Anchor 5 Sentence Fiction

Kim lay on the sun drenched deck enjoying sudden spurts of ocean spray, cooling her sizzling skin, before the pirate ship anchored in the lee of a small deserted island.  The gentle lapping of  turquoise waters met a short strip of white sand where a barbecue was already cooking in the shadow of a cluster of palm trees, as Kim began to spray coconut oil all over her already golden skin, determined to make the most of her last day on holiday, wishing she could stay in paradise forever.

       She tried to ignore the history and stories of pirates on the island; stranded by other pirates with nothing more than a pistol and a bottle of rum, turning on each other before going mad with the sun, until panicking voices made her sit up.

       “I've no idea why they’ve sailed away, the tour guide began, “but I’m sure they’re playing some sort of joke and we’ll be back on board in the blink of an eye,” she said, trying to hide the alarm in her voice.

      Staring out to sea, Kim saw the pirate ship appear to get smaller, becoming nothing more than a speck on the horizon as the sun began to sink, casting a shadow of uncertainty and fear across the island and its new inhabitants.

Written for Lillie McFerrin's 5 Sentence Fiction where you can read all the entries. x

That Sunday Night feeling. . . .

I was asked whether I could write something this Sunday evening by a friend (The Mad American) who would like cheering up. You see she is suffering from ‘That Sunday Night Feeling’ and she’s not alone.  It happens every Sunday but this Sunday evening is much worse because it follows two fantastic weeks off work.

I know we shouldn’t moan about going back after two weeks when others went back to work after Boxing Day and some even worked Christmas.  (And I have been one of those people working Christmas in past jobs). And we are very lucky with the time off we do get and it is very much appreciated but we wish this holiday would never end.

The Christmas holiday has been amazing this year. The Mad American (who asked for this blog) stayed in the UK for Christmas and as much as she misses her family stateside, she has a lovely family here and shed loads of friends. In fact her daughter came back from the states to join her for Christmas. How cute. I think they spent an awful amount of time in Costa according to her facebook; single handed she's propping up the local branch.

And there have been an amazing amount of birthdays this past two weeks for the Mad American; one of which was mine of Boxing Day and another was a very good friend of her’s who had a mile stone birthday. Just so many things going on despite the weather.  

Indeed, on New Year’s Eve which was blustery, wet and cold (as usual), my Hubby and I went for a mad stroll along the beach which was whipping up a frenzy so much, the sea looked like a milkshake. The wind felt like a million stones were being thrown at our faces such was the sting and ache with bitter cold. But I need my daily walk. My Hubby says that I am very much like a dog in that I need the fresh air to tire me out so I sleep well and it gets rid of my mood and I was moody. It was New Year’s Eve and we ended up being a taxi for our son.  But I am pleased he had a good time if not slightly filled with envy but then he is 14 and I’m 40something 39 again. So I had to let off some energy and being tossed around the beach like a polystyrene cup in that wind certainly did the trick. Soaked through and freezing cold, it was the best New Year’s Eve after a long hot shower and snuggling up all cosy until being summoned to collect No 1 Son.  

There was another walk a few days later at Cuckmere Haven which turned into a survivalist’s adventure. Ray Mears I am not! The footpath was three feet under water so had to go off road which was awful for someone who is a city chick, hates heights and mud.  And the Hubby left me as I was being a wimp and laughed at my struggles from above as I slipped and slid all over the place. I think at one point I was on all fours crawling up a bank to avoid a deep bog.  

But I digress. It is Sunday night and it’s back to work tomorrow. It is lovely to see everyone again and get back into the swing of things. But it’s that early morning alarm call that is going to keep me awake most of the night as I worry whether I will hear my alarm in the morning.  And that worry will keep me awake. Not that I am an insomniac- the beach walks, writing and giving up drinking Pepsi Max have sorted that out.  And it’s not the ticking of the clocks either; there are no ticking clocks. It drives me mad. When I stay at my mum’s, all her ticking clocks are shoved deep in drawer smothered in blankets.  It’s back to clock watching, getting lunches ready, uniform ready, getting up while it is still dark which should be banned, walking to work in the dark which is scary even though it’s the same route as the summer, it just seems sinister and therefore should be banned, if nothing else for my own sanity.

And now to sign off this blog so my friend can be distracted from her planning and read this (yes although it has been a nice break off work, work still needs to be done in preparation for the next six weeks and another week off- woo hoo). I hope you all had a fab Christmas, New Year, Birthday (if applicable lol), parties, family time and if you made any New Year resolutions, I hope you are going well with them. Mine is going brilliantly after five days in but we shall see . . .

PS Good luck to Sis who has decided to give the cigarettes the push once and for all.  

Love, Me

xx

What a Load of Pants

It’s funny where the inspiration for your next blog comes from and when you’re least expecting it.  An afternoon with a friend catching up on some gossip has provided me with my next topic and those of you who are eating or of a nervous disposition may want to stop here. . . .

So the brave few have stayed, well I warned you. And you may also be thankful for the colder weather too, as you take your blustery walk along a beach this weekend. . .

I don’t know how or why but we ended up on the subject of a nudist beach or the fact that on an innocent walk, we have both stumbled across one or two surprises; no warning, no signs just some unformentionables dangling in the full light of day, catching some rays and no doubt some stares of ‘is that man really naked?’  

Now I’m not a prude; far from it. But I don’t want to see ‘the last turkey in the shop’ on display on a public beach where it shouldn’t be; that’s what nudist beaches are for and there are plenty of them apparently.

I didn’t know where to look but was uncomfortably drawn to this small, naked, bronzed all over man who was more than comfortable in his own skin, which seemed three sizes too big for him, as he wanted to share everything with the world for reasons I do not understand. I protested loudly to Hubby that this man had ruined my pleasant Sunday afternoon walk along the beach and more importantly was putting me off my meat and two veg roast dinner when I got home and probably for the rest of my life!

My Hubby didn’t know what all the fuss was about, making comments like ‘if he was younger, fitter and had a 6 pack, you’d be drooling’. Well there’s no denying that really. I’m partial to the specimens of Messrs Pitt and Beckham. And love the pics of Becks advertising pants. But he’s wearing them and to be honest I’m rather pleased about that as it does leave some imagination for you to daydream about and think Posh is the luckiest woman to walk the earth- you’d think she’d be grinning from ear to ear with what’s hidden in those pants - and when you’re reading your Heat magazine with your Danish, you don’t even want Becks’ tackle winking at you unless you have a friend whose special skill is the Heimlich Manoeuvre.

My friend had the same issue when out walking along a different beach and came across a man with everything on show. It was enough to put her off her conversation and that’s saying something and despite wanting to reach the end of their walk, they promptly turned back round again. All a fluster, agitated and confused as to why there was a naked man on the beach with no warning, no signs and no need for it, my friend has yet to return to that stretch of beach. But it was interesting that we felt the same way as I was being made to feel guilty by Hubby at my ‘blinkered ageist, sexist attitude’ as he kept going on that if it was a woman I wouldn’t be bothered. Well as my friend and I discussed this issue, we both agreed that yes, we would be rather bothered if it was a woman on a public stretch of beach because we all know that after a certain time in your life- having sprogs- your boobs are swinging happily down by your knees without the magic scaffolding of the bra.  And no one wants to see that unless of course you’re in Spain, sunning yourself where you’re too busy worrying about white bits, red bits, missed waxed bits and not being mistaken as an extra in Free Willy (no pun intended) to even bother with all the nakedness around you. 

So if you do feel like a bit of Free Willy, the movie is ok and comes in a sequel and watching that will prevent me from choking on my 99 the next time I go for a walk along the beach.