sat around doing nothing. He
became friendly with a few locals and they often headed off to a local bar
where after the requisite number of beers Paul would get up on stage and do his
Elvis impersonation. One afternoon a man had gone up to him and asked him where
he worked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘What do you mean, where do I work?’ Paul was confused as a
large number of beers had already been consumed even though it was only 3pm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Your Elvis show. Which of the hotels do you work for?’ The
man had said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Oh no I don’t do this for a living,’ Paul laughed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Well you’re good. In fact you’re very good.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I think you’ve been drinking too much,’ Paul said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘If you change your mind give me a call,’ the man handed
Paul a card and left.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Paul squinted at the card, shook his head and popped it into
his back pocket.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The following afternoon Gilda had been emptying Paul’s
pockets ready to do the washing when she had come across the card. Paul was sat
watching the TV when she threw the card at him. It hit him in the face, the
sharp corner narrowly missing his eye.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘What the hell,’ Paul jumped up. ‘You could have had my eye
out.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Why didn’t you tell me about the job offer?’ Gilda glared
at him, still holding his trousers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘What job offer?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I’ve just seen the card. You’ve been offered a job by Danny
Robbins. He runs the best Elvis shows in town.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I haven’t been offered a job. Some guy came up to me last
night and said he thought my Elvis was good and to give him a call. He didn’t
offer me a job.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘If Danny Robbins says your Elvis is good then he’s as good
as offered you a job. Now get off your arse and give him a call.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Paul looked at her and suddenly realised that since they had
made it to Vegas he had been living off her money. He was no better than the
pimp he had helped her escape from. If he wanted to keep her he needed to buck
his ideas up. He picked the card up from where it had fallen and made the call.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The following day Paul had a meeting with Danny Robbins.
Paul arrived at a night club on the edge of the strip. The door was open and
Paul walked in. He could here singing coming from down below and headed down a
huge set of stairs. The music got louder as Paul approached a set of fire
resistant double door. As he struggled to pull one of the heavy doors open he
was nearly knocked over as an Elvis pushed the door from the other side and
stormed out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Don’t bother mate. They wouldn’t know an Elvis act if the
real thing was in front of them,’ the Elvis called back over his shoulder as he
stormed up the stairs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Paul walked into a room that was the size of an aircraft
hangar. There were tables facing towards a stage at one end and a large bar the
length of the opposite wall. Between the bar and the tables was a large dance
floor. Paul walked over towards the tables and noticed that there were about
fifteen Elvis’ all sat watching a sixteenth on the stage perform.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A small woman with a clip board rushed over to him. ‘Are you
here for the audition?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I guess so. Danny told me to come over.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Fine, take a seat and while you’re waiting fill out this
form.’ She handed him the clip board and a pen. ‘And what’s your name?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Paul.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Thank god you didn’t say Elvis. I’ll give you a call when
we’re ready.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Paul sat down and started filling out his form. Once he had
finished he started chatting to a young Elvis and a Chinese Elvis. Apparently
there was a lot of demand for Chinese Elvis’ but most of the big hotels already
had one. Each of the Elvis’ got up to sing and then were told to either leave
of stay. By the time it was Paul’s turn there were four who had sung and stayed
and three more to sing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Paul got up on the stage and took the mike. He had only ever
done this after a few beers before and on this occasion he was stone cold
sober. The music started and he missed the cue. He wasn’t used to not seeing
the words changing colour on the screen to help him get started.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Sorry. Can I start again?’ Paul spoke to the bright lights,
he couldn’t see anyone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘One more chance, but then that’s it. There’s lots to get
through today,’ said a voice from somewhere behind the lights<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The music started again and this time Paul hit his cue. The
first couple of lines were a little shaky but he soon got into it and was ready
for an encore by the time the music stopped.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Thanks,’ said the voice ‘take a seat over there.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Paul couldn’t believe it. He had made it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After the final three singers had sung there were a total
six Elvis’ who’d made it through. They all signed contracts with Danny’s agency
and were then told to go home and that they would be called whenever there was
a slot for them. As Paul understood it the hotels and casinos all had an Elvis
tribute but Danny had a list of performers who could be used if one of the
regulars fell ill or decided to retire. Most Elvis’ didn’t retire, a few had
even died on the stage.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The following evening Gilda return home with a large bag.
She hung it on the back of the kitchen door and the placed a bottle of hair dye
on the kitchen table.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘What’s going on?’ Paul asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I’ve spoken to some people and they’ve said that getting on
Danny’s books is just half of the battle. Apparently there are so many Elvis
acts out there unless you stand out there is no way you’re going to get any
work.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘And?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘We are going to make sure you stand out,’ she smiled and
nodded towards the bathroom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">They both spent the evening turning Paul into Elvis. Gilda
dyed his blonde hair black and then Paul tried on the outfit she had brought
him in the large bag. It was a white jump suit and cape but as Paul was quite
thin it also contained a fat suit. Gilda told him that they would start working
on bulking him up but for the time being he could wear the fat suit. It had
been lent to her by one of the guys who sorted out the wardrobe for the
showgirls.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The following week Paul spent his afternoons in the bar,
practising his karaoke and evenings eating fried chicken. Paul thought he had
died and gone to heaven although at that rate it probably wouldn’t take him
long to get there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘All we need now is a name,’ Gilda said as they marvelled
over Paul’s transformation on evening.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘What do you mean? I’m Paul Burrows.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘No. All Elvis impersonators are Elvis something or
something Elvis. There’s Chinese Elvis, Young Elvis etc. There’s even a Welsh
Elvis called Elvis Jones.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Can’t I be Elvis Burrows?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘No. You need something that tells people who you are.
