What’s the Story in Dalamory

I have unearthed my Creative Writing Course, dusted it off and am busy trying to make up for lost years. To be honest, I have never been very successful at getting paid money for articles. It is easy enough to fill a slot in the local paper or get printed in an in-house magazine, but real money…. that's another story. Anyway, Assignment 7 has been sent away and we'll see what the tutor says. Last time I seem to remember being aggrieved because he/she did not like my abbreviation of Alright instead of the more pedantic All right.

Now……back to the novel. Once upon a time…….

Today is a trip out for eye tests. Three Marshalls and a dog are setting off in the clean (Him Behind the Wheel washed it yesterday) – campervan to Tarbert, a distance of some seventy miles or so. The aim is to have a picnic lunch, walk Dana along the shore, then attend our cousin-optician for the eye tests and some cheerful banter. (How many fingers can you see?)

Shame there is heavy snow forecast.

Several of my friends have been taking me to task for exhibiting signs of an obsession with ageing. But I cannot resist quoting the following from George Burns.

“You know you're getting old when you stoop to ties your shoes and wonder what else you can do while you're down there.”

Being a fan of both Ikaea and Ebay, I was interested to hear the observation that the recent crush at the new London store was actually caused by people who were desperate to buy cheap and sell at a profit o­n Ebay. I haven't had the nerve to try selling anything yet, but it is definitely coming. It has got to be easier than having a “yard sale” and finding that nobody wants to buy your goods and chattles.

On the other hand, there is still a lot to go to the charity shops.

God is not foreign to my freedom.
Instead the Spirit breathes life into my most intimate desires,
gently nudging me towards all that is good.
I ask for the grace to let myself be enfolded by the Spirit.

Sacred Space Prayers

When we move house we will have Broadband availability. I am told that this changes your life and having used it at family and friends, I can well believe it. During the pre-removal sorting out, I am trying to keep that in mind. All of a sudden there is no need to keep all sorts of resource material – if internet access is always o­n, then that is the quickest way to get information.

But what happens when the power goes off?
And how often do powercuts happen in the wilds of Argyll?   Too often!

Fox (saggy cloth cat much loved) has been in a fight again. He has a bump o­n the head, a scratch o­n the chin and a dodgy eye. Not quite bad enough for the vet, but his looks and aristocratic bearing have taken a battering. I have been quoting Psalm 37 at him…… about Being Still and Stopping Fighting….. but he is not impressed.

How will he manage when we move, I wonder?

What started as a funny radio programme about “bloaging” (the commentator couldn't decide how to use the term blogging……it varied from the aforesaid bloaging to “blugging” and “blooging”) – turned into a testimony to the power of “this new phenomenon”. In fact, they were referring to the resignation of CNNs chief news executive, Eason Jordan. This followed remarks he is alleged to have made at the World Economic Forum in January, relating to the supposed targeting of journalists in Iraq by the US forces. The whole thing would have been a non-event, but for the blogging chatter that followed, and escalated into a tornado of discussion in cyberspace. It would appear that we are witnessing the start of the democratisation of the media, or what could be seen as a threat to the media. If news is something that happens where reporters happen to be, then news will soon become truly global as bloggers chat events up.

All power to the bloggers I say. 
And, in case you're interested, by the end of the programme, some friendly producer must have whispered in the announcer's ear…….b-l-o-g-g-e-r you idiot! 

It is amazing to have a designer chair that fits its occupant.

There speaks the five foot three little old lady.

Proof that I am indeed my grandmother…… or rather getting old.

I forgot St Valentine's Day yesterday.
Hope yours was happy.