An Ability Garden.

This Article Was Printed in Grass Roots Magazine

No 181 In 2007.

An ‘Ability Garden’ For Those With Disabilities.

Many of us suffer from a disability personally, or someone close to us suffers from one. However, many of us also want to live the Grass Roots life style despite the obvious challenges it will bring.
Perhaps the disability is physical, emotional, auditory, visual or a combination of them. Some people may have lived with the problem for a lifetime while others, especially aging ‘ hippy baby boomers’ like us, will have felt Father Time tapping ever harder on their shoulders, necks, backs etc as they grow older.
Whatever the disability there are ways to help the person enjoy the garden and receive satisfaction from being an active participant in the self sufficient life style.
Producing healthy organically grown vegetables and fruit can be one of the most satisfying occupations and as our petrol prices rise ever upwards leading to higher costs in our grocery bills, we will appreciate our own home grown produce more each time we visit a supermarket.
Simple tasks in the garden need not become obstacles and the therapeutic affects of working and enjoying the delights of nature don’t have to be lost. There are some extremely helpful internet sites which list tools designed and available to Australians for people with all types of disabilities. In most major town there are health professionals who will be able to assist in putting a person in touch with shops and business who specialize in special needs tools and implements. Sometimes a little bit if G.R practicability can alter and adapt tools we already own.
It is important when designing a garden to keep it in a scale in keeping with the abilities of the gardener. My husband and I used to have a few acres but as my ability to work in the garden has diminished and he is ‘maturing nicely’, we made the difficult choice to move to a smaller quarter acre block in town.
I did regret it initially and missed the old garden and its years of memories enormously. However I kept reminding myself that when I worked as hard as I could for an entire day in the bigger place, I could barely see the day’s achievements as I looked about and saw all there was still to be done. It left me with the feeling that I never really had it under control or finished.
Now in the smaller garden, we can work for an hour and know we have made a difference. We can even take time to sit back and enjoy it and watch the birds and insects ( and occasional reptile) that share it with us. It’s the old saying over again ‘don’t bite off more than you can chew!” Commonsense must apply where your health and quality of life is concerned.
These are a few of the fundamentals we have worked out during the past four years in our new place.
Because bending to weed and plant seeds and seedlings is so difficult, we have planned built up vegetable gardens and raised flower and herb gardens in such a way as to allow easy weeding. We found that the ideal height for beds must enable the gardener to be able to reach the centre of the bed easily.
Pathways have been a big consideration and we have thought long and hard and planned for the future.
We have concluded they should be wide enough to accommodate wheelchairs, walking frames and people using walking sticks. This may not be a necessity now but could be in the future. Why waste time and money now on paths that a few years ahead you may need to alter again? Look ahead, it isn’t pessimism, its facing reality, we all get older and frailer. The paths should be smooth and non slip especially during times of rain or frost. Different paths could be used to allow people with vision problems to feel and hear the changes. (Perhaps from gravel to stone.) Hand rails need to be fitted at intervals to allow a person to rest or steady themselves. Seats in different places are also a necessity and afford pleasure at different seasons of the year if well placed. Steps should be marked clearly and if they can be eliminated and replaced with ramps, so much the better.
If you use planter boxes or pots, it is a sensible idea to have them placed on wheels to allow for cleaning under them and assist with moving.
Choosing your garden plants is most important. Take into account the future growth and habit of the plant. Don’t buy and plant on impulse, it could lead to years of problems. Small eucalypts for instance can grow into limb dropping, beautiful specimens that belong in the forests or at least a long way from your home and away from other buildings and vehicles during a wind storm. I have seen only this month the enormous damage to property that a single inappropriately placed tree can do to people’s homes. The height of some of these can easily be underestimated. When they fall, they have a long reach.
