Reflctions, new short story

I've been quiet for a while, what with one thing and another - this short story being one of the reasons - it's now been handed in as part of my creative writing portfolio.. Please read and enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Reflections

The poster outside the theatre reads: The Glitzy, the Glamorous, the Gorgeous - Jo Johnson. Final week.

Jo sits before the mirror, carefully applying lipstick. The dresser leaves; the costumes are hung in performance order, ready for the quick changes called for during the show. The dressing room is full of flowers; cards surround the mirror.

Jo gazes round; has it really been so long? Is it really time to retire? To hang up the sequins and satin for the final time? It only seems like yesterday that …

# # #

'Right, love, I’m just running Isobel into town to get a present for Mandy’s party this afternoon. Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?’

‘No, thanks, Mum. There’s nothing I want, and, besides, I have my end of year project to get on with.’

‘OK then, see you later, be good,’ Mum says, and they’re gone.

I didn’t want to go to town with them, just to hang around watching them riffle through every gift in the shops, and every book on the shelves at Waterstone’s. Besides, I have my project to finish. I’m two years older than Isobel, and Mum trusts me to be left at home on my own nowadays.

So, finally, I have the house to myself. This is what I look forward to; my special times. I switch the pc on, ready to work. Now I’m in Isobel’s room, opening the wardrobe door. She’d kill me if she knew what I was doing, but she doesn’t. I’m always very careful to put things back exactly where I get them from; she’s never guessed what I do when she’s not here.

Mind you, I don’t think she’d notice if I did put anything back in a different place. She’s quite messy. Stuff’s falling off hangers, everything’s higgledy-piggledy. Not like my wardrobe. I have everything hanging in colour order. It looks lovely and tidy when I open the door. My shoes are in pairs on the floor of the wardrobe, not like these. It’s easy to see how I get ready much more quickly than Isobel.

My fingers feel along the different fabrics until the faint prickle of the Lurex tells me I’ve found it. A tingle runs down my spine as I lift the hanger from the rail. This illicit borrowing never fails to excite me. I strip off my jeans and t-shirt, putting them neatly on the bed. My skinny body, slighter than Isobel’s, despite me being older, develops goose bumps.

I hold it out in front of me to admire it. I’d been so jealous when Isobel had been the Christmas Fairy at a fancy dress party last year. She’d looked lovely, but I know that I would have looked gorgeous. I have short blonde hair, with natural curls. Isobel’s heavy, dark plait just didn’t do the costume justice. Don’t get me wrong, Isobel did look beautiful. Everyone said so - but I would have looked stunning.

I remember that whenever we used to dress up when we were younger, I was always the girl, and Isobel the boy. I’ve always been daintier, with a rosebud mouth, and extra long eyelashes. She takes more after Dad, but I resemble Mum, and she was a model before she had us.

I slowly slip the dress from the hanger and spread the skirts on the floor. Now comes the best bit... I bend down and slide the smooth, silky lining up against my body. I’m now encased in a fresh, pink skin. I clip the wings onto the straps. The metamorphosis is complete.

The reflection in the mirror shows beautiful, golden-haired fairy Jo. Gold gossamer wings flutter gently. Fine ribbon straps lead down to the pink satin bodice, overlaid with gold mesh. Delicate and feminine; I feel so special in this dress. I’d like this to be my everyday clothes – no more jeans and t-shirts.

I find the pink tights, tossed on the floor of the wardrobe, and carefully pull them up; it wouldn’t do to snag them! I pirouette, revolving like the ballerina in Isobel’s pink jewellery box. My shimmering, iridescent wings reflect back the sunlight streaming in at the window. I wish I could step, like Alice, into the looking glass, and be the fairy girl reflected there.

Oh, no! I can hear the car pulling into the drive! Where has the time gone? I slip out of the fairy finery and in seconds it’s back on the hanger, in the wardrobe. I grab my clothes, and dash to my bedroom to tug on my jeans and t-shirt. I didn’t have time to take off the tights, but she won’t be wearing them today. I can return them when she’s at the party. I pull on a pair of trainers, and rush downstairs, nearly colliding with Mum and Isobel in the hall.

