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 348 - Night Owl

 NIGHT OWL

Prompt - Night Owl : Write about staying up late at night

My teenage years.  Twenties.  Even thirties.  Perhaps, occasionally, forties.  Late nights weren't a problem.  Get up late the next day and I was fine.  But then age starts to have it's impact.  In part that's the obvious gradual physical decline, and consequent loss of recovery powers.  Or indeed staying power, for the simple keeping awake bit becomes harder too.  But also because the idea no longer holds the sense of pleasure it once did.  There needs to be a recovery, and why not spend more time in daylight anyway?  Responsibilities beckon, life is that bit more serious.

So late nights become more infrequent, the body becomes less and less able to adapt to the ones you do have, and whole notion spirals away.  Friends come to dinner and the party breaks up well before one am.  The prospect of a late night show is less the draw that it might once have been.  

I have never really been that much of a morning person.  It's true that I used to get us to the gym for seven in the morning on a regular basis, but that was almost twenty years ago.  We've changed, our lives have changed.  Very much the opposite of early risers, I am rarely in bed before midnight, with the light going out around twelve thirty, and very rarely after twelve.

So I am something of a night owl these days, for the mornings tend to be short, but that still doesn't mean that very late nights, the early hours sort, are on the schedule.  Except for one reason nowadays.  Occasionally I get the chance to watch 'my' NHL team playing live.  But the face off is usually at midnight, or even half past.  Which means, if I'm to watch the whole game, staying up to three and beyond.  That's not all that many hours after my regular bedtime, and way earlier than many of the late nights of my younger days.  But the impact on my body is far greater.  It seems to take about two or three days before I feel totally back to normal again.  

This is odd, for I am not always a great sleeper, and there are still plenty nights when insomnia gets a hold of me.  So my body should be used to going through the day with less sleep than usual.  But the impact of those hockey games goes beyond what you might expect.  So maybe it's about the time you get to bed?  Or the quality of the sleep, for I will either be feeling despondent or euphoric when I get under the duvet.  Watching sport, where the result matters to do, has it's impact on the body too.

I'll still watch the odd game when I can.  But I have to accept that doing so on a regular basis would be a disaster for me.  I really am too old for this kind of thing...

Day 340 - Unfinished

 UNFINISHED

Prompt - Unfinished : Write about a project you started but never completed

Unfinished project?  Sadly I am one of those people who has so many to choose from.  Not least in terms of stories I have begun as part of this 3675 Challenge, and failed to complete.  There are at least three of those, plus a dozen empty posts where I failed to meet the challenge (although I hope to complete them all next year...).  But I need only look over my shoulder, to the messy pile on the floor behind me, to be reminded of a project I began with such hopes, and enjoyed for a time, but which has now spent months in abeyance.  With no real plan to revive it, to my shame.

When the first lockdown came it was inevitable that a great deal of my, our, time was going to be spent in our flat.  Which meant looking for ways to occupy my time that would be a bit different from my usual activities.  Although I do my writing every day, a lot of my time at home is essentially passive.  TV, internet, books.  There's cooking of course, but that can be more chore than creative exercise at times.  I do very little of a practical or manual nature, other than chopping veg, or the odd DIY repair.

So I decided to return to my childhood and ordered a couple of plastic model kits, the sort of thing I hadn't attempted for around fifty years.  Then the subjects would have been aircraft, in 1/72 scale.  Interests change over half a century, and now the desire is to make something that has your own imprint, rather than copy an original.  I ordered two kits in 1/24 scale.  The models were of a 2CV, which I wanted to paint in  blue and white with a saltire on the boot lid (the colour scheme I'd love to have a car in were we to ever get another 2CV in our garage); and another old Citroen model, an H Van, to paint in Edinburgh Rugby colours.  Along with paints, brushes, glue, masking tape, and some small files.

I was excited when the boxes, and sundry other items, arrived.  And soon set to on the Deux Chevaux.  I'd clear a space on my desk, spread an old tee shirt across it (to catch small items that might other wise skid off, and to save the desk from paint and glue), and get to work.  Firstly checking all the parts were there, then going through each individually and listing each one with the colour(s) it was to be painted.  A methodical, planned approach.  Then working steadily through the provided instruction booklet, painting ahead of use where that looked the best course.  

That worked well for several weeks, even months.  I didn't turn to it every day, but probably four or five out of every seven.  Steady progress was made, the car began to have a shape and sense of what the finished item would look like.  Probably.

For then it stopped.  I forget when and I forget why.  Most likely in the Autumn of 2020, when the light was less suitable for my needs (although I'm sure artificial light would be fine) and, more importantly, going out, going to other places, began to become a possibility.  Another lockdown would follow in due course, but by then the impetus was lost, my mind elsewhere.  Despite that unsightly, and annoyingly placed, pile on the carpet of the study.  

And that's frustrating, for although my model making abilities were well short of perfection, it was beginning to look like something I could take some pride in.  Now it almost feels too late.  Getting back into it would be slow and awkward, as I try to determine how far through the build I'd got (or did I mark the stages off in the booklet?).  I know I'm just making excuses though.

Maybe I need an other lockdown!  (And another, real life, 2CV!)

Day 325 - Lost and Found

 LOST AND FOUND

Prompt - Lost and Found : Write about a lost object

Is there an alternative universe for missing socks, leaving their partners for better times?  They seem to be the items of mine that go missing most often.  But the most frustrating one of recent months, and an ongoing mystery and nagging nuisance, was one very simple piece of equipment, that is old fashioned and not always considered very useful nowadays.  But given my preference for wearing walking boots in the colder seasons, and for ankle boots that don't always make themselves easy to get into, it is a small piece of hardware I find extremely useful.