Some trees and plants such as vines need annual pruning. If this is beyond your abilities and you can’t afford to pay someone to do the job for you, then find another plant. Care should be exercised with some herbs and self seeding plants. They can get away from you and start infesting areas of you garden where you don’t want them creating a constant weeding problem and your own private environmental nuisance. During the 70’ many people used Wandering Jew as a ground cover and have lived long enough to regret it. Mint, achylia, yarrow, lupin, the dreaded ivy! There are dozens in the list of plants that if they are allowed to run or seed freely will be a major problem. I have read in history books of our area, that the Ovens Valley in Victoria became over run with St Johns Wort when a well meaning lady using it for medicinal reasons, allowed it to escape. So check with your local nurseries and environment experts if you are unsure if the plants you are choosing are suitable for your area.
For the vision impaired, use different textures and scents. Keeping shrubs and trees clipped sufficiently to prevent these people from having their faces hit by low growing plants is most important. Fallen branches and twigs also present a hazard.
Some trees have their own special individual sound or ‘music’ as I call it, when the wind blows the leaves. An alert ear can, after some practice, pick up the individual sounds of various species. Native grasses and reeds make whispering sounds in the breeze. It can be a magic experience even for those of us who just sit and shut our eyes and listen.
If you can afford someone to mow the grass and you are happy to pay for the water bills fine, but we are getting rid of ours under, mulch, paving, and ground covers. We don’t want to have to afford the water, petrol, mower costs or the constant effort involved. I also intend for the nature strip to eventually be covered under drought tolerant ground covers.
Eliminating the need to get on ladders and reaching with potentially dangerous implements is something we are trying to avoid. Of course gutters must be cleaned and there will always be a need to have some small tasks done but eliminating all you can is sensible.
Fruit trees are a must for us, so we have purposely chosen special ones in the new dwarf varieties, in apples and peaches and we have espaliered our fig and plums and kept the apricots, nectarines and pears to a manageable hight. The plums are used to keep the sun off the west veranda of the house, as well as provide fruit. Grafted trees can give you two or three varieties from one stock root if space is a concern.
Use safe, well maintained equipment that doesn’t stress your body. Simple tools are often still the best to keep close by. Tie a string to things that you may drop, then you can reel it in instead of having to bend over.
Mechanical seeders are on the market but I find mixing the seeds with sand helps me to see where they have been planted and allows even distribution. Bigger seeds such as beans, peas and corn etc can be sown by dropping them through a small plumbing pipe. This helps to place them exactly where I want them without having to bend.
A bush house or hot house is a wonderful place for anyone who loves to spend time raising seedlings and taking cuttings. It can be a refuge from the elements and will always provide interest. The benches etc need to be built at appropriate levels and a work table where you can sit comfortably is ideal
Ensure you have good exterior lighting for the times when you need to be out after dark. Walking to the chook shed in the dusk or early morning has its hazards. And if you may be likely to slip or are not too steady on your feet, have a whistle hanging near the door (and your hat) so you remember to put both on and then you have it to use in case help is needed. I good friend of mine slipped on wet clay, broke a leg in two places and was lying in the rain for two hours. Her family thought she had gone for a walk. A whistle would have attracted someone’s attention much sooner and saved a lot of trauma.
Hanging plants can be counterbalanced to allow for easy watering and weeding. This works really well for strawberries etc.
Take the trouble and time to install easily maintained watering systems. They save time, money and effort.
An apron with pockets for various things such as secateurs, ties, packets etc can be adapted for a wheel chair or walking frame. It can of course, also carry your mobile phone instead of dropping it out of your pocket into the worm farm like I did.
Scented plants are everyone’s favourite. Lavender, herbs, mock orange, fresh fruit, lovely fresh tomatoes and melons and the beautiful smell of fresh healthy soil is a joy to all.
The birds your small bit of paradise will attract will reward you each day.
Make a place for eating and relaxing within easy reach of the house if you can. It allows access on days when moving about is difficult. When a person suffers constant and chronic pain, the temptation is always there to stay indoors in a comfortable chair and not move about. If you have somewhere with easy access outside or on a veranda where it is possible to sit and watch the activity of the animals, birds and insects (or even someone else’s activity) the day somehow seems to be better. Well it does for me, so I think it would for many people.
Watching television may be good at times but the little dramas and pleasures of our garden can be just as enthralling. I may not always be able to take part in the work, although I’m usually excellent at giving gratuitous advice, I am able to do enough to enjoy the knowledge of knowing I have contributed just a little to the greening of the earth and my own better health.

