The land of make believe where the little blue birds tweet…

I admitted a while back that been extra distracted of late and my mood has altered very little since. I’m still here in a house I can’t sell feeling stuck, thinking my life will never change for the better!

To that end I’ve been avoiding the real world, hiding my paperwork and trying to escape the overwhelming grief that is so stubborn it won’t go! 

However I know from past experience that my moods are subject to change very quickly and this can’t last much longer can it? 

And while I wait for some excitement in my life there is always Twitter, my latest favourite waste of time!

Only a few months ago I decided to give up Twitter altogether just because I was getting bored with it and couldn’t see the point of following the people I did.

My timeline then was filled mostly with two sorts of people

·         Writers promoting their latest blogs posts/ books/stories and I don’t feel like a “writer” anymore. Was I ever? Isn’t it all just hype spinning out of control?

·         And Christians expounding lots of wisdom that I didn’t always want to hear. God may have a plan for me but he is keeping it so secret I am totally frustrated to the point of falling out with him on a daily basis!

In the end I didn’t delete my account, somehow I knew I’d have a change of heart and in the last few months I have added a third group of people I follow and who follow me - my #Musketeer friends. 

And I hold my hands up and admit I now spend so much time on Twitter my best friend has to tweet me to get my attention because I don’t always answer her texts!

It all started with conversations about which musketeer/actor we fancied most – we are like a bunch of giggly schoolgirls sometimes and it is so good to laugh and daydream – I’ve reverted to being a teenager again!

It’s crazy to think they would be too old for me if I were still a teenager and they are far too young now I am somewhere in my forties (let’s just leave my exact age out of this - I've told you before anyway!)

But over the last few weeks I’ve discovered something else new to me on Twitter that I never knew existed – Role Play.

Some people have special Role Play accounts and pretend to actually be the Musketeers and other assorted historical characters.

Now one of my friends sternly raises her eyebrows at this, concerned that I am chatting to the wrong kind of men! She always has been suspicious whereas I am probably too naïve and trusting.  

I promise her I will be careful and not get carried away…too far! It’s a bit of harmless flirting and quite honestly I could use the practice! Most are university students, some are older and a few have admitted being single but you never know for sure what's true and what's not (inside or outside the brackets)!

It is fun, reading Musketeer storylines played out, the writing is usually excellent and has you on the edge of your seat as you wait for the next tweet to appear.  Meanwhile another thread weaves in and out of the timeline made up of those of us reading and making comments.

Sometimes us “real” people even get to join in and it gets confusing, it’s sad, it’s funny, sometimes poignant and often very sexy *blushes* - I am learning lots. 

I’m not sure I can explain it all very well without if sounding, well just a bit strange to the uninitiated. My real life friends shake their heads at my new found hobby but they know only too well it will probably be another passing phase, another step along my grief journey perhaps, another way I try to mend my broken heart or at least fill in the gaps.

Consequently I have become a part of yet another on line community who at this moment in time are encouraging me, supporting me and mostly making me smile. That’s got to be a good thing.

In return hopefully I am being as encouraging and giving out as much as I receive because as people open up you can see underneath we are all the same - aching, hurting, needing - and Twitter is such a great way to communicate succinctly, dispensing positive thoughts like drops of April showers.

And I’ve found it easy to just drop into a conversation that I will pray about something. It’s not a glib comment I truly mean it and if people want to ask me more about my Christianity they can. Yes my faith is a little shaky at the present time but it’s still there under pinning everything, it always will be.

I think carefully about what I tweet and try not to get myself into controversial situations I feel uncomfortable with.

So now my Twitter timeline is made up of Musketeer fans, who make me smile, Christians who regularly challenge me and writers who remind me that once I wanted to write too and even if my words only fill 140 characters I think it’s good to remember that that is still writing!

A letter to start anew... or rather some excuses to postpone New Year to a more convenient date!

FACT: in 4 years, 5 weeks and 1 day I will be 50 - not that I'm counting! 

When I reach my 50th birthday my sons will be 21 and 18 and maybe they won’t need me so much.

Does it seem as if I’m wishing my life away? Sometimes I feel like I do, I wish I could enjoy the moment more and stop daydreaming of a future when I will allegedly be “free” to do whatever I please.