‘Everything alright?’ Mum asks. ‘You look a bit flushed.’

‘Yes, I’m fine. Did you get what you needed for the party?’

‘Did we? We found the most amazing handbag! It has compartments for everything, so Mandy won’t keep losing her things. It has little loops for lipsticks, and pens. And it’s in leopard print furry fabric. She’ll love it.’ I get the distinct impression that Isobel has fallen in love with it and would like one for herself!

Isobel runs upstairs.

‘I’m going to have a shower now, Mum. OK? Then my hair has time to dry.’

‘OK, sweetheart. I’ll start making lunch soon.’ She looks at me. ‘I’m making a cuppa, d’ you want one?’

‘No, thanks, I’m working on the computer.’ I turn away, and walk upstairs. I am actually doing my project in no time.

The tantalising aroma of sausages tickles my nose, my mouth is watering. I realise I’m hungry, and begin to type faster to get my work finished. Then Mum’s voice calls:

‘Isobel, Joseph? Lunch is nearly ready. Time to set the table, please, one of you.’

‘Right, Mum,’ I shout. ‘I’ll just log off, then I’ll be down.’

‘Thanks, Joe,’ says Isobel, ‘I’m just finishing drying my hair.’

‘No problem, sis.’

I run down and set the table. Jo is hung up again until the next time we’re alone.

# # #

That was the day I decided to come out with it. I’d hidden myself in Isobel’s closet for long enough. When she had gone to bed, and Mum and Dad were sitting with a bottle of wine, I took a deep breath:

‘Mum, Dad; I’ve got something I want to tell you.’

‘What’s that, son?’

‘You sound serious, sweetheart, whatever is it?’

‘I …I…’
‘Spit it out, lad, spit it out. We’re waiting.’

‘Well, you see …’ Despite my project on assertiveness, I can feel my cheeks burning, and my eyes prickling. My heart is pounding, my palms are wet.

‘Tell me, does this have anything to do with the fact that you’ve got Isobel’s tights on, by any chance?’

I look down. She’s right! I’d forgotten to take them off! A small patch of pink between my trainers and my jeans betrays me.

‘Well, er, yes, it does, actually.’ I feel like my heart’s going to jump out of my mouth. ‘I like wearing her clothes. I’ve been doing it for ages, when there’s nobody else here, and it feels right. I don’t feel like there’s anything wrong with me. I mean, I don’t fancy boys, or anything, but I belong in girl’s clothing. I’ve been thinking about it for ages, and just didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to tell you.’

‘Dad and I have wondered, you know, sometimes. Just little things you’ve said, or done.’

‘Then why didn’t you say something?’

‘You’d have been embarrassed, and insisted we were mistaken, that’s why.’

‘No I wouldn’t!’

‘Yes, you would! We had to wait for you to speak to us about it. Anyway, love, what have you decided, after all your deliberation? Have you come to any decisions?’

‘I want to go to drama lessons, and then, oh, I don’t know, go on to some sort of acting school, you know, like RADA, or somewhere. Not like ‘Fame!’ I don’t want to do musical stuff, I want to be Grand Dame. I want glitz and glamour. I want to wear fairy costumes, ball gowns, wigs and high heels.’

‘Good Lord! I’ll never hear the last of it when I get my next posting - my son wants to be a drag queen!’

‘No, Dad. Not a queen at all. An actor, specialising in cross-dressing.’ How could I get through to him? ‘I’ve been doing some research, Dad. Did you know that Danny la Rue was in the Navy, too? That should shut the ratings up! And he got an OBE. I’ve been looking to see where the local drama classes are, there’s one on Saturday mornings, in town. Can I go, Mum, please?’

I’m feeling quite calm about it now. It’s such a relief to have said it out loud. Mum and Dad look at each other. Dad still looks a bit worried, but Mum, well she’s absolutely fantastic!

‘Sounds like a good idea, to me. Don’t you agree, Jack? I’ll take you down at the weekend, and we’ll see what they’re offering.’

I could hardly believe my ears!

# # #

So, that’s how it started. I went to Mme. Estelle’s Drama Academy every Saturday. It was harder than I thought it would be, but I persevered. I couldn’t believe that Mum and Dad had been discussing me; I wished I’d screwed up the courage to say something sooner.

