Short Story( part 1)

Bathtime

Could you help me? I wasn’t supposed to take a bath when Bert was out of the bungalow but whenever I asked him to help he always complained that I should use the shower, as he did. “Great White Whale” was one of the kindest names he called me.

I put in plenty of water and a generous dollop of bath essence and stepped in carefully, holding onto the handle on the wall. Then I lowered myself down – with the usual splash as my backside hit the protective mat.

The water was warm and soothing as, leaning back, I braced myself for the cold enamel surface and then closed my eyes and let my legs stretch out. The scented bubbles hid most of my wrinkled body but I had to frown at the pale pink mound that was my stomach. This was more than middle-aged spread. This was old woman’s flabbiness.

I lifted my feet out of the water and looked at my toes. The nails were yellow and rough. I needed to see someone about them.

I was getting cool so I bent forward to add more hot water. Then, taking the soap from the dish I began to wash myself, slowly and deliberately, enjoying the peace and relaxation.

It was when I looked up to add more water that I noticed something strange about the cold tap. It seemed to be smoking. A thin wisp of white mist was rising from the mouth of the tap and there was a peculiar metallic smell in the air.

I watched as the smoke rose, curling towards the ceiling, hoping it would stop – but another puff emerged and headed upwards.

I was afraid to lean forwards and turn the tap. Instead, I pulled my legs in, raising my knees, and waited for the mystery to resolve itself.

Poem- “Ponderings”

Why is it when we ponder, of past times we get fonder?

We remember the day life when was all play-

Through forests and fields we would wander.

It was fun going off on a train, no matter if sun or if rain

We could draw, we could read, we had all we could need

We didn’t seek riches or fame.

There was plenty of work for us all. We were proud, as a country, stood tall

But time sowed a seed of enveloping greed

And technology held us in thrall.

They tell us that knowledge is power. that computers will help nations flower

But with fighting and war the death tolls still soar

We witness their lies by the hour.

Do the children born now feel the same? Is living, for them, still a game?

Or has it all changed, is the world rearranged

And if so – who is it to blame?

 

( Taken from the anthology ” Honey and Humbug” which I produced with three others. Now out of print)

Author blog.

Reading about an author blog on twitter made me wonder if this should be an author blog or remain as a blog by an author. If it is to be an author blog it should contain links to my websites or the ability to purchase books but , at the moment, that is only possible through http://www.juliecround.com, which is linked to amazon.

Also, I guess I should be demonstrating my writing style, while I have only been posting poems. My problem is that I don’t seem able to connect with readers in the UK. I know a great many of them do not use the computer but I think, perhaps, I do not use keywords or Google as well as I could.

Until I get more skilled on the computer I’ll continue as I am, mixing musings with advice. Sorry there’s no photo but the country walk we had at Bramber yesterday was a delight. All on the flat and the dog was allowed in the pub afterwards for lunch. In fact he nearly pulled us through the door!