It has been quiet in this neck of the woods.

I have spent some time sorting out old photographs that have come from my husband’s side of the family.

There are so many of them.  This is not the first time I have gone through them but, in one of the boxes, there was a note I had left for myself that I had only so far gone through ‘this lot’.

Dozens of tiny snaps stuffed into envelopes.

More that one set of sets – that had been developed and sent to other family members – and came back again to us (me) as they died off.

I am a repository.

I am not delighted with this task, these images – I suspect I am talking of something else now – I am – some deep memories have started to surface during this – I’ll be here forever, it seems, with these.

But there is no other way through it.

I am resentful.

Let’s get real.

NaNoWriMo. I remember I was due to teach this class.

(I didn’t teach for long – only for half a semester.)

I’d been told that some of the students had shaved heads, and I’d said that shaved heads didn’t worry me.

I was in the room where the class was to take place, and my back and right hip were killing me.

I was hoping my hip wouldn’t give way as I moved.

I will have taken painkillers.

There were two or three tables all pulled together (they already were – I did no pulling about of tables) and I was going to sit behind those when the class came in.

While I still had chance, I lay myself down over those tables, inwardly groaning.

I had no idea how I was going to get through those couple of hours.

I’d got up and had my face straight (no sign of the pain I was in on it) by the time the people came in.

I didn’t want to teach but that was a path I’d felt I had to take.  It was expected of me.

I was 42*.

It seemed imperative that I got a career together at last, before it was too late.


This is the real stuff.

The fiction is a metaphor for the real stuff.


*[Footnote missing.]


NaNoWriMo. There are tricks and chicanery.

No matter what tricks and chicanery might abound, I know what is real.

I am not so uneducated that I do not know there is discussion around the nature of reality.

Oh, come on!  I could discuss the nature of reality until the cows come home!

I have said that I don’t find challenges challenging (and some see NaNoWriMo in terms of challenge).

But I won’t try to twist the rules and pretend that I didn’t.


I would tell you that I did – afterwards.

I won’t glory in such a position.


I shall give what is real.

NaNo. I’m serious about this.

Being on the site there, looking into a few forums – and it’s not as though I’ve never done forums before – but, leaving the odd reply (and, after I’ve done it, I think – that was odd) – where your replies appear not worth much once they are up there – but seemed absolutely real in your head –

It’s good experience, being there, trying it, being in with a group –

Especially if you’re a loner, where is it possible that you can join?

What can you say that, eventually, someone might notice?