Julie Cordiner

Okay Sea, that ‘honesty snagged my conscience:

The  last time I cried was as I attempted to sleep,  having earlier been admitted to hospital after my husband Steve correctly diagnosed the oddness of my being unable to control my fingers, while doing the Saturday General Knowledge as potentially a stroke. Quoting ‘FAST’, he did everything right…[Read more]

<p style=”text-align: right;”>Sorry Sea, I’ve been racking my brain (while fighting off Ken Dodd and attempting to pack for some days in the  Hebrides) but am totally bereft of  words about tears.</p>

The Last Sense

Curse my tears, dissolving my bold exterior to expose the raw feeling beneath. How dare they come at a time when I needed to show courage? To offer a united support when Mum’s strength had finally crumbled?

And see how the foundations of mine gave way, leaving the sturdier ones to put on the brave faces; carry the weak link of…[Read more]

Oh, hooray, and congratulations @ Seagreen, but similarly to all for a varied and thought-provoking selection of ‘last times’. Thank you too Ath  for the prompt – a subject which I ponder increasingly  frequently.

The First Steps and the Last

‘Come on, Mum, two more steps and you’re there. I’ve got you …’

Why was she raising her voice? I wasn’t deaf.

My mind wasn’t the disabled part of me. And what was the rush?

Hold your tongue, old lass. It’s all said through care, not to mention a familiar tone of worry that she might slip or let go.

It took me…[Read more]

Ps, yes, thank you all for your brilliant entries, I meant to say- sorry if this didn’t come across in my summary.

Congratulations Athelstone, and thanks to Terrie, Sea and Libby for their responses to Janette’s  May challenge – all so entertaining – and for the summing up.

Five great stories this month, making my decision oh-so difficult and changeable.

Sandra – Lyrical Determination (thin on legend)
Smartly-penned descriptives throughout, giving vivid imagery of Fran lying prose on the attic bed, having decided to give her virginity to Ivo (having been inspired by the words of John Martyn).  Love that she bathes…[Read more]

Lyrical determination (thin on legend)

2001, around eleven, on the first day of May, lying on a sun-striped bed in an attic studio, John Martyn exhorted, ‘May you never’, in a voice fluffy and worn as the sheet beneath them and a saxophone further ramped  up lust while Fran Lloyd satisfactorily surrendered her virginity to Ivo Kinnersley. Ivo,…[Read more]

Heck, I did not expect that. Thank you for such an awesome feedback, Libby, and for a competition prompt which challenged my writerly boundaries. Also well done to Sea and Sandra for their excellent stories.
I have nothing in mind for the next topic – a walk is in order to mull it over, not that I need and excuse to set out in this wonderful sunshine.

Well done Janette for and Seagreen for such entertaining tales, and thank you Libby for forcing me into finding new characters to deal with this tricky prompt. I was grateful for the part played by Google.

<u>Parsnip Wine

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Our back-facing neighbours were the first to acknowledge our arrival. Each time I looked out, the ever-preened woman was at her bay window, dog-in-hand (at least I think the explosion of fur was of canine origin). Gerald supposed she were sun-worshipping, her glances only polite curiosity – then he always did see the good i…[Read more]