The first word on the list

It’s just over a month ago that I decided to try and buck up my writing, and to do it by finding a list of random words and writing something for each which included or referenced it. I made my list and wrote about it here, but I also mentioned that I wouldn’t be writing my pieces immediately as we had our dear Dutch friends visiting and then some lovely cousins almost immediately afterwards, plus a trip to Sidmouth with WUPs (the Weston Ukulele Players). After that it was a special family occasion which would last over several days – a busy time indeed!

Yesterday, after a celebratory family breakfast in a lovely restaurant in Bristol, and taking people to the station, I really felt that life would be calmer for a little while. It also seemed a great day to start my writing challenge, so I sat here and considered the first word on the list – part of the challenge was to write them in the order, not to pick out ones which seemed interesting.

So, the first word on the list… Last, yes funny that the first was last!! I mulled over ideas, a cobblers’ last, last as in the most recent or last as in how long something took to happen, or last as the final something. Of course  Last can also be a name – my dad had a friend called Bill Last and I believe he had a sister called Joan Last. I sat mulling, and eventually, something began to unfold.

I won’t share all of it – just in case I become inspired to enter it for a competition which requires work to be unpublished, and apparently sharing it here sometimes counts as publishing! However, here’s the first couple of paragraphs:

Last

The small sitting room was crammed with people, several conversations going on. Mart was lounging in the saggy, once green armchair, Parker sitting on the arm not by the fire, Sue perched on other, her legs hanging down towards the warmth. She was always cold, even on warm days she would have a jumper or two on, and was never without a scarf.
They were talking to each other about poetry, but not audibly enough for anyone else to join in even if they’d wanted.
Seth was on the other side of the fire, standing so he could lean his elbow on the mantelpiece as he fiddled with his pipe, tamping it with one of the little tools in his leather smokers’ kit. I don’t know why he usually stood, like a heron with his beaky nose – maybe he wanted to survey everyone, maybe he didn’t want to be trapped in a chair, whatever the reason, he was usually standing. Posing, Shred had commented.

Maybe, if I complete my challenge I’ll publish them in a little book! My featured image which I shared a few weeks ago is from the Sidmouth trip,