Ugh!

Thursday 24th, here in Adelaide South Australia is predicted to be 44C, (that's 111.2F) up from the original prediction of 42C, (107.6F)

We've had no rain since December 19th 2018

Thank heavens (and my brother) for airconditioning.
I'll be spending the day inside.

My garden is suffering as my hose connection, the part that sprinkles, has broken and I haven't yet bought a new one. Any water that comes out of the cold taps now is boiling hot for about a minute before the cool water flows.

help please?

I see on some blogs the writers have tabs which can be clicked on to get to another page of their blog where other things are posted. How do I make one of those tabs? 
I'm not at all savvy when it comes to stuff like this so instructions will have to be very specific.
I've started typing up the chapters of the Wednesday Words stories so you can all catch up from the beginning, but if I don't know how to add them to my blog then I'm just wasting my time. 
Of course they have mistakes and all chapters so far need editing anyway, but there's over twenty of them...and it has taken me all afternoon just to type up three of them.

Wednesday's Words on a Friday

The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles.

The aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.

If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along and read it.

This month the words are supplied by Lissa and can be found here.

This week's words are: a video clip with the sound of rain

and/or:

1. it's going to rain today

2. chasing storms

3. umbrellas

4. charmed

5. a long journey

6. trains

Here is my story: a fill-in chapter for something previously written

Bernice lay in bed in her cabin up on the mountain, listening to the heavy rain as it fell. Soon she would sleep, lulled into dreamland by the sound. 

(this video is very long, no need to listen to the whole 10 hours)

Bernice thought of many things as she lay waiting for sleep, but foremost in her thoughts was Detective Inspector Stanley Grace and his partner Irene Fargo. "Cold Cases in the file room," he’d said to Irene. That meant all the notes the coppers had taken on that night so long ago when she’d seen that man, the one who had been sweet-talking young Stephanie. Bernice was glad she’d decided to show them the old quarry and give them the old maps. Maybe something good would come of it. Seeing that crooked nose man again had given Bernice quite a fright. If the old notes had pictures in them, she could possibly point him out if Detective Stanley brought the pictures up here. “I don’t want to be going back down to the city,” she thought as her eyes began to close.

At the same time, Stanley and Irene were listening to the same rain, each in their room at the Cove Hotel. Irene’s mind wandered back many years, hearing her mother’s voice saying, “it’s going to rain today, make sure you and Charlotte take your umbrellas, when you go to watch the trains.” “But it’s so sunny, and we’ll be under the shelter of the platform roof,” Irene complained. They took the umbrellas anyway and were glad later when they had to walk home again in a sudden downpour. Their Dad was a porter at the station and he often walked home with them after they’d spent a couple of hours watching the trains and passengers….Irene’s eyes snapped open. Right there in her memory she saw Bernice. Younger for sure, but definitely Bernice. So she wasn’t connected with any of the cases Irene had first worked on before joining Stanley Grace. She was simply a passenger on a long ago train.

She closed her eyes again and the rest of the story came to her. Bernice had been wearing some odd clothes and Charlotte had mentioned it within their dad’s hearing. He’d told them, “she’s an odd duck that one, bit of a charmed life I reckon, always on the long-journey trains, 'chasing storms' she once said, Joe over there told me, never had much luggage, just always going where the storms were, always muttering something about a crooked nose.”

Detective Inspector Stanley Grace was propped up against several pillows making notes as the rain hammered on the roof of the hotel. They’d gone up and found the Scenic Retreat and had a chat with Ed and Sara Saunders. Ed in particular had been interested in the maps and the possibility of a granite seam under their section of the cliff. “Where did you get these?” he asked and Stanley told him about Bernice, the quarry, and a crooked nosed man, while Irene was helping Sara with slicing cake and gathering cups and plates while Sara filled the big teapot with boiling water. Irene had glimpsed Stephanie and recognised her from the photo in the cold cases file. Even after all this time, Stephanie hadn’t changed much.

Irene now decided she was in a hurry to get back to the city and really start digging around in all those notes and photos. She had a feeling the case might be about to crack a little.

According to the 6pm news

South Australia was the hottest place in the world today, with town in the northern part of the state reaching 49C, that's 120F for you Northern Hemisphere people, and a bit higher for Oak Valley but they didn't say what that higher temperature was.
I'm glad I don't live up there anymore, it's a bit cooler down here in the southern part of the state, we have the beaches which probably helps a bit.

Wednesday's Words on a Friday

The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles.

The aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.

If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along and read it.

This month the words are supplied by Lissa and can be found here.

