Day 365 - Congratulations

 CONGRATULATIONS

Prompt - Congratulations : Did you write a poem, short story, or journal entry every day for a whole year?  Write about what you've learned and celebrate your achievement!

Short answer - No.  Because I failed to produce anything in response to the prompt on about fifteen of the three hundred and sixty five days.  (Although I intend to go back to every single one of them and come up with something in the opening weeks of 2022.)  But the long answer is much, much more positive, for using these prompts has stretched me and made me write fiction and verse I didn't know I had in me.  It's been a very positive experience and one I hope I can use to improve my writing in future.  Albeit it's also highlighted one of my major weaknesses as a writer...

I have written far more fiction and poetry than in any calendar year of my life.  Indeed my output in those more creative aspects of writing has probably exceeded that of most (all?) decades.  Much of it was, to be honest, rubbish, and that's fine with me, because at least I tried.  But the best is that I wrote several pretty good stories across the year.  In a couple of cases I've started stories I didn't have time to finish and, like the blank pages, fully intend to return to next year.  I have also found the nerve to share a few on social media.  They have had hardly any reads, and no comments, but at least I dared.  And there are many more from the past twelve months I want to join them.  It's a matter of making time to revisit what are just first drafts, and turning them into more finished products.

From memory the best thing I wrote was the story about the woman in the yellow coat, in which she committed suicide.  It hasn't been shared yet, and there are others ahead of it in the queue.  It was written at the end of April, so maybe I peaked too early in he year?  Certainly there have been periods where the project felt more like an imposition than something to be enjoyed, but I always managed to get through that feeling within a couple of weeks.

The project has shown I can write stories on a variety of subjects and even in genres like science fiction, I can have creative ideas and put them into practice, I can come up with reasonably convincing dialogue (one of my best stories was almost entirely dialogue, which pleased me).  But, as mentioned before, it's also exposed my biggest weakness (apart from a total lack of confidence, which has been improved to a degree) and that's the lack of any really original ideas.  I needed these prompts to get me going and still sometimes failed to come up with anything (although there were often time pressures contributing).  However I have had some story ideas in the past, such as my series based around train journeys. and I want to go back to them and see if I can carry them through.  That means writing much longer stories than I managed this year, and the need to go back to those I started but didn't finish will be a help in working out how to do that.  

The other downside of writing so much creatively is that my Litter Bin blog has suffered.  Again.  A few prompts resulted in post, but only about three.  I ended up maintaining my record of a post every calendar month, but only just, and too often I was scrabbling about for something to write as the month drew to a close.  My blog turns ten years old late in 2022, and I hope I can keep it going.  And that I manage to get back to something nearer the one a week I'd originally envisaged.  But even posting about thirty or more times would be a huge improvement.

So that's my writing challenges for next year sorted.  Fill in the blanks in my 365 blog, and complete the unfinished pieces.  Revisit, rewrite the train stories I once began, and complete them.  And, not yet mentioned, try out my idea for a novella, of a man who is able to be int wo places at once.  I will continue to share my stories on social media, but must be brave enough to put one or two on writing websites (some of which I have identified this year) to expose myself to some proper criticism.  Finally, beyond the fiction (and I note that I don't really have any ambitions to write more poetry), I need to up my blogging output.  That means looking at the world differently.  And perhaps the two, fiction and non fiction, will rub off against one another with a resultant improvement in my writing and my ability to come up with ideas.  Thanks to my 365 project, and these handy prompts, I enter 2022 feeling much more positive about my desire to be some kind of writer.

Day 364 - Trust

 TRUST

Prompt - Trust : Write about putting trust in someone

I've been a Volunteer Advocacy Worker for about six years now, and have become one of the more senior among the group.  The 'job' is rewarding, frustrating, educational, confusing, demanding, funny, sad, inspiring, gut wrenching, worrying, hilarious and weird, all rolled into one.  Varied too.  I have met some very interesting people, some very baffling people, the odd slightly threatening person.  I have tried to help people deal with problems with housing, benefits, doctors, dentists, lawyers, family, psychiatrists, social workers, the council and many more.  I've learned the difference between post natal depression and post partum psychosis, which is something I never ever anticipated happening!  And I've learned to deal with what's thrown at me, find out where I don't know, rely on others and rely on my own ability to relate to people.It's never dull.

