CYPRUS

Well what can I say. How can such a lovely island have got into such a mess. Everyone will lose now. Even if the island manages to satisfy the Eurozone's demands it has been so damaged by the events of the last week that it will take for ever to recover. The island's property business alone will go down the drain, the banking sector is damaged irrevocably, businesses have not been able to trade as they've not had access to their money and the only currency is cash. No cash, no goods. Those who have already become impoverished will now have no hope. The outlook is very depressing. We are trapped. We need a miracle to survive.
Let's hope the oil and gas provide some much needed relief but that is a long way off. Watch this space and think of us.

Polemi Ladies Group

Glynis, my lovely friend.

www.glynissmy.com

Ladies of Polemi have an evening meal together once a month. I was introduced to this event by my lovely writing friend Glynis. There she introduced me to her friend Gill who has a sewing machine like mine! How good is that? Now help is at hand. What am I going to do without her? She's leaving Polemi just when I thought we could get a small writers group going in the village. I enjoy the Paphos Writers' Group and get a lot out of it, however, Glynis' approach is different and so liberating. She inspires and encourages me big time. I just hope that those she gets to meet in the UK appreciate her too.

Thank you Glynis. Am trying to reach the target you set me of 70,000 words on 'Brief Encounter'. It's coming on. 

Maggie's Child

Glynis Smy's new book

Ms Smy has written another superb period romance/drama. It was thoroughly enjoyable from cover to cover. I didn't want to put it down; really resenting the other daily commitments intervening in my reading time. She draws her characters so well they are completely believable as well as describing in great detail the situations in which they find themselves. Her main character, Maggie is completely absorbing. Born into poverty, sold into marriage/slavery she manages to find a way to keep sane as well as surviving. It was such a relief to find that she didn't lose her moral compass when she may have done. She remains true to herself. Her relationship with her son being the icing on the cake. A thoroughly good read with her usual twist to keep you guessing.https://sites.google.com/site/glynismybooks

My World: Frustration

These pieces of prose are usually written as homework for the PWG and often the title or genre is given. This one, Frustration, was a cathartic piece I just had to write. The machine is still on the table and I desperately need help. I will try again as being from North Yorkshire we don't give up without a fight. I'm nothing if not stubborn. Perhaps Taurus has something to do with it.

I feel rather upbeat today as have got back to writing my novel, as feel that I've learned a lot already from reading Jessica Bell's 'Show and Tell in Nutshell'. 

'Smile and the whole world smiles with you' is my positive thought at present.                                                            

Frustration!

My new flipping machine

                 

            ‘Hells bells and buckets of blood!!!!!!!,’ I cry. ‘How can this piece of inert metal defeat me. I’m supposed to be a reasonably intelligent person having gained a good honours degree and postgraduate qualifications! What is more, I used to make clothes for my children, myself and my husband no problem. I even made a suit as well as an overcoat for the latter. I should be able to master this piece of modern machinery surely.’

            I turned to my husband for a solution and support. ‘No use looking at me love. Give me some wood turning machinery or other complex tools to do with shaping wood but a sewing machine is way out of my comfort zone,’ he strode off washing his hands of my problem.

            Little wonder that even my sister, who was proficient at sewing, had decided that when she bought a more modern up-date on her old model, she couldn’t approach it without first having a drink of sherry and taking a paracetamol! I’d bought one in a sale last year intending to make pelmets for the curtains we had made. The quote I’d had at that time for pelmets only, was almost as much as for making full length lined patio curtains. No way Jose! I decided I’d make them. I’d made curtains in the past no sweat. I was forgetting that was on my very old Singer which had been a treadle before being up graded by having a motor fitted. I’d bought it at an auction for very little and it was wonderful. It sewed fabric that was thick or thin: it didn’t throw a fit at anything it was asked to sew. True, it only went backwards and forward; none of the fancy stuff, but that was what I needed.

            This new machine has gadgets for button holes, can make embroidery and goodness knows what. I only want it to sew and fondly imagined that it would work in a similar manner to my old darling. I tried to thread it as I would have done in the past: was that good enough for it? You’ve guessed the answer. No! I fished out the instruction book and tried to carefully follow the directions to the letter but it was like trying to assemble a flat pack from MFI or IKEA. There’s always something that gets missed out in the process or in my case, the ‘take-up lever’. Where is it and why isn’t it marked on the diagram? I’ve tried every hole and lever and still although it looks quite good when threaded, as though it should work, it doesn’t. The cotton gets snagged on the mechanism under the plate.

            I’m torturing myself now as my husband has decided that at long last the pelmets are essential kit to have for him to be happy, as well as because my friend Sue, asked me ‘Have you got a sewing machine?,’ without thought I replied, ‘Yes. Well I couldn’t lie could I?’

