It is almost 2020 and I have discovered I do not have twenty twenty vision. I can see clearly now the blurring has gone. It turns out that my Kindle companion was a way of coping with my less than perfect sight, and I have astigmatism. Joy of reading a physical book has been revived for me. To look at the front cover, blurb and mark my favourite pages is a luxury I had forgotten.
I will take a step at a time and negotiate the paths no matter how difficult they are.
I am currently drinking in the stories of the books but without picking up my review notebook. Maybe this is because I can see the words now and don’t need to break from the strain of reading. It is wonderful not to suffer the terrible migraines that previously impacted on my day. And I know why I was constantly complaining about the way the light reflected on my book or keyboard.
Now I have clearer vision, I intend to reread a printed version of my work in progress. I will read it without a review pen in hand and think about weaving in some secrets. I am attempting to consume my work in progress as a reader viewing the novel for the first time. Whilst on handbag leave ideas have been popping and bubbling, and I hope they come into focus.
For the time being, I am abandoning the kindle for the book so will need a considerably bigger bag.
I must admit I also rather like my glasses as a new accessory. Books in Handbag with Glasses could be a new direction for me. I’ve also spied an opportunity to shop for snazzy glasses cases. For the time being, I am abandoning the kindle for the book so will need a considerably bigger bag. However, I must confess I am not getting along very well with the varifocals as they make me a little dizzy. I need to focus on one thing at a time.
I will take a step at a time and look forward to the destination.
My vision for 2020 is to write, write, write and to look ahead. I have no specific resolutions. Adventures will come into focus as the year unfolds. I will take a step at a time and negotiate the paths no matter how difficult they are. I look forward to you all joining me on my adventures and feel privileged to have your company.
“The horizon leans forward, Offering you space to place new steps of change.” -Maya Angelou
Wishing you all a Happy New Year, and the strength to let your dreams unfold and surprise you. I will leave you with Maya Angelou’s advice:
“The horizon leans forward, Offering you space to place new steps of change.”
The Tryo must have spent a lifetime perfecting their art and teasing out every single note.
Enchanted by a musical trio, we joined a crowd as they danced, swayed and tapped their feet to the beat. The international language of joy spread across everyone’s face.
Situated next to the Roman Forum, musical notes suspended us in a moment. The entertainers beamed at their audience’s response. As I tapped my feet, I realised how few people placed money in the guitar case, and no one would part with ten euros to buy the compilation. Many people expected the impromptu entertainment to be free.
The Trio must have spent a lifetime perfecting their art and teasing out every single note. I tried to imagine their stories. Who were the loves of their lives? How did they manage perform the music with such soul? As a gesture of kindness from a writer to musicians, I decided to pay the ten euros for the CD. The trio smiled again but looked a little surprised. My action prompted a few others to buy the music.
I believe people had forgotten that we can’t always expect to be entertained for free. Alas, other people continued to record the music on their phones and never looked up. However, I did hear the happy clang of coins hitting the guitar as I walked away.
At Home in the Pays d’Oc made me giggle, and I was delighted to experience more divine comedy in a bundle of short stories. Do you fancy a tipple of laughter? I can thoroughly recommend ‘Tales from the Pays d’Oc’ – what a treat!
Patricia’s Tales from the Pays d’Oc are tasty morsels of France spiced with other cultures. I peeped into the worlds of Morbignan and St Remy les Cevennes via Patricia’s giggling goggles and it appealed to my nosy nature. How I enjoyed the ‘babble of accents’ from: French, Dutch, German, Swedish and English inhabitants. The ‘gossip fest’ tempted me throughout the stories. Amusing and poignant observations are thrown in for good measure. For instance, I learned that ‘serious drinking won’t begin for an hour’ at ten o’clock.
Story: The Poet, the Thief and the Indian Prawn. Snatched the prawn from his plate almost in mid-air and hit the ground running
Oh, how I waited impatiently, in the café, for the news. Who was dead? What happened? I even found myself adding details and was taught a naughty lesson. Gossip was the only temptation to move me away from the market. I drooled as ‘the fruit stalls spilled a cornucopia of cherries and strawberries and peaches, their scents voluptuous and enticing in the heat.’
I may have also been tempted by the character of Karl who is personified by the ‘big, butch vehicle’. Hilarious! Alas, we owned one of those ‘high – falutin’ ‘Bland Rovers’, so he may not have approved. The ending of the story made me laugh and laugh. Patricia blends the humour so skilfully that I am in awe – again!
Story: Oops! The nearside front wheel slithered into thin air and they lurched to a stop.
Armageddon Falls carried me along the flow of the narrative. The author is skilled at building simple details of the characters, hinting at conflict and absorbing the reader in the dialogue. She manages to demonstrate how people would bemuse the French inhabitants. I felt certain the author would teach the Americans a lesson. How can an artist declare, ‘when you’ve seen one vine, you’ve seen them all’?
All the characters are vibrant, and I love the way the style of each story reflects the personalities. Sheer genius in every single morsel of these bite size temptations. The enigma of the ‘boy in the pool’ is beautifully conveyed. Who is he? The mystery of the summer visitor combined with the mystery of the boy in the pool is brilliant.