But the one aspect of the work that always amazes me, and, I hope, always will, is how quickly so many vulnerable people are able to trust me with very intimate details of their lives.  In part it's because they have come for help, and that Advocard, as an organisation, strives to maintain a strong reputation for being independent and willing to give what assistance they can through advocacy.  In part it may reflect how desperate many of the people we see are.  And I hoper a part of it is that, with all the practice I've had, I have developed ways of making people feel at ease.  But even taking these things into account it is still incredible that within fifteen or twenty minutes of meeting this total stranger they are able to talk about problems they have going to the toilet, or lacking the motivation to wash for days on end, or if they have recently felt suicidal - all subjects I have to ask about if I'm helping them prepare for a benefits assessment (and don't get me started on how inhumane that bloody system is now...).

Trust.  It's never easy to give it to anyone.  Less so to someone you've met for the first time a few minutes ago.  Not everyone does, and with some it's a long battle to win that precious commodity.  But so many do, and that is, with apologies for the cliche, consistently humbling.  I'm very lucky.

Day 363 - Visiting

 VISITING

Prompt - Visiting : Write about visiting a family member or friend

"Well" she let a deep breath out, "that wasn't what I was expecting."

I grinned, looked back into her shining brown eyes.  "Me neither.  D'you think it was always going to happen and we just never knew?"

But it wasn't like that.  Had never been like that.  We were pals.  Confidantes.  Shoulders to cry on.  And distant, very distant, buddies.

We'd first met thirty one years ago.  She was a friend of my wee brother, she even went out with him for a bit, but it was only when he dumped her that we connected.  He hadn't even bothered to tell her, so it fell to me to serve up the bad news when she turned up at our door.  She cried, I asked her in, and we were able to agree he was a little shit.  I made her laugh.  But there was never anything more than that.  She was fifteen, I was eighteen, and never the twain shall meet. 

Over the next couple of years we bumped into each other a few times, had a chat, maybe went for a drink, and bitched about other people.  Each time we'd both be with someone else, so it felt very 'safe'.  Mates.  We started to meet up from time to time.  And when I broke up with Sandy it was Maddie I turned to for a sympathetic ear, knowing she wouldn't judge.  The same thing happened, for one or the other of us, a few times into our mid twenties.

Then I got married and Geri, my wife, couldn't grasp that me and Mads really were just the platonic friends we said we were, so, to keep the peace, I lost touch with my old sounding board, and got on with life.  A couple of years later I heard that she'd got married and moved to Canada, and that seemed to be that.  

Back then there was no social media of course.  Fast forward about sixteen years and this new digital world took a hand.  Through a mutual friend on Facebook we found one another in the comments, said hi from our respective sides of the Atlantic, caught up on what had been happening in our disparate lives.  It was nice to hear from her again, and the distance meant that  Geri felt unthreatened.

So when my marriage fell apart it had nothing to do with Maddie.  I messed that up perfectly well by myself.  It's not my thing to go over-sharing in public, but again Mads heard about my situation from someone else on Facebook.  Her messages were sympathetic, to the point, just what I needed.  The old Mads, like she'd never been away.  We took to having online chats from time to time, and it felt good to have her back in my life, even if only virtually.

But it still came as a shock when I realised it was her video calling.  She had news she needed to share and, even though she had plenty friends in Toronto, I was the one she felt she needed to share with.  Doug, her husband, had died suddenly.  She cried, and there was that fifteen year old girl on my doorstep again.  We talked until after one in the morning my time, before she suddenly realised how late it must be.  As if I cared.

The chats became a regular thing, every couple of days.  There were daily message exchanges.  Apart from the need to cram it all into a brief time window, it was almost like having her back.  Just the shoulders missing.

Six weeks ago she told me she had a surprise, but it would have to stay that way for now, and she might not be in touch as much for a bit.  Which she wasn't.  I thought we didn't have secrets, so this was really irritating me, but I had to try and trust her.  Which was definitely the right thing to do.

