Grass Roots Open Writers


Winter Writing
Writing from the workshops of February 2013

 12 March 2013

No More Winters.

Wow I couldn't wait. A move to spain; no more winters trapped indoors, half an hour getting dressed up before venturing outdoors. All I could think of was wall to wall sunshine tea shirts and shorts sipping coffee under the shade of an umbrella.

My dreams were soon shattered when summer turned to winter. Living 2,300 meters above sea level does has its downfall - it is cold. The scenery was beautiful the sierra Nevada  in the distance was a captivating sight I awoke one morning to be greeted by the vista of snow on the peaks of the mountains I rushed out of bed to take photographs when I was suddenly hit by the cold but it was  crisp and clear blue skies giving a perfect reflection across the lake it was quite a novelty at first but as the temperatures plummeted and jack frost appeard on the inside of our windows houses in Spain are not designed for winter no cosy fires or central heating we had to rely on bottled gas our only source of heat and cooking but even that froze it reminded me very much of my chidlhood when we all tried to get close to the coal fire.

Who could not resist a visit to the ski slopes as we got closer to the mountains it was a sight to behold virgin snow so pure and white not the grey slushy stuff of England. We took the ski lift to the top stepping out to be faced with skiers taking to the slopes something I had never seen before. So instead of sipping coffee under the  umbrella we sipped hot chocolate muffled in our winter coats.

Pauline Faulkner



Valentine

It was Valentine’s Day yesterday, she had no flowers delivered, no telephone calls and no cards had plopped through her letterbox.

It was a lovely crisp day – she got ready to go out to the shops.

She had a special mission

Entering the mall, she made straight to M & S – she knew she would find what she wanted.

Did they have them? No – not what she really wanted.

She walked through the mall, down to the stall where they had a lovely
assortment; some were to big – massive, some looked half dead. No; none looked good enough.

She left the mall, turned left and carried on till she came to a lane.

Yes! The seller was here.

She chose a lovely bunch of red roses delivered from Covent Garden this very morning.

When she came to the building she opened the door and went into the kitchen and selected a vase of crystal glass. She ran a tap and put some water in the vase and arranged the flowers.

She opened the door to the quiet building and picked the vase up – went in and placed the vase on the centre of the table. She left them on the table, leaving them for her soul mate.

She then left the building, shutting the church door behind her.

June Rabbett








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