So with November only having just started I can feel myself getting stressed already. My quilting projects have definitely taken a back seat to all the writing that I need want need to be doing, and the writing is happening, but only very very slowly. I seem to be having more luck writing my ideas down at the moment, rather than actually writing any of my story down. The only quilting that I seem to have gotten done is my little mug rug (which I have to still take photos of, but did turn out quite nice).
The lack of quilting is partly due to the fact that my wrist has been giving me problems again lately and using the rotary cutter is actually quite painful. However, tomorrow I am heading off to the Adelaide craft and quilt fair with my sister, and plan on buying up on some lovely fabrics, so pain in my wrist or not, there will be cutting out done shortly followed by some serious quilting.
In fact, I’m thinking of buying myself a little voice recorder, so that as I am cutting and sewing I can tell my story out loud and then type it up later. I think I can talk as quick as I think, I’m a fairly quick typist, but I still can’t seem to type as quickly as I can think, so maybe this is a way for me to be able to do all the projects that I would like to get done over November without pulling out my hair due to stresssssssss!!
So with that in mind, I thought I would leave you all with the first few paragraphs of my story, which is titled “The adventures of Snotface, Boogerbum and Soggy Scab.” There will be an explanation about the names in the next few days. I hope you enjoy this excerpt:
Snotface and Soggy Scab had always led a very quiet and peaceful life, where they had their set routine, and not a lot changed. They would wake up in the morning, have a leisurely breakfast of toast with jam and cream and Soggy Scab would read his paper while sipping his first cup of tea for the day, while Snotface would sit down and write in her diary about all the extraordinary things that had happened to her on the previous day. Her father would sit across from her and wonder what she was writing about, because as far as he knew, nothing exciting ever happened in the village.
The little village they lived in was called Willow Grove, and it was the most beautiful village you would ever come across. There were green fields, with wildflowers waving in the wind, and dandelions aplenty for the children to pick and make wishes upon. There were lakes, and streams filled with fish, to swim with, or if you were of the mind, to catch. On the edges of the village was a forest, so big and green and dark. No one ever ventured into the forest, the children were too scared to and the adults had no need to – what point was there? Everything they needed was right there within the village itself. No one ever left Willow Grove, and no one ever came, except of course for that one time, when someone did come, and then left again shortly after. It was as if time had stood still. There was farmer Murdoch who grew peas and corn for the village to eat, farmer Riley who made sure everyone had potatoes and tomatoes on their plate and then there was farmer Shane – he kept the pigs and cows, but the less said about that, the better.
Why no one ever ventured into the forest, I cannot tell you. I know I certainly would have gone in to have a bit of a peek, to visit with some of the animals, but it seems that the folk of Willow Grove were not very adventurous, or even really rather curious. Occassionally a deer might wander out of the forest, but it was only rarely, and it was only really to wander into Mrs Gumbles garden to eat her roses. Because the deer of the forest love Mrs Gumbles roses, they are a delicacy to deers, indeed they are.
