Tag: story

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Observations

The lock down splurge…

I am sitting here in a sorry state. Addicted to my Fitbit, yet eating cake for breakfast. Enjoying a cuppa, yet moving cautiously due to a bad burn from a cuppa. A draining bank account from lock down spending.

Has anyone else splurged more than usual lately? I don’t know what’s got into me.

The other day I came home from work for a few hours and spent more than my weekly earnings in five minutes. I didn’t even plan it. It just happened.

It started with the Fitbit. My sister and I went on a long walk over the weekend and she had been given a Fitbit for her birthday. Her constant evaluation of how many steps we’d done and the number of calories burnt made me consider getting myself one. A week later and I’m hooked. I compete each night with my own sleep score, I walk the longer way to work to get my steps up and I log all my food, even the bad bits.

The next purchase was, again, not very essential. An Iphone. The New SE – a bargain. And one that I didn’t need.

A further splurge came in the form of face creams and moisturising products after a conversation with a nurse which led to a conversation with a beauty rep selling moituriser.

Oh, go on then, I’ll tell you the story…

Sunday morning. At my happy place. Glorious sunshine. Just about to enjoy my first coffee of the day before a relaxed morning. I was on a sun lounger. BIG MISTAKE. My sister passed me the boiling coffee and I swiftly spilled the lot over my lap. OUCH. She even asked if I wanted some cold in it!!!! The blisters grew, the wound worsened and after medical attention from two brilliant nurse friends I now know I’m very lucky that it didn’t get infected and I should’ve gone straight to A&E. Oops.

So yeah, I spent loads on creams and just this morning I was scrolling through Insta stories and now I’ve bought some sandals.

Not bad for a weeks splurge.

All of my blog posts can be found at https://www.harrietmills.co.uk/ and to read my published work visit my portfolio.

Categories
fiction Stories Writing

a lock down novel: 7

(a snippet of)

Chapter 7, Mary

Days have merged into weeks when I have felt permanently exhausted, entirely drained. I have felt fidgety as if I want to get outside and do things but the thought of physically acting upon that drives me crazier still, so I have mostly remained here in my room.

The shaking sensation in my hands have been beyond my control and I can hardly hold the pen that I am writing with now which is nothing on what they have been some days.

My skin is itchy and I have a huge rash over my face and arms which has always been a sign of a breakdown. I have blotchy patches all over and scabs from where I have picked in a panic or worry until blood drips onto the off-white carpet. At least that’s the cleaner’s problem. It is a silly colour choice for a place of this sort anyway.

My hair is beginning to fall out too which is what happened last year when all of this started, well, sort of when it started.

My legs ache. My clothes are hanging off me because I haven’t eaten for what must be days if not a whole week now. I can’t remember. My memory is going too which is scary because a lot of the time that is all I have to hold on to. Memories. How precious they are.

I spent some time earlier (I think it was today) looking through old photos that they allowed me to have in here. Some were of Erin and Jack so young I could cup them in my hands, like tiny puppies not ready to leave their mum yet. Some were of them only a few months back which makes me so proud to look at. To look at how they have grown into such fantastic humans with little help from me. Though I have a bit of pride to take for it I guess, I wasn’t always completely absent.

The children have hardly wanted to visit. I think the few times that they have appeared has been out of forceful bribery by Eileen. Perhaps a promise of McDonalds on the way home or a trip to the cinema to see the latest release.

What a good aunt she still is. No matter what we throw at her she keeps a strong frame within herself to hold everything together and keep those children onto a path of success and independence for which I will always be grateful.

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Observations Stories Writing

Lock down – an update

Week 10, 11, 12? I don’t really know to be honest. This week I left the house for the first time since Boris announced we stayed home on March 23rd. It was stranger than I had imagined.

I only left to get my MOT!

Having waited patiently in an empty reception at the garage, nothing seemed too different to before. Besides, my life hasn’t changed much during this in terms of routine. Of course, it is busier than ever and I am more tired than ever, but in terms of my daily schedule it is much the same. Wake up, go to work, drink too much wine, fall asleep and do it all over again.

