Categories
Adulthood fiction Stories Writing

The Disagreement

Jane and Oliver knew that they were late for lunch at the new pub that opened in the village last night, but they couldn’t leave during the debate. Both of them were very excited to try the new menu and see how the place had been transformed from its old ragged self into a shiny new upmarket venue. Yet they also didn’t want the onlooking villagers to gossip over their table mannerisms showing quite opaquely the row that they had prior to arriving.

He’s certainly having an affair with the accountant, the rumours would begin, Jane knew the village too well. They had to settle it before leaving the house.

‘Look, all I’m saying is that he would be much better off in a care home. It’s for the best,’ Oliver said with the same irritatingly calming tone that he always used during arguments.

‘What if it was your father? Would you be happy just to lock him away?’

‘Jane, it’s not a case of locking him away. We will visit him all the time and some of the homes are luxury these days. To be honest I’d prefer to stay in them rather than a posh hotel.’

The playful shift in Oliver’s manner wasn’t reciprocated by Jane who merely stared at him disapprovingly.

‘I’d personally want to live my last years in my own space, my own home, without old folk making me feel twenty years older than I am. He’s not even ill!’

‘Jane, we’ve been through this.’

‘Don’t.’

Holding back the tears, Jane soon realised that lunch was going to have to wait until another day.

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Observations

The Write Diet

Today is a good day because today I was told that I look slimmer! This is possibly the BEST compliment you could give to me EVER. Well, for today anyway.

I’m not vain, I’m just a typical girl; always wanting to be prettier, thinner, funnier etc. Since January I have been on a very half arsed version of what most would call a “diet”. In other words, I try not to eat the entire packet of Haribo followed by a two course meal and pudding. Here are some pointers from a very amateur dietitian.

  1. My desk is usually filled with unhealthy delights. Munchies are often found there, crisps, biscuits, fizzy drinks, tins of baked beans with sausages in (the best!!!!) – you name it, my desk contained it. Of course, to a certain extent this is OK and everything is fine in moderation (to quote the old adage) but this was also something I knew I could easily cut out.

    Working at a shop that sells all of these things, I found it hard clocking off from a six hour shift and heading to do some more (writing) work not to carry a selection of goodies with me. One word – WILLPOWER! That’s all it takes. By skipping the extra chocolate bar, the bag of crisps or the fizzy drink, I have not only lost a few pounds but also felt much better for it. Take a piece of fruit, drink water, there are always plenty of answers.
  2. Another huge helping factor in my (poor) efforts to maintain a lesser weight and become generally healthier has been AFD. Alcohol Free Days. Monday and Tuesday nights are, for me, (mostly) free. Occasionally I convince myself that a Gin & Tonic contains hardly any calories so what does it matter, but mostly I avoid the good stuff and feel slightly better, enjoying a huge glass when Wednesday evening comes around.
  3. Yoga is another part of my newly improved health and fitness regime and it is something that I have been fairly consistent at. Whether it’s the notion of the first alcoholic beverage of the week after class, or the sheer relaxation that I get from every session, I’m unsure. All I know is that I love it!
  4. I also try to walk everywhere that I can. My motto is if the distance can be reached on foot, then on foot I shall go. I ensure that I go on a half hour dog walk daily but I also make a conscious effort to walk wherever else I can. I am lucky in that my work is walking distance away as are many of my social events, but by walking that bit more and faster I am noticing healthier lungs as well as a healthier waistline.

Editing this post some time on I can safely say that I am by NO MEANS an expert in all of this. Today is Tuesday. I drank half a bottle of white last night, I plan to drink this evening and so far in October I have attended zero yoga classes because instead of the healthy option of Stoptober (quitting booze for a month) I have decided to STOP yoga.

Nobody’s perfect, right?

Categories
fiction Stories Writing

Chapter 3, Erin

Of course, I worried a little initially about the horror stories I had heard. The trolls, the glamorous accounts of false lives to make me feel awful about my own, the mass of uneducated opinions, the dangerously fast addiction and everything else in between, but I never thought much about it all after a while. Besides being sixteen in 2019 meant that I had a firm grasp of what lay before me and felt strong enough to cope with life on social media.

