Have you ever been abandoned Daddy?

‘Have you ever been abandoned Daddy?’ So asked my eight year old daughter today as we rode in the car. Tender moments followed as we chatted over the most intimate details of her start in life. This was all the more poignant as we continue to plan towards a return to China next year, retracing the story of our two eastern gifts as far back as we are possibly able.

No I have never been abandoned Zhen and I have no idea how it feels. No doubt, one day, you might find the words to tell me.

Night.

Like cold water to a weary soul

There comes a point when after many many months of learning to stay present, centering down, resisting all urges to cut and run and cultivating some plain old thankfulness, it is actually wonderfully good to get…….well some straight forward good news. No replacement for that without a doubt.

So today, after weeks of delay and procrastination, JustPens has a licence to trade in Arabia. Wow! Not one pen sold yet but this is a big step forward. No bribes paid-just the deserved favour bestowed upon my friend Solomon by a Saudi Arabian man of peace. Normally anything upto a  50% cut in the business is the required ticket in, but no, the door opens wide with nothing offered except the hand of friendship.

Excepting one or two minor hurdles still to overcome therefore, the story begins to flow once more and the well of ink is replenished. Suddenly the day brightens; in fact two festival goers in the pub this afternoon found themselves treated to a drink. Counting their pennies after a hard w/e’s partying I thought some kind intervention wouldn’t go amiss. The world seems a happier place altogether.

‘Like cold water to a weary soul so is good news from a distant land’

Journey back on then for the crazy speculators who somehow believe there is a different story to float down the global trade routes. Don’t get me wrong-many more obstacles to overcome without a doubt, but hey looks like we are getting near the start of our subversive journey. If all goes to plan a couple of weeks more waiting and the pens will leave Chennai to cross the Arabian sea. The most ancient of trading ports beckons-Jeddah.

Never in a million years did I think my story would be caught up in such a venture. It’s still a game of brinkmanship but you really do never know, as Bilbo Baggins famously said, what can happen when you walk out of your door.

Maybe my story isn’t stuck after all.

A story of soiled underpants

There was once a guy who so scared himself he was told to go and bury his underpants some distance away, such I presume was the stench. Indeed, folk-lore says that he passed through Damascus on the way, though I never caught sight nor smell of him as I and my friends wandered through.

A bit of a Jeremiah this guy.

Some months later he returned to where he had, well filled his pants I suppose, the wiser for the experience I cannot say, but return he did. In actual fact as a stake holder in his story he didn’t really have much choice. That’s the trouble with title deeds and stake holdings-they hold you in when everything inside you wants to tell you to cut and run, following the underpants trail over the horizon and beyond.

So what do you do when your story gets stuck?-well float into oblivion if you have nothing and no one to hold you in.

Tonight therefore I am grateful for the decisions made some time ago that right now hold me into my story line. Like rings exchanged and adoption papers signed, stories carried through gateways between continents………………..and yes, ink freely spilt in pursuit of the story.

Night.

What to do when your story gets stuck

What do you do when your story gets stuck? Or maybe not so much stuck, rather you simply run out of ink, or it feels like you have. Great draft, wonderful themes running through the script………but no ink.

Not a lot of pearls on this one tonight. Afraid I can’t add it to my list of story conversations I have been so ready to post on. So I am simply doing what I can do to fill some time, keep some focus to life and maintain some measure of sanity- jobs round the home, stepping as neatly as I can round the odd panic attack, having the occasional laugh at myself……….and waiting……….for some ink.

Yes I know, not very proactive. Maybe I should ‘get on my bike’ to quote the infamous Norman Tebbit. Actually there is a time for that Norman; getting on your bike I mean and chasing a story down………….There is also a time to wait, hold your nerve and fill some time. So not the most inspirational post I know. Apologies about that but for some reason some of you keep visiting this online space even when I have nothing to say.

Maybe there are a few more stories out there waiting for some pens……….and some ink.

They’re stuck in customs by the way-the pens I mean. Yes these pens and ink seem to be causing………well a bit of a stink.

Night

Stories that need no words