I’ve seen people. I’ve witnessed social distancing but not to the level of supermarkets and hour long queues to get into a bank. I don’t intent to experience that either. No thank you.

So, having enjoyed an hour to myself reading my book while waiting to see if my car was broken or not, I upped and left. My car wasn’t broken. Hoorah!

I decided to make a trip of it and fill up with petrol too (I know how to live) so I pulled up into the garage next door. Well, I didn’t expect to find it so bizarre entering the first building that wasn’t my work in ten weeks. I felt like I was in an apocalyptic film, the only person left on earth, trying to survive. An essential purchase of a packet of Jammie Dodger biscuits, my petrol and I left.

Writing during lock down…

In terms of writing during lock down I am having mixed experiences. Last weekend was a bank holiday weekend. It was also the first weekend which I didn’t have to go to work for any amount of time so I made the most of it. I wrote two chapters of my second novel and was very chuffed with them.

This morning I have organised myself a bit in terms of my blog and general laptoppy admin duties so I feel good about that. This week I finished a great book (Lucinda Riley is now a favorite author of mine).

However, there are many many times when I get overwhelmed by the little amount of time I have during Corona-life in which to write. There have been some weeks where I’ve hardly written at all. There have been weeks where I couldn’t remember the last time I sat down to read. It really gets me stressed.

Trying to juggle is a skill I am usually good at but have not yet mastered and giving myself a break from the pressure is something I mostly fail at. Yet I am understanding that it is only me who feels stressed after a week of no writing. Also, writing is a long process and one that often produces many drafts before quality work so bad days can certainly be accepted.

My blog and lock down…

I am going to change the arrangement of my blog slightly for now and aim for two posts per week. I was bogging myself down with content and figured that good content is better than lots of it.

Therefore, I will provide you good people with one post much like this one per week. An update, a personal experience, a ditty, a good story – whatever it may be. And I will then post a fictional snippet of things I am working on. A bit of lighter reading at the weekend. A short story for competition, a section of my novel, a random piece of prose for inspiration.

Thank you…

As always I thank you all for your time in visiting my blog. I really hope my work leaves you with a smile on your face.

H x

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Observations Stories Writing

In a crazy world where good things happen.

11.

At risk of sounding big headed, I’m proud. The more I hear about and witness the challenges many people are facing with the current situation of the world, the prouder I feel.

It’s kind of gone by me unnoticed how at risk myself and my colleagues are each day that we show up to work. I forget because of the sheer business of the place. I naturally wash my hands like I’ve never washed them before (listening to instructions given to us early on) and busy about, but until someone comes in with a full blown mask to remind me, I almost forget in my little bubble that Coronavirus exists. Well, kind of. You know what I mean…

I see people petrified to come in, people scared to work, people paranoid about the two metre rule, people getting very cross about other people’s actions.

While we’re taking it very seriously and doing everything we can for the safety of our staff and customers, every now and then I feel really proud.

An NHS worker was in with a badge on and my boss, who was serving her in the Post Office, thanked her for all she is doing. Her reply was “and thank you too.”

Says it all.

We are all in this together.

For links to all of my writing related stuff, my link tree is below. You can also find published work in my portfolio. My debut novel, Dear Brannagh, is available on Amazon along with the sequel Don’t Tell Jack. If you enjoy what you’re seeing here and are interested in following me on my writing journey, then please subscribe to my newsletter by dropping your name and email. There will be plenty of giveaways, news hot off the press and an honest insight into life as an author. Thank you x

linktr.ee/HJMWriting

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Observations Stories Writing

In a crazy world where good things happen.

9.

It was a Thursday. Nearing the end of another crazily manic week and my energy levels were rapidly decreasing.

I was starving. Like starving to the point where you forget you’re even hungry? Then all of a sudden it hits you like a wave and you fear you won’t be able to continue on. Obviously, I am being somewhat dramatic here, but still…you get the gist.

