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Kerry Hadley-Pryce

Looking at Mars with my daughter...

1/31/2010

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One of the things I will always remember: Friday night, 29th January. It's bitterly cold and the air is biting at our fingertips. The sky is clear and the moon full, casting a yellow-white glow across us. According to the internet, this is the night we could see Mars. Now, my lovely daughter is a space-freak with a telescope so despite the cold, we trained the lens slightly to the left and down a bit of the moon where, with the naked eye a very bright star shone slightly reddish. After a bit of adjustment, quite a lot of shivering and debate, there it shockingly and suddenly was: a disc, red-grey and grainy, but there it was. We were both quite literally awestruck and marveled at our own reaction as well as the sight itself. Forgetting about the chilly air, the runny noses and the bloodless fingers, a cliched moment occurred in which life came into focus as clearly as Mars did. How lucky, how precarious, how significant we are.


Even later, in the warmth of inside, we didn't shake the feeling off. Even now, days later, we still haven't. Good. 
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Things that irritate me...

1/19/2010

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Given my advancing years, it's hardly surprising that I'm beginning to get a bit, well, grumpy, is it??  Take, for example (please, please, please take) the fact that I feel inexplicably irritated by people who eat snacks whilst walking through town. I have grown to hate, hate, hate seeing folks chomping on sausage rolls (in brown paper bags like illegal American alcohol) or devouring ciabatta bread and french rolls with cheese and ham flapping about their greasy lips. I despise seeing people eating triangular sandwiches or gorging crisps as they're walking along the pavement. But worse, much worse than this are the people who simultaneously combine street-eating with loud mobile phone conversations - especially those which involve any shrieking laughter at all. I'm going to call this particular pet hate of mine "Manic Street Eating". 


I have absolutely no idea why this agitates me so much. I suppose it's something to do with an innate preference (training by my parents I suspect) of sitting down to eat. I just feel it's incredibly impolite to eat whilst moving around anywhere, let alone on the street for goodness sake! Surely NO-ONE is SO busy that they can't sit down for ten minutes to consume a sausage roll? And why eating and talking at the same time? And what exactly is so funny about having a telephone conversation in the street? Can someone tell me?? Please??? My theory is people these days feel guilty about taking time out to sit down - we have to be on the move and visibly, demonstrably happy. 


Not for me I'm afraid,


And don't be surprised if, when you're in town, indulging in a fast-food bite that a miserably looking woman-of-a-certain-age doesn't give you one of her withering extra-hard stares.


That'll teach ya!
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Trying to be good...

1/13/2010

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Snow's still with us, worse than ever in fact but what a strange trail of coincidences there have been this morning.  First, son Jon (planning on moving into his new place this weekend and fed up because the carpet fitter cancelled today) had huge difficulty in moving his car from outside our house.  I duly tried to dig him out but the snow was impacted and the car was doing a bit of a bolero. Then, in a brainwave, I at last found a use for the ashes from last night's fire. Let me tell you it's as good as grit and I was very pleased with myself. Jon's Cio went sailing off up the road. Yey!! However, with snow still falling, as I am waving a delighted Jon off, Man-with-Van slithers wide-eyed down the hill with a look on his face that says 'get the **** out of the way, I can't stop!' which I did, only to watch him slide sideways into the Jon's parking spot, and our neighbour's car...You've got to hand it to the Universe, haven't you?

I'm off to do some yoga...
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Acts of God

1/11/2010

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Sometimes acts of God are just what a person needs. Sometimes acts of God are good for the soul. When the snow falls, the schools close, the roads close, the shops close and we have to spend time with each other when we least expect it. 
Looking out of the window this morning, my son Rich who (by way of description) is an award-winning tattoo artist, said 'Oh my actual God mom, when is this snow ever going to leave us alone?'
Whichever way you cut it, it's a good question, and it prompted a massive discussion that we would probably never have had, had it not been for the snow. Forget the meaning of life though, we're much more high-brow than that. We're into interesting stuff: weird dreams: Rich's nightmare about an ex-girlfriend breaking into our house, finding her way to his room and strangling him to death; philosophical questions about Jeremy Kyle's messianic qualities, his estimated capacity to dish out DNA results and the media's obsession with 21st century freak shows. Surely there's only so much the British public can take; partner-tracking...yes, it is what you think it is, and life questions such as should Rich work in the USA or Europe...oh the choices, the choices! And all this because of the snow. Acts of God, mmmm sounds like a good title to me..!
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There's snow business....

1/7/2010

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This is your new blog post. Click here and start typing, or drag in elements from the top bar.
Picture
Let it be know that I am not a fan of snow, but look at it!  Sssssnowww phobic I may be, but I was exercising monumental work-avoidance tactics when I took a picture of my garden, and I have to say I was taken with a couple of details:  my cat's paw prints and the way the trees look like sculptures. This image looks like I've done something clever with the black-and-white feature on the camera, but I didn't (indeed, I can't - in fact I can't even upload it onto here!) Needless to say, ideas from this pic WILL appear in novel number 2, whose plot is somewhat cold and dark  (what a surprise...not...)  What you can't see on this photo is the pit. Yes, the pit. Mmmmm. Underneath that whiteness is a deep pit - probably 6 feet deep - originally constructed as a car pit. You know, you climb in and check important aspects of your car's underbelly. It's  covered by six wooden planks placed fairly precariously across the top.  Yep, that's in the novel as well!
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    About me...

    Kerry Hadley-Pryce has written fiction for as long as she can remember.  She has had a thousand jobs ranging from dinner lady to company director, but writing is the best job she's had.  She lives with her family in the sunny West Midlands, UK. 

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