Wedding Bells


As some of you know, Jems and I are getting hitched this year in June. This is good news.

As time draws on and we get closer and closer to that big day, my betrothed is becoming increasingly excited. I often catch her staring into space, tongue clamped between her teeth – doubtless she’s dreaming of me and how awesome I am. She’s a lucky girl.

Yet, it’s not all fun and games. We have decided to have the reception on the farm in one of the many barns. When I say this to people I get lots of ‘Oooooh, how lovely!’ Or I might get ‘Dude! That’s awesome man.’

Then I’ll show them the barn as it is now…

Yeah so, I thought maybe the guests could all just kinda perch you know?

Or how about this one…

I'm thinking of having the band sort of in the car, all kind of playing out of the windows.

Then people have a very different response. Here are some of my favourites…

‘Shit, dude… You got a lot of work here.’ (My first words when Jems showed me the barn.)

‘Argh! Okay, okay… we got a lot of work here.’ (After Jems elbowed me in the ribs.)

‘……………………..’ (A silent stare, complete with gaping mouth. The old man has a way with words.)

‘You’re mad, quite simply barking mad’

‘A ha ha ha ha ha………..’

The thing is I know it’s a lot of work. It’s ours though. It means something to us, and we’ll manage. Only a few more weeks of solid graft. I mean if we work in shifts of say twelve hours each and don’t eat or go to the toilet (that be a waste of valuable time!) then I’m sure it will all come together won’t it? Hmmmm….

‘Jem’s hun? We need to talk….’

Nah, seriously. It is a challenge, but it’s one I’m prepared to meet head on. Who cares if it impinges on my writing time? I mean they’ll be another Bridport next year right? And the Black Library will have another submission window next year…

*Sound of quiet sobbing*

Okay, I have to go now. I have been at the farm all day again today and I’m fairly sure I stink like a beer shit.

Author: Mark S Thompson

Okay, so these things are kind of hit and miss. If you’re reading this then I am thankful to you for taking the time out of your day to do so. I’ll be honest, when I think of myself as a writer, I kinda cringe. Don’t get me wrong, it is the dream, it's​ just I never really believe it will go anywhere. When I think back to the day that I first knew I loved writing, and I mean really knew, I see myself sitting in an English lesson at secondary school. The school was called Wrotham and is in the county of Kent, England. As far as I know, it's still there. English was far and away my favourite subject. The best bit was when the teacher gave the class a selection of words and asked us to make up a story that either contained those words or was about those words, you know. At other times we would be given the first sentence and then write what happens next. Good times. Many times my work would reflect what I had recently read and it would be okay. Nothing special, just okay. On one occasion though I wrote about a merman called Finchy and can remember going into so much depth and detail about him and the underwater kingdom he lived in. I really enjoyed writing that and it must have shown because my teacher commented on it. She was really impressed and loved the story. That was it for me, my moment. Now when I write I think back to those great times and to that story. Hopefully, I’ll write something that you, the reader, will be moved to comment on. For me, there is no greater elixir

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