Happy Halloween everyone!

Labels: Halloween, Life

Posted by Miladysa at 7:26 PM 26 Comments

For some time I have wanted to take part in a Thursday 13 or Friday 14 but before I know it the week has passed me by! Therefore I give you the Saturday Seven!


1. As Halloween approaches all sorts of things are creeping out of the darkness and making their presence known. Those of a nervous disposition should not look at the photograph below - it's just too awful for words!


















Well I did warn you!


2. High School Musical has been a phenomenal success here in the UK. My youngest daughter and grandchildren know every word to every song and probably the entire film script to boot! Although HSM3 was only released on Wednesday tickets have been booked months in advance. Guess which lucky woman is taking six children to see it on on Monday?


3. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that Refuge Of Delayed Souls had been reviewed in Muse's Success by NiSp, the delightful author of Riders of Darith

Thank you Nisp -- pleased to have gained you as a reader :D


4. I have been unnaturally tired all week - plenty of motivation - just lacking physical energy. I have a sneaky suspicion that the dreaded anaemia has returned. Looks like the iron tablets are coming out again.


5. Ricky 'The Hitman' Hatton is fighting Paulie Malignaggi in Las Vegas on Saturday 22 November 2008 - I can't wait!!!


6. British Summer Time ends at Midnight and UK clocks will go back allowing most people to enjoy an extra hour in bed - Hooray! That's the good news over. The change in time means that the mornings will be even darker and the nights will be closing in earlier.


7. My youngest son and his partner jetted off to Majorca today for a well deserved break. I'm missing them already.


Enjoy your weekend!

Labels: Life, Miladysa

Posted by Miladysa at 5:24 PM 24 Comments

The Tale of the Gold Sovereigns
























Abergavenny Town Centre

It has been a while since the last post in this series and I have been inspired to write this one after reading A Bugle for the New Day a fabulously descriptive story set in Wales and also by Ghosty's travels through India.


Eliza was born in Monmouthshire, Wales in 1826 and in 1841 she was living with her parents and siblings in Abergavenny.

In 1851 Eliza's life was to change dramatically following her marriage to David, a new life, in a different country awaited and they left her beloved Wales behind and travelled to her husband's home in Edinburgh, Scotland.

Today we would take such a move in our stride, there only being a few hundred miles distance between Abergavenny and Edinburgh, and though they are in different countries, our families would never be more than a telephone call or email away. In Eliza's day it must have been a massive step for her to undertake and a huge adventure.

I often wonder how long Eliza had known David before their marriage and if it had been a difficult decision for her to leave her family behind? Something I do know however is that her family were deeply concerned about Eliza's welfare, so much so that her mother hatched a plan.

In those days, a woman forfeited everything she owned to her husband upon marriage and so Eliza's mother sewed 100 gold sovereigns into her daughter's corsets in the event that should she need an escape she would have a means to do so.

Eliza and David had eleven children, five of whom died before they were teenagers. Their eldest son Alexander travelled to India and lived in Mumbai for many years. I wonder if Eliza ever visited him there? It would be nice to think that she did but very unlikely.

Their seventh child and fourth son was my great great grandfather Andrew.

Their marriage was not all plain sailing and like most, they had many obstacles to overcome including David's prison sentence in 1864 for his political ideas and his part in a strike.

As far as I know, Eliza never left him and he only found out about the sovereigns quite by chance. It would seem that one evening, many years after they were married they got into an argument in their bedroom. Eliza's corsets where hanging on the bedstead and David threw one in a fit of temper. To his amazement a gold sovereign fell out and rolled across the floorboards. He was astonished to discover a further 99 of them hidden in similar garments and the argument continued only with a different issue! David felt that there had been many a time they could have used that money but Eliza had always deemed it wise to keep it safe for a rainy day.

In 1895 Eliza died in David's arms and was buried in Edinburgh.

Labels: Family History, Miladysa, Way Back Wednesday

Posted by Miladysa at 10:37 AM 28 Comments

"A grey ice-tinged fog"























The other day I unintentionally made someone cringe with my description of fog. I was genuinely shocked with the reaction my words had evoked and surprised to learn that not everyone is aware of the type of fog I was attempting to describe.






















Last night, I looked through the window towards the dell, saw that such a fog was about and tried to capture it with my camera.

























Although the street light is casting a yellow glow I think it is still possible to see that the fog itself is grey. Or is it? Do you experience this type of fog where you live or do you think that all fog is the same?

I can you see a wolf's head and a witch in some of these photographs, am I the only one who can see them?

Labels: Miladysa, Photographs

Posted by Miladysa at 3:02 PM 42 Comments

And I feel like it's still Monday morning! Where did the week go?