The End.(C)

LETTER FROM THE OTHER SIDE. APRIL

Dear Del,
It was so nice to receive your last letter with all its news.
We have had a few things happen over here also and one of the positives is that
Teddy tells me he is making stirling engines.
I have no idea what these things are by the way, except he is making them from used and washed out cat food tins and various other bits he rescues from the recycle bin. These engines don’t appear to be of much use to anyone but Teddy who seems to think they are endlessly fascinating. He drags me out to admire his little cat food tin steam engines chugging away and I try to find some appropriate words of admiration.……… Of course with all things mechanical, they haven’t always gone to plan and he has exploded a few leaving large dents in his brand new shed. Which he says makes it look more ‘lived in.’
He has also joined a group called TADVIC which I think is a state-wide organization. They help to repair, or redesign aids for people with disabilities. He loves it and comes home after the meetings with various projects to do. It has helped to take the place of all the old times at home when he helped his mates repair aging farm machinery so in between blowing up his sterling engines, he is enjoying it. He has also made a couple of water rockets but I have banned them as he let one go that flew across the block. It was one thing to do that sort of thing in a paddock…entirely another in suburbia.
I became furious with the young boys next door a few weeks ago. There were very loud bangs on our roof and I suspected they were throwing rocks onto our roof in retaliation for Teddy’s explosions. Anyway I contemplated going across to tell them off after a really bad afternoon when I had been trying to have a rest because of a dreadful headache. My blood was up and I had my little speech all worked out.
Teddy was in the garage when there was another bang and I was just about to fly out the door in high indignation when he came in grinning like an ass.
I wasn’t in the mood for his silly jokes so I told him what I was about to do. He said he didn’t think I should and I argued about my right to a peaceful life etc. what with him as well as the boys next door it was all too much.
He took me by the hand and walked me out to the garage. There in the back were the boxes of ginger beer I had carefully stored. One by one with changes of temperature they had been exploding and the tops hitting the shed roof!
I did laugh about it later but I was so mortified at how close I had come to making a fool of myself and perhaps ruining our relationship with the neighbours and their blameless children. Never assume my mother used to admonish, she was right so often.
Teddy and I hope you are well and enjoying the cooler days. Once the rain came after such a dreadful summer I resolved never again to complain about it unless we had enough for the water to be lapping at my doors.
You remember I told you Aunt Alice’s brother was ill well, as expected, he died. I hope you have time to sit and read this letter as I just have to tell someone of our day at the funeral.
I can’t talk to Teddy about it because he is still suffering from the day’s trauma and the mere mention of Aunt Alice or Uncle Roger sends him rushing down to his shed to hide with his sterling engines.
Anyway…… back to the funeral. As you know they have had very heavy rains and some light flooding up Wellsgate way and of course it was just our luck for the day we had to drive up for it to be blowing a strong westerly wind complete with rain squalls which buffeted the car as we drove up the Hume Highway. Semi trailers and B-doubles intimidated the car drivers as the wash and spray from the dozens of tyres they have completely obliterated the windscreens wit their muck.
Monica and her husband Tony were very generously taking the day off from their busy jobs to drive up behind us in case we needed moral support and because she is fond of the old couple. As it happens I’m not sure it was such a good idea.
We had picked the old couple up quite early. They both wore their best winter outfits which having been stored carefully during summer, reeked of mothballs. Uncle Rodger even wore his hat…… which I think was first in fashion during the 1950’s. Aunt Alice was rugged up in mauve and her sharp little eyes peered at us with obvious excitement from under her fluffy woollen cloche.
The idea of the long ride and the anticipation of meeting up with various family members seemed to have dimmed any loss she felt from her brother’s death.
Once we turned off the main road they enjoyed looking at the various farms and pointing out places they knew and remarking about the people they knew who had lived in the homesteads. Their memories were very sharp and some of their comments if repeated in public could probably lead to charges of slander.
I felt a bit sorry for some of the animals standing in forlorn groups with their backs to the wind trying to get some warmth from each other.
Teddy had put a new deodorizer in the car because of Aunt Alice’s flatulence problems but he was still forced to lower the window every so often.
She complained he would make her arthritis act up if he kept letting in the cold air and he, rather acidly for Teddy, remarked under his breath it was ‘ better than the air coming out’
Uncle Rodger asked to stop at every toilet he noticed in between giving Teddy endless driving instructions which he bellowed in Teddy’s left ear because he considers everyone is as deaf as he is.
Between Teddy’s tension- I could see his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel- Uncles Rodger’s incessant instructions and Aunt Alice’s problems; I was feeling thoroughly frazzled by the time we reached the little church.
I had hoped we could make our arrival as unobtrusive as possible and enter the church quietly but Aunt Alice soon put paid to that when she strode up to the front pews remarking very loudly that ‘she hadn’t known Alf knew so many people and did they all expect to inherit something!’
I just wanted to shrink between the cracks in the floor boards.
