The world from my window

It's not the winning, it's the taking part that counts. Yeah, right. Yet again, my NaNoWriMo has fallen by the wayside. And you can read why here . That's about it. Love Maddie x

The Stylistics were never my favourite band, although I liked them. They were just there, always there. Part of a soundtrack to a life. Who can forget this? They seemed to be on top of that skyscraper roof for weeks in the summer of 1975. I was coming up to fourteen and probably blackcurrant picking at the time, the sun on my back and fingers weary and stained purple, just to earn thirty five pence a bucket. There was a radio playing in the next row of bushes and Rod Stewart's Sailing  was poised to take over the top spot in the Top Ten with Roger Whittaker and The Last Farewell not far behind. The high seas were a popular subject back then, with The Onedin Line a weekly treat on the telly. I can't say I was struck with either of those songs. There was a load of rubbish in the charts, including The Bay City Rollers. I shudder at the thought of how I made my mother sew tartan inserts into my half-mast trousers. Still, there were some corkers in the UK top ten of 24 A...

With November comes the fog and Lush Places becomes Slush Places once more. It's muddy underfoot and the dog has a field day gobbling up all the sheep's poo and getting filthy on harvested ground. But that's the way I like it. Halloween is the day of days; bright, cheerful and sunny. Yet my portal into another world - the mirror in the village square where the ley lines cross - foretells of darker days ahead: red sky in the morning, shepherd's warning. October, a rare month for boys . And for girls, too, Mr Bradbury. “Oh, what strange wonderful clocks women are. They nest in Time. They make the flesh that holds fast and binds eternity. They live inside the gift, know power, accept, and need not mention it. Why speak of time when you are Time, and shape the universal moments, as they pass, into warmth and action? How men envy and often hate these warm clocks, these wives, who know they will live forever.” Imbibed with the power of the sisterhood and  Sa...