April 2nd 2021

It’s Camp Nanowrimo, and I am doing it my way since I’ve already missed a day. Yesterday, we had a long beneficial zoom session with Bearsden Writers on ‘Page to Stage’ by Neet Neilson. All about the creation of a five-minute stage play. We agreed that the writing process was quite similar to other areas of writing. The method of taking your written work onto the stage seemed to include a lot of other people with the potential of fighting for your words and ideas. That was scary.
I should be editing the words I wrote in November, but I might be more productive if I try to fit those into my work in progress. I don’t think I can write a memoir (too many tangled tales in my past), so it will have to be a work of fiction with some stories from my life included, which is how my novel ‘Finding Takri’ came into being. It works that way for me.
What did I do since November? I have been busy but not writing, not submitting, although I have been keeping in touch with my writing community. I have been reading, doing jigsaws, knitting and baking flapjacks.

Our only visitors were our neighbours’ hens, who would tap on the patio doors for food. Unfortunately, our local fox got a hold of them on a dark March night when the wind had blown their coop door shut before they could get in. Two children next door were distraught, but so were we adults. Only one of six hens survived, Rosie, who hid in a tight space near a shed. Oh well, the fox and her babies had a feast! My neighbour bought four more hens to keep Rosie company, but they are not allowed out of the coop yet.

New Friends: November 22nd

Nanowrimo word count 2385 running total 34,731

At the start of the lockdown in March, my neighbour bought six hens. They were for her eleven-year-old son to give him a new interest. She hoped it would help him cope with the Covid-19 restrictions. He loved them, and they are gorgeous. We told him we didn’t mind them being in our garden. Now, they come to the patio door and peck at the glass! My husband feeds them Aldi Multigrain bread, and they adore him (and the food). When he comes in from his golf game, they run to the car clucking. He loves the attention and says, ‘Is Palo not feeding you?’ They race back to the patio where they know he will appear. Are hens that clever?
We were in Kashmir last year, and the hens awaiting slaughter in the shops were in such a poor state. We didn’t want to walk down the street for fear of seeing another cage with straggly, starving hens waiting to be put out of their misery.
It is an unfair world.