Four funerals, no wedding – and a name change

The story has moved on to 1995 – fifty years since Frank and Sandra were born (I’ll come back to that in a moment – don’t rush me).

1986 – 1995 has been the decade when the pairs’ parents all die – four funerals – see, I told you! Where was I? Ah, yes, Frank and Sandra. Well, you know how one of the subjects of this blog is creative writing…? You didn’t? Well, it is.

Anyway, today I decided to be creative as I wrote. Those of you who joined in with me a few weeks ago will remember – possibly – that my hero started off life as Gareth. That turned out to be a potential problem – someone in a family type relationship turns out to be named Gareth. So, to spare anyone’s blushes, or accusations – about telling someone’s life history but pretending it was fiction – I changed his name to Frank.

He’s been Frank a few weeks now, but every time I write the name I think – ‘boring’. Whoever gives the hero of their book the name Frank? Don’t tell me. Someone famous? Sorry, never heard of them. So, I’ve re-named him Luke. Think Luke Skywalker. Isn’t Microsoft Word wonderful? Find ‘Frank’, Replace ‘Luke’. There we are – done – as quickly as that. Now that’s what I call creative.

Funerals seem to be a great way to bring people into one place so that they can smile at one another, converse, argue with them, or embarrass them. Mmm…embarrass sounds more fun. Perhaps I should go back and try that.

Back to the plot. Norman is still a petulant bore, a rotten husband and a terrible Daddy. Frank is still on his own – now he’s divorced into the bargain. Sandra is still sweet, kind, beautiful and a wonderful Mum – guess who’s my favourite character? I think that she’s getting fed up of husband Norman. I’ve had her meeting Frank again after thirty years – scrub that – Luke – at a funeral. She spoke to him and smiled. That’s a start isn’t it?

Sandra’s kids are brats. I think she should leave them when they’re older . I blame Norman for spoiling them. Fancy buying a seventeen year old girl a sports car. And I’m sure that her younger brother Paul is on the Wacky Baccy.

Tomorrow will be the year 2000 unless I’m told to clear up the garage. Forget robot lawnmowers, why has no one invented a robot to tidy garages?

I’m up to 17,000 words now. Little by little the bird builds its nest as the proverb says,

The photo today is of a parish church – the kind where they do funeral services – so I thought that a photo of it might be suitable. I even converted it to black and white to make it look more funereal. I took the photo using my Pentax KP camera with a Sigma 10-20 mm f/3.5 lens at 20mm and f/11. The ISO was 100 and the shutter speed 3/5 seconds. I used a tripod but no filters.

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