The old timber church shook with the force of the wind and the doors squeaked and clattered. The organist was evidently not used to doing the services and with such a large congregation, she must have been nervous, so it was quite impossible to pick up the tunes of the hymns she was playing. Most people tried valiantly to sing along but succeeded in making sounds more like the whinnying and braying of animals. Aunt Alice still unaware of how loudly she speaks, used the silence as we all sank thankfully back down onto our pews by remarking ‘That sounded like Brown’s cows’. Some younger people in front of us giggled and turned around and both Teddy and I tried to pretend we didn’t know her.
After the service, it was too cold to stand in the wind to chat outside the church so we raced back to our cars…well race is hardly the right word with the old people…..of course the walking stick, walking frames had to be put into the boot, Uncle Rodger’s long legs folded in carefully for him and all the seat belts clipped properly etc… by which time poor Teddy was soaked by yet another squall. The hearse took off at such a pace we were left behind and so by the time we reached the cemetery, quite a few people were already there.
It still looks scruffy with its old pine trees and enormous clumps of white arum lilies and thistles in the old colonial section which give protection to big populations of rabbits and snakes. The latter bask on the granite gravestones when human are not about on summer days.
Once more we had to go through getting the old people out with their sticks and walking frames while trying to shelter us all from the gale as we made our way up the gravel path to the gravesite. The force of the wind blowing through the old cypress cannoned pine-cones at us and rivulets of water ran down the unkempt path soaking our shoes. I caught sight of the group trudging ahead of us and thought how we must all look like a little flotilla of boats sailing on a rough sea as we held our umbrella’s up like spinnakers to try and gain some meagre protection. Aunt Alice still found the breath to tell me I had worn silly shoes for such a day.
The Vicar trying valiantly to maintain some decorum walked in front of the hearse to enforce the young driver to slow down to a more moderate speed. Unfortunately he lost his footing when a gust blew his white surplice up over his head causing the poor man to slip and fall heavily onto the path almost becoming another casualty when the hearse barely stopped in time to miss hitting him.
With difficulty he managed to get himself more or less straightened out without too much hurt except to his pride and trying to ignore the wet and muddy patches on his cassock and his even wetter and muddier backside…..he began the internment.
All seemed to be going well until we became aware the coffin was not going down as it should. The funeral director walked across to the vicar and whispered something. The Vicar peered closer into the grave and a look of resignation crossed his face. Teddy whispered, to me ‘it’s not going down, it floating.’ Tony turned gave Teddy such a look of utter disbelief,….. he is after all a city boy who hasn’t had much to do with the vagaries of country life…..- so Teddy explained as best he could, that the ground of the cemetery had only been donated by the original settler of the area because he knew it held water and wasn’t useful. So after the recent heavy rain it would take quite a while to drain away.
Aunt Alice who has ears like the proverbial bat remembered this after hearing Teddy and so demanded the pall bearers ‘Pull him up again.’ She carried on saying, ‘He never did like water he was always a sook about water and he shouldn’t be left there’ this encouraged her cousin Basil, who is even older than she is to air his grievances against Alf. Something to do with never knowing when he had worn out his welcome and then there arose an almighty row between the two old people. Basil baring his yellow teeth at Aunt Alice stomped off back to his car, his arthritic legs going up and down as if he were a marionette….. Uncle Rodger leaned over and said plaintively in Teddy’s ear ‘see what I have to put up with’?
The Vicar knew by this time he had completely lost control of the situation and called for calm and some respect for the deceased which did quieten them down to low mutterings.
Eventually it was settled and they agreed to lower Alf the next day. By now we were all soaked and there was sleet in the air.
I just wanted to get back home and so did Teddy. Aunt Alice wanted to continue the argument but we eventually got her back to the church hall where we hoped to enjoy a warm drink and dry out a little..
Teddy was famished and looking forward to eating something when Rose, another ancient cousin of Aunt Alice’s, complained that the nuts in the cake she was eating had got under her dentures. She then proceeded to remove them and place them delicately on the tablecloth complete with long strands of saliva hanging from them. They grinned up at Teddy. He looked across at Tony who had been watching in amazement and the two men picked up their drinks and went outside. We didn’t see them again until it was time to leave.
On the way back things were quiet in the rear seat Uncle Rodger had run out of driving instructions and Aunt Alice, was I thought, asleep, until I mentioned Rose’s teeth to Teddy. From the back seat she scolded ‘Yes, some people lose their sense of decorum as they grow older’
Since she was the instigator of most of the day’s problems and we were still suffering from the affects of the egg sandwiches she had consumed, we remained speechless until we arrived back.
It is the first time since we moved here I was glad to come back. But I think you can understand why Teddy is still feeling rather washed out by our day.
Monica is in America for business this week. She has to travel over the Rockies, driving a Hummer having never driven one before and never driven in snow or on the right hand side of the road.
Like everything I expect she will take it in her stride and come home with tales that will ensure we worry even more about her next time she goes. I also expect she is glad to be away from Tony’s taunts about her wacky family.
The tyranny of having to make another meal approaches so I must go. Thank you for being my silent listener,
I look forward to your next letter, cheers for now, your extremely harassed flower child friend,
Cynthia.
P.S It is Aunt Alice’s birthday next month.(C)

