1120 words eked out, inspiration being replaced by perspiration today. Only 43,540 more words to go. I’m not sure where Iris is going today, she seemed as low in energy and ideas as I was.
The old woman’s hair had come completely undone from her usual prim bun and fell like a silver halo around her face and shoulders. She was smiling, laughing, both at herself and at the fact she had just shown those young ones a thing or two, their surprise at her energy and skill clearly written on their unlined faces.
Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I’m dead, she said, shaking her finger round the room. I’m not dead yet, and don’t any of you forget that fact now!
Ah, we cannot forget, Mabel, now that you’ve brought the house down with your dancing shoes, called out one of the burly men standing near the taps. Surely God in Heaven must be smiling down on us after that performance. Maybe it will change the luck of all of us!
A murmur of agreement, followed by mugs raised up and voices calling out “Slainte” gave Iris some idea how hard hit the town had been by layoffs and shutdowns.