This week's words are actually two photographic images which I have included in my story::

As they left Jack’s office, Harry and Eleanor decided that since they had the rest of the day on their hands, perhaps they’d have a look at this “Shark Cove” place themselves. They asked directions from the desk clerk who gave them a map and pointed out the turns to make along the main roads. It didn’t look so far away, only four inches on the map, but that would translate into at least an hour or two by car. Harry studied the map and declared the place to be closer to their home than to the town they were currently in.

“It might be nice to wander around near the beach, it will take our minds off that skeleton for a while.” “You’re right,” said Eleanor, and off they went. They filled up with petrol before turning on to the main highway and heading east. The flat road soon began threading through low hills that became higher as they neared the coast. Rounding a bend, they spied high cliffs over on their right, with a very small town almost directly below them. Harry shifted to a lower gear to make the descent while saying “The other entrance to the town looks less steep, see it over that way? Perhaps we should go that way next time.” “I see it,” said Eleanor, “but this way is closer and far prettier with the cliffs and that long pier stretching out into the cove. I wonder why it is named Shark Cove? Do you suppose there are sharks in those waters?”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” said Harry, as they drove into the main street of the town. “Look at those lovely old-fashioned street lights! There’s one with seagulls on it, see there?”

“Probably waiting for a family to come picnicking so they can get lunch,” laughed Eleanor. “Look at the shimmer on that water, there must be just enough breeze to make ripples all the way in to shore. Should we stop at the General Store first? The desk clerk said the manager there knows more about the place than anyone else.” “Good idea,” said Harry. “I thought about asking at the hotel, but the General Store is also a Post Office he said, and they’d be quite knowledgeable about the area. You could ask about Curly Cuts and make an appointment, you did say Mum’s hair was nicely done and you need a cut yourself.”

They parked the car, and strolled towards the General Store. Looking around they noticed how quiet it was and wondered if it was always so. “Maybe it gets busier in summer?” said Eleanor.

“We’ll ask,” said Harry as they entered the store. A Post Office section was over to the right, with the manager serving a customer. While waiting in line, Eleanor noticed an unusual picture on the wall. “Look at that, Harry,” she said. “It looks like someone double exposed an image on one of those old film type cameras. It looks good printed in grey tones like that.” 

They soon found out Shark Cove had been named because at very low tides the rocks ringing the beach looked like shark teeth when viewed from the clifftop, but there were no real sharks in the area. “Is there a story about that unusual photograph?” asked Eleanor. The manager, who introduced himself as Bill Money, said it had been given to him by a photographer who’d stayed in the Cove Hotel some years ago. “Her name was Cherie Kendall, she was here with her husband Frank and young son, taking photos of the area. She used to sell them to calendar and postcard manufacturers, but didn’t think this one would sell. It wasn’t taken in this area anyway. I said I liked it, so she gave it to me. Really sad what happened next. She was found murdered a couple of days later, her husband and son haven’t been seen since. They were gone when her body was found early one morning.”

“Oh, that’s horrible!” exclaimed Eleanor. “Was anyone convicted?”

“No, said Bill. “The one person who might have seen anything had a mental breakdown and now has a blank slate where her memory should be. She’s the one who found Cherie, still lives around here, in the old hospital, spends a lot of time with the old folks up at the “Scenic Retreat.”

“That’s the name on that old weather-beaten sign near that causeway close to home,” said Harry. “I remember,” said Eleanor, “we said we might take a look at it one day.”

Wednesday's Words on a Friday

The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles.

The aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.

If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along and read it.

This month the words are supplied by Lissa and can be found here.

This week's words are:

1. beginning
2. new year
3. wonder
4. ritual
5. kiss
6. faith  and/or:

1. seven
2. remember
3. adventure
4. miles
5.88
6. heart

this week you are getting a "twofer" with part one being a piece I wrote almost exactly a year ago, some of you may remember it, so that part two, using the above words will make more sense.

Part One      (written 2 January 2018)

"Graziella, il mio amore, come, dance with me." 

"Pietro, you old fool, it is raining."

"Bah! What is rain? Just a little water after all. Dancing in the rain is such fun! You remember, surely you remember. You must remember." 

"So long ago Pietro, now we are very old."

"So we dance a little slower, come, take my hand."

Slowly Graziella stood from her place on the porch seat. Pietro took her hand and led her to the circle of grass, bordered by her favourite roses. 

They danced slowly, carefully, as he whispered in her ear. "Remember Grazie, the year in America. We saw the Apollo launch, visited the submarine from World War Two. Remember Yosemite Park where we got lost?"

