I was honestly glad to get it out of the way, as it became harder and harder for me to leave it alone: 'Just one more tweak, I'm sure that's all it needs,' became my constant thought every time I turned on my laptop, so it's a relief that I can't do anything more to it. Lol.
On the 05 front, I've finally written my very first sci-fi story - and it was a lot harder than I had expected, considering I've always been an avid fan - but I discovered it's a whole new ball-game to invent a completely different reality to our own. At the same time, I had more fun writing it than I have with anything for a long time, so it was definitely worth the extra effort!
As far as the ECA is concerned, I've finalised the poems I'm going to use, although I know they'll have one or two edits nearer the time, especially after the next section of the BRB, which deals with the editing processes, but I'm fine with that - it's the commentary I'm more nervous about, as I'll have to join together the poetry and prose into one whole for that, and it won't be easy for me!
I've been enjoying the activities we've been doing recently, and I did Activity 24.8 the other day, where we were asked to think of someone we either know, knew, or who was someone famous, and write either a 16-line poem about the person, or a 250-word reminiscence. I chose the poetry, and I chose my much-loved, but sadly now departed mother-in-law to write about.
Mum was a very strong character, something I loved her for, but which could also be exasperating at times, but it was all part of her character, and I wouldn't have changed one hair on her head - I still miss her terribly, even after 10 years, and always look back on our friendship with great fondness.
She sang her songs of bygone years,
while moving through her daily chores,
sweeping away the odd lost tear,
and thinking of those times of yore.
Her white hair, all neat like a dome,
an apron tied ‘round her each day,
so proud of her tidy, neat home,
she cared for what others might say.
She lived by the seaside in Wales,
looking back so often in time,
and sitting out sea storms and gales,
wishing for a change in her rhyme.
Her mantra became, ‘If only’,
she wanted a change to her past,
a cry from the heart when lonely,
hoped chance would come for her at last.
c: Katy Board