Something English.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘How about Earl Elvis?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Doesn’t flow right,’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Prince Elvis?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Come on Elvis was the King.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Lord Elvis?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Maybe,’ she thought for a few minutes. ‘How about Elvis
Lord?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Sounds good. Let’s go with it,’ Paul smiled and pulled her
in close for a hug.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Two weeks after Danny Robbins had first hired him Paul
headed back to Danny’s office. Paul walked in wearing his full Elvis gear. A
disinterested secretary looked up from filing her nails at a small desk with a
laptop and a phone sitting on it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Danny’s on the phone, Take a seat,’ she said nodding
towards a sofa pushed against the wall opposite her desk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Paul had only been sat down a few minutes when Danny burst
out of his office.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Bloody Elvis Jones has been poached. Some Saudi Prince has
offered him a million to go and play at his private residence each week. He’s
gone already and he’s got a gig tonight. Get me the files quick,’ he shouted at
the secretary.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As he turned to go back into his office he saw Paul. He
stopped and walked back towards the sofa.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Stand up,’ he said to Paul.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Turn around.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Can you sing?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I can. I’m already on your books.’ Paul rushed to say
before even more orders could be barked at him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I don’t think you are sonny. I know all my Elvis’’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Yes I am. Paul Burrows you hired me two weeks ago. Although
I’m now called Elvis Lord’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I don’t think so. Paul Burrows sounded great but looked
nothing like Elvis. He was a skinny blonde kid.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘My girlfriend convinced me I needed to look more like Elvis
if I was going to get work.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Well you girlfriend is a very clever lady. Elvis Lord step
into my office.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">By the time Paul left Danny’s office he had a two week
try-out gig and if that worked out Elvis Jones’ spot at the Palace would be
his.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Needless to say it did and the rest is history.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sitting in the small front parlour in Eversley I finished my
cup of tea and stared at Elvis. ‘Sounds like a great story but what went
wrong?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘What makes you think anything went wrong?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Well you’re back aren’t you?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Not for good. It’s Mum you see. She’s dying and I didn’t
want her to die alone. We’ve invited her to come and stay with us loads of time
but she won’t leave this house. And now she hasn’t got long left I couldn’t
leave her to die alone.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I couldn’t believe that the man in front of me was the Paul
Burrows I had known at school. It just goes to show the boy and the man can be
very removed from one another given the right or wrong circumstances. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I got up shook his hand and wished him well. I hoped his mum
would live to see the story and realise he really had made something of
himself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-52601112661698316192016-01-01T10:52:00.001+00:002016-01-01T10:52:35.441+00:00New Year - why not to change nowToday is the first day of the new year. A time for resolutions, a time to reflect on last year's failures and a time to promise to be a better person.<br />
<br />
But why?<br />
<br />
Many studies (I don't know if this is true, but most statistics are made up) have shown you are far more likely to break a resolution made on 1st January than one made in the middle of May. Why? Because those made at random times in the year are made because you want to make a change and not because you think you should. How many of us make a resolution on the 1st January just to have something to say when someone asks us, 'Made any resolutions this year?'.<br />
<br />
I for one am looking back over 2015 and thinking "wow that was a year". There were problems but those problems were overcome. The true support and love shown to me during the year made me appreciate what I have and how lucky I am to be where I am. There are people who had far more to deal with than I had and they approached it with better grace than I did. The year has also highlighted the number of people out there who really don't appreciate what they have. Maybe you have to go through shit to appreciate that things aren't as shit as they could be.<br />
I have lost 'friends' and I have made new ones. I hope the ones I have lost through my choice never were true friends. I am sure I have burnt bridges that in the years to come I will wish I hadn't but we live and learn. And that is the point. While we live we should always strive to learn and develop. There are people who didn't make it through the year and for that I am sorry and my thoughts go out to their families.<br />
<br />
And so to 2016, if I learn as much as I did in 2015 I will be a wealthy woman. I just hope the lessons are a little less painful in their learning.<br />
<br />
Remember 2015 with fondness. Think of the things you will take from in and the things you have left behind and build upon that for the year ahead.<br />
<br />
And have any of you made any resolutions? :)<br />
<br />
<br />
Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-25872983075853046652015-08-31T12:08:00.000+01:002015-08-31T12:08:39.933+01:00Documents in the Rain<br />
Charlie was rushing home when he first saw it. If it had been a beautiful sunny day he would have been looking around him, taking in the beauty of the university grounds. Charlie loved the walk through the grounds. From the lecture theatre to his digs took him through the arboretum, around the tennis courts and finally across the end of the lake. Charlie was always amazed by the different types of flora and fauna he experienced on his walk home. So different from Birmingham city centre where he had been brought up. The concrete jungle with the odd tree and small patch of grass put in by overspent councils to try and give it some semblance of nature and break up the grey monotony.<br />
But on this day he had had his head bent down, trying to fight against the driving rain. At first he saw a spot of red out of the corner of his eye. He didn't want to stop, he was getting soaked and needed to keep moving fast but the flash of colour caught his eye and his curiosity. He dog legged across the pavement and stopped. Looking down he had to look twice but there in the gutter was a copy of the I Ching. He picked it up and carried on home.<br />
When he got home he threw the book into the sink and started undressing. A while later after a hot shower and a change of clothes he came back and looked at it. It was wet through and in danger of disintegrating but he picked it up carefully and opened the front page. This book belongs to Billie Yang.<br />
Charlie couldn't believe his luck. Billie Yang was the most beautiful girl he had every seen. She was in his english literature group and he had been trying to pluck up the courage to talk to her for weeks. Now here was the ideal opportunity.<br />
Charlie carefully laid the book out on the hearth mat and turned the gas fire on to low. He wanted to dry the book out so that he had something special to give to her.<br />
The next day Charlie was sat behind Billie. Every time he tried to get her attention one of her friends or the teacher would say something. All day he tried and tried but always something distracted her. In the end Charlie knew he was never going to get her alone and he would never have the courage to talk to her with her friends there. What was he going to do? As he was walking towards the science lab for his last lesson of the day he walked passed the notice board. Of course that was it.<br />
By the time Billie walked passed the same notice board an hour later there was a new notice in the middle of the board for all to see.<br />
<br />
If anyone has lost a copy of the I Ching contact Charlie Somersby.<br />
<br />
'Thank goodness,' Charlie heard one of Billie's friends say, in the large crowd gathered around the notice board. 'He lives over by the new mini mart you can pick it up on your way home.'<br />
