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Nail-biting time…

nail-biting-300x209
I’m a bit scared now.
Because I wrote my TMA quite quickly on the 14th October, left it for thirteen days and then sent it (three days before the cut-off date!) I didn’t really change much at all. I just made it fit the word count.

So…

It’s either
a) a piece of inspired genius.
Or
b) a totally crap first draft.

I did get hubby (not at all bookish) and daughter (very bookish) to read it and they both ‘got’ it. So now I have to just wait and see how many ways my tutor can politely say naïve, unpolished, hasty, shitty, rubbish, unprofessional and ‘Oh-dear-are-you-sure-you-should-be-doing-this-course?’

Am I mad?
Quite probably.

I really enjoyed writing it though!

Theopneust Thursday

    noticing
    for the first time
    odd socks

Now. Isn’t that just the best haiku you’ve ever read?

‘theopneust adjective. Divinely inspired.’ (Shorter Oxford English Dictionary)

28th October

limp wisteria
hangs its yellowing curtain
over the window

Windy Haiku Challenge

I’ve become a bit stretched for words for Autumn leaves recently and have felt a sad little haiku void appearing. But today is a fresh,very blustery day with bright sunshine and loads of action – so I’m feeling inspired again. I feel I have tens of haikus to write today and have decided to challenge myself to write one an hour. I’ve already noted what the trees and clouds and sun are doing, so I just need to compact those observations into cute little haiku. I should get at least 7 done before the end of the day. I’m not sticking to 5,7,5 unless it feels natural.

So here’s the 12 o’clock one (in the conservatory with a cup of coffee and a book):

    flickering sunlight

    as wind moves shadows

    across my page

      * * *

Okay. I’ve just made a massive soup (and then remembered there are only 3 of us for lunch!) and done the washing and now here’s the 1 o’clock haiku:

    slapped in the face

    by wet washing

    in a strong wind

      * * *

Soup eaten, middle child loading dishwasher and I’ve just got the last of the washing on the line. While I was outside, my 2 o’clock haiku was ruined:

    terrifying sound

    of military aircraft

    howling through the sky

      * * *

Grrrr…. But this is what I was listening to before I was rudely interrupted:

    swishing sounds

    of blustery wind pushing

    everything

      * * *

Three o’clock already?!?!:

    wispy light

    and nearly free of leaves

    the tree stencils dance

      * * *

Oooh! I’m late! I had to do some shouting about places that felt tip pens ARE NOT SUPPPOSED TO BE USED by children! And then I got absorbed in a workbook activity.
Four-thirty o’clock it is then:

    wind rips through clouds

    dragging torn grey-white strips

    across a blue sky

      * * *

5 o’clock and gasping for a cup of tea:

    necessary wind

    clears rotting leaves

    from the branches

      * * *

Six o’clock. Got through the day, remembered to feed and water the kids at suitable intervals, finished chapter 4 , hubby’s back and I now feel I could go on for ever, but we promised to phone number 1 daughter in Greece. Here’s one for the road:

    low whistle

    of wind driving through

    every gap

      * * *

Whooops!

acrid blue-grey haze
as I look up from writing
and remember toast

Boring Autumn Haiku!

dead leaves and wet grass
too damp to blow away
rot on the lawn

Oh dear. I’ve just spent ages trying to remember whether it’s bored of or bored with and in the end plumped for Boring!
I’m sure it’s bored with….
How sad. I need a change of scenery!

22nd October

wet pages
like Virginia Woolf
bathroom notebook

more Autumn bird action

bold-coloured pheasant
stalks his male competitor
with cautious movements

2 weekend haiku

buzzard on gatepost
silhouette of dominance
against the sky

cold air up nose
hanging wet washing outside
makes fingers hurt

Young Genius

Tess's Story

By Tess, aged four and three quarters


Today Tess sat and drew and drew and drew. She’s not normally one to sit and concentrate for long, so I was extremely impressed.


When she had finished she showed me this amazing picture of the garden. If you look carefully, you can see accurate representations of her tyre swing, her slide and her trampoline. Maybe the strange, scary green person with the odd eyes is me…. I don’t know. But I do wear too much mascara, so it might be.


While I was enthusing over this wonderful creation, she told me that it was a story and I had to write the words for her. So she dictated the story and showed me where to write it.


This is how it goes…


Once upon a time there lived a boy called Joel and he was in his garden, sitting around on his bench. And then he met a boat and he said ‘What are you here for boat?’ And the boat said: ‘I’m going to take you for a ride to the sea and then I’ll bring you home again.’
Then Joel saw a big BIG flower. The flower was so big and all the seed fell out of the flower and the petals weren’t very colourful, so he got his pencils and coloured the big flower petals in.
THE END
By Tess

(Joel is Tess’s big brother. That’s him at the bottom on his scooter)

It’s brilliant. I’m jealous.

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