A shoe horn.  Ubiquitous in shoe shops, less so in homes nowadays.  But so helpful in getting into boots that are otherwise a struggle to get into.  

A good quality one, slightly longer than the average, came with a pair of boots I bought a couple of years ago.  It was about seven inches in length, made of a good quality plastic made to look a bit like bone.  I put into the box that sits under the small velour couch just inside from the front door.  The spot that's essential to people of our age for making it much easier to get footwear on and off, sited on the entrance carpet which is that hard wearing ribbed fabric you find in many shop and hotel entrances.  It got a lot of use, helping me into my walking boots, and the electric blue suede pair that lace up quite high and require a lot of fiddling about to get on.  

Until the day it wasn't there.  So I looked for it.  And looked and looked.  Inside the box, and its companion alongside.  Under and around the sofa.  Under the sofa cushion.  In the cupboard where several pairs of boots reside.  In coat and jacket pockets, and in backpacks, in case the object I sought had accidentally been picked up with some other item.  I looked for several days.  And found nothing.  Not a sign, not a clue.  I was out of ideas.  

I ordered some replacements from eBay.  they arrived.  Just as functional, but smaller, cheaper, less pleasant to hold.  I miss their predecessor.  Writing this has made me want to start searching again...

Day 322 - Personality Type

 PERSONALITY TYPE

Prompt - Personality Type : Do you know your personality type?  Write about what type of personality traits you have

Introvert?  Yes, definitely.  Albeit with complications, as most of us are.  Reluctantly sociable, scared of initiating conversations, prefer to crack a joke than be serious.

But also a performer, at least I was, abe to get up on stage and act, or deliver a long talk about my job.  In both cases, where I was not being me, but acting a part.  One scripted by a writer, the other created by myself to firt the label I carried.  Project Manager or whatever.  I used to hide behind my professional persona.  As I do when volunteering for Advocard.

Beyond that I can be quick to anger, too long in holding a grudge, even if I have mellowed with age.  I am often good at being dispassionate, analytical, but also get emotionally involved quite easily, as my recent love for Edinburgh Rugby, and the New York Islanders, has shown.  

That can also show up in obsessiveness, such as my daily insistence on writing 750 words, and walking eleven thousand steps.

A strange mix of traits that meld into me.  Whatever that is.  Far from perfect, but not too inhuman.

Day 309 - Cute as a Button

 CUTE AS A BUTTON

Prompt - Cute as a Button : Write about something you think is adorable

The noise upsets her, as it does so many pets.  Fireworks nights are bad nights for cats and she is no exception.  Even though she's one of the lucky ones.  It's all happening at a distance for her.  Up here, on the sixth floor, with an outlook into the darkness of the cemetery, the flashes and bangs are far off, removed.  In here, up here, they can cause no alarms for humans, excepting those with autism etc.  But they can still upset a cat for whom the nature and origins of the sights and sounds outside are beyond their comprehension.  

And so she withdraws, to her safe space.  The place of retreat when threats enter her domain, the one she's used to being able to dominate, with the fellow residents she can manipulate with ease.  Threats like small children, any bearer of loud noises and sudden movements, anyone who threatens her live-in companions.  Under our bed, among the storage boxes, she feels she is away from it all, that nothing can touch her.  Not even me.  I can elicit a response if I lie down and stretch out my arm to be sniffed.  But if she doesn't want to come out, she doesn't.

Stay there for now little one.  You must do what's right for you.  Whatever that is, whenever you choose to join us again, you remain the cutest of the cute, the adorable centre of life in this flat.  You are Zoe.

Day 304 - On the TV

 ON THE TV

Prompt - On the TV.  Flip to a random TV channel and write about the first thing that comes on, even if it is an infomercial!

I didn't even know there was a channel called 'Forces TV'.  Presumably aimed at the British military?  I'd just missed their version of the News, which might have been interesting, in time for a double bill rerun of a very old American TV series.  One I'd never seen before, although I'd heard the name, and which I've been told was largely aimed at children.  What this says about the UK's service personnel I'm not too sure...

The programme was ChiPs, which I understand is an acronym for California Highway Patrol.  From the cars I saw I'd reckon it was made in the late seventies or early eighties.  I'd also guess that a lot of these programmes were made, as the production values looked to be on the cheap side.

What I saw of this episode (only about ten minutes, as I had to make the dinner, but I doubt I could have stood much more anyway) showed a very conventional, very 'safe' US drama-entertainment.  One of the first shots, an ariel view, showed an ocean liner firmly docked to the sun drenched quay, which tod me this was Long Beach and the boat the Queen Mary.  They seemed to be very proud of having it as a backdrop because I lost count of the number of times it cropped up in that short period of time.

One thing was quickly evident.  The cast, or at least the 'good guys' were all conventionally pretty, all slim and athletic and tanned, all as bland as the beige they were clad in.  I didn't recognise any of them, but that could be because they didn't get a lot of work after this.  They were awful, although trying to make anything of the stilted dialogue might have given Olivier problems too.  

The plot seemed to centre on a visiting Hungarian delegation, and a minor robbery that took place at the same time.  Within five minutes we had something vaguely resembling a car chase, with the blue car of the robbers being pursued by the huge motorbike of one of the policemen.  Despite the car proceeding at what looked a fairly sedate pace, judging from the vehicle's body language, the powerful bike couldn't catch them and gave up the pursuit when they went into a car park and 'disappeared'.  The bike rider didn't move with much urgency either, but too great a speed might have messed up his hair...