<br />
Charlie didn't wait to hear the reply but turned and ran out of the building. Chess club would have to be missed if he was going to get home and look smart enough when Billie got there.<br />
Charlie showered and changed, and changed and changed. He didn't want to look too geeky but he didn't want her to think he wasn't intelligent. Finally he settled on his best checked shirt and his new blue jeans, just in time, he was still lacing his converse trainers when the door bell rang.<br />
He raced down stairs but too late Mrs Jones who lived in the ground floor flat had got there first.<br />
'Oh hi, does Charlie live here?' asked an extremely gruff voice. Charlie couldn't see who was at the door from where he stood but it obviously wasn't Billie.<br />
'Yes,' said Mrs Jones. 'Oh look here he is now.'<br />
Charlie slowly walked down the stairs to see Brian Matthews the school bully and resident idiot standing there.<br />
'Hi Brian,' smiled Charlie, it wasn't wise to upset Brian. 'What can I do for you?'<br />
'Billie said you had my book.'<br />
'I've got a book but it's not yours. It's Billie's'<br />
'No it's mine.'<br />
'I don't know what your game is Brian,' said Charlie sounding a lot braver that he felt, 'but it's Billie's. It's got her name in it.'<br />
'She gave it to me.'<br />
'Course she did. Why would you want a copy of the I Ching?'<br />
'Because I'm interested. So go get me my book.'<br />
'No.'<br />
Brian grabbed hold of the front of Charlie's shirt and pulled him close. Charlie could still smell the remnants of the shepherd's pie the canteen have served for lunch on Brian's breath.<br />
'It's Billie's book and I am not going to let you have it.'<br />
Brian raised his fist just as Mrs Jones reappeared from her flat. He looked at her, shrugged and pushed Charlie away. Charlie landed in an untidy pile on the floor and Brian turned and headed off up the street.<br />
Before Mrs Jones had chance to ask Charlie what was going on he picked himself up and rushed back up to his room.<br />
Charlie sat in his room flicking through the book. It had Billie's name in the front and there were notes in the margin all in her beautifully delicate handwriting. The book had to be hers but why was Brian trying to get hold of it? Just then the doorbell rang again. On the third ring Charlie realised Mrs Jones must have gone out and he went down stairs to answer it.<br />
Charlie opened the door to find Brian standing there again.<br />
'Look Brian I don't know what you want but I am not giving you the book.'<br />
Brian stepped aside and behind him was Billie.<br />
'Hi Charlie.'<br />
'Hi Billie,' Charlie blushed.<br />
'I wanted to thank you for standing up to Brian about the book. It couldn't have been easy.'<br />
'Not a problem.'<br />
'But the thing is it really is Brian's book. I gave it to him.'<br />
'Oh. Oh well I best get it for him then.'<br />
Charlie slowly walked up the stairs and fetched the book. He returned and without looking up he handed the book to Brian.<br />
'Thanks.' Brian took the book and started to walk off.<br />
'Look Charlie,' Billie said. Charlie looked up and was happy to see she was smiling. 'I wondered, as you've been so gallant about the book and everything.'<br />
'Yes,' Charlie replied.<br />
'Do you fancy going for a drink sometime? Maybe tomorrow?'<br />
Charlie could only nodded and grin as Billie turned and ran off after Brian.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-66851898563736485722015-08-23T15:51:00.001+01:002015-08-23T15:51:35.934+01:00Help wanted
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jessie walked into the kitchen and her brain knew something
was wrong before her eyes saw it. She’d been out late the night before and was
still suffering from dehydration and a killer hangover. She opened the fridge
and took out the orange juice, placing it on the kitchen table behind her. The
orange juice carton wobbled and started to fall. Jessie grabbed the neck of the
plastic container just in time. She looked down to see what she had put it on that
stopped it from standing up straight. There on the edge of the table was a
small white pill. Then she saw another and another. There must have been twenty
of them scattered all over the table and at the far end the medicine bottle lay
on its side, open and empty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Within seconds her head cleared and she sprang into action.
She took in the scene, scanning the kitchen in one quick movement. At the end
of the table the chair was on its side and her mother was lying on the floor
not moving. Jessie rushed over to her and felt for a pulse. She tried her
mother’s hand. Nothing. She felt around her mother’s neck and thought she could
feel a faint flutter as blood continued to pump through her veins.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jessie rushed back up stairs and grabbed her mobile, dialling
999 as she charged back into the kitchen and sat at her mother’s side. The
ambulance was there with ten minutes and all the time they had been waiting the
dispatcher had carried on talking to Jessie, making sure she was alright and
telling her what to do. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When the paramedics arrived they checked Jessie’s mother and
claimed she was stable but obviously needed to get to a hospital. They transferred
her to the ambulance and left Jessie to lock up and make her own way there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jessie’s mother was admitted and later that day she regained
consciousness. Jessie was sitting by her hospital bed, where she had been all
morning, as she opened her eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Oh Mum, you’re okay,’ Jessie said as she saw her mother
blinking in the harsh fluorescent lights. ‘It’s me Jessie. You’re in the
hospital.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Mouth, dry. Can I have some water?’ Jessie’s mother asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Of course.’ Jessie
poured a glass of water and held it while her mother sipped gently. Her mother
nodded when she had had enough to drink and Jessie carefully placed the glass
back on the unit at the side of the bed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘What happened? What were you thinking?’ Jessie scolded her
mother.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I don’t know. I guess I just forgot how many pills I had
taken and took too many.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Mum you have the chart I made for you. You’re supposed to
tick them off and then you can’t forget.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I know but it’s not so easy when I’m on my own.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘You have to get used to this. I am moving out next week and
you need to be able to manage by yourself.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘But we are good together. You helping me. It works okay
doesn’t it?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘It works for you but I want a life you know. Dave has been
patient with me so far but he won’t wait forever. I will only be across town
and I will still come and visit.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Excuse me,’ a young white coated man stood at the end of
the bed. ‘Miss Carter?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jessie nodded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I’m Dr Jones. Can I have a quick word?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Of course.’ Jessie got up and followed the doctor out of
the ward.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Once they were in the corridor the doctor turned to Jessie. ‘Miss
Carter I have some good news. We ran a tox screen on your mother and she didn’t
have any excessive drugs in her system.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘What do you mean?’ Jessie stared at him. ‘She took an
overdose.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘No she didn’t. She had very little food in her system and
if anything I think she had not taken enough of her pills. She probably just
passed out from lack of food.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Oh God. I am so sorry that we have wasted your time,’
Jessie blushed feeling annoyed at her mother for creating this furore.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Not at all. I am just glad it is nothing more serious. She
can go home this afternoon.’ The doctor shook Jessie’s hand and headed off down
the corridor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jessie headed back into the ward to give her mother the good
news.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 5;"> </span>################<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Right that’s me packed Mum. Dave should be here soon and
then we can load up the car.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Jessie please don’t go. You know I can’t cope without you.