Podcasts of short stories

The Next Project.
I have been asked to write a series of letters to be broadcast on radio in a by-monthly slot. Pure fiction of course but the natural need for material will no doubt come from life as it swirls around me and mine.
This is exciting and rather daunting as the deadlines seem to loom up quickly. However I shall post them here and hope anyone reading them will enjoy the content.

Letters From The Other Side by Cynthia are from an old friend of the radio producer. They knew one another when they were younger, much younger, during the 1970's when they both dreamed of peace and love, ate mung beans, wove macrame hanging baskets and wafted about in caftans smelling of sandalwood incense.
They are both much older, have moved on but still in many ways, Cynthia retains her original beliefs in the unorthodox life she enjoyed all those years ago.





20th March 2009.
Dear Del,
There I was up to my elbows in pears as I prepared the glut we have this year for preserving and in walked Teddy with your letter.
I was so thrilled to hear from you I am already sitting down to reply while the pears steam the kitchen windows and put their lovely autumn aroma through the house. Last week I made zucchini pickle and although it is a very good batch, the tang of its pickled contents must have wafted up the court because Ronald, a neighbour from across the road who seems to be a semi-permanent support to our front gate and of whom you will no doubt, hear more, asked me if I would be putting a ‘skipping girl’ sign out on our front fence. Still, I find he never says no to a small jar of whatever I have been making. Ronald is the local wheeler and dealer of cars and spends the time between propping up our gate lying under whatever wreck it is he is repairing getting it ready to be put back onto the unsuspecting market.
Your letter took a little while to find me as we have moved from our old home since you last wrote. It has been a most traumatic experience and sometimes I’ve wondered if doing something because it seems practical and sensible is wise. Life can become bland and full of unnecessary and petty occupations. I feel much separated from the very things that gave our days their grounding stimulus and joy. For me the vagaries of the natural world can be more challenging and exciting than a swirl of frivolous interests and constant social experiences which in the end, just leave me tired. I think it must be so for others because there seems to often be among people I have met so much dissatisfaction with their lives. I feel the cause of this dissatisfaction could be too much constant comparison of status or possessions. Comparisons with others can make us unhappy with our lot or perhaps even worse, give us a sense of superiority we don’t justly deserve don’t you think?
At last I can report everything is out of our packing boxes and put away. Where it has been put I am not always sure, but I do at least know that if I look hard enough I will find it…eventually.
Having our furniture and familiar old objects scattered about the house makes it more like ‘ours’ but it will be a long time before either of us can think of it as ‘home’.
In my mind I can walk around my old fragrant garden and visualize, smell and touch all the familiar plants. I can see the little patch of lavender under the tulip tree where our lovely dogs lie. Our spaniel seemed to try so hard to stay with us until we moved but his heart gave out two weeks before we left. I hated leaving him behind. He had always made a special stop at the tulip tree when making his morning rounds. So he is in a favourite place.
In that garden I could look up at the moody mountains and the only creatures remotely interested in my actions were the intelligent and gentle Aberdeen Angus cattle. As they looked over the fence to with a steady gaze of dark curious eyes. My favourite memory of them is of autumn mornings when their dark shapes would be silhouetted against the dawn and the early mist rising from the ground would swirl around their legs.
Here I wake in the morning and open my door to see the bare fences closing us in and the many anonymous roofs contrasting dully against a patchy sky
I will grow a cave of green around us in which I can hide and dream of happy days.
Teddy had a very hard time packing up his sheds. I watched him on occasions laden with some precious item he had salvaged from a clearing sale or a friend’s shed—he would walk half way to the rubbish skip, turn --- and back with it still in his arms to his shed. There were times when it took him two or three attempts before he could find it in himself to throw whatever it was out. He finally squeezed the contents of his three sheds into the one small one here. It was a hard thing for him to do and rather sad to watch.
He spent years collecting bits of this and that machinery ‘which might come in handy one day’ and true to his word he often made up or repaired motors and machines that others didn’t have the necessary parts for. I think his mates will be missing him and the contents of his sheds.
We know that this area has been hard hit by the lack of water, but I am fed up with people moaning that their places look dreadful because they can’t garden because of this lack of water. They have had more than many in some parts of the country so I have no patience. I yearn to scream Rubbish, rubbish! Instead I hold my tongue, but I do to prove them wrong and as fast as I can.
