For some reason I have an empty head, maybe it’s the heat, or maybe I’ve had a dull day, housework, ironing, not quite sure where to go with my book which is waiting to be proof read, again, but I have been sitting here faffing and unable to think of anything to write.
I suppose I could write about the day my dad lost his snuff box – for some reason, maybe because he’d given up smoking, or maybe he just fancied a change,he had started to take snuff. He bought himself a rather nice little pewter snuff box, a floral pattern engraved on the lid, it was oval shaped so fitted snugly in his hand. Mum hadn’t liked him smoking – she hadn’t liked his pipe, and she liked cigarettes even less. Her father had been a very heavy smoker, Passing Clouds was his brand, so I think that’s what had really made her dislike smoking. This story, by the way, was about fifty years ago. Anyway, dad lost his snuff box – he didn’t tell mum but she noticed him surreptitiously searching for it, going through pockets, looking down the sides of armchairs and the settee, searching the car, looking under furniture. He didn’t ask her, and she pretended she didn’t realise. This went on for some time – and I’m not sure how the ending came about, did she relent and tell him where it was, or did he, as a last resort get down on his hands and knees and look under the bed? Anyway, he found it… I think he went back to cigarettes after that! I still have the snuff box, by the way!
Or I could write about the steamy summer of 1976, when I’d been away in the south of France with friends, where it was even hotter and steamier. I relished the heat, loved being out and about in it, and as we were camping, sleeping in tents wasn’t quite as hot as being in a building… until the sun rose! We came back to England after many weeks away, and within a few days, the heatwave broke and there was torrential rain. One of my first attempts to write a novel happened after that – I imagined a group of young people returning from France as we had, who went to stay on the family farm of a couple of them, brother and sister. There were terrible floods and the farm was cut off for weeks. It truly was a rubbishy story, and I think I’d be embarrassed to read it now, but it taught me a lot about writing.
Or I could share another recipe, although I’ve written about food rather a lot recently. With it being so hot – like many people, I’ve not fancied much to eat although today I did make one of my weird sandwiches, brown bread, peanut butter, gherkin (a favourite combo!) and a genius addition of fresh chopped chives. For breakfast this morning I had sliced black pudding, courgette cubes, fried egg with plenty of black pepper, on brown bread toasted. What was lunch? I don’t think I had any, perhaps full of breakfast or maybe it was too warm. I think I need a glass of red, now… or maybe two… we did think of drifting down to The Ship but husband was watching the football (I wonder who won?) and I was feeling lazy.
Or I could give an update on my next Radwinter book, “Something or Nothing” except I have nothing to update about.
One thing I must do, is get on with reading “Room With a View” for reading group next Thursday, plenty of time maybe, but time really does dribble away when you’re not thinking about it!
My featured image was taken with an actual camera in a bar in France – maybe in teh summer of ’76, or maybe some other summer.
Lois Elsden 