As well as the dreadful script, the backing music was dire - formulaic and distracting - while the sets looked on the shoddy side.  Although I did notice that following ChiPs came Blake's 7 - vastly superior acting and plots, but even worse sets!)

I guess squaddies aren't renowned for their critical faculties...

Day 298 - In the Moment

IN THE MOMENT

Prompt - In the Moment : Write about living in the present moment

Do your poo and post it in, learn to live each day as if it were the last.  That was my lesson.

I had been feeling a bit listless for a while, but thought little of it.  With ageing comes a gentle deterioration of the body, and a gentle (sometimes) incrementation of weariness and laissez-faire.  That's how life goes.  I didn't worry because otherwise I felt in the best shape I'd been for some time, with minor ailments banished and pains kept at bay.  But I did my bowel screening test as requested because, well, because you never know.

It's not the most enjoyable of processes, and needs a prism of humour to make it more palatable.  Taking your own stool sample requires a bit of twisting and manipulation, and extreme caution for, even though it's mine, I had no wish for more contact with the substance than was absolutely necessary.  The humour comes in contemplating the recipient.  Who went to their school careers advisor and said they'd love to have a job where they got to run tests on human excrement?  Nobody... so how do they end up there?  It's definitely one of the short straw jobs, unless you have a very specific sexual quirk!

So off it went, to be thought no more off until the letter comes back to say that the poor old tester has found nothing of interest.  Except that the letter, which returned surprisingly swiftly, didn't say that.  Instead I found myself at the beginning of a process leading who knew where?  They'd found some blood traces and would I like to submit myself to having a camera stuck up my arse?  Not exactly their wording, but I the mental picture was unavoidable.  I certainly wouldn't 'like' to, but did realise I ought to.  It was probably nothing, perhaps just a few haemorrhoids, but better safe as they say.  

So in I go and I they get the camera inside me and it's a weird sensation, not just the internal feel of the probe, but being able to see the results on screen.  I don't think Channel 4 will be buying it, but I have to confess to being fascinated with this glimpse into my own insides.  But if they'd offered me the DVD...

The most fascinating bit was when they came across the source of my little problem.  Not for me the innocence of swollen veins.  The camera quite cleared pointed out the sanguinary flow that had sounded the alarm bells.  A little growth close to the top end of the colon.  Which might, or might not, involve use of the C word.

That takes you aback, especially when you've been feeling so good.  It's one of those most emotive of terms that can't help but trigger a multiplicity of reactions and ponderings and fears.  Unashamed fears.  

Which were, somewhat bizarrely, slightly assuaged by the confirmation that cancerous was indeed the diagnosis.  Because certainty is easier to deal with.  And the liberal use of words like 'early stage' and ' straightforward' gave back some of the lost confidence.  From then on events moved swiftly, and soon the missives bearing the big blue letters of the NHS were coming regularly.  A pre op.  A covid test.  And the big day itself.  All was explained, questions were answered, stats rolled out.  The 'major' in front of 'surgery' was a bit of a blow, but aided down by words like 'routine' and 'low risk'.  The stats backed it up, with the added pointer that when things did go a bit wrong it was for people with additional risk factors - obesity, age, other health problems - which were categories I didn't fit.  

The came, the day went, and I was, to my surprise, fully aware, in no pain, and even looking forward to being told to get up the next day.  Initial progress was rapid, and while the long path to full recovery has the odd bump in it, and takes a few rough corners, it has a clear destination.  Fully operational once more, back to fitness, ready for life.  

I could say "I can't wait".  But I can.  Best to take it day by day, don't rush the process, and savour the small wins that crop up with regularity.  From the first poo to the first cafe outing.  From slow eater to ravenous wolf. Those times will come.  But I have learned that it's today that matters.  Do what's possible, seek the joys, be yourself.  Live for the moment.

Day 296 - Cravings

 CRAVINGS

Prompt - Cravings : Write about craving something

Defined as an intense, urgent, or abnormal desire or longing.  Craving is not addiction, lacking the latter's physical imperatives.  The addict cannot help themselves.  But a craving?  That's there to be controlled.  Or indulged.

I get cravings.  Less so that I did when I was younger, and now they head off in different directions.  This afternoon, watching Edinburgh play in Parma, I had an intense desire to see the boys score one more try and clinch the bonus point.  Which they duly did in the final play of the game.  But was that a craving?  Or just a moment of passion?  I'd say the latter, for I was fully conscious that such moments come about from the heat of watching 'my' team, and then dissipate.  It's not a craving to want to see the team you support do well.

But almost every night, as I work through the final wee jobs before going up to bed (or, more likely, this PC!) I find myself wanting chocolate.  Even if we've had some during the evening.  Sometimes I manage to ignore this and leave the craving behind.  But most nights it ends up with something sweet going into my mouth.  Maybe a bit of chocolate, depending on what we have available at that time.  Maybe several bits.  Or, more frequently, if there's nothing already open and waiting, I'll dig out a spoonful of chocolate spread from the jar and slurp it all down.  If I'm managing to be good it can just be the one.  There are too many nights when the craving has it's way and the one becomes four!

Nowadays there's little else I crave.  I am satisfied with my life.  There are things I want to do, things I enjoy buying.  Sometimes I come close to craving objects I've seen in shops.  But it rarely lasts.  Most of my desires nowadays are for books and music.  Twas not always so.

