Thanks again for all your recent comments, and again apologies for the lack of return visits: I shall be hoping to rectify this soon.
Meanwhile we begin with a quick hark-back to the suggested titles for my NaNoWriMo before we continue with Maggie’s story. I thought it might be interesting to have a quick think about each one and see where the titles led me: if anyone can think of better suggestions please let me know
ARGENT: “ Land of the bodiless" or "Falling Slowly".
Land Of The Bodiless sounds like a HG Wells or Edgar Allen Poe story doesn’t it? Falling Slowly could almost be anything, but my first thought was a story about someone losing control of their personal situation?
RESTON FRIENDS: Sparybk Speaks
Reston – this sounds like it could be the true confessions of someone, but with a name like Sparybk they’d have to be something like an alien coming to visit earth or something?
Dr John: "The Other End of the End ", "Parrot Soup for Breakfast"," The Blind Spectacles"
Again: these sound like Roald Dahl or HG Wells, maybe even Noel Coward or Marx Brothers titles (Especially Parrot Soup) – you could probably do a good sci-fi story about The Other End Of The End. I think The Blind Spectacles is one of my favourite suggestions, because you could do almost anything with it.
RAVEN: A Gathering of Ravens
Actually this was very tempting – If I knew the first thing about writing spy novels then I think this would be an excellent title for a thriller – so I think the prize goes to Dr John (for making me laugh) and Raven. I’ll put up more info on The Benefit next time, but I think it’s time to return to the story of Maggie and see how she’s doing.
Finally before we start the story proper I would like to thank Furry, my cat, who insisted on helping me with this weeks episode by clawing up my trousers, sitting on my lap and constantly trying to lick my typing hands throughout.
as ever for rules and regulations visit the ever wonderful Raven at http://ravensviews.blogspot.com/
Words this week for the10-word challenge are: officer, candid, drowning, turtles, sugar-coated, prospecting, shame on you, reclinder (I’m assuming this is actually recliner), luggage, brains
And for the mini: paragon of virtue, cats-in-the-cradle, swamp, sprinkles, garbage
Dumbarton – Moffatt (Dumfriesshire), 77.8 miles
Extract from CNN Live, Monday 9th November:
NEWSREADER: Still to come in the next hour, we bring you a candid report on John Goodenburgh, who’s been prospecting up in the mountains of Nevada since the 1920s and claims to have been abducted by aliens every week for the past five years, as well as Recliner Chairs: are they a hazard to your health?
But first more news on the continuing story of UK pensioner Margaret Mills, who after four weeks on the run is still wanted for questioning by the British Police in relation to... The story took an unusual turn this week, thanks to a Facebook group that has been set up dedicated to following her journey. It seems that members of the group are disguising themselves as old women and causing havoc around the country to try and hide Mrs Mills’s true destination. Over to Mel Binglebat on the streets of Dumbarton...
I can’t believe it’s been five weeks and I’m still not out of bloody Scotland. I tell you if I see another tin of tourist shortbread I shall bloody well scream. As If it weren’t bad enough with all the advertisements for Christmas having started. I tell you, I had a trip around Dumbarton Castle on Monday and they’d got a bloody nativity scene set up in the banqueting hall, only it must have been warm and cozy, because there were a bunch of cats in the cradle where the baby Jesus were supposed to be. One of them had peed on the hay, which I have to say ruined the display for me.
Still, it were nothing compared to Glasgow, which as you can imagine were full of bleeding American tourists blocking the path with their luggage and going on about how quaint everything were. I swear that you have to leave your brains behind at customs when they check your passport or something.
Mind you the hotel I stayed at in Glasgow were nice, chocolates on the pillows and all: only they had melted by the time I arrived, and when I complained the manager were only able to offer me some sugar-coated almonds. Well, you know how they always give me a dicky tummy? Well, I were up and down to the bathroom all night!
So on Wednesday I got as far as Lanark. I was going to head for Larkhall, but there’s bugger all here: I swear I’ve seen more life in a rancid swamp than I’ve found this last week. I did go past a lovely loch at one point, but I’m buggered if I know what it were called. Anyways, there were this bloke in the water and I thought he were drowning: only when I tried to fish him out with me collapsing zimmer frame he started yelling ‘shame on you, you’re disturbing the bleeding turtles’ What turtles, that’s what I’d like to know, and since when do you get turtles in Scotland? Honestly, some people.
So when I’d finish yelling at him and swiping him with me handbag I took a quick visit to St Nicholas’s Church and that were lovely: though as I caught the vicar nipping off to the betting shop I can hardly consider him a paragon of virtue, now can I?
Well, must be getting on to me final destination for the week, somewhere called Biggar. Don’t forget to put out the garbage and give Mr Jones in number 10 his notice. If he feigns death again just dress up as an undertaker and threaten to throw him onto the bonfire
TEXT FROM BERNARD “SPUD” MARIS TO MARGARET MILLS
Fanks 4 the sugar-coated shortbread sprinkles, me n Tosser really likd em n gave a few to Mr Jones, who weren’t no truble wen e left, coz of how Tosser hit im in the nose till e went.
Police Officer cum round again. Sed e just wantd 2 talk 2u, n straitn fings out