Hello Christina I believe there has been a tornado in London . I saw it 
briefly on the news. The weather here is unseasonable with no frost or 
hardly any for the time of year. But we have had a lot of rain and it is 
dark and miserable.
I am feeling better in myself  but am up and down.
About the poem. I can see where you are coming from and at the moment I am 
going through a dry spell in my writing  myself (unlike the weather). 
Writing does get confusing at times not knowing in which way we are to 
develop. Guess we are ever changing so have to go with the flow and write 
what comes to us.  best wishes Sally


>From: "[log in to unmask]" <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: Re: New sub: Nancy (Sally)
>Date: Thu, 7 Dec 2006 11:12:13 +0000
>
>
>Hello Sally.  Do hope you're feeling better?  Thanks very much for your 
>comments.  I'm not sure what this is either.  It might just be a footnote 
>for the photograph.  I'll send you the image if you like but I can't send 
>attachments through the list.  I'm finding this line-break business very 
>odd at the moment.  Writing's confusing.
>
>There's a massive storm here as I tap.  Sudden gusts of hail.  It was so 
>warm last night that I slept with the windows open.  What's it like up 
>norf?  Are you having weird weather too?
>
>bw
>
>c
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>
>On Wed Dec 6 17:53 , Sally James sent:
>
>
>
>
>I really like this Christina but can't make up my mind as to whether it is 
>a
>
>snap shot of life in a prose form or a poem. Whatever it is though it says 
>a
>
>lot in a few short sentences and it really reaches me. best wishes Sally J
>
>
>
>
>
> >From: Christina Fletcher <[log in to unmask]>
>
> >Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>
> >To: [log in to unmask]
>
> >Subject: New sub: Nancy
>
> >Date: Mon, 4 Dec 2006 02:22:44 -0000
>
> >
>
> >Nancy
>
> >
>
> >A year ago, when I took this photograph, she was ninety-six: ten years
>
> >older than my father. By chance, I caught the moment just after she
>
> >snuffed the candle flame. Smoke drifts over her pink fairy cake in its
>
> >corrugated brown paper case, the crimp and cockle of her frock, the 
>pilling
>
> >on her cardigan. I can't tell at all what she's thinking as she watches
>
> >the smoke.
>
> >
>
> >This birthday, her eyes and ears are failing. She can't follow patterns.
>
> >She knits a scarf. She knits another. My father's dead. She doesn't like
>
> >the chocolates. The canary won't sing.
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> >
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> >
>
> >christina fletcher
>
>
>
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