Gnosis:

This month’s entry for the Blog Battle… the prompt word given was “conceal” and the title is drawn from the Greek, meaning roughly “hidden knowledge…”

The woman laughed aloud in eagerness and delight as she seated herself at her dressing table. She wanted to look her best – her very best – as she was going to meet her beloved and she could hardly wait.

She bent forward slightly to examine her complexion in the mirror and was quietly pleased with what she saw. Her skin bloomed clear and flawless, a delicate flush staining her high cheekbones and she reached for her eyeliner, a subtle golden brown, and drew careful lines around her eyes to emphasise their sparkling green, no need for any other disguise or enhancement.

She pulled a brush through her hair, enjoying the silky texture full of life as it crackled beneath the bristles before gathering the golden mass into a simple ponytail at the nape of her neck. She leaned across to the window to check the weather and confirm her hope that it was going to be a fine day and was pleased. The early autumn day was warm and bright, the mellow sunlight casting a golden glow over the little street where she lived.

Leaving her dressing table she crossed to her wardrobe, searching for a pair of her favourite leggings in a soft grey jersey knit, warm and comfortable, yet still flattering as they showed off the curves of her shapely legs. Over the thin silk t-shirt she was already wearing – she loved silk for the way it slipped so smoothly against her skin – she pulled a soft cashmere sweater, rich and luxurious in a shade of russet that went well with her blonde hair and was cut so elegantly as to cling in all the right places and drape at the front to cleverly conceal the roundness of her stomach.

She flicked her hair back into place, and after a final inspection of her image left her little flat for the street outside, pulling on a pair of well worn leather boots, faded in the creases around her ankles but still stylish. She locked her door and dropping her keys into her bag set off at a brisk walk to the cafe where she was to meet her beloved.

She walked with confidence, drawing a few admiring glances from men and women alike but totally oblivious she walked quickly on, wanting only to see him, feel his arms around her and watch the smile grow on his face as she told him her news.

Pausing by the old tree that stood near the cafe she reached in her bag for her compact, wanting to make one last check of her appearance. She clicked it shut and with a sudden glad leap of her heart she saw him, his back to her but unmistakeable in his shape and height. She started forwards joyfully but stopped abruptly as some hidden instinct warned her to stay in the shelter of the old tree’s friendly shadow.

And as she watched, a puppyish brunette bounced up to her man, all bouncing breasts and shining hair, and slid her arms around his waist. He turned to face her then and kissed her with such passion, such feeling – the woman watching caught her breath with needle sharp pain in her lungs and chest.

But even as her hope died, the new little life obscured within her fluttered, reminding her of its presence. Quietly, she turned and slipped away, while the sun still shone and the air was crisp, scented with bonfires and promises.

Phones, Moans And Interlocutions….

“I’m not really that interested… just waiting for food…”

I am the first to admit that I am not the slightest bit tech-savvy. I have no idea how to use the downstairs television which Mr.CC has wired up to various devices that seem to require an inordinate amount of remote controls, and a combination of buttons to press that resemble the invocation of an ancient Egyptian entity… so I don’t touch it.

I have a love/hate relationship with my laptop ever since it deleted/ate 37,000 words of a novel I was writing… everyone’s a critic… I never managed to retrieve that and I didn’t back it up either, but thanks to my fondness for written plans and an exceptionally good memory I managed to repeat and complete the lost novel for NaNoWriMo…

Now, of course I back everything up everywhere, even emailing copies to myself – thank you Marje for that wonderful little tip – including burying handwritten copies at the bottom of the garden by the light of the full moon… Well, maybe not the last bit.

Since my laptop has updated, though, it seems to have undergone a personality change and is now behaving in a much kinder and more reasonable way. Perhaps it just realised it was dealing with a thickie as it now explains things – most of the time – in words of one syllable and it asks me frequently if I want to “SAVE”. (“Save? Save what? The world? Of course! Oh… my work… right… )

I am a lot more at home using my mobile phone – I have a Huawei and although I know they are not viewed particularly favourably at the moment, 5G, spying and so on and so forth I bought my phone before all that kicked off and I view its tendency to anticipate my wants as rather endearing… “Here! Look! Let me show you this!”

It has a lovely built in camera that allows me to point, click and hope, sufficient memory to maintain a reasonable social media presence and of course it holds my music collection. Generally I have no complaints at all – apart from one thing. The predictive text option.

I don’t know how to turn it off. I thought I’d managed it once but it reappeared like a persistent and annoying rash… I saw on one social media site a meme that likened predictive text to having a small, permanently drunk pixie living in your phone and I thought this description was very apt.

The Predictive Text Pixie – hereafter known as the PTP – that lives in my phone seems to have either a very salacious sense of humour… or a particularly low opinion of me. I can’t decide. It seems to think I spend most of my life waiting in suspenders and when I wanted to text my elderly uncle and congratulate him on his magnificent display of nasturtiums, well, the alternative the PTP offered me was positively obscene…

The PTP likes to make amusing substitutions too when I am trying to text people, much to their confusion – “Don’t be stupid Samantha! Of course I didn’t want fourteen tins of dog meat!”

I suppose it keeps Life interesting though – and me on my toes… I have absolutely no idea where the briefcase full of used notes in small denominations came from…