Story: A-sitting on a Bench Sitting on the bench they have their measure of the place, but don’t expect to gossip with this crowd if you are ‘anglais’
The dog named ‘Useless’ who becomes a Greek goddess is great. I loved this dog! Moreover, I wanted to eat the truffle omelette on my snow-covered patio. Indeed, animals are also wonderful, intelligent characters in the collection of stories.
Let’s not forget the eccentric French characters who throw themselves into: truffle hunting, boar hunting, village fetes, food, parties’ wine and, of course, amorous liaisons. French culture is explored, dissected and presented on a plate. The villagers are stubborn and reluctant to change but sometimes surprise you. There are amusing, everyday incidents, but as you weave in and out of the characters’ lives, you get to meet them several times. The ‘good ol’ boys’ are a constant presence throughout the stories. Sitting on the bench they have their measure of the place, but don’t expect to gossip with this crowd if you are ‘anglais’ like Henry or even a Parisienne. You could listen to Josephine, the town crier, and find out how she is taught a lesson. Perhaps you’d like to join the Saturday Club to discover why the ‘swing doors flung open, and on a roar of “Ou est -il donc?”’ Has Kiki been up to his ‘old tricks’ or are you in the middle of a western? Beware of the raging woodman! Admire, the author’s wonderful turn of phrase and stand back when Paulette grabs ‘a fistful of blonde hair with a struggling, protesting eighteen-year-old attached.’ Discover how Patricia manages to rub a little salt into the wounded pride of the various characters. No one escapes her witty observation.
Story: Cheeky ‘… and don’t come back!’
Morsels of Morbignan are ‘tres amusant’. Each story made me declare: ‘Ah, or ‘Je vois’ or ‘oh la la’. The author transported me over the English Channel and made me think in schoolgirl French (minus the accents). Desperate for the denouement of each tale, I burnt a stew, but it was an excuse to open a bottle of French wine. These stories would make a perfect Sunday evening TV series.
Cheers, Patricia! I can’t wait for more tempting morsels.
About Patricia
Patricia Feinberg Stoner began her career as a graduate trainee with the Liverpool Daily Post.
Quickly discovering she was a terrible reporter, she switched to feature writing and since then her career has revolved around the written word, as a journalist, advertising copywriter and publicist. For many years she was international press officer for Granada Television, leaving to set up her own publicity business, The Good Word.
Once a dyed-in-the-wool Londoner, Patricia now lives in West Sussex with her husband Patrick, also a writer. She is a member of CHINDI independent authors.
Her first book, ‘Paw Prints in the Butter’, is a collection of humorous verse about cats, sold in aid of WADARS, a local animal rescue charity. She followed this with ‘At Home in the Pays d’Oc’ which, she says, is the story of two accidental expatriates in the south of France. The book won a Five Star Book Award from One Stop Fiction.
November 2017 saw the publication of Patricia’s third book – ‘The Little Book of Rude Limericks’. Despite the title, she warns that not all of the limericks in the book are rude: in fact, some are perfectly polite. However, there are exceptions.
Her latest book revisits the Languedoc with a collection of short stories: ‘Tales from the Pays d’Oc‘. In its pages you will discover what Matthieu was doing in the olive tree, who stole the Indian prawn and who rescued two hapless Americans at Armageddon Falls.
‘I leave you with a sense of humour and memories. Think of me when funny things happen.’ That’s what my late father told us when we discovered he had only got weeks to live. He insisted that we didn’t sit around the hospital bed and weep but laugh at memories. He started a conversation with, ‘Do you remember when…’, and then engaged us in funny stories of past events. Everyone in the ward laughed along at the stories – it was magic. I can still remember my dad holding his belly as he laughed out loud. What a great way to distract us all from the sadness! That was thirteen years ago.
Dad’s philosophy helped us through this year. As we haven’t been able to get together with extended family, we have treasured memories of past events and shared photos of past get togethers. We aimed to find photos that capture laughter!
I found a photo of me when I was about nine years old.
I found a photo of me when I was about nine years old. I urged Mum to take a photo of Dad reading the newspaper, so we could record the progress of his bald head and present the photo as evidence. He loved this and said, ‘Hair today, gone tomorrow.’
Photos that capture a moment are a gift. For example, in Northumberland, I decided to take a closer look at the sea and when I jumped off the wall, I was rewarded with a splash from a freak wave. I was the only walker who did not escape the water, and my husband was able to snap the moment as he was taking photos of the sea at the time.
I decided to take a closer look at the sea and when I jumped off the wall, I was rewarded with a splash from a freak wave.
‘Please tell me that wasn’t planned,’ said an elderly gentleman, crying with laughter.
‘No, it was especially for you,’ I replied.
He held his stomach as he waited for the laughter to subside. It felt as if Dad was there with us in that moment, instigating his usual mischief.
Of course, sharing stories and old photos is not the same as the face-to-face contact, but it cheered us up. For us, Dad is an absent present in those moments of hilarity and it’s comforting. My heart goes out to those people who have lost their loved ones, and I am thinking of you and wishing you comfort in those memories captured in your heart.
Which photos capture your fondest memories and make you smile?