Of course you can. You have your chart for your pills and you cope fine when I
am here.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Yes but I need you in case something goes wrong.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘No you don’t. You will be fine.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘But what about last week?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘You had nothing to eat and forgot to take you pills. You
just need to be careful.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘But I need you. Can’t you see what happened last week could
happen again.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Not if you’re careful.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Well maybe I won’t be careful. What’s the point if you’re
not here? I’m just a lonely old woman. What’s the point?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Don’t talk like that Mum. You’ll be fine and I’ll pop in to
check on you.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Make sure you do or I might have to stop eating again.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘What do you mean by that?’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Well you only care about me when I collapse.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘You know that’s not true. I love you. You’re my mum but I
have a life of my own and I am moving in with Dave.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Well on your head be it.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Mum don’t be like that.’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Just then a car horn could be heard outside and Jessie
glanced out of the window.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘That’s Dave. I’m off. Now take care of yourself and I’ll
pop in later in the week.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>##########################<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jessie put the phone down and frowned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘What’s wrong love?’ Dave asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘It’s Mum, she’s not picking up her phone.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘She’s probably just sulking.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I know we had words but I do worry about her. She had all
that trouble when Dad died. I don’t want her to feel she’s all on her own.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I’m sure she’s fine but if it’ll make you happier I’ll get
the car and we can pop round.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Thanks Dave.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Twenty minutes later they pulled up outside Jessie’s mum’s
house. Jessie rang the bell and waited. Nothing. She put her ear to the glass
to see if she could hear her mother coming to the door from the back room.
Still nothing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jessie fished around in her handbag to find the door key. Finally
finding it she let herself in. She walked into the living room as Dave headed
towards the kitchen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jessie spent a few minutes looking around the living room
and came out into the hallway just as Dave stood in the kitchen door. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I’m so sorry love.’ Dave said as he blocked the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘What, What is it?’ Jessie said as she tried to push passed
him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He blocked her and put out his arms to give her a hug. The
only thing she could see over his shoulder was the kitchen table. In the middle
lay a bottle of pills open and on its side. Only this time there were no pills
left to scatter over the kitchen table. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-42883334705303185152015-08-15T08:41:00.000+01:002015-08-15T08:41:42.632+01:00Full v Partial Laryngectomy - the verdict so far<br />
Four months ago I had a partial laryngectomy. At the time I was debating having a full laryngectomy and two different consultants effectively talked me out of the procedure. Four months on I am struggling with the decision I made. Here's how it went and how I thought it could have gone had my decision been different.<br />
Had I have chosen to have a full laryngectomy I would have been eating within two to four weeks of the operation. I would have been talking within six weeks. In order to talk I would have had to had a value fitted which would need changing regularly. This procedure is done by popping in to see your local speech and language therapists and takes about 20 minutes. It is not known how often the valve needs changing but it can be as often as once a month or as seldom as once a year, everyone is different. This valve would have enable me to have had a stronger, but deeper, voice and it could have been adjusted until I got something I liked. The main disadvantage was that I would have had a stoma in my throat for the rest of my life and would have had to insert a filter each day. This procedure would have been similar to what I have been doing every morning for the last seven months while looking after my tracheostomy.<br />
But I didn't chose the full laryngectomy because, to quote one consultant, 'there would be no going back and with a partial laryngectomy within a year it would be as if all this never happened'.<br />
So four months into my 'intense' rehab here is the reality of the situation.<br />
After the operation I couldn't speak for six weeks. Now I can speak my voice is very quiet and weak. I get breathless and can only talk in short sentences and for short periods of time. As I only have one vocal chord it has got inflamed and swollen, This has caused a blockage in my airway and is making it difficult to breathe. This possibility was never discussed with me when I had to make my original decision.<br />
I often get breathless and struggle to walk any distance. I can't walk up stairs and travel at about half the speed that I did before the operation. Apparently this is because my airway is narrow, again this was not discussed with me. Apparently this could be because there is some swelling from the operation. As I mentioned earlier the operation was four months ago and when I started this there was a chance that my rehab could have been finished in three months. With that knowledge I find it difficult to imagine that there is still swelling from the operation. And if there is could someone please tell me when it is likely to go down so I can start breathing again.<br />
I can't swallow my own spit so I have to have a receptacle with me at all time to spit into. This means I can't leave the house other than to go to the hospital or work. Retail shops tend to frown on their customers spitting as there wander around the cashmere jumpers or fresh veg. I have been very lucky that the people at work have put up with me spitting into a cup all day. Without that release I would have gone stir crazy by now.<br />
I am carrying out swallow exercises in order to restore my swallowing function but it is hardly the 'intense' rehab I was led to expect. I have to try to swallow five teaspoons of water every two hours. It is horrible as most of it hits my lungs and leaves me coughing like a 80 year old who's smoked forty a day all her life but it is not what I would call intense.<br />