Recently my diet has been atrocious. It’s been a healthy (very unhealthy) mezze of copious amounts of alcohol. Usually a gin and tonic about 5pm, continuing through the evening. Onto the white wine and then finishing with red before crashing into an extraordinarily deep sleep.

I’m kidding, I don’t ONLY drink.

Other than the fantastic home cooked evening meal I am lucky enough to have cooked for me by my total professional chef of a friend (in my eyes, she should be), I mostly eat utter rubbish throughout the day. I even forget to eat occasionally which is kind of strange. Though I have had three salads which have been lovely.

Anyway, I am digressing.

Thursday.

I was contemplating what to have for my lunch/ emergency snack before falling over into a heap on the floor when customer followed customer, denying me of the time to make it.

A queue built up, three customers deep at which point I said to the lovely lady at the back of the queue that I would be with her in a moment.

She held a plate in her hand. On it was a large selection of bite sized portions of lemon drizzle cake. I love her. It was incredible.

I can still taste it now and I’m licking my lips.

Over the course of this lock down so far I reckon we’ve had around ten items baked for us. From coffee cake, to lemon drizzle, the best cookies you could dream of and various other mouthwatering treats.

We have the best customers. It’s lovely.

For links to all of my writing related stuff, my link tree is below. You can also find published work in my portfolio. My debut novel, Dear Brannagh, is available on Amazon along with the sequel Don’t Tell Jack. If you enjoy what you’re seeing here and are interested in following me on my writing journey, then please subscribe to my newsletter by dropping your name and email. There will be plenty of giveaways, news hot off the press and an honest insight into life as an author. Thank you x

linktr.ee/HJMWriting

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Observations Stories Writing

In a crazy world where good things happen.

Fresh oranges --- Image by © Sprint/Corbis

8.

This is the tiniest little snippet that gave me the biggest boost!

Like many, lots of families are getting into a routine of going for their one walk a day at the same time every day doing the same route. In a normal world, this would probably get a tad tedious. In today’s world, it is a highlight to many days.

I don’t blame them at all.

One particular family have no shame in admitting this is what they do and their pit stop at the shop is one highlight, always. Not only is it a highlight for them, but it’s also a highlight for us. We always have a laugh.

Their little girl is somewhat obsessed with orange Calippo Ice lollies. Not a bad choice. All was very well in her little world until the day came when we had run out COMPLETELY. Or should I say, so she thought…

I knew almost concrete certainly that there was one left, hiding discreetly in the wrong compartment. I was right. Of course I was. She was delighted.

The next day she was in again. My heart sank. She almost cried. I promised her that there would be more the following day. I promised a three year old. My mistake.

Our delivery was delayed. After a very diplomatic discussion, she let me off. THERE IS A GOD! Thankfully, for me, the delivery was only delayed by a single day and the next day she was thrilled. Once again. A very happy camper.

Good times.

The End.

For links to all of my writing related stuff, my link tree is below. You can also find published work in my portfolio. My debut novel, Dear Brannagh, is available on Amazon along with the sequel Don’t Tell Jack. If you enjoy what you’re seeing here and are interested in following me on my writing journey, then please subscribe to my newsletter by dropping your name and email. There will be plenty of giveaways, news hot off the press and an honest insight into life as an author. Thank you x

linktr.ee/HJMWriting

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Observations Stories Writing

In a crazy world where good things happen.

5.

It was Saturday morning and I wasn’t hungover. My gosh I can’t remember the last time I was badly hungover. I kind of miss it. I haven’t managed to stay awake for long enough to drink enough to warrant a heavy head in the morning.

I divert.

Judging by the order list, I knew how busy it was going to get but felt that pre-7am I might get a snippet of time to organise myself ready for the rush.

I was wrong.

Customer after customer after customer out getting papers and milk before the birds had finished singing their first song. While I was very happy to serve, I was getting a teeny tiny bit stressed about the amount of orders glaring out of the book at me, knowing that the less organised I was the more things I’d miss and the more customers would be disappointed.