We inherited a garden which I think was designed for a lazy and bad tempered occupant who was oblivious to the environment around him. Everything was spiky, spiny, leathery and useless to the local fauna and flora. It is my firm belief that some of the hardy plants we are being encouraged to grow are the next generation’s nightmares. A little like the pampas grasses we put in during the ’70 and ‘80s and lived long enough to find they were a potential environmental menace.
The local birds are only the common ones, but they have a right to live. They were thirsty because no one left water out for them and the few honey eaters surviving found little nectar to feed from.
We have removed all the of the plants the former owners probably paid a fortune for and began a garden I think will deal with the local conditions and provide habitat for the birds and pleasure and shade for us. We have three bird baths and this year two families of honey eaters moved into our shrubs. They became so besotted with their change of conditions they produced two families for the season. I’ll know we are succeeding when we have our first blue wrens make a home and it will be cause for celebrations whenever I hear a frog………..if ever I hear a frog.
In all the months we have been here we have never heard a Kookaburra. The big trees which they need to nest in have all been cut down. When I was young our family holidayed here and they were abundant. How sad when people come to enjoy a place and destroy the very habitat they profess to love.
We are already self sufficient in most of our fruit as we were lucky enough to inherit fruit trees that were obviously too difficult for the former lazy owners to remove. We have pruned them and brought them back from the brink of death with our grey water from the laundry. The first thing we did was to put in a tank which we were lucky enough to get filled by the first April rain last year. It has been topped up occasionally and with some care, has seen us through the worst of summer. The grey water was fitted shortly afterwards and its obvious benefits were almost immediate.
Teddy is a very good vegetable grower and after purchasing some excellent garden soil he built it up further with the compost from our worm farm. This marvellous thing was a goodbye gift from our former neighbours….they just the right thing to please us.We have enjoyed our own vegetables for the past twelve months. That’s quite enough of the garden tho’ for now.
Aunt Alice and Uncle Rodger are still much the same. He is the unofficial mayor of the retirement village and runs everything they will let him get his hands on. He still flirts outrageously with the ladies and acts the innocent when Aunt Alice gets jealous or furious with him, usually both. Aunt Alice is still apt to voice her opinions too loudly at inappropriate moments and her little body seems to be smaller than ever. She also has the added problem of excessive flatulence which can be disconcerting in confined spaces.
They both suffer various health problems and provide Teddy and me with more information about their illnesses, digestive tracts and bowels than either of us really wish to know.
Her brother in Wellsgate is ill and she has already told us we will have to drive them up to his funeral. Oh dear…….
I mentioned I thought they hadn’t been speaking for some years. Silly me….she replied that at his funeral she didn’t expect she would be speaking to him. So, I suppose we can expect to have to take the long drive up with them at some time.
Uncle Rodger had his licence taken away some months ago when he backed over a lady. Fortunately he didn’t hurt her badly. The police told him he had to take a driving test and refused to return his license after going through what I can only think was a rather traumatic test drive with him. He is quite deaf, can’t turn his head to see if traffic is approaching from the right and as he needs a walking frame to get around, you can imagine his reaction time is very slow.
He was furious with the officer and threatened all sorts of things a younger man might well have been fined for. Since then he has been firing off indignant letters he bashes out on his ancient Olivetti typewriter and sending it bouncing across his desk with the vehemence of his prodding digits. The various dignitaries receiving his diatribes wisely don’t reply which for the rest of us using the roads, is fortunate.
This morning along with your letter I received a new card for my savings account at the bank. The logic of it has left me quite dazed. It is a cash only card but when I want cash I am to press credit. When I want to use cash but also withdraw cash as I sometimes do at the supermarket, I am to use cheque! So the upshot according to the bank as I see it is savings=credit. Cash = cheque.
Is it any wonder the world has a monetary crisis when the banks have a logic crisis?
Oh how wonderful! It is raining REAL rain! The sky had made us so many idle promises these past few weeks but at last it is delivering. If we have fairies at the bottom of the garden dancing I would love to join them, but I fear I would look more like a clumsy overweight garden gnome.
Teddy is standing in the kitchen with a vacant look on his face as though he has just discovered this strange room in the house and surmises it may have something to do with the production of food. i.e. his afternoon tea. So I shall go and minister to him because if he tries to make it he will leave a trail of milk drops, tea stains and sugar crystals that the ants will find in an hour.
We hope you and yours are all well and content.
We presume our family are all well as we haven’t heard from them this week.
From your aging flower child friend, until next time,
Love Cynthia.

