Snow, Glorious Snow

The first day of spring brought snow moans from around the country. No milk and bread was the cry that went up from a thousand Co-ops. A few more days and folks would have started scavenging one another’s food compost bins and looting garden sheds, thus highlighting our total patheticness.

– But excellent fodder for a plot on how the country manages (or not) at these times.

And a wee continuation about the curse of being called Sharon:

Where Have all the Sharons Gone?

Fact – we are in our forties, possibly late forties, and now mothers to children with exotic names that will never be parodied in a BBC sitcom or considered trashy by those blessed with the normal names of Cathy or Lorraine.

Fact – no new Sharons are being born. We are a dying breed; the focus of a potential country and western song; an endangered species.

On a completely different and less maudlin note, my flash story, Porkin’ in Heaven, can be read here as one of the entries long listed on the Reflex Fiction website.

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Author: boyleblethers

A serious part-time writer who would like to be a serious full-time writer, Sharon lives in East Lothian with family, dreaming of having more than a drawer in the dining room as her 'office'. She has been published on-line and in printed magazines and anthologies.

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