Thank God I wasn’t hungover.

This feeling left me when one happy customer (still pre-7am) started piling his goods onto the counter. Goods kept on piling up as he retrieved huge amounts of fruit and veg that I didn’t even know we had left, and all sorts of other items off the shelf.

“Is that everything for you?” I kept asking and still he was adding and adding, unaware as to what he needed but impressed at the range we stocked within four small walls.

Once he felt he’d cleared us out of most things, I tried to pack for him. I am the world’s worst packer. But still, he was extremely happy, we’d saved him time, he needn’t go anywhere else for the bank holiday weekend.

Good times.

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Stories Writing

In a crazy world where good things happen.

3.

From about 3pm onward recently I have found tiredness getting in the way of my smile and upbeat enthusiasm. I’m done. It’s as if the business slows along with my energy. It is during this time period when good stories get me through.

The other day I was getting faded when a lady came in adhering very strictly to the social distancing measures. I get it. Everyone is being careful but some are certainly stricter and way more scared than others. This is no time for judgement. I simply went with it a reached as far as my arm would let me in order to take the note from her and then had to semi chuck the change back into her hand.

Apparently I wasn’t being as subtle as I had thought as she cottoned on to my confused expression.

It turns out she works for the NHS so witnesses this pandemic through a very different perspective to me. I admire them all.

We got chatting. She was telling me how awful the supermarkets are and because she is in the vulnerable category as well as working longer hours, she is trying to get deliveries rather than physically going shopping.

She was telling me how difficult it is to find slots available despite having a reason to be classed as a priority customer. We were discussing how ludicrous it all is.

I asked if she had our number, ensured she lived locally (as in not in Manchester or something drastic when delivering would be insane) which I knew she would, and explained how we would deliver if she ever needed.

She was delighted and didn’t realise how much we stocked. Nor did she realise that we offered to deliver.

That was one worry off her mind, she said, and happily left.

Another happy tale.

For links to all of my writing related stuff, my link tree is below. You can also find published work in my portfolio. My debut novel, Dear Brannagh, is available on Amazon along with the sequel Don’t Tell Jack. If you enjoy what you’re seeing here and are interested in following me on my writing journey, then please subscribe to my newsletter by dropping your name and email. There will be plenty of giveaways, news hot off the press and an honest insight into life as an author. Thank you x

linktr.ee/HJMWriting

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Observations Stories

In a crazy world where good things happen.

2.

Pasta. Rice. Toilet Rolls. Kitchen Rolls. Tissues in general. Plain Flour. Self-raising flour. Dishwasher Tablets. Fairy Liquid. Hand Soap. Cereal. Granulated Sugar. Icing Sugar. Caster Sugar. Baking Powder. Bicarbonate Soda. Tea Bags. RICH TEA BISCUITS.

What next?

These are all items that we, in a little shop, have struggled to get hold of. I don’t know first hand as I haven’t experienced supermarkets during this crisis, but I have heard and seen pictures of similar situations there. The wholesalers are the same. It’s mad.

It even scares me how low alcohol supplies are getting. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it…*PANIC PANIC PANIC*

I’m enjoying day two of isolation. It is 11:45am and I am still in pyjamas and in bed. I have left twice. Once at 5am (thanks to my, now one year old, pup) and once a little later to have a cuppa and hot cross bun downstairs.

I’m not one bit embarrassed to admit this.

Mostly I have been reading – Grown Ups by Marian Keyes, it’s brilliant, check it out, I simply cannot put it down!!! – but also thinking up good things about the times we are living in. Trying desperately to steer clear of the negatives. This brings me onto another story. Numero 2. This one is less of a story but more of a general selection of many stories.

It’s the little things.

The prime focus is my boss and lovely friend. As well as teaching me many lessons in life about seeing the good in everything, there is no such thing as can’t, and there is always a reason for one more glass of wine (just to name a few important ones), I have always known she is wise and has a plan to solve any given situation.