Mental,Physical,Emotional,Health and Safety Rules For Writers.


Some of the rules most writers need reminding about and many which we, in our headlong rush to get something down on paper, forget.

Always have a well lit space in which to work. As the years go by your eyes will thank you.
Try and have a particular place in which to write that is yours and will remain in the same state in which you left it. Difficult with families, I know.

Make sure you don’t work in unventilated fuggy stale air. Your brain needs oxygen as well as inspiration to work efficiently.

Eat healthy regular meals. Don’t graze on junk and too much coffee or, heaven forbid, cigarettes and wine. The shelves are full of biographies about artists and writers who died too young because they didn’t take care of their physical health.

Posture, a word not used a great deal these days but think about it. After years of sitting at a computer or desk, unless you are very diligent, your neck will begin to curve into what used to be called an ‘accountant’s hump’ or ‘dowager’s hump’. Even worse, you can develop extreme problems with the vertebra of your neck, causing trigeminal neuralgia which is I assure you, MOST painful.

Re above. Physiotherapists say that half an hour at a time working at your computer is enough and then you must change position, stretch or better still, get up and walk around. Set an alarm to remind you if you have to because it is too easy to begin during daylight and suddenly look out of the window and assume there has been an unexpected eclipse when actually the sun has set and that gnawing feeling in your stomach isn’t excitement, it is hunger. Dogs are even better than alarms; they won’t let you work past their meal times.

Use time while doing mundane jobs to work out plots, dialogue etc. It makes the mundane more exciting.

Don’t forget the people in your life. They need to know you don’t live entirely inside your head. Your writing can’t give you a hug or laugh at a joke with you.

Don’t become so obsessed with your own work that people you mix with and talk to(or is that at?) feel trapped and suddenly remember appointments they had completely forgotten about and henceforth hide behind bushes when they see you approach.

Be organized. Writing for an hour a day will get you much further than talking about writing for four hours a day.

Read writing advice books etc by authors you admire. You will learn more because you understand the books they are talking about.

Keep your feet on the ground and your emotional and mental health tip top by reminding yourself constantly that there are many occupations in the world just as important to the human race as yours. i.e. growing food.

When you have attained a measure of success, don’t become a Prima Donna overnight. That path leads to narcissism, self absorption, and selfish behaviours and makes you a complete pain in the neck to everyone. Pedestals are notoriously unstable things to sit upon.

Remember some of the writers you know who are shy or perhaps not as quick and verbally articulate or ‘forceful’ as you are, may still have written expression and insights superior to you own. To quote from the Desiderata,’ listen to the dull and ignorant, for they too have their story.’ They may after all, not be so dull.

When you do become involved with agents, editors and publishers treat their opinions and advice with respect. They are the professionals who will help you achieve your goal. If you get a reputation for being a difficult writer, the waves you make will spread quickly across the relatively small pond in which they swim.

Try and remember to use at least 80% of the above rules all the time.
Liz Thompson ©

Q. I is keeping a journal really worth while when I have tonnes of ideas and stories stored in my head?


A. Keeping a journal, exercise book of notes, rough jotting book, or a hundred small notes pinned on a board, is very much an individual choice. I can only say that in my own experience keeping a small note book of ideas, descriptions of places, people, faces, clothing, unusual housing …well anything that may take my eye had proven extremely helpful.
Sometimes finding where I last left the book can be more trouble than writing in it has ever been.
I guess many will say they keep a list stored on their computer but the computer may be at home and it is the instant recording of items of interest that will often be the best as they have the reality in the words that may be missing when a description is needed a few hours or even days later.
I definitely use mine a great deal. I have a large one for home and a small diary size for my handbag.
Try it for a few weeks, I’m sure you will find it an invaluable help. Liz ©

Q. I really want to be a writer but my friends and family don't take me seriously. How can I convince them?

A. There are not many of us who haven’t seen the barely undisguised look of disbelief on the face of a friend or family member when we have spoken about being a writer. Most try to be well mannered and don’t laugh out loud and very few pat us on the head and tell us we’ll get over it. But it happens.
It should, if you can remain focused on your writing make you more determined to succeed.
Join a writing group and mix with other people who are interested in writing, art or at least reading. They will be your support group.
When you have your first cheque or publication, no matter how small, tell the doubters and show them. Eventually the ‘look’ will fade out of their eyes. Liz ©

Q.When do I start calling myself a writer?