One day I get a message asking if I'll be available to talk at eight that evening, she had something big to tell me.  Sure, why not, it wasn't like I had much else in my life.  The appointed hour came, I sat with my laptop, awaiting the call, and her face on the screen.  Hearing the doorbell was annoying, I didn't need the interruption to what sounded like it could be an important moment.  But the person outside wasn't taking the hint, and rang and rang again, and banged and banged.  And shouted through the letterbox.  That voice...

I leapt up and there she was.  On my doorstep again, like she was thirty one years before, but this time there was no bad news.  I got out my whats and whys and hows and she shut me up, gave me a hug and invited herself in, bottle in hand.  

It was a long night.  So much to say, so much to take in.  She'd moved back, home at last, found a place for now that was about a twenty minute walk from mine.  We cycled through the emotions, laughed, cried, held one another, laughed some more.  Held some more.  Neither showing any sign of letting go.  So we didn't, but got closer, closer than we'd ever been, and were soon tearing clothes off and making love like it was ordained.  

"Always?  Don't think so.  Or maybe.  I don't know.  I'm glad we did though.  Eventually."

"A lot better than your first visit to my doorstep, eh?"

Day 362 - Camera

 CAMERA

Prompt - Camera : Take your camera for a walk and write based on one of the photographs you take

A few people looked at you a bit oddly, but there was nothing going to make her remove it.  Not for that short distance, not when she'd, for once, managed to get it to be so perfect.  There had been the usual scramble as she had caught the bus down, when she'd had to run to get on.  Trying to juggle mask and card and not drop anything and she still made it.  Not only made it, but hit the holy grail of the covid pandemic.  At least that's what it was for people who had to wear glasses.

Only when she got in her seat on the top deck had she realised the happy accident.  No readjustments, no removal and wiping, no squinting.  Simply perfect.  And there, then, her decision was made.  It wasn't coming off until she was finished with it.  And if that meant wearing it outside, and risking those looks, then so be it.

She'd got off the bus, gone into the butcher, got served, and walked on to the supermarket.  The miracle continued in there, without her having to think about it.  She got her shopping, and walked back to get the bus home.  That was when she got the odd looks.  But so what?  It did give you an extra bit of safety, a sense of security, and that was worth a lot these days.  And it did keep you a bit warmer in that chill wind she was facing into.  But those were just side benefits.  She kept on wearing her face mask for one reason only - she'd managed to hit the sweet spot which meant a perfect seal, and not a hint of misting on her glasses.  In these days of covid, these strange years of 2020 and 2021, that was as good as it got.  Take your joys and victories where you can.  

Day 361 - Detective

 DETECTIVE

Prompt - Detective : Write about a detective searching for clues or solving a mystery

"Not much more for us to do then.  We'll be off unless there's anything more you need to ask us? 

 And if you're going to be OK?"

"No, that's fine thanks, I'll be OK.  Bit shaken of course, but I'm going to call a friend for a chat and she'll sort me out."

Sara McKenzie wasn't so sure.  But that was the trouble with Bob, always in a rush, always wanting to get away.  Always missing things.  "We might just need to stay a bit longer.  There are a couple of things I'd like to check, if that's OK with you?"  She made sure Bob knew the question was aimed at him as much as Carol Green.

It was Carol Green who had led to them being at 14 Welton Crescent.  She was the one who'd dialled 999, said she'd found her aunt dead in her armchair.  Bob and Sara were the nearest squad car out, so they got there first, a couple of minutes before the paramedics, and ten before Sally Marshall's GP had arrived.  He'd confirmed the fact of death, and was confident the causes were consistent with suicide.  The paramedics agreed.  A coroner might want a post mortem, but in the face of such overwhelming evidence, it seemed unlikely.  The empty pills bottle was on the table beside Sally's chair, and she had sent out messages on email and Facebook that could be seen as a final farewell.  Where was the doubt?  

For Bob there was none, and he was annoyed that Sara was suggesting there was more to be done.  But he knew what she was like, and there would be no point in arguing.  best to go along with her for now. 