Recently she has not failed to amaze.

Many people, from all walks of life, more than usual have been coming into the shop. People who didn’t even know about it have diverted our way in order to avoid the lengthy queues at supermarkets.

Each new customer welcomed by us, looking for their own selection of essentials, not one expecting us to stock the nation wide now rare products listed above. Who’d have thought it?

They’ve not met our Kaf and her wisdom. Now they are thanking her wise Irish ways!

While the wholesalers are still lacking in all of the above, catering sized is the way forward.

Yes, from the genius of Kathy’s brain we now spend our days measuring out and bagging up kilo bags of flour, kilo bags of rice, 500g bags of pasta, 80 Yorkshire Tea Bags, finish dishwasher tablets, and even filling water bottles with fairy liquid. Etc. Etc. Etc.

Needs must, Kathy is a gem and many happy people leave with more than expected. Great. Good work.

…another happy story during terrible times.

For links to all of my writing related stuff, my link tree is below. You can also find published work in my portfolio. My debut novel, Dear Brannagh, is available on Amazon along with the sequel Don’t Tell Jack. If you enjoy what you’re seeing here and are interested in following me on my writing journey, then please subscribe to my newsletter by dropping your name and email. There will be plenty of giveaways, news hot off the press and an honest insight into life as an author. Thank you x

linktr.ee/HJMWriting

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Observations Stories

In a crazy world where good things happen.

1.

The world has gone mad. We are living in ridiculous times. However, among all the worry, the fear, the dreadful situations we are hearing about every single day – there are also really good, really lovely stories.

For example. The sun is out. I am in the garden enjoying 1 of 2 days off. I am writing this post from a sun lounger…A SUN BLOODY LOUNGER! In England. And I am considering at what time I can be bothered to walk ten steps into the kitchen to make myself a Gin and Tonic. Life is alright.

This sparked an idea for a mini blog series entitled: In a crazy world where good things happen. This is it. Post numero uno.

I don’t know how often I will post parts of this series. It might be more than my usual target of two posts a week. Who knows? It depends how many good things happen.

But, and in the nature of how my blog has always been, I am noticing a lot of snippets of material lately. So I thought I would share some of the good stories with you. Let’s face it, we’ve all had just about enough of the moaning and negativity.

Good Friday is always a good Friday. We open for only half the day. It’s usually quiet and we usually get closed up by midday ready to enjoy the first part of the bank holiday weekend.

This one was different. Chaos from start to finish. A later finish. We made it home by 3pm.

Each time it kept quietening up, more chaos happened and we had to push back closing for another hour. Another hour seemed like another week when we were as tired as we were. A part of this chaos was in the Post Office.

A lovely lady came to us asking if we would take over one hundred parcels. She had been clearing out her loft and sold a lot of puzzles online. Of course we would, we never turn people away.

Genius in this current climate I say, you’ve hit a market there!

She had already been turned away from a few places so we felt even happier to be able to help. Working through the parcels my eyes turned blurry. We were nearing the end of the busiest week ever and we are all shattered.

Feeling good having completed them before close ready for the post the following day, we left.

Saturday morning we were closing up. In came the lovely lady for her change and receipts, ever thankful for our efforts. In one hand she took the receipts and money left over, in the other she handed us a huge box of chocolates. No need, but gratefully recieved.

I thought that was a lovely story.

These tokens of thanks go a very long way.

NB: I have weeded a lot of the garden this morning, I’ve not only been a lazy arse.

For links to all of my writing related stuff, my link tree is below. You can also find published work in my portfolio. My debut novel, Dear Brannagh, is available on Amazon along with the sequel Don’t Tell Jack. If you enjoy what you’re seeing here and are interested in following me on my writing journey, then please subscribe to my newsletter by dropping your name and email. There will be plenty of giveaways, news hot off the press and an honest insight into life as an author. Thank you x

linktr.ee/HJMWriting