Well for me, it just didn't take off! I lost a wisdom tooth to the dentist at the beginning of the week and the resulting dry socket required a dose of strong antibiotics and umpteen painkillers. If I had any strength left I would use the experience as inspiration for Halloween Horror October.

Meanwhile, here's a run down of what did happen:

• Refuge Of Delayed Souls received its first review over at the WFG. Many thanks to Chris Poirier who took the time to read through all 67 chapters so far and also for the much appreciated feedback and support.
  
  Since the review came out my eldest daughter has been the first member of my family to read all the RoYds posts to date. I was completely amazed when she said that she had enjoyed it and has even recommended it to her friends.
  

• I joined an online writing workshop and critique group over at Gryphonwood Press. I think that this is the best step I have taken writing wise for quite some time.

• I discovered I am guilty of the unforgivable sin of 'purple prose'. In case you are not familiar with it here is a classic example,
  
  "It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness."
  
  Apparently it is far better to write,
  
  "It was a dark and stormy night."
  
  Which do you prefer? Is a combination of the two out of the question?
  
  
• Mr Sparks is getting a little cheesed off with the local squirrels and driving everyone crazy with his Meerkat impersonation.
  
  
  
  

Labels: Miladysa, RoYds, Writing

Posted by Miladysa at 11:46 AM 30 Comments

In honour of Charles Gramlich and his wonderful Halloween Horror October I have reworked an old RoYds post which I hope you will enjoy whether you are reading it for the first time or not.

Wolfie, Sidney , Avery and Stewart have also taken part. If you are partial to the odd goose bump or two you are bound to enjoy their stories.


Twisted

He began to regret his decision to cut through the dell on his way home. He almost wished that he had refused that last drink and taken a taxi.

The leather soles of his shoes kept slipping on the uneven stone strewn surface of the makeshift pathway he was attempting to pick his way over. There was enough daylight to visually make his way through; the problem was the amount of rain that had fallen throughout the night. What was usually a reasonable cinder path had been transformed into a ribbon of mud.

He was about halfway through his reckless dawn trek when he consciously acknowledged the singing. At first, he thought that his mind was playing tricks on him and that it was some kind of insect. After a while, he realised that it was definitely singing although no matter how hard he tried he could not make out the words or any tune come to that. There seemed to be a number of voices and they never grew any closer or further away. He made a mental decision not to think too much about the surrealism of it all until he arrived home.

In doing so he lost his concentration and footing, he felt his heart race and the adrenalin flow as his right foot slipped from underneath him and his ankle twisted with the strain. Reaching out he grasped at a blackberry bush close by.

“Bugger!” he exclaimed as a sharp thorn sliced through the delicate skin between his thumb and forefinger. “Just my flecking luck!”

Instinctively he brought his hand up to his mouth and sucked the wound tenderly; the warm fresh blood and sweet juice of the berries acted as a spur and he decided to step slightly off the path and continue over the short carpet of grass and plants that edged it. It was a good decision and he was able to improve his speed marginally even though his ankle ached sorely and he didn’t need to look at it to know that it was swollen. He made a mental note to bathe it before he went to bed.

Ten minutes later he came to an abrupt standstill when he recognised the devil blackberry bush he had tackled earlier.

“Well I'll be damned!”

He turned sharply when he heard the scurrying and giggles behind him. He made a mental note not to scream and then carried on regardless.

Labels: Flash Fiction, Halloween

Posted by Miladysa at 1:26 PM 32 Comments

A recent BBC News magazine article took a look at the way parents have dressed their offspring over the years and the hidden meaning behind such choices. It comes as no surprise that according to the experts a mother who dresses her children in matching outfits is trying to create a family identity.

I know from personal experience that children develop their own ideas of how they wish to dress very early on in life particularly daughters, my youngest having refused point blank to wear anything that she has not personally selected since the age of three.

I can clearly remember the first time I had a choice in selecting my own outfit, it was for the wedding pictured above. My mother had very strong opinions about every item I wore up until that point. I think that I was indulged on this one occasion due to my disappointment at having not been chosen as a bridesmaid.

As the photograph is black and white I feel overwhelmed by the need to describe the finer details of my sartorial elegance for you. I am wearing a gorgeous turquoise and Absinthe green silk paisley patterned blouse under a matching turquoise taffeta pinafore! Accompanying the outfit is a pair of navy leather sandals which had a kitten heel and clip clip clopped all the way across the stone flags outside the church and the wonderful tiled floor within. Delicious!

Have you identified me yet? My mother is in the row behind me looking towards the bride and my cousin the groom. My little sister is at the front of the photograph holding my precious box camera which I had just been forced to allow her to play with in the hope that she would keep still for the photographer. I was subsequently left holding my mother's camera by way of compensation and I am suitably unimpressed by the honour.