Finally the rehab was supposed to take three to six months with no mention of it running past that. There was even talk of pushing me harder to get me through it in three months. Well four months in and my next swallow X-ray has been pushed back two weeks. Hardly any time at all you may think, but when you don't leave the house because you can't function and you have been fed via a tube for nine months, two weeks feels like a life time. It is also another sign that things aren't as good as they should be.<br />
So was the decision to have a partial laryngectomy the right one? At the moment I doubt it but hopefully I will be proved wrong.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-27939741797778215152015-08-09T15:15:00.000+01:002015-08-09T15:15:05.894+01:00The Strawberry Jam Incident
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Pam was sitting at the kitchen table sewing name labels on
the inside of Tommy’s school shirts. She wasn’t sure which she hated more,
having to buy new clothes every term as he had a growth spurt, or the hours of
sitting sewing name labels on everything.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tommy and Jeanette, the girl from next door had been racing
around the house for the last twenty minutes and from the general hullaballoo
she thought it was cops and robbers. There had been a lot of noises like shots
being fired and what she could only assume was a child interpretation of a
police siren. Pam had just finished sewing the last label in, and had pulled
the needle and thread up to her mouth to bite it off when she heard a noise
that made the blood in her veins freeze.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She dropped the shirt with the needle and thread still
attached and raced out into the hall just as Tommy’s tumble down the stairs
finished at her feet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Oh my god, Tommy, Tommy,’ Pam cried as she dropped to her
knees and cradled Tommy’s head on her knees.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘It’s okay Mrs Jones. I think I got him,’ shouted Jeanette
from the top of the stairs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Pam looked up and saw Jeanette still pointing her plastic
gun at Tommy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I don’t think you understand Jeanette. Tommy’s really hurt.’
Tommy lay still and limp in his mother’s arms. She could see his little chest
rising and falling but who knew what damage had been done. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As she watched his chest she noticed for the first time the
red stain. Slow spreading on the upper left hand side of his shirt was a large
red stain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Jeanette. I need you to put the gun down and go and get
your dad.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘But he’s only playing dead Mrs Jones. He’s going to escape
if I don’t keep the gun on him.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I’ll keep an eye on him and you go next door and get your
dad.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘But Mrs Jones…’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Jeanette this is important. I need you to go now.’ Pam was
trying to keep her voice steady but she was starting to panic and she needed
help.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jeanette walked down the stairs and handed Pam the gun. ‘Don’t
let him out of your sight.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I won’t. Now hurry.’ Pam was starting to cry and she needed
the girl to hurry and not get distracted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jeanette raced out of the door and Pam looked down at her
son. As soon as the door clicked closed he opened his left eye.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Oh thank God. Are you okay sweetheart?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Has she gone?’ Tommy whispered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘She’s gone but you lay still sweetheart. I think you’ve hurt
yourself and we need to get an ambulance to look at you.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Nah, I fine thanks Mum.’ Tommy shook his head and jumped to
his feet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Pam managed to grab hold of his arm before he had chance to
go racing off. ‘I don’t think so. You’re hurt and you need checking out. For a
start let’s have a look at your chest.’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Pam whipped his shirt off over his head. There was not a
mark on him. She held his hand and spun him round and round. Next she held up
his shirt and looked at the stain. The blood stain she had seen earlier didn’t look
quite right. She looked at her son and he smiled sheepishly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Jeanette was going to arrest me and lock me up in prison so
I had to escape. She thought she shot me so I could escape.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘And what is this?’ Pam pointed at the stain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Well… you know the jam sandwiches you made us for lunch?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Pam was just about to explode at her son as Jeanette’s
father came flying through the open door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘See I told you he wasn’t dead,’ Jeanette cried as she
grabbed the gun and started chasing after Tommy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At tear stained Pam picked herself up off the floor and
smiled sheepishly at Jeanette’s dad. ‘Well now you’re here do you fancy a cup
of tea?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘Why not?’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-12358227989637400312015-07-12T12:17:00.000+01:002015-07-12T12:17:19.289+01:00Childhood hobbies?Jimmy hadn't been able to believe his luck when he had been sitting waiting for his wife that morning. It had been too hot to sit in the car, so he had been standing by it, absent mindedly looking up at the clouds. The first time he had seen the shape he had to blink and shake his head. Surely not. When he looked again it was gone. He had almost given up hope when it flew over again. The shape, the elegance. There was no mistaking a peregrine falcon when you saw one. He watched it fly out towards the cliffs over the other side of the office block where his wife worked. It must be nesting out there, he thought.<br />
Jimmy had loved to watch the birds when he had been a kid. His dad had bought him a book of English birds for his seventh birthday and he had ticketed them off as he had seen them all. The peregrine falcon had been the last one he had spotted. His dad bought him new night vision binoculars to celebrate having seen all the birds in the book.<br />
When his wife finally returned to the car he had rushed her home and barricaded himself into the study checking out everything he needed to know.<br />
'I'm off out,' he called to his wife as he left the study and stood in the hall getting his coat on.<br />
'I thought we were having a quiet night in,' she replied as she stood in the lounge doorway holding a large glass of wine.<br />
'Something's come up. I won't be long.' Jimmy smiled, rushed back to give her a kiss on the check, grabbed his car keys and headed out.<br />
<br />
