19/06/2009 by Aileen.

Our Birding tutor texted me today asking me if it would be okay if my Bearded Tit photo appeared in the Yorkshire Post. Er. Yes. I think so. However, there is a lot of discussion going on among amateur photographers as to whether it is right that newspapers and tv don’t pay their contributors. I suppose if I had a lot of really great photos appearing regularly in the mass media it would be only fair to be paid. But I haven’t, so I am delighted. I have to choose 10 photos for presenting on my T189 course, and this has given me confidence.

Today’s Creative Writing was so entertaining. We had to write a description leading up to a murder. Everyone is so clever and original. we had a good laugh. As mine is short I’ll reproduce it here

Murder Most Fowl

From the dining room came the subdued noise of forty nuns delicately stabbing their boiled potatoes and ham with their polished knives and forks.

Sister Blanche crept past, congratulating herself that her plan was working. She had been excused dinner because of a supposed blinding headache, and now she headed for the library. Great scholarly tomes scented the air with must and mildew and leather. Oblivious of the deep and ancient peace she made for a little drawer in a heavy writing desk and pulled out the rope. Two quick steps took her to the window. Reaching out, she found the old lead piping, part of the ancient guttering, and secured her makeshift ladder. It would serve as a getaway if the worst came to the worst.

Her skirts swished as she left the library and continued along the polished corridor. The ornamental dagger, gift of a visiting foreign bishop, glinted from its place on the wall. That might come in useful, she thought, and snatched it up, placing it with the revolver in the folds of her habit.

In a moment she had reached the chapel. Empty. Or so she thought. By the flickering candlelight she could make out the dim shape of the altar. She approached, and genuflected devoutly out of habit. Turning to the side chapel, she was unaware of the tall black figure who emerged from behind the altar, brandishing a brass candlestick. Hearing a sound, she swung round. You! She gasped, and picking up her skirts fled out of the chapel, along the corridor, to her escape route. But she was too late. The Reverend Green killed her with the candlestick in the library.

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18/04/2009 by Aileen.

I’m pleased with my hair but can’t possibly post a photo until I have some warpaint on.

Anyway, Trudie and Al are coming today for the weekend, so I got up early (nothing new in that) intending to go shopping and be home before 10am. Well I did my usual surfing of social networks and forums and then saw it was gone 9am and I wasn’t even showered.

So quick shower, down to the shops, and the post office was closed. It was only 8.20am! What am I like? Luckily the butchers was open so I got some braising steak, chicken, and ham. Decided the farm shop wouldn’t be open, and as it’s slightly out of the way I went to Morrisons istead and bought the shop up. Washing now on line, shopping away, beef marinating, and I’m on my  beloved laptop again.

I sent off TMA04 with seven hours to spare yesterday. It’s not brilliant, but I don’t think life writing (at least mine) lends itself to anything wonderful. Wish I’d done poems now, instead of prose. Anyway if I get in the 70% range I’ll be happy.

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25/03/2009 by Aileen.

Someone on the OU forum said I had ‘a way of writing that touches the heart.’ That was such a lovely thing to say (in fact it really touched my heart!) but I can’t see it myelf. It’s definitely not on display in this blog! John always says I should write more. Can’t this morning - it’s Birding. Yippee!

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05/03/2009 by Aileen.

I feel like the secretary in that book, who was so proud of her high score at secretarial school. Well, I got 94% for my TMA (three poems and a commentary). I’ve had a super day. We looked at close up photos at the Digital Photography course, and I gardened in the beautiful sunshine this afternoon.

John is only allowed up for 4 hours a day, and he’s being very good about it, although he had four clients this week. He got himself a laptop for using in bed. That means we have a Mac, a PC, and two microsoft laptops in the house.

As I put on yet more weight this week I am really serious about losing it again. Well, I had a few chips tonight (with pizza and salad) but a girl has to eat!

Right! Now I have to do my writing for my Creative Writing class.I also need to catch up on reading (photo magazines, religious periodicals, library book on javascript)

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24/02/2009 by Aileen.

Here it is. Last one to post on here, but first to be written. Now all I have to do is write a commentary on my creative process.

She sits and knits her lonely hours along,    

Or stitches pictures of a curling  world

Where ivy weaves and winds round swirling whorls

Of roses, and the humming birds just hang.

The cuckoo in his castle on the wall                          

Awaits his hour, then mockingly he springs

Into her hopeful dreaming, and she thinks,

For seconds, visitors have rung the bell.

 One day, she won’t feel well enough to wind

The cuckoo up. She’ll set the sewing down

And wait and listen to her heart beat strain

And tick her life away. She cannot mend.