 ‘Just run up these two lines of sewing on the throws I want shortened. You don’t mind do you?,’ she replied.

How could I refuse? She’s been very helpful to us in the past, so of course I said I’d do it. She’d duly delivered the throws in bags with cotton etc for me to do the job which I’d got out this morning. What I’d forgotton was that she’d included a much thumbed copy of a Catherine Cookson novel.’ That was much more my thing: reading I mean.. I can do that at the drop of a hat anywhere, loving being transported into another world. The more varied the books’ content the better. I‘d shoved it aside reluctantly, being resolved to tame the beast that is the sewing machine.

As I became ever more demented, trying all I could think of, my thoughts strayed back to the book. After two hours of being angry and humiliated, I threw in the towel. I felt exhausted. I made a cup of tea and curled up with the book.

Sorry Sue, I’ll deliver your things back together with the machine. If you fathom it out perhaps you’ll instruct me. I slowly relaxed.

Paphos Writers Group

We had our usual meeting last Thursday and I thought it may be of interest to let you know a little about us. We are a very diverse group of writers who are at different stages in their writing careers. Some have published one or more books; all are ready to share their experiences as well as help each other. We bring work to the group each week to read out and have critiqued. Often someone gives a tutorial on a topic of interest to the group so that we learn about different aspects of writing and are challenged to try other genres.
I find it inspiring and of great practical use. As a result my dialogue has improved as well as other aspects of my writing. I'm working on the 'Show not Tell' issue at the moment. We have several nationalities represented: Cypriot, British, Spanish, Thai and Chinese making readings very interesting.

I'm now encouraged to get back to writing my novel 'Payback Time' which has been on the back burner for the last year.

We are starting to plan a Book Fair to be held in Paphos as part of the Paphos City of Culture Programme.
I'll keep up dates on the blog but would like to hear anyone interested in taking part.

Brief Encounter

Jane was rushing, with her head full of things that had  happened recently. As she rounded the corner of the busy shopping street she collided with a young man coming in the opposite direction.

            ‘Whoa! Look where you’re going!’ he stopped to steady her. Then a light dawned in his eyes.

            ‘Isn’t it Jane Simpson?’ he said hesitantly.

She screwed her eyes up to see who’d nearly knocked her flying and found herself looking into the eyes of a former boyfriend, someone she’d dated for several years sometime before her marriage.

            ‘ I used to be a long time ago. I’m now Jane Gibbs,’ she replied.

            ‘Well I never, fancy bumping into you. I haven’t seen you for ages or even heard about you from friends we’d in common. How are you?’ he scrutinised her face. ‘You look tired.’

You won’t have heard of me she thought. Jim won’t let me have friends. He’s made sure that I’m cut off from anyone I used to know. He alienates everyone. If it wasn’t for the children I’d have left years ago.

            ‘I’m just a little tired John, as I’ve been up with one of the children who’s been sick. Nothing a little sleep won’t cure. How about you? You look well. What are you doing now?’ she asked, keen to deflect any further questions.

‘Oh, I was married but now I’m divorced. I’ve two children who are five and three. They live with their mother but I have them every other week end. We both found it didn’t work after a while.’

 Wish I could leave Jim, but he’d never let me take the children. I’m in a very different situation. If only Jim didn’t fly into rages and lash out. What a good job he doesn’t hit me where it shows. He’s very crafty like that. My bruises are always hidden. I can’t be without the children.

            ‘Good for you. It’s good that you’ve easy access to your children. How old are they?’

            ‘Five and seven. The youngest has just started school. How about yours?’ he inquired.

            ‘Similar to yours. Six and eight. One of them has chickenpox at present. A neighbour is looking after him so I can shop. Well I must dash,’ she was impatient to end the conversation as she didn’t want any more awkward questions to be asked. Seeing him had reminded her of the past and good feelings she had experienced then. Feelings that had been forgotten. I can’t even remember why we split.

            ‘Not so quickly! Come and have a coffee and we can talk more. For old times sake,’ he

appealed to her. ‘Surely we can reminisce a little.’

            ‘Another time. I really do need to get back now and relieve my neighbour. Sick children need their mothers and I don’t want to put on her.’

            ‘Please take my phone number and ring me when you can spend a few minutes with an old friend,’ he pleaded.

            ‘OK, I’ll do that,’ she replied not meaning it.

He scribbled it on a piece of paper he had in his pocket and pushed it into her hand. They took their leave of each other.

 As he walked away Jane wanted to scream Don’t go I need a friend! but daren’t. She was pensive. It’s time to go to ask for help. I may as well be dead as exist like this. Life is to be enjoyed not endured! I’d forgotten what it’s like to experience kindness.

 She took out her phone and dialled a Refuge!

© AS Bielby October 2011