Seven Word Sunday – Blessed









Being Invisible

I didn’t notice her earlier but I see her now standing outside Boots the Chemist dressed in a cherry red collector’s vest – the only thing that looks cared for on this object of neglect and poverty. People pass; some give a dispassionate glance, some studiously look in the other direction. Sometimes she will hold out a magazine and say a few words… this solitary island in a sea of shoppers.
All give her a wide berth.
From this upstairs waiting room I see that few deign to answer her, one man shakes his head and walks on. She looks resigned as though she has done this many times before, is used to the cloak of invisibility granted by her fellow humans. It starts to rain and she doesn’t react. Passers by run for cover to get to the nearest doorway, nearest warm dry place.
When I come out of my optician appointment she is gone, I crane my neck up and down the road to see if I can spot the torn gold velour skirt, the patterned socks and blue moccasins. I presume that she has gone to seek some shelter of her own.
Then as I look back across the road I see a grubby cream elbow poking out from behind the street bin. Sitting on the pavement, still on her pitch, now some people look down at her as they walk past or as they drop the waste of their lives into the receptacle on the street.
I point her out to my daughter, wanting her to appreciate how fortunate she is; I guess her sister, my eldest, is of a similar age.
Later, on my way back to the car, the rain still teams but I must run over to the chemist to buy few essentials and to get some change. My ticket on the car has run out – as I rush out of the shop and hand over the few coins needed – equal to parking my car conveniently for two hours, she takes a copy from the blue plastic protector they are wrapped in and passes me one.
I feel sorry that I didn’t find any more out about this young woman on the street but she has moved me to write…so I do.

On the Shelf

I enter the book shop and am surrounded with the presence of cherished and best-beloved clutter. Now de-cluttered and spaced out in harmonious surroundings. Laid out on the shelves like some respectful chapel of rest for those who will to come and pay their respects – as I do. Not abandoned yet ownerless. I think, when I am a presence in some biodegradable casket or lying mingled with the roots of some vibrant young whipper-snapper of a rose bush, I should feel comforted to know that my friends and companions who live upon the shelves, will find another home and a new viewpoint from someone who will love them as I do.
I feel at peace; when the time comes I will be leaving my books to the Oxfam bookshop.

Hearing Voices

I listen to the voice reading my words and feel curiously rather pleased at the intonations, at the interpretation. It’s not easy reading someone else’s words when they are listening to you. Then again when she read them I wasn’t listening. Our new audio book is playing on my laptop. Thank you to Danielle Burgess and the RNIB and the lady who was briefly my voices… Well done to everyone concerned.

Random Scribbles to become a talking book!

Not done a stone yet but a bit of exciting news! Our book Random Scribbles is to be turned into a speaking book by the RNIB – I will post more details when I know them 🙂

Comic Relief

World Book Day characters combined with Comic Relief.
Working on my day off but dressing up was fun…medical wadding adapted to make ears and tail -while the fluffy body, which I found in the school dressing-up cupboard, was perfect… until it shed and got everywhere! Dodgy looking face paints to complete the look.
Silly Sheep!
Phoebe was in floods of tears in the cloakroom – her Mum had dressed her up as ‘Where’s Wally?’ and she didn’t want to come into the classroom and look daft. I pointed to myself and said “Who do you think looks dafter?” Still looking a bit doubtful, she finally cheered up when I suggested that we could do a double act; her ‘Where’s Wally?’ and my ‘Where’s Woolly?’
By break time she had perked up enough to be asking me to find her in the playground. A task not easy amongst lots of stripy pirates not to mention about ten other characters dressed identically to her!
Then tonight I watch and it all falls into perspective, the laughs mingle with tears. I offer a drop to try and help fill the ocean that they need – moved by the most piercing truth; ‘for someone to live, someone has to die.’ | Slimming World Recipes & More

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