And bottles on the doorstep in a row

Accuse the neighbours that it’s too late now.

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23/02/2009 by Aileen.

John had a really bad might last night - lots of ‘root’ pain. So I cancelled this morning’s opticians appointment. One good thing, it kept me awake so I made a cup of tea at 4am and wrote up the last poem for my TMA. I had been lying awake thinking round it, and getting it into OneNote helped me nod off eventually. I’ll probably revise it several times before sending it off but here it is. (I only had 14 lines left to do, so the structure is given. Ideally I’d like to put in a bit about MPs and PMs, and maybe Wordsworth’s Westminster Bridge, but there you go.)

Big Ben

I gaze north, south, up and down the river

With my four faces.

Grace that great wheel with a cursory glance.

But she’s an upstart. She won’t last.

I’m the icon.

And the London bus of course,

Though it used to be horses.

There was a girl once.

For seven years she traipsed beneath me

Rust uniform and hat, teeth in braces, head full of poems.

She’d be in her sixties now.

She’ll go when her time’s up.

I won’t.  Me and my chime we’ll go on for ever.

Barring bombs of course.

Plans for today. You’ve guessed it. More gardening!

As Titiana has her own Blog now I haven’t written much about Second Life in here. However, I just ought to post a recent picture of me. I haven’t put up a picture for a few days. Tonight at Viewfinders we’re going ‘on location’ to a garage (new cars) so hopefully I’ll have some gleaming snaps to post soon.

Anyway, here’s Titiana.

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01/02/2009 by Aileen.

Right. I’ve been to church. Home in a flurry of what COULD be called snow. Had a salmon salad for lunch. (Roast beef this evening) I’m going to spend a cosy afternoon finishing the two leaflets for Redemptorist Publications that I’ve been asked to write. Then, after our dinner I think I shall read. (The Shadow of the Wind, by Carlos Ruiz Zafon.) The first couple of chapters are intriguing.

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26/01/2009 by Aileen.

Where does the time go to? We had a pleasant weekend with Kev and Mag staying overnight. Today (Monday) I took Spice and Ellie to the vets. Sugar should have gone as well, but she has disappeared. Probably heard the others make a fuss this morning. Or caught sight of the cat baskets.

Going back to last week -

I started the new digital photography class on Thursday morning. It was a very basic introduction (as I expected) but there was still something I didn’t understand about different specifications between digital and film slrs. Need to google it. We have a project to do - five photos of our house/neighbourhood. The light is dismal at the moment so am waiting for it to change. We have three weeks.

On Friday it was Creative Writing. Such fun. The group really is lovely.

Tonight it’s Viewfinders. We are taking photos with the theme of ‘blue.’ (No, not pornographic. At least I don’t think so!)

I’m about to study now, as I can’t find Sugar for the vets. We’re on to poetry. Most enjoyable.

Oh I forgot. In the last few days I have registered with Twitter (don’t know why!) and discovered that I registered with Flickr a year ago. So I have uploaded some rubbishy photos from the new year. My name is

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25/11/2008 by Aileen.

I heard something really sad yesterday, and I can’t stop thinking about it, but can’t write about it as it would be betraying confidences. It made me realise just how cathartic it is to write about things.

We had a lovely weekend with the family. Will have to write about it when I’m in the mood.

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17/10/2008 by Aileen.

It started well, although I was really tired as I stayed up ’til 1.30am faffing around on the ‘net. Loveley time at Creative Writing, but tried to attend Mass at Hessle, only it wasn’t on. I had an eye test in Hull at 3.30 and decided that I didn’t want to wander round the shops beforehand so went home for a couple of hours. Went for eye test, (15 miles away) but as it was not quite two years since the last test I declined as I would have had to pay. Waste of a journey and an afternoon. I wouldn’t mind, but I’m not home much and I would have loved some more time gardening. In Hull I just remembered that I had a ring in for repair (lost an opal) so thought the afternoon was not wasted altogether, but the man said it wasn’t in yet (although it was due in a week ago)

This evening I did ironing, and got on with updating the Hull/Lincs. Counselling Website while keeping one eye on Wire in the Blood. No idea what it was about!

I have finally done what I have always wanted to. I’ve bought a domain and webspace with Hostpapa. This site allows me to use my own coding (unlike my seriouslight website) so I am having fun sorting out colours etc. I’ve cheated, as I’ve uploaded the website I did for my OU course, and I’m just changing the content (and colours, fonts etc.) I’m telling NO ONE what this site is called as it is going to be really personal withall my soppy sentimental poetic stuff. And photos if I can find some suitably arty farty.

Night diary.

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