"What things Sair?  Don't you think we've covered it all?"  Hopeful.

"Just a couple of anomalies in my head.  Probably nothing, but best cover everything, eh?  I'll call Nira first, there was something she said that's nagging me."  Sara walked outside into the front garden to make her call.  She and Nira had met on a few call outs, had always clicked, and trusted each other.  

"Hi, Nira Sawathi."

"Nira, it's Sara."

"Hi sara, everything OK?  Did we leave something behind?"

"No, it was something you said.  And, if I'm honest, the look on your face.  When Dr Graham said  that Sally had been dead about two hours you queried it.  I know he said he was sure, but you still looked doubtful.  Why was that?"

"Oh, I'd checked the body before he got there and the temperature was way below what it would have been after that short of a time.  I reckoned she'd been dead at least twice as long as that, maybe more.  And I don't usually get these things wrong."

"No, I know.  And it's got me wondering why he was so sure.  Did you get the feeling he and Carol Green knew each other better than they were letting on?"

"Mmm, maybe.  He was quick to call her Carol."

"And I know he introduced himself as George Graham, but she seemed to latch on to the George bit pretty quick too.  Most people still tend to be a bit more deferential to doctors."

"Maybe she's not most people?  She seemed pretty casual about it all.  Her distress didn't seem to last long."

"Or seem genuine.  I think I've got a few more questions to ask.  Thanks Nira, see you again some time."

"Sure, any time.  Cheers."

Sara went back inside to find Carol and Bob discussing football.  Grief stricken she was not.

"Ms Green, can we just over the story again please?  I want to be sure I've got it all."

"Oh.  OK.  If you really need to to.  Bob here seems to think we're done."

"I'm sure Bob won't mind if we have a quick recap, to be sure of the facts.  It's all been a bit quick and you had a huge shock.  Can we sit down and you can tell me again what happened."  Sara sat down with every indication of immovability.  The others followed reluctantly, accompanied by a loud sigh from PC Robert Johns.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Just talk us through what happened.  What made you come over here?"

"I got an email from Aunt Sally saying her pains were bad and she had decided to put an end to them.  That sounded a bit odd so I called her, didn't get an answer, and decided to drive over."

"That's the email you showed me, which was sent at..."  Sara checked her notebook "14.09.  And I saw in your phone that you had called Ms Marshall at 14.37, but didn't get an answer.  Where were you when you made the call?"

"I was at home in Linton."

"Why did it take you so long to call after the email?"

"I... hadn't checked my mails I suppose.  I was busy doing some banking stuff so I was concentrating on that."

"And how soon after that did you leave?"

"Oh, probably only about ten or fifteen minutes.  It seemed a bit odd at first, then I started to worry.  Sally always answered her phone."

"And when did you arrive here?"  Bob looked on despairingly, dramatically checking his watch.  Sara ignored him.

"Couldn't say exactly.  About half three maybe?"

"So it took you about forty minutes to drive here?  Was there much traffic?"

"Yes, quite a bit, slow going.  Frustrating when I felt it could be urgent."  Sara could see Bob perk up suddenly, a sign he was beginning to think.  She paused for a few seconds, letting Carol's answer percolate.  The dead woman's niece looked uncomfortable for the first time, as if she wanted to say something, but couldn't decide what was best.

TO BE CONTINUED

Day 360 - Review

 REVIEW

Prompt - Review : Review your week, month or year in a journal entry or poem format

The final month of 2021, the second year of the global pandemic that has done so much damage around the globe.  Throughout those two years I've always been conscious that we, my wife and I, are less affected than most, lucky to lead the life we do.  Other than contracting the virus itself, but making pretty full recoveries (I have been left a short of breath, which appears to be a permanent legacy), the only limitations on our lives have been genuine 'first world problems' that are of little significance in the bigger picture.  Missing out on gigs and rugby matches and travel are not major issues, certainly not compared to all the people who have been reduced to poverty, had their health suffer, lost loved ones, been lonely and desperate.  We have each other, a cat, a nice warm home, enough money to meet our needs, far more than the basics of life.