In the first play we put on after I joined the Academy, I was a support character; no lines, just a lot of standing around, trying not to look bored. The following year, I was chosen to be the leading man, and Mme. Estelle couldn’t understand it when I refused the part. She persuaded me to take it: ‘A leading man, at fifteen! Silly boy, you must take the part – actors need to accept all sorts of roles when they’re starting out. Be patient!’

Then, the next Christmas we put on a panto, and my dreams came true. I was the Dame. I was the Dame! I was in heaven!

As you know, talent scouts regularly tour the theatres, looking for the next star in the making, and one of them liked my work. Bob’s your uncle, as they say. I was offered a place at a stage boarding school, and haven’t looked back. It was difficult leaving home. I even missed Isobel, believe it or not, and was homesick for a couple of weeks. However, the work was so interesting, and, I have to say, hard, that I didn’t really have time to miss home too much.

Well, you know the rest; there are no secrets in this business. Now I wear frivolous frocks and sequinned satin almost every day, and I get paid for it. Handsomely.

I wonder what would have happened if Isobel hadn’t been the Christmas Fairy?

battery operated toothbrushes

I like my battery operated toothbrush. I've tried a few different models, some with rectangular heads, some with round ones, and others with a rotating round part within a non-rotating outer set of bristles.

The one I've settled on doesn't have replaceable heads, as I found I was frequently nipped by them. It has a small, circular rotating head, and that's it. Simple.

It uses two batteries to run it, and since I try to be ecologically minded, I use rechargeable batteries.

Today, I decided it was time for a new toothbrush, so rootled around in the (very large) cupboard in the bathroom, and found one. I removed it from its packaging, prised off the base of the battery compartment and then the fun began.

I know, you weren't expecting fun, but, hey, it's half past ten on a Monday night, so why not?

So ... I prised off the base of my old toothbrush and shook it to extract the batteries. No joy. I banged it gently on my hand. No joy. I swear that rechargeable batteries develop middle-age spread, a bit like me.

I hit it quite hard against my hand, and there was a slight movement, but not enough to be able to grasp the batteries. Now it was time to get really tough.... I banged it against the wooden chopping board in the kitchen - yes!!! a whole quarter inch of battery emerged, enough to pull out first one, then the other. Hurray.

I returned to the the new toothbrush and tried to insert the batteries. No joy. They really have put on weight!! It's exactly the same model of toothbrush, bought on the same day, from the same shop as the other. I know this because I bought about twenty at the time, (they were on special offer).

At last, one went in - I'm sure I heard it laughing - but the next one really, really didn't want to be re-homed. I was brutal, and slapped it in - then stopped. Drat, I'd put it in upside down!!

I'd slapped it quite hard, so it was nearly all the way in, just an eighth of an inch protruding. Surely I could extract it? No, I could not.

After breaking two finger nails I decided that since I was human (yes, I am) I could do that human being thing and use tools. I got a thin knitting needle (if you're a keen knitter, look away now), the needle is not quite as straight as it once was, but I don't believe it felt any pain. The battery just stared at me as if to say "Huh, did you really think that would work?"

Tweezers didn't do the trick either, so I took out my tool box from next to the sink cupboard, and opened the lid. I couldn't see the pointy-nosed pliers, they must be on holiday somewhere, but I found a pair of wide mouthed snub nosed pliers and smiled to myself. The battery stood no chance!

So .... I went to the freezer and took out a pot of sorbet, wrapped a section of paper towel around it and applied it to my right forefinger. I'm glad I don't swear or the kitchen air would have been blue.

The battery won the battle with the pliers! It clearly has heard of those reptiles that leave part of their tail behind when bitten by a predator, and thought it would try something similar.

The pliers came away very rapidly from the battery, bearing a triumphant circular bit, then snapped the fleshy part of my finger. It still hurts now, but at least it's not throbbing like it was.

There's always a silver lining though - I did get to eat the sorbet after it had done sterling work in reducing the pain :-)

The battery is still in the new toothbrush, the wrong way round, and I've found another new toothbrush, with non-re-chargeable batteries in it for tonight.

