It is one week today since we landed in Perth, Australia. I've never been this far south and the differences are marked.
Our rented apartment has a pond containing frogs. It's a water-feature really - with a lily pad and lily, artfully arranged rocks and a gently bubbling, modern-looking chimney thingy spouting water.
Ah but the frogs! On our first night we were certain that a neighbour was wielding a chainsaw. By the second night, we thought that the frog owned a Harley. This tiny green amphibian makes a noise like a motorbike roaring into the distance!
Chris has since struck up several conversations with it - about what, I've no idea. But they happily chat away in motorbike language. Too funny.
Perth is a beautiful city divided by the Swan River where beautiful houses overlook beautiful boats, and all bathed in beautiful sunshine. Yesterday the temperature reached an unseasonal 35'. The boys took us to Blackwall Reach - sandy cliffs where the teenagers hang out and dare each other to jump the 15 metres into the deep river.
Yes, you guessed it. Chris was duly dared to jump - the oldest teenager in town. And jump he did, amidst much cheering from the local youths. Offshore several boats had been tied together, creating a makeshift pontoon on which more beautiful youngsters partied to the sounds of Rap music.
Oh I felt so old!! The lifestyle for youngsters here looks blissful - and all because of the weather.
Chris, bless him, has made sure that I've had plenty of opportunity to work on 'My Book'. Bless him again, he tells anyone who will listen that I'm writing it, convinced that it will be a best-seller. I don't know about that, but I do know that I'm having the best fun working on it.
My only aids (apart from a lifetime of writing) have been The Idiot's Guide To Writing A Novel, and a blog about the 15 stages of a plot that I found on the Internet. My method of writing so far has been to write down the bits that are already complete in my head (otherwise I wouldn't write anything) and then to fill in the trickier bits as and when I've worked them out.
It's a bit like the way I complete a jigsaw or eat my meals: Do/eat the easy/favourite bits first and then fill in/move around all the bits of blue sky/cabbage afterwards. Okay so this has worked so far with jigsaws and mealtimes. We'll see if it works as well with literary masterpieces.
What I'm enjoying most is...well all of it! I love the challenge of creating a scene. I get excited when a theme appears - a ribbon that I can weave through the story - whether it's a play on words or a character's tic. It satisfies my urge to tidy everything up. I love lying in bed at night and seeing the answer to a tricky transition appear before my eyes. It is astounding what our brains can do when you put things on your back burner.
I've just been pondering whether to share a snippet with you? After all, you've been very patient and understanding over my silence. And what use is a silent Blog? So I've found a section that I can copy for you without it being too confusing. A little vignette so to speak. And this one's for Heidi!
ooooooooooooooo
Charlotte had made good time. Well she’d only been at the doctors for a repeat prescription of her contraceptive pill. Never could tell though - those queues could be a killer. Endless coughs and groans. And that was just the staff. Anyway, done now. The GP had taken her blood pressure. (A little high. No bloody wonder with her current lifestyle.) He’d asked if she was feeling menopausal. Cheek of the man. Thirty seven wasn’t that old. Was it?
Pushing open the front door, she could hear the strains of Blue Suede Shoes emanating from the sitting room. Oh. Elvis must have been trawling through his back catalogue.
“Yo!” Brief clapping. “Aw man! You have got to be kiddin me man! 89%? Well sonofabitch!”
“Language!”
“Sorry man. But this machine is out to get me. 93% for You Ain’t Nothin But A Hound Dog, 91% for Suspicious Minds (and man, that is one of my signature tunes), and now this! I’m tellin you man, there’s a conspiracy goin on.”
The Wonder of You started up and Charlotte peered round the open door.
Elvis, feet apart, microphone in hand, was shaking and waving and singing along to the words of the song as they flashed up on the television screen. Behind him Rory and Angelica sat. Her son clasped his hands in rapt attention. She watched emotions playing across his face. His eyes widened as Elvis wheeled his arm and sunk to his knees, winking in Rory’s direction.