December 2021 has been more of the same.  It began, for me, alone, as Barbara was visiting family down south.  That in itself was a change as it had been impossible last year.  She returned the day after, and I had two nights out.  One a pub meal with other volunteers and staff from where I do my 'work'.  The second an evening match, watching Edinburgh beat Benetton.  So the month started well.

Then it was life as usual.  Going into the office on a Wednesday afternoon.  The usual minutiae of daily life, the shopping and cooking and doing some writing.  Getting out every day,no matter the weather, although it was mostly dry but cold anyway.  Good to be wrapped up in winter clothing, albeit confusing when we had a short warmer spell, and I could feel the sweat forming after a few hundred meters.  Barbara had a meal out with friends, and another few days away with family, this time in Windermere.  And, as the month wore on, some xmas preparations.  Although since it's just a quiet time for the two of us, and our main present to each other is a trip away next February, there wasn't even much of that.

But covid has intervened as well.  A mid month music gig was cancelled due to the musicians contracting the disease.  And then another, for the same reason, a few days later.  Finally the government has, sensibly, called for a mini-lockdown after xmas and we have lost the Hogmanay gig in Greyfriars Kirk we were so looking forward to.

Still, there were other highlights.  The Crawford 'staff night out' went ahead as planned, with a trip to Dundee on the twenty second to watch our comedian friend Aidan Goatley perform.  That was fun.  And although there was no more live rugby to go to (and, not strictly relevant here except for the sense of loss, I won't be going to Murrayfield to see Edinburgh play Glasgow on second of January, all the worse because I'd managed to book the best seats I've ever had in the stadium!) there was a stunning highlight in watching Edinburgh beat Saracens, at the latter's home ground, in a live TV broadcast that had me shouting and jumping up at regular intervals.  Oh, and I got to watch 'my' NHL team, the New York Islanders, playing live without having to stay up into the middle of the night, as they had an afternoon faceoff which translated into seven in the evening here.  Pity they lost on penalties though!

And we had xmas day yesterday, with presents and food and just having a nice time being with one another.  Like most days.

What's left for this month?  More of the same I suppose.  Getting out every day.  Eating well. Writing and reading and TV.   Tomorrow the chance to watch Edinburgh again, this time away in Glasgow.  Some volunteering work, by phone.  And being together.  

Covid times are bad times for many, but have still been happy times for us, and December 2021, despite the occasional glitch of lost opportunities, has been more of the same.  Roll on 2022.

Day 359 - Garage

 GARAGE

Prompt - Garage : Write about some random item you might find in a garage

"But it's Xmas Eve!"

"I know Rob, but this guy made it sound like it was really urgent, really important.  Says he needs to be underway tonight or a lot of people are going to suffer."

"And you believe that?!  It's always urgent, always important, isn't it?  What's so different this time?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure.  He just seemed like he meant it, and I believed him.  Sometimes you have to follow your instincts.  So will you stay or not?  I've let Joe and Pavel go home, they've got kids.  But you and me are OK, aren't we?  I'll buy you a pint after."

"Aye, alright.  You've got me wanting to know who this guy is now, and what's so important.  What did he say his name was?  He's not one of our regulars?"

"Kringle.  With a K.  Never heard of him before.  Said it was something unusual and we said we'd tackle anything so we sounded like the people he needed.  That a lot of people needed."

"Eh?  Weird name, and who are all these other people then?  Will they pay?"  Rob laughed at his own poor joke.

"We'll find out soon enough, said he'll be here in ten.  At least we've got plenty space after all we got through today.  Let's see if we can make for one more contented customer.  It'll look good on the online reviews, eh?"

They turned as a deep voice boomed across to them from the garage door.  "Hello, is one of you Dougie?"

"Aye, that'll be me.  Are you Mr Kringle?"

"That's right, but just call me Kris.  With a K.  Can I bring my vehicle in for you to have a look?"

"Sure.  You never said exactly what it was though.  Be best if it's a model we already know our way around, we've not got all night."

"No, I need to be back out soon.  Going to have to fly, or there will be a lot of disappointed faces.  But I'm sorry, it isn't something you've seen before.  Bit of a one-off really."

