Not my time…..

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Sadly I didn’t win The Greenhouse Funny Prize this year, but I am still thrilled and proud to have reached the shortlist……………..  and there’s always next year!

Congratulations to the winner, Swapna Haddow, as well as runners up Clare Welsh and Yasmin Finch.

Scottish Association of Writers Annual Conference

Angus Writers Board

This past weekend I attended my second SAW conference, held at the Westerwood Hotel Golf and Country Club just outside Glasgow, and once again returned home inspired and full of enthusiasm. Members of the Angus Writers’ Circle came away with one 3rd place finish and some commended and highly commended places in a number of the competitions and I was thrilled to receive a highly commended for my Under 7s Short Story – ‘The Burp Monster’. Here I am receiving my certificate after the gala dinner.

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It was amazing to be in a room full of such talented writers; I had a fantastic weekend and met some very interesting people. Roll on next year!! Now, where’s my pen to start on next year’s entries……. 🙂

TIME

HOURGLASS

TIME

I am cold. I am cold even though it is bright outside. It looks warm. I have lost track of time. Is it Summer already? Inside days merge. Some are even lost completely. The irony is that just when time has suddenly become more precious I find it a fleeting entity, hard to keep hold of as it slips through my fingers like grains of sand. My hourglass is filling up exponentially but all I can do is sit and look; watch, wait and reflect.
Visitors start to arrive as I continue to gaze out of my window. Sure enough, there is Paul’s battered red Ford squeezing into a narrow parking space between a lurid green Mini and a gold Land Rover. He, Molly, and kids tumble out. For a second his guard is down and I notice how tired he seems. Then he looks up and catches me watching. His face lights up in an over bright smile that, even from this distance, I can tell doesn’t reach his eyes.
As I wait I adjust my scarf and ask for my pillows to be plumped up for more support. I want to be sitting up properly when I see them. I want to remember today for as long as I can and ensure a strong memory lingers. I want them to remember me and not my illness.
I have passed through a spectrum of emotions; disbelief, numbness, anger, guilt, fear and terrible crippling sadness. Why me? Why my family? I have already started grieving for what I am leaving behind.
But today is different. Today I am at peace and I am in charge for once, not this disease. Me! I know I will only have a small window of lucidity before I will have to self-administer more drugs, which are only ever a temporary relief from pain. But although it has won I won’t be beaten.
My family enter and Paul comes straight over to take my hand. He is gentle, like I am made of glass and could shatter into a thousand pieces at any second. His smile is sad and this time it does reach his eyes.
“It’s okay,” I say, “It will be okay.”
His Adam’s apple is bobbing up and down furiously and his top lip quivers slightly. “I don’t want you to go.” His voice catches and I can see him struggling for composure in front of his girls.
“I know,” I smile. “I feel it all; from what you want to say now but can’t, to what you may later wish you had said. Promise me you won’t ever look back in regret as I know your heart and love you for it. All of you.”
They stay for half an hour and I turn my head to watch as they slowly walk back towards their car. Paul stops, looks up, and places one hand across his heart. I close my eyes and press for more drugs.
It is time to say goodbye.