Next to him Angelica sat beneath a cloud. Charlotte could see it clearly. Yup. A big, fat, black storm cloud. Woah. This didn’t look good. Her daughter’s cherubic face was contorted into a seething grimace. Her whole body quivered with the force of her anger. Oh boy. This was going to be a biggie. Charlotte half closed one eye, as if squinting might somehow protect her from the blast force when it came.
“... guess I’ll never know, the reason why, I love you like I...” Elvis was in full flow - arms outstretched and mouth wide.
“Right! That is enough!” Angelica sprang from the sofa and grabbed the games control, jabbing at a button. The room fell silent. Elvis froze, still balanced on one leg, his mouth parting like a goldfish.
Whisking the microphone out of his hand, she stood between him and the television. “Whad’ya think you’re doin man?! I was just about to start the build up to the finale.”
“Sit!” Angelica shoved Elvis in the direction of the sofa and he lost balance, coming down heavily on his right ankle. “Now!” Elvis hobbled over and sat down next to Rory. He immediately started remonstrating with Angelica, who was scrolling through pages of song titles.
“But man. I had so nearly got it. Just one more. I was on a roll man. I’m certain sure that that last song would have been the winner.” Angelica scowled at him and made ‘zip it’ motions with her fingers across her tightly drawn mouth.
“I do not recall when we entered this Singstar competition...THAT IT WAS THE BEST OUT OF THIRTY!!” She spat the words at Elvis, and he and Rory cowered back into the cushions. Way to go Angelica!
“But man, I was so close.” Uh oh. Elvis obviously hadn’t learnt his lesson from the last time Angelica put him in his place. (The previous Wednesday. Something to do with white not being the new black.) He tried to struggle out of the sofa and grab back the microphone. What the? Did the man have a death wish?! Angelica pushed him back, jabbing her finger at him and yanking the lead so that the microphone whipped around behind her.
“You will be disqualified if you don’t settle down.” Teaching? Mm, that was worth considering as a career. Or torture? Wasn’t that what MI5 was all about? Spooks. Great. Rory looked crestfallen. He knew his sister well enough to sit still and keep quiet. But she could see his mouth moving and his limbs twitching as he silently rooted for Elvis.
Finally the fight went out of Elvis and there was silence. Well, he must have been exhausted. How many songs? Angelica turned back to the television and selected a song. “Let me show you how it should be done.”
Oh baby baby
Oh baby baby
The unmistakable chords and catchy, thrumming beat of the Britney Spears hit Baby One More Time filled the room. Angelica clutched the microphone and slithered round to face her audience.
...Show me
How you want it to be
Tell me bay-bee...
She leapt and writhed and played to the imaginary camera, all the while keeping up with the fast-paced lyrics. Charlotte was mesmerised. So were Rory and Elvis. The two of them sat agog as Angelica strutted and sang up and down in front of them.
Hit me bay-bee one more time
Finally, after a spectacular move that Elvis could only dream about, she sank to one knee and bowed low. Rory exploded into applause. No point in antagonising her.
“What the hell was that man?” Elvis looked dazed.
“Right. The moment of truth.” Charlotte held her breath as the score appeared on screen.
“Yo!!” Angelica punched the air and made stirring motions with both hands clasped out in front of her. “I am the wi-inner, I got the to-op score. I am so cle-ever, and you are ru-ubbish.”
“No way man! You are cheatin or somethin! Aw come on man. 100%! I swear there’s somethin goin on here man. That is not fair!”
Charlotte backed away as quietly as she could. Her shoulders heaved and it was all she could do to stop herself snorting through the hand clasped firmly over her mouth. Shit. Who left that basket of washing there?! Oh it was her. She stumbled backwards, losing her footing and landing heavily against the corner of the kitchen unit. Ouch! Inside, the cutlery rattled in its drawer. The sitting room fell silent. She fled back out through the open front door.
oooooooooooooo
Back soon.
Laura x
