Angela Gascoigne, Writer

Welcome to my website where I would like to share with you some of my writing. If variety is the spice of life then you'll find it amongst my blog posts which range from the soft and fluffy to the dark and deep. Read on to learn that there's something for everyone on this page.

Please also skip over to the next page where you can find out more about my books which are all available on Amazon.

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Angela

Blog Post. 25.07.2016

AN INDIE AUTHOR’S BEST FRIEND

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BARS

Muted images of another wasted summer

Seep through cold prison bars

Another birthday been and gone

One year older, but no celebrations in there

The regimental brown envelope

Sends me running for the post

It flutters with a spark of hope

Illuminating the dark cloud above

I pause a moment before breaking the seal

Will it be a good one today?

Or the kind that brings demons to my slumber

Punctuated by dreams of happier days

Words sent from home, small tokens of support and love

A face I haven’t seen for two years plus

The hands progress around the clock face

One tick forward, ten ticks back

Counting down the years, months, weeks and days

What else can we do but wait

For a new bright future

And a life free from shackles.

***

 The evening is warm and breezy and a slate-grey sky looms above. The sound of thunder echoes in the distanc

I feel blessed to live in my house in the country, surrounded by green fields, fresh air and wildlife.

A mouth-watering aroma of char-grilled meat reaches my nose, making my mouth water. As a drop of rain blots a random word on the writing book on my lap, I can only hope my barbequed food reaches my belly before the storm reaches my house.

A familiar call sounds from the trees at the bottom of our garden, in response to my husband’s ‘special’ whistle.

And, there he is, whistling right back! There can be no mistaking the damaged and ruffled tail, the scruffy belly and the amicable disposition of the young magpie. We watch in awe as he soars from tree to shrub before touching down on the footpath beside out kitchen door.  Peering around tentatively he observes his surroundings, considers the familiar sights and sounds – and off he flies once again, back to his friend who watches and waits, in the red tree beside our gate.

Days earlier my husband, Paul and I were driving home. About half a mile away from our house, one of our neighbours was having building work done. We pulled over to allow one of their heavy trucks to pass and it was then we saw the little bird lying on the side of the road in the mud.

Paul got out the car to check him out. He was alive but couldn’t move at all. Left there on the road his fate would be sealed, so my husband drove the rest of the way home holding the little bird in one hand while I kept our over-excited little dogs, Peppy and Scrumpy away from him.

We didn’t expect him to survive the night so made him as comfortable as we could in a makeshift nest inside an unused glass jewellery cabinet inside our barn, safe from predators.

The next two days were spent getting him to take fluids and eat some bread. My husband even tried and failed (to my immense relief) to find worms in the garden.

He’d have time in the house and would happy go from person to person, sitting on our hands while being stroked. My husband developed a ‘special’ whistle which the little magpie would respond to immediately.

Each day he went from strength to strength and started to walk and eventually fly.

On Sunday morning we knew he was ready to go back out into the world. It was with heavy hearts we set our little friend free and watched him take his first tentative flight before landing in the long grass. His second attempt was perfection as he glided off over the trees of our garden and vanished from view. All we could hope was that he’d be safe and hopefully be reunited with his family.

That night I dreamed of our little magpie building a cosy nest in a tree close to our home.

A flash of lightening illuminates the ever-darkening sky and the heavens open. We scramble to the barbeque to throw the burnt offerings onto our plates and run towards the house.

My husband hesitates before doing the ‘special’ whistle. The baby magpie whistles in return before soaring off, with his companion, to his family down the road.

I’m enveloped by a warm glow as I think of how one little act of kindness helped to make the world a better place for a helpless baby animal.

***

Please drop by my Goodreads author page where you can learn more about my books.

Coming soon!

The Caravan of Love

Annie’s Journal

By

Annie Lancaster

Blog post 27.4.15

Thank you for stopping by my blog. Today I'd like to share my true short story with you. I hope you'll enjoy it. Please let me know if you do. Now let me tell you about my eighteen-year-old miracle!

THE WAITING GAME

Time stood still as we walked through the countryside park. The hazy sunshine struggled to find its way through the misty air and grey clouds. All around us was the sound of birds singing, and feet crunching on gravel. We were passing time while waiting to collect my pregnancy test results from the doctor.

Our two small boys were wrapped up warm in winter coats, their cheeks pink and cool in the spring air. Drops of rain still glistened on the green leaves of the trees, and an earthy scent hung heavily in the air.

“Look at all the frogs, Dad,” shouted little Paul.

“There’s loads of them,” called Joe excitedly. “They’re all over.”