Some battles I don't win. But I live to fight another day. I still like the electric toothbrushes, though:-)

Rainbow Chard, Jewelled Stir Fry, Quick vegan supper

As I stood at the kitchen window, the late afternoon sun slanted through the leaves, creating jewel-like glowing clumps. I had made no plans for my evening meal, so I went out into the back garden to see what I could garner for supper.

I harvested four different colours of chard, plus a standard white-stemmed variety. They don't look as good here in the sink as they did with the sunlight passing through them, but they're still quite stunning.

I decided on a simple stir fry, so took some celery from the fridge, a couple of onions from the basket, and started washing and chopping. Here's what I used, and how I made it:

4 sticks celery, sliced
2 large onions, cut in half, then sliced
8 sticks of chard

3 cloves of garlic, more or less, to taste!
2 chillies, finely chopped (remove the seeds and inner white ribs if you like it less hot!)

sesame oil
olive oil

soy sauce

Cut the ribs from the chard. Chop the ribs in the same way as you would the celery. Roll the leaves of the chard, and slice about a quarter inch or so thick ribbons. Don't they look like a dragon's lair of jewels?

I had red stems, bright cerise, orange and dandelion yellow stems, and the plain white ones, too.

In a large pan pour a glug each of olive and sesame oils. Gently fry the onion and celery until almost cooked through, then add the chilli and garlic.

Toss in the stems of chard, stir for a minute or two, then add the shredded leaves. I'm afraid the steam prevented me from taking a good shot of the leaves wilting down - sorry!

Splosh in some soy sauce, stir everything quickly together for about two minutes, and you're finished.

I served it with jacket potatoes, because my partner was here, and he loves them (so do I, but I would probably have had some rice noodles if I'd been alone).

A drizzle of toasted sesame oil over the top just finished it off nicely. The colours still looked lovely, even when cooked, and it tasted just great. What's more, it didn't take long to cook, and most of it came from the garden and cost very little - yay!!

Avocado, tomatoes, garlic, chili, lemon, dill, guacamole, simple raw food

Dill Guacamole. Super fast food.

I was peckish and felt the need for something almost instant, yet very tasty. I have several avocados which are either ripe, or approaching ripeness, so this seemed a logical starting point -oh, and the fact that I love avocados also helped a little:-)


I happen to have some fresh dill, and wondered how it would marry up with the avocado. I was pleasantly surprised by the blend, and will certainly make it again.

I gathered together the ingredients you see above:

1 medium avocado - mashed with a fork
1 medium red chili - diced
1 lemon - zested and juiced
3 cloves of garlic - crushed or grated
5 cherry tomatoes - finely diced
5 sprigs of fresh dill - remove delicate leaves from stalks
Salt and Pepper - to taste



Split the avocado and remove the stone by tapping your sharp knife hard against it, then twisting the knife. The stone should loosen nicely.

Mix all the ingredients together, seasoning to taste with freshly ground salt and pepper.

Pop some bread in the toaster whilst you mix - it really doesn't take long. Or prepare some cruditees if you prefer somehing cold, or eat only raw foods.

I've tried many variations on guacamole, and this new blend is deliciously different. I hope you'll enjoy trying it. What is your favourite guacomole recipe?

boasting, my words were chosen,

Congratulations to Christine from "Christine's Chatter" for her winning contribution:

Tthis is the photo for which the words were written. November 1, 2009, Write with Pictures.

Isn't it sad that so many children today don't realize that cakes, cookies and biscuits can be baked at home?





If it doesn't come wrapped from the supermarket, it's not "real" for some.





You can share so much with a child when you're baking - math, motor skills, sharing, mixing, tasting, creating, sharing secrets, the science and magic of raising cakes and dough - oh - and most of all - LOVE.





Keep on baking, people, keep on :)

serendipity, charity (thrift) shop bargain

One of the gods must have been distracted as he/she was running a bath the other day. I know this because whichever god it was allowed the water to run too long.

The water overflowed the heavenly bath, and cascaded down upon me as I walked home from uni last Wednesday. I was wearing canvas trainers, and a light jacket. The sun had been shining in a clear blue sky when I'd caught the bus early that morning.