Jimmy parked at the back of the car park the walkers used half way up the cliffs, where the trail flatten out before the cliffs rose up again. There were one or two cars left but it was starting to get dark and they would soon be gone. He grabbed his night vision binoculars and carefully pulled the strap of his special satchel across his body. He might need to climb and he would need both hands free.<br />
He walked to the top of the cliffs and stared long and hard. There a flicker of movement. Could that be her? Jimmy lay down on his stomach and using his night vision binoculars followed the flight of the falcon. He lost her just for a minute and then saw her fly out again. It was about half way up and the trail would take him to within about ten feet of the nest. He put his binoculars away and started to walk. When he estimated he was about where he had seen the falcon vanish he looked up. Nothing. Then he looked down. The trail was steeper than he remembered and he was actually about ten feet above the nest. He looked around but it was almost dark now and there was no one to be seen. He lowered himself onto his stomach and leaned over the edge. He needed his binoculars for there night vision not their magnification. Sitting in the nest,glinting in the moon light were three eggs. Three! Jimmy couldn't believe his luck. Looking up into the sky there was no sign of the falcon. He checked out the nest again and saw there was a small ledge just below the nest.<br />
Jimmy twisted his body around and lowered his feet over the edge. He felt out with his toes but couldn't feel the ledge. He lowered himself further and was just hanging on by his finger tips but still he couldn't feel the ledge. He knew it was there and the falcon wouldn't be away long so he dropped. The ledge had only been another two feet below him and he landed safely. It was only about ten inches wide so Jimmy couldn't turn. He edged along with his face pushed into the cliff face. Before he knew it he was level with the nest. He opened the flap of his satchel and carefully parted the nest of hay inside. He then carefully lifted each of the three falcon eggs and placed them into the satchel. He replaced the hay over the top of the eggs and closed the satchel. Carefully he edged back along the cliff to where he had dropped down. He reached up but he couldn't reach high enough to lift himself back to the trail. Jimmy's breath started to increase. he had to get back but he couldn't go back the way he'd come. Jimmy started panting and looking around.<br />
'Calm down old boy,' he said to himself. 'Think about this sensibly.'<br />
Jimmy got his binoculars and looked along the cliff face. The opposite side of the nest there looked like there might be some holes in the cliff he could use as hand holds. Jimmy edged along the ledge again. As he slowly moved along, looking at his feet all the time he felt a thud on the top of his head. It must have been some gravel shook loose from above, he though to himself. The second thump was harder, as Jimmy looked up the third hit happened. It wasn't a gravel fall, it was the falcon. She glided in silently and her claws hit him straight in the face as he looked up. The razor sharp claws missed his eyes by millimetres. Jimmy lifted his hand to protect his face and started to lose his balance. The falcon was circling. Getting ready to come back for another hit. Jimmy grabbed for the cliff but there was nothing to hold. He petered in the air for what seemed like forever. He somehow managed to push himself flat against the cliff face. His balance was out of sync because of his heavy satchel. Maybe he could distract the bird while he got to safety. He took off the satchel and using the strap pendulum swung it, gathering momentum. As it reached the height of its swing he released the bag and it flew in the air, arcing over the cliff ledge and back to the trail above. Jimmy prayed at least one of them had survived. Even one was worth a lot of money.<br />
Releasing the bag had upset Jimmy's own balance again and he grabbed at the cliff face with the finger tips of both hands just as the falcon made her next drive. She levelled out and battered her wings to hold her at the right height, all the time stabbing and scrapping her claws at his head and his eyes. Instinct took over and Jimmy lifted his arms. One over his eyes to protect them and the other flailing about to try and beat the bird off. Too late he realised he didn't have hold on the cliff. The falcon almost knowing, dived in for one last time. This time she grabbed at his jacket and with her beak and her claws pulled.<br />
<br />
<br />
The next morning two rangers were walking along the trail.<br />
'Bob can you see what I see?' the younger warden whispered to his colleague.<br />
'Sure can Rich.' They both stopped and stared.<br />
'We'll need to close the trail.'<br />
'I'll go back down and let them know. You stay here and stop anyone going past.'<br />
'Will do.' For a few minutes neither of them moved. They just stood and watched as the peregrine falcon sat on top of an open hessian satchel, protecting her three perfect eggs, in the middle of the walkers' trail.<br />
'Amazing what they use to make nests isn't.'<br />
'Sure is.' Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-50423562971712708602015-07-05T11:52:00.000+01:002015-07-05T11:52:38.192+01:00Changing BabyChanging Baby<br />
<br />
Shirley lift the baby up in front of her, placed her nose next to the nappy and sniffed. Why do people do that? she though to herself, you could smell the nappy from three streets away, there was no need to double check that that was where the stench was coming from.<br />
Shirley grabbed the change mat and carefully laid the baby down. Dragging the bag with all his change things in she whipped off the dirty nappy and quickly fasten it inside a scented disposal bag. She then carefully set about cleaning him.<br />
She smiled softly to herself as she went about her task. She was so lucky to have him. Her smile fell as she remembered the doctor telling her all those years ago that she wouldn't be able to conceive. The pain and the anguish she had gone through, the tests and finally the numerous attempts at IVF. After the third attempt her husband had tried to persuade her that there was no point going on. He didn't understand what it meant to her, she needed to have a baby.<br />
Her husband walked out in the end. Claimed that she had gone mad and that she never had anytime for them anymore. He said he hated feeling like she only wanted him for his sperm.<br />
It had been hard at first, being alone after so many years. She had picked herself up and when she got the job at the nursery she knew she was going to be okay.<br />
She gently wiped the baby's bottom, applied a little nappy rash cream and a little talc before popping on his clean nappy. She was just starting to fasten the velcro on the sides of the nappy when there was a knock at the door.<br />
'They'll have to wait, won't they little man?' she whispered to the baby. She got his legs back inside the baby grow and was struggling with the press studs when the banging on the door came again, this time louder and more insistent.<br />
'Oooh someone is impatient.' she smiled at the baby and lifted him into her arms, placing him gently against her shoulder as she tidied away the change mat, carefully putting all the used wipes into a disposal bag.<br />
'Mrs Jones,' a voice shouted as the banging on the door started again. 'Mrs Jones, this is the police. We know you are only looking after him but you need to let us in now.'<br />
'Shit.' Shirley mutter as she stood up. She grabbed the change bag, her handbag and rushed towards the back door.<br />