We celebrated Christmas at my parents, a bit of a houseful with four generations under one roof for almost a week. There were surprisingly few fallings out and a great time was had by all. 

I went to visit some old school friends while I was in the area and dipped in and out of Facebook catching up on the goings on of my online community.

On 30th December my dad was 70 – family and friends drifted in and out all day, including cousins I’ve not seen for years. We used to meet regularly for family weddings and parties but the family has grown so large we’ve come to accept we will never all get together again but Christmas is a great time for getting back in touch at least with a few.

New Year’s Eve was a quiet affair spent at my in-laws. We played the Pointless board game, watched the spectacular fireworks on TV at midnight and then I went to bed.

Oldest son stayed up with his cousins playing FIFA on the Playstation until 3am! Those days seem a distant memory to me although I later found out my parents stayed up until after 2 having their own party! 

I’m caught somewhere in the middle with all the responsibilities of being the sensible adult. I didn’t even have a drink.

However I was glad of the full night’s sleep and a clear head because yesterday I had a long and very wet drive home. The car aquaplaned a few times which I admit was scary and I am thankful we returned home safe.

But youngest son was definitely off-colour on the journey – I’m thankful he wasn’t sick in the car over the coats and Christmas presents that were on the back seat beside him. However he was sick at 4am and he’s lying on the sofa now watching Home Alone.

I too feel drained, exhausted, shivery and full of cold. And coming home to the reality of a mountain of washing and last year’s left over paperwork to sort out depresses me.

It’s doesn’t feel like a HAPPY New Year but that means things can really only get better, right?

Facebook is obviously filled with New Year’s resolution but the big question appears to be to plan or not to plan and instead go with the flow?

I’ve always been a plotter and a planner – I had a few ideas in the pipeline before I felt sick. Now I wonder what the point is and that’s probably why I recalculated the number of days until my fiftieth birthday. It’s a definite point on the horizon, far enough away that I know some things will have changed by then – at least I hope so, I really do.

I know I am too tired to think rationally, too exhausted to set realistic goals for 2014. Besides who said resolutions should be set in stone by yesterday to count?

I’ve tried before with mixed success.

And so I've decided NOT to have a new year's resolution - this in NOT to say I've stopped planning or that I'm just going with the flow but at the moment I feel too sick and tired to think about it!

New Year with all its hopes and fears is postponed – maybe until my birthday, which is after all only 5 weeks and 1 day away – FACT!

I am linking up with Ruth and Sabrina again with this post and their "Letters to..." challenge. Just click on their names to see what wonderful words they have written on the subject.

Tales by the Tree

I have some amazing online writing friends and between us we have put together a fabulous anthology of Christmas stories called Tales by the Tree.

It is available from Amazon as both an eBook and a proper book that you can wrap up for the perfect Christmas present! A delight for anyone who loves a good story.

Click here to buy on amazon.co.uk

As it says on the back of the book “gather around the tree with a collection of 75 tales from 40+ authors”

Note that word “author” – I am now a proper published author and have even created my own author page on Amazon! Which is crazy and unreal and I can’t quite take it in.

My own author page!

Tales by the Tree with one of it's authors!

Many thanks go to Laura, Marissa, Nick and Ruth our wonderful editors who have worked tirelessly to get this to happen. And I must also thank Blue Harvest Creative who have done a marvellous job with the cover and book design.

Have I mentioned it would make a great Christmas gift?

And if you need convincing any more let me tell you that all proceeds from the sale of the book are going to Mount Rose Elementary School library in Reno, Nevada.

Now just to whet your appetite for more Christmas stories here’s my own tale for the book entitled…

The Angel who didn't like Christmas

“Tinselitis?” Angel Anna raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

“I’ve got a sick note, signed by Dr Laura. Had all the tests confirmed.” His nose was already starting to twitch, must be that fake twinkling Christmas tree strategically placed to make Anna’s desk look festive.

She tapped efficiently on her laptop. “’Tin-sel-i-tis – an allergy to tinsel, glitter and sparkle.’ Such a shame this time of year.” She said without a flicker of sympathy.

“So if you’ll just stamp this letter, verify that I’m too sick for duty I can be getting off home to recover.” Jeff had it all planned out, a quiet Christmas in front of the TV for a change. He hated being an angel this time of year.

The telephone rang just as he sneezed.

