Surprise, surprise, it's another wet day. Why is my barometer showing high pressure? Got up early, as usual, and wrote a letter to Stanley Middleton. Met him in Summer School in the early nineties and, though in awe at first, knowing that the tutor was a Booker Prize winner, my nerves quickly disappeared. A kind, witty, intelligent man, who enjoyed helping wannabe writers, has remained my muse and friend since those wonderful days. Now in his mid eighties, he still writes novels but always finds time to send me a monthly letter telling me of his news. Writing letters, they say, is a dying art but having always enjoyed the process of putting pen to paper, it's a joy. Forms, of course, are a different matter. Tomorrow, I've forms to fill.

On yet another wet, dark day, I received cheerful news. The flash fiction I thought hadn't gone, did go! And I've just received an email from Don at Bewildering Stories accepting my flash. Now, after a day finishing off some decorating, I'm going to shower, pour out a glass of red wine and challenge hubby with a game or two of Scrabble. What a mad life I lead.

I managed to get to my computer after the usual. Typed in the box where one should type when sending a flash to Bewildering Stories. The day got darker though night wasn't due for an hour or so but, switching on the lamp, ignoring two phone calls, I finished, pressed send and it wouldn't SEND! What a waste of time and energy. God, how I hate technology at times. There again, I'm Tipex clean nowadays though I still have that little tug of the heart when I remember my Smith Corona. Yes, the keys jammed. Agree, that when replacing ribbon, fingers would get covered in black which somehow transfered to the face. But she and I wrote our first stories together. She helped me succeed at times. She now lies in the garage as I couldn't allow her to be thrown out like a piece of garbage. And, if we have power cut, she's there waiting to help me out.

Never having written flash fiction before joining the group, I've become addicted. A new challenge this week, the theme, I thought, scary. But, I saw a man with a kite and I was off. My desk is tidier but thoughts ramshackle after a rare celebration with friends over the weekend. It was worth the headache though. Social skills returned. It's like riding a bike. Trouble is, the bike's a bit rusty.

What a cold day. The birds are frantic for food. Before I went off to do my duty, I laid out a feast for their little beaks. Some big beaks too. Returning home, another feast was prepared and dispatched within minutes. This evening I will start editing. So much to do. There are short stories written and still lying on my desk. Too lazy to send out. No, too lily livered. I don't make resolutions but have decided to tidy up this desk. Use the shredder with gusto. Stop thinking unnecessary thoughts. I keep a diary. Have done since I was a young optimist. Then I grew up. There's nothing like putting pencil or pen to paper and not soul can read my illegible script.

Gone are the days when I wait up for the strike of midnight. New Year celebrations leave me feeling quite bleak. So much hope that mankind will change face and create some form of Utopia. Justice. Equality etc.

Today, a very wet mild day, I posted off Week 91 Challenge. I feel quite good about it. It was early this morning as I sat in utter peace while dog and hubby slept that I conjoured up this small scenario. Thank God we didn't have the argument required as a theme. The only truth in the flash is I hate parsnips. In fact children and their partners, ate, drank and made merry quite well. No strife over the crackers. Boxing Day, I slept all afternoon, happily tired. Glad that all catering was done. Then, slowly, brain began to function. No, I thought, don't make excuses, I must go for the challenge. Now, smug that I've done so, I'm going to have a shower followed by a glass of red wine. Amen to that.

Xmas is getting closer and, surprisingly, I'm almost finished. Have run out of sultanas and suet as the birds have been given a festive treat. In turn, they've rewarded me with their constant presence. Two thrushes have been venturing into the garden braving six blackbirds wrath. Managed to finish Prospero's flash. It's milder today but a misty grey that hangs drearily over trees.

Love the cold mornings and boy hasn't it been cold these past days. Managed to do some Xmas shopping again today so nearly ready. Have been trying to write a flash for Porspero's 60th birthday and the challenge. Almost finished but will not be as wicked as Y'vonne's which is great.

Today, like yesterday, is cold and sunny. Makes a difference to the way we think and act. Christmas is close and yet I've not written a card. They keep coming through the letter box and I feel a little ashamed by my lack of enthusiasm. Writing should be an enjoyable experience or a creative one. Still, if I didn't receive cards I'd probably feel most put out. Monday night is scheduled for decking our hall, lounge etc with baubles. Maybe, after that, and when the lights stop popping out, I'll begin to get in the mood. Maybe.