I recently had the opportunity to listen to a talk on the English language via Zoom. I found the speaker, Emeritus Professor Roly Sussex, extremely interesting and entertaining. His personality brought the subject to life.
Thank you to all the wordsmiths out there who responded to the challenge of the five-word story on my Facebook page.
Current Weather and Tides
Still in the process of writing my fourth novel – currently pushing 800 head of cattle along a Queensland stock route with a group of drovers in 1933. Whew, this is hard and thirsty work.
Keep safe, Keep smiling, Keep reading, Keep writing.
A Pearl for your Enjoyment
Recent homework criteria: Write a scene where an item from your household may suggest a story plot.
MACHO WEEKEND (Continued)
Beryl entered the room where her two daughters always slept on this long weekend of each year when the boys went on their macho camping trip.
Bleary-eyed, Lianne lifted her head. “You okay, Ma? It’s only 5 am.”
“Did you hear from the boys during the night?” Beryl moved over and sat on the edge of the bed. “I wish I knew what’s happening at Flaming Tongue Gorge.”
“No, not a peep, but you know them. They’re so wrapped up in their camping and canoeing that the thought of a phone call will not even enter their minds.”
“Your brother always calls when they make their first night-camp – always.”
Lianne’s slim arm reached out from under the bedclothes and picked up her phone from the bedside table. “I’ll see what the latest weather headlines are.”
At this point, Bev groaned and rolled over. With her forearm protecting tender eyes she grunted, “I tried to call them at 3 am but there was still no signal. They’ll be just having their breakfast now before setting off for the day. Eric will probably call when they stop for lunch. They should get a signal then.”
Bev struggled up and dropped her feet over the side of the bed. Was it morning already? Surely her eyes had been closed for minutes only. She tried to catch her sister’s eye but Lianne was busy with her pink-nailed finger stroking her phone screen furiously. The pea soup tureen that was her head, swirled. She clenched her eyes tight for several moments. Regretting the three bottles of wine she helped Lianne and Hayley demolish last evening did little to relieve the pending headache. The bottles had seemed to empty themselves as they discussed this threat to the lives of her husband, brother and brother-in-law now facing who knows what up at Flaming Tongue Gorge.
Bev reached across to pat her mother’s hand. “The men are well experienced in the vagaries of the gorge. There’ll be no need to worry.” She bit her lip and turned her face away before the moisture balancing on her eyelids revealed her own concerns.
“But … but … what about the weather report last night?”
“Mum, don’t you fuss now. The boys will be fair pissed off if we nag them from here.” Lianne spoke without looking up. “If there was any danger the rangers would have done the rounds of all the campsites yesterday. We’ll see the boys when we collect them tomorrow.”
“Or not, Lianne – or not,” Beryl mumbled as she made her way to her worry seat in the lounge.