"I remember Pietro, we were rescued by the ranger with the so handsome face, he should have romance novels written about him."
"Ah, he was a good looking man, I was glad you were my wife already, I had confidence you would not look too long at him."

"Of course not Pietro, you are my only love. I remember his name was Byron, like the poet."
"Pah! Poetry! I need a dictionary to understand it, the archaic English language. It is not beautiful to me as it is to others."
"I know this Pietro. You like things more real, easier to understand. I remember something else from that year, that so long honeymoon we had."

"What do you remember Graziella?"
"The shark tank at the aquarium. All the sharks, constantly moving, yet so silent. But what is this Pietro? This bloody stain I see on your shirt?"

"Is nothing Grazie, a little nosebleed when I sneezed. The new doctor from germany said it might happen."
"A reaction to the medicine, yes. I did not notice right away. I should wash the shirt, not be dancing in the rain."

"But I have so little time left. The shirt can wait. Let us dance."

Now for Part Two, (written 3 January 2019) using the above words supplied by Lissa.

A short two weeks later, Pietro and Graziella were again reminiscing, this time in a pretty, quiet room at the local hospital. Pietro had taken a turn for the worse, the new medicine had not worked as well as expected.

Graziella had arrived early while Pietro still slept. She smiled at his gentle face, the flickering eyelids indicating dreaming, or perhaps preparing to wake. She arranged the new flowers in a vase and gazed with wonder at the array of vases already there, a riotous range of colour brightening the room. A different arrangement from each of their seven children, and several from friends and neighbours, all of them thanking Pietro and Graziella for their many years of friendship and assistance.

A small sound from the bed and Graziella turned to see Pietro’s bright brown eyes on her. “Grazie, my heart,” he whispered. “It is good to see you again, you have been gone too long.” “Too long? I was here last night as you fell asleep,” she said. “Ah, but five minutes apart is too long now. I know I have no time left, I must leave for a new adventure soon, I feel it in my  bones. But tell me Grazie, what day is it? I have forgotten.”

“Dear Pietro, it is January second, a Wednesday and a New Year is just beginning. Tomorrow is your birthday, you will be 88 years old, surely you remember that much?” “Yes, I remember, but I have been sleeping so much, I thought maybe more days had passed. The flowers are all so beautiful, perhaps I am in heaven already and you came with me.”

“Not yet Pietro, you are still here with me, on earth” said Graziella as she began the ritual of brushing his hair and plumping his pillows, smoothing the blankets before the final touch, a tender kiss. “The children will be here to visit soon, the hospital has relaxed the visiting rules for us. I wish it weren’t this way, I don’t think I am ready for you to leave us.” She cried a few tears as she smiled at him.

“Dear heart,” Pietro whispered. “Do not cry. I am ready, I know it is time. Don’t cry too much, think instead of all the miles we travelled together, all the fun times, the babies who now bring their own babies to see us. And have faith Grazie. In time we will be together again. Listen now, do I hear the children arriving? It sounds like a crowd, they must all come at once.”

Lola Update

We've just got home from the vet, me and Lola and my handy neighbour who carries the carrier. Andrew, the vet, was pleased to hear that Lola has been eating a little bit since I made the appointment and has even put on a bit of weight. 

We discussed the hayfever season and her headaches, then the constant scratching with all the resulting scabs and hairless patches. The other vets I've seen put that down to allergies of which her hayfever is one, but Andrew said this is a result of stress. He has a very long name for the condition, but I can't remember what he called it. Something beginning with E. So, what stress? No one knows. Any little thing at all can trigger stress in an animal, and of course they can't tell us what's worrying them. 

So Lola had an antibiotic to help with the healing of the sores and a cortisone shot for the stress and has to go back in two weeks for another one. 

Then we talked about next season. My hayfever usually kicks off around late August or early September, so Andrew suggested watching Lola around that time and if her stress kicks in with the usual scratching and head shaking pattern, he will give her a three shot cortisone whammy over six weeks. That's one shot a fortnight. He thinks that should be enough to see her through the spring and summer. 

Of course now I'm worrying about what could possibly have triggered her stress. Any little change could do it, says Andrew.  Even seeing another cat that she doesn't like through the window could do it. But there aren't any roaming cats up my end of the driveway now that new laws have come into effect stating all cats must be indoors. 
The only thing I can think of is I now have the outside awning pulled down against the heat, so when Lola is on the windowsill, she can't see the garden. I may have to raise the awning a little and just keep the curtains closed against any glare. 

And give her more cuddles whenever she wants them, not just when I'm ready.