When you're young the cravings are stronger, more varied.  I had a craving for particular cars.  Or to go to some place I hadn't been before.  Or for women I'd seen.  I managed to own a couple of the cars.  I got to some of the places.  But most of the time the craving for a woman wasn't enough to overcome my shyness and lack of confidence.  Cravings don't provide a boost, just a nagging itch.

It's good to be relatively craving-free.

Day 282 - Promise to Yourself

 PROMISE TO YOURSELF

Prompt - Promise to Yourself : Write about a promise you want to make to yourself and keep

2021 has been my best year for writing.  The 365 challenge has pushed me most days, and although I've not managed to produce something for every single one, I have written more stories, and poems, that I ever have in my life before.  Despite having wished I could write since my teenage years.  Despite having attended a creative writing course in 1988, and writing several stories then.  And despite my attempt at 'therapy after my breakdown in which I even went on a journey to Skegness simply to try and get a story out of it (which I did, but never managed to complete it).  So the 365 Challenge has been by far the most successful of all my efforts.

Which leads me to my promise, which is to not let that progress fade away.  If 2021 was my year for writing very short stories - few reach a thousand words - 2022 must be the year where I produce longer works.  That will mostly be short stories, but of three, four, or five thousand words.  Or, if I'm really making the effort, an attempt at a novella.  But these are fairly vague notions, so I'm going to go into detail, and come up with something that will be a kind of outline plan to put, and keep, me on the right course.

Step One is to complete the 365 challenges I missed out on this year.  At present there are nine subjects on the list, and I am determined it shouldn't slip beyond a dozen.  (There have been a few others, but I've managed to catch up on some of them.)  Which means my first 750s of 2022 will be used completing the days I missed out on.  

While I'm doing this I need to begin on Step Two, which is to read three or four about being a writer, and see what lessons I can learn.  I need to try and take that as a serious exercise, aimed at improving the way I writer and come up with ideas.  

Then I need to look at writing some longer stories, which is where Step Three begins.  It seems sensible to return to some of the ideas I has twelve years ago, when I had the breakdown.  There were four stories based around train journeys, three of them slightly twisted love tales, two had a fair bit written by were never completed, the others have only a few notes, but the basic concepts are still in my mind.  The first of them, based on the trip to Skeggie, will have to be rewritten from scratch, as Barbara found it hard to identify with either of the central characters.  The other was more promising and she wanted to know what came next.  Me too!

Step Four, which can start a bit later, but run in parallel to Three, is to share some of my 2021 stories, from Bits and Pieces, on writing websites where writers can read and criticise one another.  I might not like the feedback, but I must look at it as a way to get better.

And Step Five, if I can keep the above going and feel I've achieved things, is to try to write a novella about the guy who can be in two places at once.  That would be really stretching myself.

Finally, I should have mentioned Step Zero, which is for this year - get on with editing some of the stories I have written, and add them to my Bits and Pieces blog, let a few people have a read.  Who knows, I might get a reaction one day?

That's the promise.  To end 2022 with a few longer short stories, to have shared some of my better pieces with other writers, and to have at least begun to try and write something more ambitious.  Despite my long history of failure I have more confidence than ever before that I can really start to move on.  The 365 Challenge will only have been really worthwhile if I do.

Day 275 - Wishful Thinking

 WISHFUL THINKING

Prompt - Wishful Thinking : Write about a wish you have

I wish, I wish, I wish...

Put that way it smacks of childhood, and childishness.  

So I'm now of an age where I don't really wish for anything anymore.  There are things I can try to plan towards.  Things I know will never happen.  Things that might happen, but I have no control over whether they do or not.  What's the point of wishing?

But if I forced to say what I would wish for...  the list would no doubt change each time I was asked, for there are so many things I could wish for were I so inclined.  I could wish that Caps made a comeback and we could be going for our weekly hockey fix across the winter months.  I could wish that Edinburgh win the URC championship.  I could wish that I was a better writer, more confident in my abilities, able to produce longer works without needing artificial prompts like I am using in this blog.  And I could wish for continuing good health for the tree of us - Barbara, Zoe and myself.  

But if there was one wish I would want to come true right now it's none of the above, or perhaps it's a subset of the final one.  Barbara undergoes major surgery on Tuesday, to remove a cancerous lump.  I wish for it to be a success, that all the affected tissue is removed with no further treatment necessary, and that she makes a swift recovery to fitness.  There is nothing more important in my life right now.

Day 270 - Mind Map it Out

 MIND MAP IT OUT

Prompt - Mind Map it Out : Create a mind map of words, phrases and ideas that pop into your head, or spend some time browsing the many mind maps onl;ine.  Write a poem, story or journal entry inspired by the mind map.

A BIG MISTAKE?

What had he been thinking?  It seemed like a smart idea during the first lockdown.  The streets so quiet, nowhere to go, sun shining and peace in the streets.  But reality has a way of biting back.  Optimism gives way to pragmatism.  What had once seemed sensible, or at least fun, now looks stupid, and more challenge than entertainment.  But that's the problem with a product that takes eighteen months to arrive.  The lockdowns long gone, the streets busy and the air polluted, a second summer waning, the rains coming in from the Atlantic.  So what to make of his rashness?  Could the inspired mouse click still deliver something worthwhile in a world that looks so different?

He set about trying to construct this new situation to his advantage, to find the positives.  One short ride powered by aching muscles had given some idea of the scope, of the tasks ahead.  So he mind mapped his thoughts, trying to work out what needed to be done, and what he could look forward to.  