She had only made it as far as the hallway when the front door imploded inwards and four very large, very loud policemen came barging through.<br />
She could see the shadow of others at the back door. The game was up. The last month had been the happiest she had ever known. She held the baby close and sat down on the bottom of the stairs, holding him to her and rocking him gently. Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-63704064270741311762015-06-27T10:22:00.000+01:002015-06-27T10:23:11.533+01:00Where did the first half go?<br />
<br />
I can't believe that on Wednesday we will start the second half of the year. Where has the first half gone?<br />
I appreciate I have been a little off the radar as far as writing has been concerned so here's an update of what's been happening and what I hope to achieve in the second half of the year, assuming it doesn't go as quickly as the first half.<br />
As many of you know I have been having a lot of surgery for my throat and I won't go into that in detail, but needless to say the recuperation has curtailed my writing some what.<br />
In an attempt to get my writing kick started I have set up a weekend writing challenge on Scribophile. This challenge involves an object being left and then a story has to be written which includes the object. This is going great except I am one of the few people failing to write the story. Motivation seems to have left me along with my thyroid and vocal chords.<br />
I have also set up a group on facebook to promote any books which are available free through Kindle Owners Lending Library and Kindle Unlimited. I am happy to say a number of people have signed up to this and hopefully they have seen their books being borrowed thanks to the exposure.<br />
Finally for me I have decided to split my novel 'Stripper of the Yard' into two parts. Part 1 is free and part 2 is the same price as the full book (only £1.99 or $2.99). The idea is that hopefully people will download part 1, enjoy it, and wanting to know what happens next, buy part 2. So far I have had 307 downloads of part 1 and 7 sales of part 2 or the entire book. This is all in the last 2 weeks which considering I had had no sales in the last 6 months is brilliant.<br />
The hardest part of the whole thing was getting Amazon to list the book for free. With Smashwords and Barnes & Noble you can chose to list a book for free. However with Amazon you have to list a book for at least 99p. In order to list a book for free you have to get Amazon to price match the book in line with Smashwords and Barnes & Nobel. This means listing the book with those other sites and then writing to Amazon to request that they price match. Amazon then email saying they will think about it and take a week to decide. In my case they price matched in the USA and then I had to request that they did the same in the UK, which took another week.<br />
But the books are now listed and if you want to check them out they're here....<br />
Part 1 - http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00ZAQOT2O/<br />
Part 2 - http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00ZAQOHIK/<br />
<br />
Going forwards I have 2 projects on the go at the moment, both of which need more attention than I have given them recently.<br />
I have my 2013 NaNoWriMo winner to edit and then publish. This is the story of an East-end gangster whose wife can get pregnant and pretends she is to keep him, while at the same time his girlfriend is pregnant and pretends not to be to keep him. When his brother introduces the two women the consequences could be dire. I am hoping to have this ready to publish by the end of the year.<br />
My second project is to write my story. In the last 7 months I have had intensive surgery and been in most of the departments in the local hospital (except the maternity ward and the mortuary) and Guy's Hospital in London. I knew nothing about my condition and have learnt as I have gone a long and I thought it would be interesting to get everything down on paper to reflect on the journey I have been through. As my treatment has not yet finished I don't know when it will be available but hopefully some time next year.<br />
<br />
So lots has happened and lots still has to happen.<br />
How have you coped with the first half of the year?<br />
Do you have big plans for the second half?<br />
<br />Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-40761822681361103032015-06-05T10:55:00.001+01:002015-06-05T10:55:25.845+01:00HME's - Swedish Nose v Bib - A Patient's view<br />
<br />
When you have a tracheostomy you intake all your air through a tube inserted into your throat. One of the problems with this is that the air goes in dry and cold and doesn't have the benefit of the warming and filtering effects of you nose. In order to replace your nose's function a HME (heat and moisture exchange) is required.<br />
Up until a week ago I have always used a Buchanan bib but at my last hospital visit it was suggested I should try a Swedish nose.<br />
After my first week here is what I see as the pros and cons of the two systems.<br />
<br />
<u>Buchanan bib</u><br />
<u>Pros</u><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>The bib covers the trachi and gives the patient some privacy when out in public. A stranger would not know what was under the bid and not necessarily know the patient had an illness or disability.</li>
<li>The bib can be washed and is easy to keep clean.</li>
<li>A bib lasts three days.</li>
<li>The bib catches projectile spit/mucus that can be ejected from the trachi when coughing.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
<u>Cons</u><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Unfiltered air can still enter the trachi around the sides and the bottom of the bib.</li>
<li>Although in hides the trachi the bib is fairly obvious and doesn't match most outfits so can look out of place.</li>
<li>In high winds the bib can be sucked against the trachi and cause some breathing problems.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
<u>Swedish nose</u><br />
<u>Pros</u><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>The Swedish nose fits snug on the end of the Trachi and therefore all the air is filtered.</li>
<li>There is a flanged opening so suction can still be carried out even with the HME in place.</li>
<li>I have found if you wear the Swedish nose under your shower protector in stops the shower protector from occluding the trachi and makes breathing much easier.</li>
<li>It stops mucus from escaping when you cough and staining or being absorbed into your clothes. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
<u>Cons</u><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>The Swedish nose attaches onto the end of the trachi and therefore the whole of the trachi is visible when you go out.</li>
<li>It only lasts 24 hours and then you need a new one.</li>
<li>If you cough and produce a lot of mucus and don't suction as you cough, it can gather in the Swedish nose. This causes moisture build up which means the HME loses efficiency. This can also make breathing feel more laboured which means changing the HME more regularly.</li>
<li>If you have a strong cough, as I do, you can cough the HME off. So make sure you always carry a spare.</li>
<li>More pressure is needed to occlude the trachi to talk. If you have a sensitive trachi this can lead to more coughing.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
