Joyce Barrass's Blog, page 51

2017 - COMING READY OR NOT!

Sunset, South Yorkshire (all words and images author's own)We don't have to search very hard for reminders of why 2016 has more than its fair share of reasons to be lamented loudly and then forgotten. Nightmare politics and propaganda, media meltdowns, financial uncertainty, deaths of a golden host of celebrity friends we thought we knew like family, unfathomable tragedies, war and hatred we children of the sixties once dreamed the world would be too wise and too compassionate for by now.
Sometimes just checking in on social media, letting our eyes scan a newspaper or fix on current affairs on the screen, can trigger a tailspin into hopelessness, cynicism, bitterness, shrugged shoulders, hardened hearts. Coral and apricot skies
Today I decided. Time to focus on things I might have missed if I hadn't lived through this rollercoaster year. Time to allow myself to be thankful. Thankfulness washes world-weary shredded nerves like a gentle spa of healing for the heart.
Thankfulness doesn't mean you're suddenly Pollyanna. Gratitude doesn't cocoon you from empathy with those suffering or excuse you from giving a damn. But it can help you find your footing on the slimiest slope. It can remind you of the motive that coaxes you to get up for another day. Spot the pigeon
Here are my treasures gleaned and gathered from 2016:
-taking the plunge of going gluten-free, dairy-free, nightshade-free to try and give my body with its tortured neuroimmune system a chance to heal itself. Gradually glimpsing a life beyond the constant fog of exhaustion, pain and sickness. Doesn't mean I'm miraculously cured of a lifelong knot of autoimmune illnesses, but it seems to have allowed me the blessing, at long last, of better days. I've even had to reduce my blood pressure pills down to the very minimum and my insulin cartridge lasts me a week! A couple of dried dates can bring me back from a low blood sugars now instead of 30 years of severe hypos rescued by jelly babies and lucozade! Result!
-discovering water Kefir grains, brewing homemade probiotic ginger beer and soda and enjoying what a positive effect it seems to have on my digestion. Plus I'm so attached I think of my little jellified chums as pets now, giving back so much more than they get from a shot of sugar and mineral water! Still going strong after six months, they're currently having a little rest and recuperation in my fridge over the holidays! They so deserve it!  Water kefir in spring water
-being well enough for my first longed-for holiday, five days in June in fabulous Flamborough to restore my soul and get inspired for my novel which is set along that stunning coast.  North Landing, Flamborough, East Yorkshire 
-reconnecting with my bestie from schooldays after she resettled in the UK after decades living abroad. Our weekly Skype adventures, texting, laughter and far-ranging heart-to-hearts till the early hours are a joy to my spirit. The years fall away and we're in our teens again, but even closer with the richer perspective of the years apart. My bestie and I conquering the Skype gremlins 
-teaching myself how to bake the most moist, rich, delicious chocolate cake I've ever tasted, using coconut oil, almond flour and ingredients that no longer make my blood sugars spike, with the joy of never needing to deprive myself of my ultimate salted caramel treat! That is, if I've ever got any left after sharing it with eager friends and family! Gluten-free salted caramel chocolate cake
-dog-sitting a variety of furry friends of friends who fill up, temporarily, that dog-shaped hole in my heart since my own lad passed away. Cocker Spaniel sisters discovering treat puzzle ball
-inching towards the publication of my second novel, “Cloudhover Solstice” with all the attendant pleasures of plotting, researching, dreaming, writing and editing, plus the privilege of knowing how much my characters have found their fond place in the imaginations of my readers. So thankful to the kind few who support me by leaving a review, sharing posts, tweets and spreading the word. You are worth more than gold to me, even if I never earn a penny from my passion! Work-in-progress novel. Not the *actual* cover!
-adventuring on a fungus foray by day and a bat walk by night in local woodland and having the quiet thrill of being at one with the wonderful natural world that surrounds us in this lovely corner of Yorkshire. Orange Birch Bolete on the Fungus Foray in October
-soap! After night after night of sciatic twinges and cramps, googling in sheer desperation for help with agonising, sleep-shrinking restless legs, I came across what sounds like some mad old wives' tale of putting soap in a sock in your bed. I bought a cheap tablet of soap from the Co-op the next day, stuck it in an old knee-high, shoved it sceptically between the sheets. I haven't had full-blown cramp since that first night! No more idea why this works than anybody else – maybe I'm a mad old girl, too, but who's counting?  Soap in a sock
-acquainting myself with my new all-singing, all-beeping insulin pump, Humph Mk II and his handset, the rather feisty Rita the Second. Yes, I still scream at Rita when I'm hypo and she's nagging me to eat. I still roll my eyes at Humph when he decides he needs new batteries in the middle of something more interesting. But you've got to love technology and ingenuity. They're keeping me alive from one moment to the next. My great gran was dead at 42 for lack of such inventions being widely available in the 1920s. Me and my portable pancreas

-the birds, the Moon, passing planes, the trees, the flora and fauna, the clouds, the sunsets, the faces, the patterns, the colours that have kept my camera clicking throughout this year and the privilege of reliving eternally these moments frozen in time and sharing them with friends the world over. Full Grain Moon over the wood

-friends, old and new, online and with flesh on, who remind me how many truly wonderful and special people are on this planet, fighting to ensure that love will always win over prejudice, bigotry and hate.
2017, you're welcome! You might not be gentle. You might not be all we hope for. But I'm coming to make the best of you, ready or not!