Four spines ran off the centre circle.  In the circle one short word - ebike.  The spines were labelled Improvement, Security, Riding, and Objectives.  He stopped short of putting in one that said Fears, although it was lurking in his mind.

Security, he thought, was basically doing everything possible to stop his new toy from getting nicked.  The local Facebook page had a constant stream of reported bike thefts, and he had no desire to add to it.  Most important was to make it secure within the garage where it would spend most of it's time.  He had heavy duty D rings to be drilled into the wall and floor, there to attach padlock and chain.  One to secure the frame to the wall, a second attaching the back wheel to the floor, and a third to keep the front wheel with the frame.  Three keys to remember, to forget, to lose...  Maybe he could block in the entrance a bit too, although he didn't want to make it too difficult to take our or put back.  He'd also try to use the back door from the garage, making it look to most people that he kept the bike in the flat, not in the garage which could so easily be broken in to.

And security also meant outside.  Most of the time he'd simply go for a ride, never leave the bike anywhere, return home.  But that negative approach nullified any potential usefulness of this means of transport.  There had to be times when he'd go into a shop, leave the bike to it's own safety.  So two of the locks needed to be fairly portable, so he could always secure the frame to a rack and the front wheel to the frame (again).  He needed to start paying more attention to bike racks, look for the ones where there were constantly people passing by, in well lit areas.  He even thought about getting the bike dirtied up, so it looked less valuable.  But the striking colour was one of the joys he had no desire to compromise.

Improvement had three lines springing from it.  Comfort, which meant getting a new, spongier, saddle, and raised, flatter handlebars, to get the seating position a bit better.  Safety would include getting a better bell, fitting lights (which were surely on their way?), and working out how to use the indicator function on the fancy helmet he'd got.  And Convenience simply ran into one word - Rack.  Something to attach a bag to, should the previously suggested shopping take place.

Riding took in trying to go out on the bike at least once a week (although once November came in that plan might swiftly drop away...), trying to steadily increase the distance ridden, seeing how far the battery life allowed one to go, and finding new and different routes.

Which left Objectives.  Ha, ha.  On one arm he'd written Improve Stamina.  A worthwhile aim.  An unlikely one.  But maybe this, plus a bit of walking and some gym time, might all combine to make him just a little fitter?  That first ride had surprised in finding out how quickly the power assist could kick in, and, more shockingly, just how much effort progress required from him.  It was only six a and a half kilometres, but some muscles were still feeling ti a could of days later.

There were two further objectives.  He knew they'd been in his head long before the bike arrived, so he had to include them.  He also knew that his first riding experience in about nine years had made them look ridiculous.  One was to cycle east, to North Berwick, there to catch the train back to the city (or perhaps the other way round?).  The other headed west, to his friend's place in Bo'Ness.  Where he could cadge a recharge then make the return journey, fully juiced up.  How realistic were either of these madcap ideas?  He would only know once next spring arrived and he could really start to build up mileage as the weather improved.  If... he still had the motivation to build up mileage as the weather improved!

There would be other ideas, notions, thoughts, schemes occurring to him.  Other plans, maybe more realistic in learning process of experience.

But in all his planning there was one inescapable truth from which he could not escape.  One simple set of facts that, cruelly, mocked several of his conclusions.  He was sixty five years old, unfit, and dead lazy.  

Day 259 - Under the Influence

 UNDER THE INFLUENCE

Prompt - Under the Influence : What is something that has impacted you positively in your life?

Something?  Or someone?  Have people influenced me more than 'things'?  Of course.  'Things' can influence of course.  Many of my political stances go back to my time at university, with the content of some courses a major influence.  But I'd credit the biggest changes to my Sociology tutor, who opened my eyes to many aspects of sociopolitical life.  Or at least that's what memory says, for my diaries are surprisingly mute on this evolutionary aspect of my thinking at the time.

There's the problem - looking for influences is dependent on memory, and memory is flawed.  So whatever I choose as my major influence here will probably ignore some aspects of my life that I've long forgotten about.

In more recent years I could choose hockey as a major influence, or at least my involvement with Caps, because it made me realise what supporting a team was all about, something that had eluded me for decades.  Or there's my work at Advocard, which has made me look more closely at my own beliefs, and appreciate my privilege more fully.  If the greatest influences have come from people then my parents had a huge role, although not always positive.  There have been teachers, colleagues, friends, lovers, all of whom have had some positive impacts upon me in so many ways.

But ultimately there is only one answer to the question of what, or who, has been the greatest positive influence in my life.  Barbara.  My wife of twenty four years, partner of twenty eight, obsession of thirty one.  She has helped shape me, and make me a better person, more than anyone else.

But what is 'positively' anyway?  What is 'better'?  I think there are two main aspects to this, closely interlinked.  The way in which I treat and think of others, and the way in which I treat and think of myself.  And in influencing the latter for the better she has also influenced the former.  For it took Barbara to make me realise that you can't have love and respect for others unless you have those things for yourself.  You need to be your own 'number one'.  Not in a selfish, grasping, me first manner, but in recognising your own worth, knowing and understanding who you are, believing that you are perhaps more interesting than you thought.  She did much to shape, or help me to shape, much of my character, which had been ground down by several years in a lopsided marriage.  I had little belief in myself as a person.   Felt sexually, socially and professionally inadequate too much of the time.  Had little real self confidence, despite some career progression and being able to take the stage in amateur dramatics.  So what did she actually do to effect some gradual transformations?