All around us were tiny frogs crossing the path to reach the freedom of the lake on the other side. The light shone on the rippling water and ducks buried their heads under the surface looking for food.

“Let’s head back now,” I said. “It’s time to make the call.”

We bundled the boys into our old blue mini and drove to the phone box near our house. I stepped inside and began dialling the number. Over the road, I could see the eager faces through the steamy car windows, waiting for news. It was the news I was praying for. I was pregnant!

We drove home and pulled into the driveway of our two bedroom semi-detached house. Upstairs at the bedroom window, Jasper the cat’s marmalade face peered down at us from behind the curtain. We all went inside. Our living room was familiar and welcoming, with toys and books in the corner and daylight bursting through the French doors. Outside, washing hung listlessly in the still air, and a pan of home-made soup bubbled away on the hob. It felt good to be home.

I had sadly suffered a miscarriage the previous year, when I was three months pregnant. We had been trying to get pregnant for around seven months and the baby, like our two little boys was very loved and wanted.

I'd had stomach cramps all weekend, so we went to the hospital but there was nothing they could do. Our little baby wasn’t meant to be. We decided to try again, but were unsuccessful. I had to endure fertility drugs, regular blood samples and numerous visits to the hospital for tests.

“There’s nothing more I can do for you,” the doctor told us one day, in an unsympathetic tone. “You should give up trying to have another baby.”

We decided to accept his advice, which seemed so final, and try to forget about babies. After all we still had our precious little Paul and Joe. We would concentrate only on them now.

Once home, after getting my positive result, I curled up on the settee with a cup of tea and sat for a while thinking about how lucky I was. I was six weeks pregnant and I was determined to hold on to this little baby, so I spent the next three months trying to do as little as possible. I read loads of books and did nothing too strenuous. By the time I was four months pregnant I felt fine and the scan at the hospital showed that I was having a little boy. When I saw how happy he looked, kicking his tiny legs, I knew he was strong and healthy. It’s hard to believe that someone so tiny can have little arms, legs, fingers and toes.

We named him Robbie.

The rest of my pregnancy went well and I enjoyed every minute of feeling the baby moving inside me and kicking when his favourite songs came on Top of The Pops. He especially liked Oasis, just like his mammy. He had good taste in music. Feet and elbows would stick out of my growing stomach, as if he was dancing in there.

I woke around 7.15 one morning. The baby’s crib lay beside our bed, all made up with tiny soft clothes folded neatly on the bottom. The baby was now a week late. Downstairs the living room was warm and cosy. The Christmas decorations had been put up a few days earlier in an attempt to lure the baby out. The coloured lights on the Christmas tree glowed brightly in cheerful colours and the metallic decorations sparkled. My little Paul and Joe were excitedly waiting for Santa coming, as well as their new brother. They were on their best behaviour.

My labour pains started around half an hour after waking up. I ran a bath and decided to make the bed ready for my home birth while my husband, Paul phoned the midwife. We thought there was plenty of time; after all, things had only just started to happen. Robbie’s big brother, Joe had been born at home very suddenly, but that was a long time ago, we didn’t think it would happen again.

The smell of toast rose upstairs as the boys had breakfast and got ready for school. I could hear their excited voices as they awaited the arrival of their new baby. I got into the bath but almost immediately the pain increased and became unbearable. A feeling of fear and excitement surged through me as I tried to climb onto the safety of the bed, hardly able to move or breathe. I screamed for Paul who ran upstairs.

“I can’t get in touch with the midwife,” he told me and all the while trying to hide his fear. “Her phone’s turned off!”

Only half an hour since the first twinges and now I could feel the baby pushing his way out. There was no stopping him now and we were on our own.

The pain was unbearable! I was terrified! The boys stood at the bedroom door, worried. Paul tried to keep me calm and within minutes little Robbie was born. Paul lifted the baby onto my stomach and wrapped him up. Tiny little hands and feet peeped out from under the soft towel. He looked healthy and pink and completely unaware of all the chaos. I was in shock, so was Paul. We had done it on our own. My husband had delivered the baby (with a little help from me).

Eventually the midwife arrived and said she was stuck in traffic and hadn’t expected the baby to arrive so quickly (that’s what the ambulance man said as he delivered Joe on the settee). She examined him and said that he was perfectly healthy. He weighed seven pounds and eight ounces, the same weight as Joe when he was born.

When the drama was over, little Paul and Joe came in to give their new brother a kiss and cuddle. They were happy that little Robbie and me were all right. Paul’s mam came rushing straight over to our house to see the new arrival and then she took the boys to school. Little Paul and Joe took great pleasure in telling everyone that they had a new baby brother and that they ‘seen him born’.