"OK, bring her in."  The man turned and left.  Rob looked at Dougie with raised eyebrows.  "What?"

"He's a bit... weird, eh?"

"Different.  Like his car."

"But you don't think it's a bit odd?  Xmas Eve?  Old guy coming in with a strange bit of kit.  Old guy who's kinda tubby, with a big white beard and curly white hair?  Ring any bells?"

Dougie stared at Rob.  He couldn't tell if he was joking or not.  Rob looked back at him with an expression that said he wasn't.  Their staring was interrupted by a whooshing noise and suddenly there was a vehicle in the middle of the floor.  They looked.  They looked at each other, mothes open.  They looked back at Kringle's ride.  Neither had any words.

The 'car' was a ... what was it?  A sort of sleigh?  About the size of a Transit, with sparkling red paintwork and strange looking pods on the side.  There was only one seat, mounted dead centre, and from this the white haired man emerged.  He smiled encouragingly at them.  Dougie recovered first.

"What's the actual problem Mr Kringle?"

"And what the hell is that?" added Rob.

"I did say you wouldn't have seen one before.  Only one of its kind.  Do you think you can help?  One of the runners has split."  He bent down to point out the full length metal strip that ran the full length of the vehicle."

"What does it do?" Rob asked tentatively, "If you've got the wheels what does the slider thingy do?"

Kringle bristled.  "The wheels won't get me very far young man, and I've got a long, long way to go tonight.  Can you help me or not?  Your blurb says you'll tackle anything.  Well, do you or not?"

"Of course we do, so let me have a look" said a mollifying Dougie.  He bent to examine the damage runner, could see the split about a third of the way back and around twenty centimetres long.  Could easily catch on something and rip off the whole unit if it was going along the ground.  he went round to look at the other runner, to confirm how it should look, and put his hand to his chin, gave it an oily rub.  It looked like the wheels could be retracted, so maybe this thing really did run along on snow.  He looked inside at the driving position and saw nothing much he recognised.  "We could do with putting it up on the ramp.  Maybe you could drive it on for us please."

Rob looked at Dougie in shock.  It was a big rule of the garage that customers didn't drive on to the ramp, there'd been too many accidents before.  Dougie looked back and raised his eyebrows, gave a shrug, saying this was different.  

Guided by Dougie, the old man manoeuvred the sleigh on to the ramp, it was raised up and the guys got under to take a better look.  Kringle was directed to sit in the 'waiting room', a tiny adjunct to the grubby office with more girlie calendars than chairs.

The underside was like nothing they've ever seen before, smoothly sculpted to be highly aerodynamic , though whether to generate lift or downforce wasn't clear.  They examined the runner that was in good nick, before having a closer look at the damaged one.  The surface clearly needed to be ultra smooth, slippery, sculpted to blend in with the undamaged surfaces.  Dougie went back to the customer.

"We're not really a body shop Mr Kringle, and if we do try something I'm not sure we'll be able to make as good a job of it as you... want."  He'd been going to say 'need', but did he really know what this old man needed?  Wasn't he making too many assumptions?

"But you can try?  You really are my last resort, and, as I said, so many depend on me getting out tonight."

"We can try.  No promises.  It's trying to find the right bit of material to patch it with, and making a decent job of it.  But we'll give it a go."  He went back to Rob.  "OK, let's see what we can think of.  The cracks just a bit too wide to weld shut, so we need to patch it - agreed?"  Rob nodded.  "So what can we use?"

"I've no idea what this metal is, but I'm sure we've nothing like it here.  Would any of those scrap body panels do the job?"

"Maybe.  I'll have a look through them, you scout round the place and see if anything else offers itself."  So Rob went on the hunt, while Dougie found some scraps from some panels they'd had to cut up.  But none of them were fine enough, the metal too thick to fit, and requiring too much work to taper.  

"Will this do?"  Rob held up a chrome strip from a seventies Humber they'd been restoring.  the owner had wanted it chrome free, so they had quite a bit of it.  Dougie looked at the strip, held it up against the gash.

"I think you might be a genius, Robbie boy.  Let's give it a go."  