Most of the influences are more subtle, but some were obvious.  Like dress sense.  I dressed cautiously, like an old man, looked a mess.  Barbara changed that, helped me try on 'looks' I wouldn't have ever considered, persuaded me to buy clothes I wouldn't have looked at before, made others notice the change in me.  That others noticed was something I hadn't been used to, having always preferred to fade into the background.  I discovered styles of dress I'd shied away from, and over the years developed the confidence to find my own style.  Now I rarely feel the need to consult her, although I always seek her approval.  But she's given me the confidence to be me.

That was a part of treating myself better, of starting to like me more.  She also encouraged me to follow my own little dreams.  The 'sportscar before I'm forty' became a reality, which it never would have without her.  That in turn led us on adventures, Matra meetings, I'd have missed out on otherwise.  We became a part of a diverse group that had nothing in common but the cars they drove.  An interesting period in my life.

Now I'm trying to write.  She encouraged my blog, commented positively on my dedication to my 750words, has appreciated my efforts this year to write stories and poems (in this blog).  And now, in her own time of crisis, she has made me appreciate again how much I love her, how big a part of my life she is, and how cataclysmic would be the change in my life were she not here. She is more than an influence.  I am my own person, but would be a lesser one without her.

Day 245 - Social Network

 SOCIAL NETWORK

Prompt - Social Network : Visit your favourite Social networking website (ie Facebook, Pinterest, Google, Twitter etc) and write about a post you see there

An Instagram post from novelist Matt Haig caught my attention.  Not so much for the image, which would usually be the primary attractive on that site, but for the accompanying text.  This photo was simply of a laptop, with a blank document open on the screen, ready to be written on.  The standard scenario for a writer about to begin telling their story.  But this was what he'd written to accompany the picture -

"I am meant to be writing a new novel but I just sit and stare at the laptop. This is a problem. Not because I am under contract to write a new novel - though that - but because I have gone a year without writing fiction and writing fiction keeps my head from falling off. I know the old writer cliché that a writer is working when they are staring out of the window. But I am done staring out of the window. I am done staring at the Arctic blankness of a Word doc. I have ideas. The ideas aren’t the problem. The knowing which one to do is the problem.

There are two aspects to writing for me. There is the FEELING and there is the VESSEL for feeling. Writing takes both the feeling you want to convey and the vessel to travel in.

The plot is the vessel. That is the thing I am struggling with. I have nowhere to place the feeling. So I am pure messy feeling and not knowing which plot to choose. And I don’t want to write a novel of pure messy feeling.

I blame The Midnight Library. It has placed me on a lot of radars. I am very pleased but also very self-conscious. I have seen so many writers have a big book and then falter with the follow up because of that feeling of being watched and coaxed into writing something that isn’t quite you.

I want - as every writer wants - to write a brilliant book. But to do that I will have to probably write a disappointing one. What I mean is: I don’t want to write The Midnight Library 2. I don’t want to write The Midday Bloody Videostore. I don’t even want to write something that overlaps. I want to write something completely different and so it will end up disappointing those who want another Midnight Library.

I want to get to a point where I am strong enough to ignore every imagined expectation. To sit there as if it is my first novel and not my 458th-or-whatever-it-is.

I don’t want to GO AGAINST what I have written before or to GO TOWARDS it. I want to lean in neither direction. I just want to write. Write a book. A good one. A true one. And I will. To find that perfect point in the creative process where you open the door and your own true self walks through. You know? Not too cool. Not too funny. Not too fake. Just there."

I am not about to compare myself with a successful novelist.  But I am familiar with that blank white screen, and the levels of procrastination, or helplessness, associated with it.  The sense of not knowing what to write, and then, once the knowledge comes, being too afraid to begin in case it wasn't really there in the first place.  Not quite the problem Haig has, but one phrase resonated more than any other - "I have gone a year without writing fiction and writing fiction keeps my head from falling off".  Because the opposite applies in some ways.

I have gone for decades without writing any fiction.  Until this year, when I began my 265 challenge.  It's been messy.  There have been days when I totally failed to meet the challenge, albeit not too many.  There have been too many days when a fiction idea just won't come and I end up writing some kind of essay, or a piece that's as self indulgent as those I have so often put out on to these 750words pages.  But then there are the good days.

I am now about two thirds of the way through the year.  To date I have written well over a hundred short stories, and more than forty poems.  The quality has been extremely variable, so that many of them will never be shared with anyone, not even Barbara.  But some I have felt quite proud of, and have shared, and will be sharing, on my Bits and Pieces blog (finding the time, and will, to revisit and edit my old stories and poems is something I've not been good at).  By the end of the year I will have maybe fifty or sixty stories and poems to post and share, perhaps a dozen of which I can feel proud of.  But what happens next?

Two things.  The simple, but bold, one is to share a story or two on story writing sites for other writers to read.  See if any comments result.  See if there is any praise that feels encouraging (there might well be none, especially as so few of the stories are more than a few hundred words).  But the other is to try and use this year's work as a platform from which to begin writing longer stories.  Long short stories to start with, but having the ultimate goal of a novella as the longer term aim.  

I may not manage to do so.  But I might.  I may not manage to find the motivation, to make the time, to have the ideas (although I already have several I think I can use), to sit and type away.  But I might.  i want to.  This year has been a bit of a revelation to me.  I can not only write, but I can come up with story ideas, something I've so often lacked in the past.  It's true these have come from a standard set of prompts, but it does mean that if the ideas I do have don't manage to work out I can find some kind of prompting that might help.  The set of creative idea cards that Kris Drever uses would be a sensible purchase.  I am not going to let the promise of this year slip away from me.  I won't be the next matt haig, but I can write like me.  