I looked out of the bedroom window opposite me. It was a cold, dark December morning. I was warm and cosy, feeding my baby in the comforting glow of the bedside lamp. As I looked down at him a feeling of happiness and overwhelming love enveloped me. We had made three little boys.

Our little Robbie was well worth waiting for.

He was perfect.

I sometimes used to think of how something could have gone wrong, giving birth in those circumstances, but it didn’t and everything turned out well. Now I only look back at that time with very happy memories.

If I could go back, I wouldn’t change a thing. I would do it all again.

***

Blog Post 8.4 15

Aloe Vera 

Nature's Gift to Me

For today's blog post I'm taking you back to Serena, one of the main characters in my book, Soup. Serena, like myself loves to dabble in aromatherapy and making natural skin products.

I told her all about my magical plants. Let me tell you too.

One summer while visiting a friend she very kindly gave me a cutting off one of her plants which was hiding on top of her kitchen units.

I nurtured my little Aloe Vera plant and brought it to life with a vengeance. Now, around three years later I am inundated with Aloe Vera plants which just keep on growing. When people visit me, I send them away with their very own plant only on condition that they promise to provide my offspring with a good home and make use of its precious gel.

Aloe Vera gel is loaded with vitamins and minerals and has excellent healing qualities. And, because of its high water content it’s great for hydrating and moisturising the skin. It has emollient properties which soften and smooth the skin as well as improving its elasticity. Aloe Vera gel is also known to reduce inflammation and can help to soothe stiff and painful joints.

Some other amazing properties of Aloe Vera gel are the following. It is:

Disinfectant

Antibiotic

Antimicrobial

Germicidal

This magical gel can be applied directly from the leaf to help treat and soothe the following:

Spots, minor cuts, burns or scalds, insect bites, nettle stings, eczema, psoriasis, cold sores, brand new tattoos, to name but a few.

I also like to use the gel from my Aloe Vera plants as a natural beauty product.

Let me tell you how I prepare it!

1. Choose a fleshy leaf from the bottom of the plant, these are the most mature and have the most goodness. Remove the leaf close to base taking care not to damage the plant or cut yourself!
2. Fillet the leaf by cutting down one side to the other then open it out so the gel side is facing up. Apply directly to skin or…do as I like to do by following the steps below to make a nourishing natural skin product.
3. Use a teaspoon to scoop out the fleshy gel (it’s very slimy!) and place in an egg cup. Use another leaf or two if necessary. Add the contents of one evening primrose capsule and four drops of essential oil. My favourites are neroli and lavender for their all-round goodness, skin generating properties and kindness to mature skin. Use either four drops of one type of oil, or two drops of both. With a fork try to mash it up a bit. Cover and store in the fridge and it will keep for around three days.
4. Massage into the skin of your body and face, avoiding eyes.
5. Voila! You are a natural beauty and you smell divine.

As is the case with essential oils Aloe Vera gel is very potent. For best effect don’t use any such potion continually for more than seven days. I consider it a special treat which I enjoy now and again.

Also, I am a mere complementary therapist not a doctor! If you have any concerns about  your health or about using Aloe Vera gel or essential oils please check with your doctor first!

So, here I sit, munching on warm cheese scones, supping tea and doing everything but what I’m meant to be doing.

Is it just me?  

I sit down at my desk intending to get stuck into some writing, open my notebook and write a paragraph or two. My computer screen stares blankly at me, urging me to switch it on. My fingers wander around the keyboard and hesitate over the ‘on’ button.

It’s no good! Resistance is futile. Before I know it the music is on and I’m negotiating my way between Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads and my email accounts. Then…I feel the grumbling and remember that to have the strength to work I need to eat something nice and drink more tea. After all, a happy belly equals a happy mind.

Once I’m fortified I can no longer ignore the hideously blank page which begs me, Crack on, woman! This book won’t write itself.

It takes all my strength to drag myself away from the computer and resume my work.

Not too long ago I was much more disciplined. After the morning school run I’d go straight to my desk where I’d remain until I’d completed a substantial amount of work. There would be no computer, no music, no Kindle and no cheese scones and tea until I had earned the privilege.

So, what went wrong? Trying to get over a never-ending virus was a big factor.

Maybe I need to dump my computer into the nearest wheelie bin and learn to embrace my grumbling belly. Or, maybe I need to go back to basics and give myself a good kick where the sun don’t shine.

Well, is it just me?