I have had a few teething problems getting used to the Swedish Nose but if it is protecting my airways and giving me less chance of getting a chest infection then that can only be a good thing. Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-6043458041485457252015-05-31T13:11:00.002+01:002015-05-31T13:11:51.963+01:00What would be your first meal?After 6 months of being fed through a tube, my thoughts turn to which foods I am missing the most.<br />
I won't have a first meal as such, because food will gradually be reintroduced starting with liquid, moving on to soft food and then eventually back to normal.<br />
With 3 to 6 months left to go these are the things I will be looking forward to once everything is back to normal.<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Burger King XL Bacon double cheese burger</li>
<li>Sausage and fried egg cob (that's Nottingham for bread roll) with brown sauce and hopefully a runny yolk</li>
<li>A Mr Whippy ice cream</li>
<li>Fish fingers, chips and beans</li>
<li>Wine gums (midget gems might be too small to chance in the future)</li>
<li>Goddards of Greenwich pie and mash with gravy</li>
<li>Tuna and chicken pizza</li>
<li>A pint of Adnams Broadside</li>
<li>Black Jacks</li>
<li>A cup of sweet strong tea</li>
</ul>
<div>
<br /></div>
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I am sure this list will be added to over the next six months and don't forget to keep your fingers crossed that everything will be fixed by then.</div>
<div>
What would your first meal be?</div>
Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-1684732368321524502015-05-29T11:23:00.000+01:002015-05-29T11:23:43.432+01:00Did Feminism pass YOU by?I don't necessarily consider myself a feminist, but I appreciate I have a good job, I bought my first house by myself and I have holidayed and travelled alone many times. All of these things would not have been possible for an average women not that many years ago.<br />
However this week I have been shocked by the number of my friends who seem to define themselves by the man, or lack thereof, in their lives.<br />
Regular readers will know I have been ill for a long time but whilst that is shit at least I have a husband. Apparently nothing can be worse that not having a partner.<br />
Another friend has regularly started posting pictures on social media of herself looking loving into the eyes of her new beau. That's great and I am glad she is happy but what else is happening in her life? To read her media feed absolutely nothing.<br />
I do also have friends who are strong women who go it alone. I am sure they would love to be in a relationship and have someone to share life's journey with, but they are not defined by it.<br />
I could continue to expand and rant about how pointless life is unless you have given birth. I am one of the lucky ones. I don't have/want children. I can't imagine how awful it must feel to want children and not have them but is it the end of the world? Why can't life continue without children?<br />
Is it really a physical/mental hole in your life or is it the fact the media, friends and family pressurise you into the fact you should be having children and you should be having them now?<br />
<br />
Look at your friends feeds on social media and look at the difference between men and women? How many men complain about their lack of relationship status? How many fathers post nothing but child related posts?<br />
There is a huge difference between the sexes and I don't think it's changing.<br />
<br />Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-76737175827975420672015-05-19T10:06:00.000+01:002015-05-19T10:06:03.425+01:00Care and compassion - the most important 2 of the 6 C'sNurses make you better. Doctors chop you up and solve the problem but nurses are the ones who care for you and make sure you get better.<br />
There are many ways in which nurses can make you better and I have been amazed by the difference shown between nurses. They are overworked but still have to treat each patient with care and attention even if the patient before has wound them up or treated them badly.<br />
After I had my first PEG feeding tube fitted I was awake during the night and I couldn't stop crying. The PEG was much longer than I had expected it to be and I was panicking that I would roll over in the night and trap it. Possibly even pull it out. In the very early hours of the morning a nurse came in to change a drip and I tried my best not to cry. He changed the drip and checked I was okay. When he saw I had been crying he asked me what was wrong. The flood gates opened. I couldn't stop. He stay with me and explained how well I had done and how everything was going to be okay. A few minutes later another nurse came in. He also explained how it was good the PEG was so long as it meant I could manage it myself and not need help.<br />
These two nurses sat with me for at least ten minutes calming my fears and making sure I was okay. I had no medical needs but they spent time with me anyway, truly showing the care and compassion nurses need.<br />
<br />
After my partial laryngectomy I had two drains in my neck, a tracheostomy tube stitched into my neck and stitches running from my chin to my chest to stop me moving my head. Needless to say everything was very sore. A nurse came to clean my wound. As he was doing this I oohed and aahed a couple of times due to the soreness. I couldn't speak as part of my larynx had been removed so these noises were not that loud.<br />
The nurse stopped what he was doing and started shouting at me. 'Joanna, Joanna,' he shouted. My name is not Joanna and because of the stitches I could not move my head to look at him.<br />
'Joanna, I have to clean this or it will get infected,' he shouted. I mouthed that I knew that. He finished cleaning the wound, redressed it and left me crying in my bed.<br />
This nurse was also the third nurse on this ward to get my name wrong. When I mentioned it to one of them she said, 'well it's close enough.' Another example of not really caring about the people you are treating.<br />
<br />
The first example was Rotary Ward at William Harvey, the second example Guy's hospital. Round three goes to Rotary and they lead 2-1.Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90183731951292079.post-81197019115567961462015-05-14T12:09:00.000+01:002015-05-14T12:09:31.205+01:00No counselling you're not dyingI have had five surgeries, two of which went wrong and three of which were to correct the original two. I am now unable to speak and have secretions running out of the front of my neck all over my clothes.<br />
I am a little down and was pleased yesterday when finally it was mentioned that counselling was available.<br />
Today I have been told that I can't be refered for counselling based upon my surgeries because I don't have cancer.<br />
I have to go to my (overworked) GP and ask her to refer me.<br />
I should be able to get an appointment with her in about two weeks and yet again I will be post op, with an open wound, sitting amongst people with germs. My consultant says the most important thing at the moment is for me not to get a chest infection so sitting in a GPs waiting room AGAIN is exactly what I need.<br />
Yet again help with mental health issues is made as difficult as possible to get. I am not depressed but some help would be appreciated. Guess I just have to hope I get better on my own.Jo Jennerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09567794655146063710noreply@blogger.com0