A. The minute you start writing and thinking about your writing every day. You don’t necessarily need to have been published, or paid for your work. If you write each day and you intend to make it the focus of your creative urge. Then you are a writer.
A scientist is someone who enters a lab searching for answers or cures that he may never find during the course of his life. He is still a scientist because that was his life’s work. A walker starts with the first step, a gardener with the turn of the first sod as she pictures in her head the design and colour of the created garden. You are what is inside your mind and heart. My daughter gave me a hanging which says ‘Life isn’t about finding yourself, it is about creating yourself ’ I wold add 'bring what is within you....out'.
Being a writer comes from inside you. It is up to you to bring it out and show everyone else that is what you are. LIZ ©

F.A Q. I Want to be published is it important to enter competitions?

A. Most writers write hoping one day to see their work published. Some will not need to enter competitions, but they are the lucky few who somehow slip through to an editor because of their previous work in other fields or specialist knowledge about a particular subject.
The rest of us pounding away in our writing nooks need to build our skills and reputations as writers to have any hope of having a manuscript obtain a favourable glance from an editor.
Competitions give us the chance to show our abilities to judges from many areas and in all parts of the world. There are competitions everywhere and you may find your writing style and interests meet American, English or, if you are lucky enough to have other languages in your skills, Italian, Greek etc. ( I have a friend who writes children’s stories for the Spanish market. He is an Englishman living in Australia! The world is at our fingertips and sitting on our desks inside our computers. How lucky are we to live at such a time?)
The more competitions we enter, the more people will read our work and the closer we get to possibly winning enough accolades to have a C.V that will begin to make editors of magazines and publishers sit up and take notice.
If you are a beginner, you may be so naturally talented that you will take out a prestigious prize with your first effort. Most of us don’t have the well polished skills to do this.
So begin with smaller competitions which perhaps only offer publication in a journal, a book prize, or perhaps, just a small monetary reward for your efforts.(- TIP; Frame that first cheque and put it above your desk. It will inspire you on the days when the words won’t come! )- It all counts. One day you may go back to that first small winning story and with the experience and skills learned from constantly writing, turn it into your first published novel.
Try and read the winning stories of competitions you enter and analyse them as dispassionately as you can to find what it was that made them the winners. Re-read your own work and again try to see why it missed out. Polish it once more, try it from another angle, maybe play with different aspects and send it out again. Don’t relegate a good idea to lie languishing in the dark at the bottom of a box. If it was a good idea once, it will remain a good idea, it just was not perhaps expressed well enough. Enter it again refreshed if need be.
Liz. ©

F.A.Q Do I have to stick to the rules of a competition? Surely the judges won't mind a few extra words?

A. Ooooh yes they will! Those few extra words when it comes down to a tie between your work and the story of another writer who hasn’t bent the rules, will cost you the win.
The rules are there to be followed that’s why they are rules. Liz ©

F.A.Q Are competitions worth entering when I never win and each one costs me money in entry fees and postage?

The reasons for writing for competitions are;
1. They make you learn to meet deadlines.
2. They sometimes make you write and think about certain themes and subjects you may normally not try.
3. Because of the above they will help teach you to research a subject.
4. They teach you to express ideas within a limited word count.
5. They encourage you to let go of your ‘children’ and make them compete with others.
6. If you take the trouble to read the winning entries, you will learn to judge the level and competency of your work with a more practiced eye.
7. If you write for competitions regularly you build your body of work steadily and give yourself ideas to return to and develop into other articles, stories and novels.
8. If you don’t win with a story you were sure was an outstanding effort. You are entitled to have a rant, feel disappointed and decide to give it all up for golf or whatever. Remember there are probably hundreds of us feeling the same and you will know that we will all do as you will. After your first practice game of golf you will have thought of a good plot for a murder on the 9th green, a romance in the clubhouse, an article on the history of golf and golf equipment, a travel blurb on the problems of green keeping in equatorial regions, funny golf ticks and habits that people develop, the psychology of a golfing tyrant etc, etc WHY? Because you are a writer and that’s what you do! Let’s face it, golf will also cost you a lot more money than a few entry fees and you’ll probably get wet and catch a cold anyway.
Liz ©