Cutting, hammering, welding, smoothing, they managed to fill the gap and create a good runner surface.  With the rest of the runner shiny from use the chrome hardly looked out of place at all.  

"Mr Kringle, would you like to come and take a look?"  The old man was surprisingly spritely in jumping up to follow Dougie.  "We've done the best we can sir.  Can't guarantee how long it'll hold, but it should do as a stopgap.  Have you got far to go?"

"Round and about you know, round and about.  But only for one night.  If it lasts that long then the job's done.  Well done gentlemen, I knew I could rely on you.  How much do a owe you?"

"Call it a hundred, if that's OK with you."

"A bargain gentlemen, for such a service to humanity."  He pulled a fat wallet from within his voluminous jacket and counted out seven twenty pound notes.  "You deserve a little bonus my friends.  I thank you, as will every child around the world."  Kringle got into the sleigh, manipulated the controls and slid smoothly backwards out of the garage, waving enthusiastically as he went.  

"Well, that was different."

"Different?  Weird you mean.  The old guy's a bit cracked, eh?"  Rob remained suspicious.  

"Yeah, well, can't argue about it now.  We got him sorted, another happy customer, and a bit of extra cash too.  Oh bugger, I forgot to ask him to leave a review.  I asked him to write down his details while he waited so maybe we can get in touch with him."  They went into the waiting area but the form was blank.  On each seat sat a box, neatly wrapped and bowed in blue and silver.  "And he must have left these by accident.  Will they give us any clues?"

There was a label on each box, but all they said was 'Douglas' on one, and 'Robert' on the other.  They looked at each other wide eyed, and rushed out into the street.  The sleigh was already gone, but a noise overhead made them look up.  And there it was, the driver now brightly dressed in red and white.  And there it wasn't, suddenly vanishing as if transported, and all that was left behind was a booming jolly laugh.

Day 358 - Picnic

 PICNIC

Prompt - Picnic : Write about going on a picnic

"an occasion when a packed meal is eaten outdoors, especially during an outing to the countryside"

I am not a fan of picnics.  Perhaps due to childhood memories.  If I try hard I can recall some enjoyable picnics, most of which were at Stow.  But my overriding memories of eating outdoors is the intervention of sand in the food, if at the beach, or the interfering persistence of ants and other insects in the country.  Picnics get a better press than they deserve.

So the picnic is not a staple of the Crawford household.  But was one last year, and a sort-of one this year, both of which have provided happy recollections.  Last year, during the summer of lockdowns, we took a couple of folding chairs, and a couple of insulated bags, and made our way across the road to Pilrig Park.  Spot in the sun selected, chairs erected, cups placed in cup holders, drinks poured food unpacked, we sat and ate and talked and had a lovely couple of hours on the grass, surrounded by trees and the sights and sounds of others having fun - kicking a ball about, making their dogs chase, throwing frisbees, sat cross legged sharing drinks, reading books, lying back to soak up a dose of vitamin D.  That was a good afternoon.

That one probably met the definition I opened this essay with, albeit an urban park isn't really 'the countryside'.  But this year's experience is even more tenuous, if that opening line is the guide.  Once a gain the scene was a public park.  But this time I'm not sure if it could be described as a 'packed meal'  I suppose it came in cardboard boxes and paper bags, but the only edible I'd actually packed for the outing was a flask of tap water.

But whether or not it meets the strict definition of picnic is not really the important thing.  What matters most is knowing that we had a good time, and it's an experience we want to repeat next year.  We had got ourselves on a bus to Bruntsfield, on a sunny day.  While being conveyed to our destination I used my phone to place an order with Meltmongers, the toastie shop in said location.  This was a place we'd been meaning to try for years.  But the stools inside the shop never look very comfortable, so it would have to be a nice day when we could comfortably sit on a bench on Bruntsfield Links.  It proved worth the wait.