Anna listened intently to the voice at the other end, nodding her head. Jeff found a handkerchief in his pocket and blew his nose with more force than was necessary to make the point that he was still here and he was sick.

“It seems the Big Man upstairs has a mission for you.” Anna put down the phone while flashing Jeff her sunniest smile.

“I can’t go down there at Christmas; you know how crazy those humans get.”

“Special orders.” She hit the send button on her laptop and he was on his way.

It was angel rush-hour, thousands of them were gliding up and down the heavenly staircases off to work, each one chattering loudly, all decked out in their shiny best. Sequins twinkled in every direction like millions of eyes conspiratorially winking at him. 

He shuddered, feeling hot and cold all at once. He should be in bed sleeping off this fever but it was impossible to escape. Pushed along in the melee he was trapped and descending earthwards.

He sneezed some more which at least kept his fellow angels at a distance giving him some much needed space to breathe.

“Special orders”,  well that was an honour he supposed, he couldn’t remember the last time he was singled out for an important mission, but before he had chance to ponder what it might be he felt the ground give way beneath him.

“You have reached your destination.” The voice was cheery yet mechanical as he gracefully floated to the ground.

He stood outside an inauspicious looking house, number 67 with a green door.

Most houses in the street were festooned in bright lights. There was a lopsided plastic reindeer opposite with a red nose that flashed rather alarmingly. 

Jeff was glad this house was plain and ordinary looking. He shivered feeling chilly, not feverish this time, just cold, there was snow on the ground and he had no coat.

Unsure what else to do he rang the doorbell.

It took an age before it was opened by an old man wearing a cardigan and slippers.

“If you’re selling double glazing I don’t want it. Or a new driveway. I don’t want a time share and I’ve got enough tea towels to last a lifetime.”

“I’m not selling anything.”

“Well you’ll freeze to death out there lad, letting all my good heat out too. You best come in. Don’t suppose you’re a murderer, I’m too old for this life to care anyway and if you’ve come to rob me I’ve got nowt worth having.”

Jeff followed the man as he shuffled down the hall into a stuffy over heated room with the TV turned up loud.

“I was just about to watch The Great Escape, you seen it?” He didn’t wait for Jeff to answer, “Sit down then lad, you’re making the place look untidy.”

The room was uncluttered, TV, two armchairs, clock on the mantelpiece with a photo propped up beside it, mum, dad, three smiling children somewhere in a sunnier place.

“Family?” Jeff said nodding in the direction of the photo.

“Son, daughter-in-law, in Australia. Now shush, film’s about to start.”

Sometimes it didn’t matter where you went, heaven or earth, you were destined to be ordered about.

They watched in silence, each of them so caught up in the familiar story there was no need to speak.

As Steve McQueen was shut in the cooler for the last time the man got to his feet, “Cup of tea?”

“I’d prefer a beer.”

“Oh what the heck, it is Christmas I suppose.” Said the man with a definite twinkle in his eye.

They chinked their glasses together.

“So what’s your story then? Turning up on an old man’s doorstep on Christmas day out of the blue.”

“Would it surprise you if I said I was an angel?”

“An angel! So what’s your name then Gabriel?”

“Jeff”

 “That’s not an angel name. Jeff?” The man shook his head but he was beginning to grin.

“So what’s your name then?”

“Michael.”

“Now that is a good angel name.”

“Pah! You can call me Wombat.”

“Wombat?”

“Always fancied having a nickname. Don’t you think it suits me?” He tried to twitch his whiskery face which made them both suddenly roar with laughter. “It’s good to laugh ain’t it. I ain’t laughed properly for … well for a long time.”

Jeff studied the man, looked at the photo on the mantelpiece and surveyed a room devoid of Christmas cheer. He guessed his mission was just to keep this man company, not much of a special order but he had to admit this wasn’t a bad way to spend Christmas.

They sat companionably, laughing at the festive entertainment on the flickering box in the corner.

All of a sudden Jeff was aware of another presence; the room had become still and quiet for the first time. Anna stood beside Michael’s chair.

“Is he gone?”

She nodded, “Peacefully and happy.”

“And that was my special mission?” 

She opened the folder she was carrying. “Last heartfelt prayer of an old soldier: please don’t let me spend my last Christmas on earth alone.”