At the beginning I tried to remain strong anyway. It was more to prove a point to my mum but a fraction of it was fear of the inevitable. I could feel instantly the addiction looming. After two days of having access to the virtual social world, my phone was the first thing I went to pick up in the morning and the last thing that I put down at night. I spent hours scrolling and still do, but I don’t know why because after doing so I have never gained anything more or lost anything – my life remains exactly as it was.

On days when I feel bad about my own image, Instagram strengthens this sad emotion when I witness the accounts not of celebrities but of my own friends looking like celebrities. Their accounts fill my newsfeed with perfection and no flaws. The perfect brunch, the most exotic holiday venues, the prettiest new haircuts that look better than I looked that time when I had my hair and all my makeup done by a professional for a family wedding back in Ireland.

At the weekend I see friends and acquaintances out having fun. I always think to myself how they are doing the things that I should be doing when I am visiting Mummy or at work. Friends who have gone to places without even asking me so of course I feel totally left out and forgotten. Acquaintances who I don’t even care about doing things that make my Saturday night look so boring and suddenly I am deeply involved with care for the comparison.

On a more distant level, I see opinions all the time that I completely disagree with or that make me so angry that I can feel my face going red. I see people being horrible openly in their statuses or indirect Tweets and I laugh a little inside in agreement, but never would I say it to their face. I don’t wish to be involved with that kind of negative behaviour, but it is too easy to get sucked in.

When it all began though, I didn’t and still don’t feel I got too involved. I always stayed back and never posted much on my own accounts. The last picture I posted on Instagram which I also posted onto my Facebook account was wishing Jack a Happy Birthday in May. I made a collage of photos of the two of us from when we were very little up until our holiday in Ireland last year.

I am finding it very hard to see how my involvement affected anything. I guess you never know what is happening behind somebody’s eyes. Their thoughts and feelings are totally invisible which is the danger when they don’t discuss anything going on inside their head. I have been over all our accounts since finding out, even hers which is hurtful to do, and nothing seems too awful, but it must have seemed awful to her.

Categories
Non-fiction Writing

I write because…

I write because it’s therapy

I write because I’m lucky

I write because I have the opportunity

I write because it’s fun

I write because it makes me happy

I write because it is my sanity

I write because sometimes I’m sad

I write because sometimes I’m happy

I write because it teaches me

I write because I need to

I write because I escape

I write because it tests me

I write because it helps others

I write because it helps me

I write to express myself

I write because I love it

I write because I want to

Categories
fiction Writing

The Perfect Home

As soon as Mary pulled onto the drive, she felt that she was at home. After the chaos and living for so long with her mother she knew that anywhere would bring her more comfort than the current situation that she was in, but this place felt more special than that.

The house stood proudly in the sunlight with its green front door matching that of the garage.

‘My favourite,’ she exclaimed as if someone had painted it that colour on purpose as a selling technique.

She smiled as she left the car and headed towards the fine-looking estate agent waiting happily for her on the driveway. Seeing her face, he thought he had an easy task on his hands and Mary knew that he wasn’t wrong.

‘Hello there Mary, I’m Simon.’

‘Hello.’

‘I can see from your face that you already like what you see, let’s head on in.’

The place was bright from the entrance with every wall painted in warming but light colours. The kitchen, again with a green theme, the exact green that Mary adored, was spacious and airy. The floors were cool and the whole vibe felt as if she was in a villa in a remote area of Portugal.

‘It’s perfect,’ she said, thinking out loud.

‘Don’t be too hasty,’ Simon replied in a joking but careful manner, knowing that he was told to be gentle as Mary was a vulnerable customer. ‘I would actually like to let you see the garden first and work our way back through if you are happy with that?’

‘Absolutely.’

The garden was in full sunlight with different levels and little grass. The small patch that was present was lusciously green and there were all sorts of plants dotted about. Hydrangeas, Lavender, grasses blowing in the breeze and a beautiful Honeysuckle just starting to flower from a deep pink spiky bud. Merely looking at the garden made Mary smile and the feeling of being somewhere relaxing and exotic remained, the pebbles enhancing this.

‘Wow,’ she said not knowing how else to express her happiness. She realised fully that it was a small place and wouldn’t be too impressionable to most, but it was perfect for her.