Day 230 - Energised

 ENERGISED

Prompt - Energised : Write about how you feel when you're either at a high or low energy level for the day

There are those days.  the one when you feel you've slept well and nothing aches (much), when the sun is coming in through the blinds and you feel like getting up early (earlier...), getting the day started.  When you know there are plans for the day, something to look forward to.  When you get through the morning jobs without having to stop to think.  When you do your exercises and they come easily, and you feel like doing a bit extra.  When you can't wait to get out into the world and walk briskly and take in what's around you.  The good days.  The ones when you have energy.

And then there's the other ones.  CBA days.  Can't.  Be.  Arsed.  It's hard to wake up.  You fall back asleep and wake with a start, wondering how the clock has jumped forty minutes.  Disorientated.  Struggle from the bed, wondering why you're even bothering.  Bumble through the chores, need a seat half way through.  Can't be bothered exercising and wonder how it got to midday and you still haven't had breakfast.  You're pleased there's nothing much to do because you could do nothing much.  And if you do go out... you wish you hadn't.  The ones where energy is something that comes from a socket.

The energy days are good days.  The CBA days are what they are.  They happen.  Accept them.  They are a part of you too.

Day 226 - Admiration

 ADMIRATION

Prompt - Admiration : is there someone you admire?  Write about those feelings.

Who do I admire?  It's hard to think of one specific individual over others.  I admire anyone who cares about others, who wants everyone to have the chance of a decent life, and who actually does something about it.  That can be politicians campaigning for an Indy Scotland and the chance to create a fairer society.  Or people who give up part of their lives to do something for others.  Or even people who, through some other endeavour, have achieved public prominence and use that to campaign for positive, progressive change.  I'm thinking the likes of Naomi Osaka, Andy Murray and Marcus Rashford.

I want change, I want Indy, I want a fairer, more progressive society.  But.  Other than little bit of voluntary work, I 'do' very little, just talk or tweet about things.  I am not a change enabler, never will be.  I lack the necessary dedication, work ethic, determination, call it what you will.  So I can admire anyway who does.  

But if I had to pick an actual individual, it would be my wife.  She has to put up with a very flawed, at times hypocritical, person in her life, and I sometimes wonder how she manages.  I can only be grateful and wondering.  And as loving as possible.  In terms of the definition I advanced above, of doing good for society, she's as limited as me, as lethargic and inactive (which might be one reason why we're so well matched...), but all of that is nothing compared to her ability to get on with this introverted sociopath!

Day 212 - Font-tastic

 FONT-TASTIC

Prompt - Font-tastic : Choose a unique font and type out a poem, story or journal entry using that font

Can the choice of font change the meaning of the words it's being used to present to the reader?  It can certainly provoke reactions.  The longevity of the disdain, even hatred, for Comic Sans is the clearest example.  Using CS is a sure way to ensure you won't be taken seriously.  You might even lose friends.

Your choice of font does give an indication of mood.  It's the first thing people see when they look at your writing, and they can be led towards the tone of your piece, and the gravity or otherwise of what you are trying to convey, simply from the font it appears in.  Business like?  Intimate?  Angry?  Humourous?  Ironic?  (See, there is a role for Comic Sans...)  All can be initially implied simply from the appearance of the characters in the words, even before someone gets to reading the words themselves.

So here's a short poem, repeated several times, in a variety of very different fonts.  Does the meaning remain the same throughout, perhaps influenced by the first font it appears in, or do further connotations emerge when the script changes?  You decide.  (And no, none of them are Comic Sans!)

The race without a line to cross

Is a race you'll never win

Where there's no win you find no loss

No need to chase after rainbows

Let the rain embrace your skin

Sure the path's the one that you chose

The race without a line to cross

Is a race you'll never win

Where there's no win you find no loss

No need to chase after rainbows

Let the rain embrace your skin

Sure the path's the one that you chose

The race without a line to cross

Is a race you'll never win

Where there's no win you find no loss

No need to chase after rainbows

Let the rain embrace your skin

Sure the path's the one that you chose

The race without a line to cross

Is a race you'll never win

Where there's no win you find no loss

No need to chase after rainbows

Let the rain embrace your skin

Sure the path's the one that you chose

The race without a line to cross

Is a race you'll never win

Where there's no win you find no loss

No need to chase after rainbows

Let the rain embrace your skin

Sure the path's the one that you chose

The race without a line to cross

Is a race you'll never win

Where there's no win you find no loss

No need to chase after rainbows

Let the rain embrace your skin

Sure the path's the one that you chose

Day 198 -Interview

 INTERVIEW

Prompt - Write based on a recent interview you've read or seen on TV or heard on the radio.

"I'd like to start at the end if that's OK with you.  You've had this addiction - is it fair to call it that? - you've had it for over three years now, but this time you feel you are really able to give up?  What makes you confident that you'll see this through?"

"I suppose it's the realisation that I do have a problem, and have ended up wasting a lot of money.  I've got a lot of good things out of it too, and enjoyed the process that's involved, but it was leading me to pledge for a lot of stuff I didn't really need."

"But you have had some useful items out of it?"

"Yes, loads, including some that get used near enough every day.  Others that have proven very useful.  But there are a couple I've never used at all, and may never do.  And one bought as a present that turned out not to be suitable."