I was soon uncomfortably damp. Well, actually, my feet were positively squelching as I walked! I called into the local charity (thrift) book shop to shelter from the worst of it, and looked at a few books - I've bought many books there over the last few years, and taken a few back, too! It was thanks to a poster in their window that I became a founder member of the Ashton Book Group - another good thing:)

I then set off again, but, since I'd been in the book shop, I thought I might as well take a look in the non-book shop of the same charity further down the road. I'm very pleased that I did.

For a few weeks now, since the autumn clothes have started to blossom on the rails, I've been looking for a raincoat. Not a shower-proof coat, not a cagoule, I have at least one of each of those, but a raincoat. A coat that would go down to my knees and keep me dry. Not one did I see.

However, on the "expensive" rail at the back of the charity (thrift) shop, I spotted a few coats. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, as they say, so I wandered over to have a look, carefully avoiding the feet of a smoky grey cat prowling amongst the jungle of rails.

My eye was taken by a stone coloured trench-coat, with hard plastic, mock leather buttons - I know, it's a weird description, but that's what they are!! The coat had a detachable thin acrylic check lining to add a tiny amount of additional warmth, in shades of red and black and brown on the stone background. Very neutral, therefore very useful.

I tried it on over my fleece jacket, and it fit! It boasted a £55 price tag from BHS at the neck, and another cardboard tag saying "Petite fitting" dangled from the sleeve. The original receipt from BHS was in one pocket, and in the other a small plastic bag containing a spare button and a scrap of fabric for necessary repairs. The receipt is badly faded, but it looks as if the year of purchase is 1992!!!!!

The fabric tag inside the coat proudly states that it is a raincoat. I bought it for the £5 they were asking, and carried on walking home, immensely pleased with my purchase.

Serendipity is all around us. Had it not rained, I wouldn't have broken my journey in the shops, but would have simply walked on home. Thanks to the rain and a soaking, I found what I've been looking for:-)

When I reached home I got changed out of my wet clothes and shoes, and thought about cleaning the coat. I'm happy to buy things from charity/thrift shops, provided I can wash them. I know people who insist that they couldn't possible buy second-hand clothing, because you don't know who owned it before you. Those same people will stay in a hotel and sleep in a bed which has been slept in by complete strangers. Not only that, they will dry all parts of their bodies with a towel previously used by goodness knows who.

That's different, they cry, the sheets and towels are washed!!!! I know it may be hard to believe, but I wash the things I buy from charity shops. So where's the difference?

Drat, I digressed!!

So, I looked at cleaning the coat. The label says "dry clean only" - no, not going to do that! The collar was grubby from being tried on, but the coat was clearly unworn, with its cardboard tags still attached. I sprayed the grubby collar with pre-wash spray, left it for a few minutes, then rinsed it off. I squirted on a little liquid soap and rubbed it in, then rinsed that, too.

I left the coat over the sink and went to set the washing machine to a gentle, cool wash, and put some liquid in the dispensing drawer. I picked up the coat, and whoosh, I was covered in cold water, and so was the floor. The water I had used to clean the collar had stayed between the lining and the coat fabric, instead of draining in to the sink. The outer fabric had held it like a bucket, and my lifting it was its clue to soak me for the second time that afternoon!!

After the shock, I was delighted!!! I know, how could I be delighted when I'd just got soaked? Easy. If the water stayed between the outer fabric and the lining, that was a pretty good indication as to how waterproof my new coat was - i.e. very :-)

The coat survived the washing machine, and I've worn it a few times now. It's kept me lovely and dry, and also warm, as there is ample room for a decent fleece jacket to be worn under it.

So there you are, serendipity in action, the charity/thrift shop made a fiver, and I'm one happy Christine :-) What's your favourite bargain buy?

The girl who silenced the world for 5 minutes

I was sent this link in an e-mail, and was intrigued, so followed the link and watched this young girl talk to her "elders and betters".

I'd like for you to do the same when you have five minutes to spare. I only wish that all the "movers and shakers" out there could be compelled to listen and act on the issues she raises.

The girl who silenced the world for 5 minutes