I think that there are some wonderful examples of dress style on display here, from an eccentric aunt to the prim and proper ones as well as my cheeky cousins on the front row. Don't you just love the way the socks slid down your legs in those days!

Do any particular outfits stand out from your childhood?

Labels: Family History, Photographs

Posted by Miladysa at 1:18 PM 29 Comments

"Short and Bittersweet" Gavin Williams

Labels: Marcasite Waves, Miladysa, Refuge of Delayed Souls

Posted by Miladysa at 4:29 PM 17 Comments

After much deliberation I finally submitted RoYds to the Web Fiction Guide! Not only that, I created another blog and moved all my short fiction stories over to it before submitting that site as well! It may take me some time before I make a move but when I do nothing less that the Full Monty will do!

The process gave me an opportunity to take another look at RoYds and I made a few minor changes which I hope will improve the story. I shuffled the chapters around slightly and moved one of the middle ones to the beginning as a prologue and I also rewrote the first chapter. I could probably do with rewriting a couple of the other earlier chapters but I just do not have the time to do so at the moment.

The whole exercise has shown me how much my writing has developed since February and I must give the readers of RoYds a great deal of the credit for this as your feedback and encouragement has been incredible!

Thank you everyone :-D

Royds has already received the first reader from the WFG and I was totally amazed to discover that they took the time to read through the first sixty chapters in one sitting! Any reservations I had about submitting certainly took a back seat after that.

I hope you are all enjoying your weekend and if anyone has some spare time the next RoYds Chapter ~ Stumbled - has just been posted!

Labels: Fiction, RoYds, Web Fiction

Posted by Miladysa at 12:46 AM 19 Comments

Yesterday I picked up a copy of a newspaper from a local town and was shocked to see that a young mother had been sent to prison for two years for an extremely violent attack upon another young woman.

I did not recognise the offender from the photograph in the paper, it was not until I was deeper into the article that I realised who she was and then I was totally dumbfounded. For a few moments I convinced myself that I must be mistaken, that this could not be the cheery little girl who used to catch the school coach with my own children. The same little girl who would stop and chat when she pushed her dollies in their pram past my house. Eventually I faced up to the fact that they were in fact one and the same.

It was quite obvious from the facts of the case that the judge at her trial had no option but to impose a strong sentence and under the circumstances two years may be thought of as lenient by some. Then again, I wonder how many that would call for a much longer prison sentence had actually stepped foot in a prison?

A few years ago I undertook some training with Victim Support, at the time, it involved what was then a newfangled idea to the UK, the proposal was to bring victims of crime and the offenders face to face. Did the criminals understand the impact their crimes had on their victims? Would the victims be able to gain some kind of closure?

Undertaking volunteer work with Victim Support brought me into contact with young offenders and an opportunity to visit one of the most notorious prisons in the UK; HMP Walton and experience the Borderline Project that some of the prisoners and members of staff there were running. The prisoners idea had been to bring troublesome youngsters face to face with hardened criminals and the harsh realities of prison life in an attempt to dissuade them from following a life of crime.

I had some strong opinions of prisons and prison sentences at that time. In my opinion prisons were too soft, the inmates were living a life of luxury at the tax payers expense and longer, harder sentences would deter crime and give them the hard shock they required. Then I went to Walton Prison and woke up.

The majority of prisoners I met were lifers who had taken another's life by violence. I will never forget one young man I met, he was in his early thirties and had spent nearly a decade in jail by that time. He explained to the young offenders I was with how he had ended up in Walton, he had started off bored and hanging around the streets with his mates drinking in his early teens. He quickly moved on from there to being a passenger in stolen cars and had eventually made his way one night to a party at a house where he picked up a kitchen knife and stabbed another young man in a violent fit of temper. The judge at his trial had decided a life sentence was appropriate and there he was once again bored and facing at least another fifteen years behind bars. My first thoughts were not that he deserved a longer sentence or a rope, my first thought was what a waste!

There was no life of luxury behind the walls and doors of Walton prison, no luxury en suite facilities, no computer or television in the cells and most of all there was no fresh air only centuries of stale air and wasted lives.

Although I only spent a few hours inside Walton I can't tell you how relieved I was to step outside and feel the cold rain and bitter wind battering against me. I can still remember every prisoner I came into contact with that day, I remember their life stories and some of their crimes. Everyone I met thought they deserved to be punished for what they had done.

The young offenders were not the only ones to receive an education that day, I came away with a lot to think about too.

Today my thoughts are with all the victims of crime and their families. I wish that we could find a way to reduce their numbers drastically and I wish that I had some answers.

Labels: Crime, Prison, Victims

Posted by Miladysa at 9:48 AM 29 Comments