"And what about the projects that have never delivered?"

"Well, after the experience with Breton it's hard to say.  That went on for about three years, and eventually delivered something, just not what I'd pledged for - although at least the backpack I did get has seen plenty of use since it arrived.  But that has left me with a ridiculous optimism for a couple of projects which are clearly dead, and never coming back.  If there's something you really need then don't try to get it through a crowdfunding site.  It'll almost certainly be much later than you were promised, and the need for it may have gone by the time it does arrive.  If at all.  Even if the Breton bag I coveted had managed to be produced it wouldn't have been as useful an item as I'd hoped.  The use case had shifted over the three years and I had purchased better alternatives in the meantime."

"So you are still optimistic about the ones you haven't got yet?"

"Not if I'm honest with myself!  The Pluvi umbrellas are clearly never going to be produced - which is no great loss really, except in the money invested.  I'm more frustrated by the loss of the voice recorder pen, which I really had hoped would be useful to me.  I should look for an alternative.  But not on Kickstarter!  There's also a camera tripod I've been waiting for for a long long time.  It might still appear, but I no longer care."

"What are the best things you've bought through the crowdfunding sites?"

"If we're just talking about actual useful objects, rather than arts related projects, then the wallet I use every day, the Solgaard backpack that has been an excellent shopping bag.  I haven't used the Solgaard suitcase very often yet, and covid's ensuring I won't, but when I have had it with me it's been brilliant.  The shelving unit works really well.  Also got a lot out of some tech items like the two mini laptops.  And come Spring I intend to get a lot of use out of my ebike and all the related items I've got."

"And the most useless?  I've never used the Safy bag, it's too small inside to be of much practical use, and there's another bag my DSLR sits in, but which has never been out yet.  But perhaps the most useless was the one that started me off, the Sequent watch.  Took years to deliver, I wore it for less than two months when the glass cracked.  Sent it back, which cost me, waited a long time for it to return, then it finally came back - and lasted only a few weeks before packing up.  A lesson i should have learned!"

"And are the items you still await going to be of much use?"

"I'm looking forward to the new winter jacket and hat.  And the mini mouse should be a good companion for my new Chromebook, since it's to be used for travel.  And yet another backpack could be the one I really want for my long walks, assuming I'm still up to them.  That's the trouble with crowdfunding, by the time you get what you pledged for your own life has moved on.  That's one of the reasons for giving up now."

"Finally, you say you'll continue backing music projects.  Will you be able to restrict yourself?"

"Yes, because I'm doing them for the artists as much as for myself, so the motive is different.  I like the feeling of being a tiny part of that creative process and will keep on with that side.  Maybe even books or other arts formats as well."

"Thanks for your time and good luck with kicking the habit."

Day 170 - Risk

 RISK

Prompt - Risk : Write about taking a gamble on something.

I have never been inside a betting shop.  My only ventures into casinos have been as part of a group meal, and although we were given some betting chips to use I was glad when they were gone as it all seemed so boring and pointless.  I have never bought a lottery ticket, although many years ago i chipped a quid into the pot to get some for a group of us a few times.  I wouldn't known if we'd won or not unless someone told me.  Nor have I ever even considered online betting, despite there being constant ads urging me to just that ("responsibly"...).

In no way could I be considered a 'thrill seeker'.  Danger seems like something to be avoided, not invited.  I have almost always been risk averse in much of my life, with the possible exception of a few daft cars I bought along the way.

So gambling is not in my nature.  I really don't see the point.  Except that it seems to be what I do now.  Via the medium of crowdfunding.  I love pledging for crowdfunding projects, and have now backed well over thirty.  Again there's not really any risk, other than the possibility of losing a bit of money, and I never pledge more than I feel comfortable accepting the loss of.  I might end up with something that turns out to be completely useless in my life, but the attraction is the possibility of getting something that's 'different', that few others will have, and that it works well for me.

I have pledged to a wide variety of companies, some experienced manufacturers needing a bit of a financial boost to get their project underway, some first timers.  The latter, obviously, the more risky.  They have come from a wide variety of countries, and include tech gadgets, bags of various kinds (my name is Blyth and I am a backpackaholic...), wallets, an umbrella and something that was, to be honest, little more than a toy (fun though).  Plus a few music projects, and one book.  Few have arrived within the promised timescale.  A couple look like never arriving at all.  Some have proved unreliable, others not what I'd hoped for.  But most have proved successful, and a few are in near-enough daily use.

At time of writing I still have fourteen pledges awaited.  One, I'm now certain, will never materialise, one will deliver something other that what I originally hoped I'd receive (it's a long story...), but the rest will, eventually, turn up at the door and I will see what I make of them.  It's an exciting moment receiving one of these items.  I imagine it's the sort of excitement you can get from gambling.

Day 167 - Give and Receive

 GIVE AND RECEIVE 

Prompt - Give and Receive : Write about giving and receiving

Hours pass without a movement and she suddenly appears by my side.  I know what she wants and I go to give it to her.  No thanks received, only the evidence that my gift is being fully appreciated below me.

This will happen again later.  And again tomorrow.  I am always giving.  Sometimes she turns up demanding a different form of attention.  Play.  Chasing.  Grooming.  Hugs and strokes and a finger to bite.  I give.  Again.  

But every day she gives back.  Sits on me.  Comes to the bed and settles on my thighs.  Rubs face to face, purrs, says this is you and me and we belong together.  

As long as you keep giving.  Cats keep us in our place.