While Barbara got herself a coffee from one of the old police box kiosks, I went in to collect our order.  A toastie apiece, and a box of sweet potato fries to share.  Then we made out way to a bench, remote from others, and consumed our bread based feast.  Delicious.  To be repeated.  I had jalapenos in my filling, and their bite went so well with the sweetness of the chips.  Great bread they use too.  And, a bit like that day at Pilrig, but on a lesser scale, we could indulge in people watching while we sat and ate.  A large family playing games around a bench.  A couple laughing hysterically at their own flawed efforts with a frisbee.  People walking dogs, people simply walking.  And us, hungrily devouring our simple but tasty repast.  That sounds like the spirit of picnicness.

Day 357 - Gamble

 GAMBLE

Prompt - Gamble : Be inspired by a casino or lottery ticket

"Twenty eight."

His age when they'd married.  Bill tried to concentrate.  In twenty seven years of playing the lottery, ever since it first began, they'd had one of their numbers come up first a couple of times a year.  Nancy had been the one to make the announcements, giving a running commentary on their progress or otherwise.  He'd got so used to it that it had become hard for him to follow what was happening on his own.

"Fifty one."

That was one of theirs too, the number of their first house.  He wondered how often they'd had two of theirs come up first?  She would have known instantly, been telling him before he'd even framed the question.  

"Nine."

Bill felt flustered.  He could only remember this happening once before, but maybe she'd have put him right.  Nine was the number of cats they'd had when they were choosing their numbers all those years ago.  The same numbers they'd stuck with since that very first draw, the fear of making a change increasing year on year.  Once you'd memorised them, been able to recite them every Saturday, there's no way to forget them.  And if those six came up after you'd made a change?  Well, you couldn't live with yourself, could you?  So here they were with those same six numbers after almost three decades.  He was, he corrected himself.  He was.  As in alone.

"Twenty two."

Bloody hell.  The age Nancy was when they got married in '71.  Bright, vivacious, always teasing him, but always caring.  Not just for him but for everyone in her orbit.  That's the way she was.  That's how she remained.  Until those final eight months as mind and body went into decline with a rapidity that left him breathless, gasping to catch up with the changes that her disease imposed on them both.  

"Forty nine."

Nancy Campbell, née Dryden, eighteenth November 1949 to twenty third October 2021.  That's where the forty nine came from.  Five numbers drawn, five numbers matching.  He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  If she'd been here they'd have been holding hands, holding breath, her eyes shining with the excitement of the moment, on the edge of a whoop or a groan.  There was only his birth year to go.  He'd been two years older than her when they met, and they'd clicked immediately.  Fifty years together, ups and downs, moments of joy, fear, wonder, worry, peace, passion.  His Nancy.

"Forty seven."

Bill looked at the screen in disbelief.  And wept as he had never wept before.

Day 356 - Anniversary

 ANNIVERSARY 

Prompt - Anniversary : Write about the anniversary of a special date

Your calendar probably has a note on this date saying 'Battle of the Boyne (Northern Ireland)'.  The Twelfth of July is a public holiday there.  On the UK mainland it also has a significance, but only in certain places.  Where it's either known for being the time for the Orangemen's Parades, or as The Bigots Day Out.  But in this household it's known mainly as being one of our two anniversaries, and generally regarded as the more important of the pair.

The lesser date is in September and is the day of our wedding.  But July twelfth still seems the more special commemoration, for it's the day we began living together.  And we still feel the greater affection for that landmark twenty eight years later (and counting).  Perhaps all the more so now when we feel a bit more free to celebrate without fear of unwanted interruption.

That's because we now live in Edinburgh.  Had we instead moved to Glasgow it might be different, but The Bigots Day Out has no real impact here.  No parades, flutes, drums, sashes and drunken zealots.  Unlike Southport, the place we lived before.  A quiet little seaside town, but, for some reason I never quite fathomed, invaded on that one day in July by red faced men in suits and bowler hats, wishing to celebrate their cultural inheritance.  And unwarranted fanaticism.  Most have come up from Liverpool, with the city itself managing to escape the excesses of the tanked up cultists.  For one day Southport suffers.

The one day that means most to Barbara and I.  But for years we decided not to risk going into town for an evening out on the day itself, for the risk of it being ruined by some dickhead bawling allegiance to Billy and Queenie.  The move north resolved that problem, and now we are free to celebrate as we wish.  Covid and lockdowns permitting....