WHERE I GREW UP

Bolton-on-Dearne in the old West Riding of Yorkshire's Dearne Valley, in the railway cottages in the 60s, just in case you were wondering!

WINTERING ON

A little something for you, whispered in my ear by the trees as the winter creeps shivering in.

MANY UNHAPPY TAX RETURNS

MANY UNHAPPY TAX RETURNS
I'm finding little jobs to doI'm fettling and dustingI'm whirling like a whirly thingOCD fluster and fussing
I can't just chill and meditate,I simply can't relaxAt least my bowels stay openWhen it's time to do my tax.
Some put it off till deadline dayWhen January's throughBut me, I start my whittlingAges before it's due.
I could've should've done it then,It only takes a minute.But each year I procrastinateToo anxious to begin it.
It's not like I have property,A spouse or fancy car,I've just a tiny pensionAnd that doesn't go so far.
I vow every time not to worry,Mine's never that complicated.Then here I am shivering with dread and doom,Wondering why I waited!
But still I always put it off,Daily it haunts my mind,Like a gremlin, ghost or gargoyleThat I just can't leave behind.
Come on, why not just do it?Be mistress of your fear,For the day it's filed and overIs the highlight of my year!
Shall I just iron those curtains, now?Should I just polish that key?Anything has to be preferableTo the ruddy HMRC.
Think of those multi-millionairesAvoiding their tax for years!Yet here am I, cowering with bitten nails,Nightmares and jittery fears!
So I'll gather my dockets and chitties,My P60 and statements and such.They say that tax shouldn't be taxing,But it taxes yours truly too much!

(Written while trying to file online and constantly getting “Sorry, there was a problem handling your request. Please try again shortly.”)

Short Story - WATER GYPSY

"I've lost my great great grandmother!" Obsessed with knocking down this brick wall as she researches her family history, an old lady glimpses tragic secrets from the past while minding her young grandson.
A tale inspired by my own Yorkshire roots and the endless mysteries and magic tangled in the roots of our family trees.

Raindrops scatter into shimmer

Raindrops scatter into shimmer
Mint diamonds out of sunblaze
Dream of growing up as snowflakes
Giggling into the mirror

Hush your mouth, inner critic monster!

Every day as I plot, plan, daydream, research and write, I find myself battling that pesky inner critic. 

You know it well. 

We all know it, because it talks to each one of us in our own distinctive voice. It trips us with our own artfully devised stumbling blocks. It gloats mockingly back at us, wearing ludicrous hats, from the mirror of our own mind. It knows our doubts and hang-ups.  It devises procrastinating distractions from our own delights. It plays on the weaknesses only we see in ourselves. It knows our secrets and harps on every fear. 

Every day I do battle with that inner critic monster, just to kick off its leaden boots so I can swim down into the joy of free-fall risky writing. Some days I go paws up, frozen, timid, poorer; those days are sad because I let it win. 

Love and thanks to all those in my life who have faith in me to be the best writer I was born to be. So, hush your mouth, inner critic monster. We are too strong for you and your smug blank page.

Strength and solidarity to all those who muffle and silence their inner doubts and dithering to bring us their beautiful words, craft, images and reflections from the precious depths of their creative souls.

We are writers when we write. We win.

The Round Houses, Wickersley, today and in fiction

Meet the real-life "Round Houses" on Morthen Road, Wickersley, as they are today, photographed by me this afternoon. These are the distinctive buildings that fire Thirza's imagination while she's killing time waiting for Lucas to collect the new millstone from the Wickersley quarry for Kitson's Mill in "Goatsucker Harvest":"To while away the time, Thirza set out to stroll the length of what she imagined was the main street, back towards the parish church of St Alban. She gazed at a pair of unusual bow-fronted cottages and puzzled how the occupants chose furniture that would bend to the shape of the room. Or did they design their own? It must be like living in a windmill, only a windmill cut in half." - Joyce Barrass 'Goatsucker Harvest' (Ch 25 "Grindstones and Goatsuckers").

                           Available free on Kindle Unlimited or to purchase for Kindle or in Paperback

TREE GONE SOLO

Here's a poem for all you lovely readers inspired by a recent walk around my local Wickersley Wood on the outskirts of Rotherham. There's a particular tree there that grows apart from the main body of woodland. Readers of my poems and stories will understand how deeply my imagination's affected by the natural world around me. Here's another fragment for you of my lifelong lovesong to the beautiful landscapes of my native Yorkshire. 

Hypoglycaemic

Here's a humorous piece of flash fiction I wrote and which I'm sharing to mark 32 years of being a Type 1 insulin junkie diabetic.
Except that this isn't actually fiction. I inhabit this kind of parallel universe at least every month or so.
For all you diabetic Type 1s out there - enjoy the familiar feelings here.
For all you readers with a fully functioning pancreas - welcome to my crazy world!


Yes - the lack of paragraphs and punctuation below IS a reflection of the hypo state of mind.


This for me is what a hypo/low blood sugar REALLY feels like.