Only seven of us today, various reasons given from catching colds, other engagements and too busy thinking about more pressing things. But we all enjoyed the smaller gathering and changed the format to include discussions about the story after it was read. We all thought this worth doing as we were not too critical of each other.
Sue wrote a long story about three generations that some of those present knew was based on her own family. Joan Read's story involved the telling of a charity abseiling and a very frightened participant. Brian told of a ghostly visitor. Ann told the story of a nurse who got blown up. Joan recounted the colourful goings on at Strictly Come Dancing. Pat continued with Mrs Cross reading the papers. My story was about a car crash and the benefits. Rosemary won with five votes out of seven with :
SHE BLINKED: She blinked, but no amount of blinking could stop the tears from coursing down her cheeks. As she tried unsuccessfully to brush the tears away and hide her distress, Jim came up behind her, put his arm around her shoulders and said "Don't take on so lass. I'll be back, never fear. And when I DO come back I'll have an important question to ask of you."
She turned to him and her tears flowed the harder, as he hugged her and she hid her face against his chest. After a while her tears subsided a little, and as she looked up at him Jim said "Mebbe I should ask you the question right now, eh lass?" and after a pause he continued "When its all over and I come home, will you marry me?" She had smiled then through her tears and nodded vigorously, too choked-up to speak.
And so it had been that when Jim eventually came home from the War in 1946 they had got married in the little village chapel, surrounded by all their family and friends. She knew and thoroughly appreciated how fortunate she was, for so many had NOT come back from the War as her Jim had done; even though for several years afterwards he had suffered terrible nightmares caused by the horrors he had witnessed out there on the battle field.
She was so thankful that Jim had asked her that important question that day in her mother's scullery BEFORE he went to War - the question she had been longing to hear. For the thought of his homecoming, their wedding, and their future life together had kept her going throughout the terrible years of separation during the War.
But how many many times they had chuckled together over the 60+ years since, remembering exactly how Jim's impromptu proposal had actually come about. After all, it was really only the ONION she'd been peeling that had made her blink and cry so much that day! So as Jim said with a twinkle in his eye every time she'd blinked and cried peeling onions over the years since then "To think it was a humble ONION that trapped me into proposing to you lass!" And each time he said this she replied "THANK GOODNESS FOR ONIONS!" and they would laugh together over their own precious private joke!
24 January 2011 next meeting "and floated"
Monday 22 November 2010
Monday 25 October 2010
25th October
Joan Read wrote about life on a farm struggling to make ends meet after father left it in debt. Happy ending with trip to USA. Sally had a haunting tale of her holiday in Scotland in a spooky house with a Marsh Goblin with a penchant for trying to get in ladies beds. John's amusing account of an accident caused by an irritated colleague whacking somebody over the head while he was driving.Ann turned excuses for not writing a story into a story. Sue on a holiday in a rural cottage saw an Indian with a bow and arrow hunting a deer that wasn't there.
Sheila wrote of a couples difficulties financially until they are employed by the local squire. Rosemary recounted her visit to the Holocaust memorial in Germany.
Brian all about Uncle Nobby and a trip to the pub. Joan took us on a walk around the local roads and lanes of Copythorne. I wrote of a threat that may one day happen, a giant solar flare.
Pat the winner this week all about Mrs Cross.
It Looked Like…
Mrs. Cross was cross. As the years passed she had grown into her name, so to speak. At the bus stop she stamped up and down to keep her feet warm. Why was the bus late on cold days? No point in complaining to the driver, its never their fault is it!
She alighted in the center of Totton noting the paper blowing alongside the empty tins and plastic bottles. What’s wrong with people, are they blind she thought crossly. She noted the locals, heads down against the wind, all in their own little worlds.
Outside of Asda the small trolleys were neatly lined up, she put in her coin, it stuck, and giving it a quick shake twisted her wrist. We wouldn’t have to do this if people didn’t steal the baskets she thought.
It wasn’t like this when she was young. You could leave bicycles, babies in prams, newspapers with honesty boxes…what has happened!
As she walked in the noise hit her sensitive eardrums. Loud mothers with equally loud children, don’t they realize that if they spoke softly to their children they would speak softy in return? Strolling along the news isle she noted the headlines, even they screamed at you. ”Blue Roon”shouted one ,isn’t £250.000 a week enough for kicking a ball around for 90 minutes, it won’t make you happy she thought.” EU lottery ticket unclaimed” screamed another. I pity the poor family that will be ruined by the £113 million. Whilst thinking about the EU she couldn’t understand why we are giving them £38.4 billion of our money and £12.6 billion to mostly corrupt foreign dictatorships! Foreign Aid indeed! Where will it all end..it looked like a never ending boom, gloom doom future for us all.
Mrs. Cross strolled on past the lady’s magazines with perfectly airbrushed faces on the covers. Who are they kidding…the gullable young she supposed. Can’t they see!
Shopping done she returned home to peace and quiet. As the night drew in her ears pricked up, the boom, boom of fireworks in the distance as another multi layered cruise ship sailed away. She could imagine the conversation…”This is our first cruise,” a self conscious couple in brand new outfits said” its for our anniversary”. The couple opposite, looking smug replied “ oh really, this is our 17th.”
Mrs Cross didn’t fancy cruising anyway, and settled down to watch Strictly Come Dancing. Tonight, Ann Widdicombe was going to fly, and so she did.
Next month 22 November "she blinked"
Sheila wrote of a couples difficulties financially until they are employed by the local squire. Rosemary recounted her visit to the Holocaust memorial in Germany.
Brian all about Uncle Nobby and a trip to the pub. Joan took us on a walk around the local roads and lanes of Copythorne. I wrote of a threat that may one day happen, a giant solar flare.
Pat the winner this week all about Mrs Cross.
It Looked Like…
Mrs. Cross was cross. As the years passed she had grown into her name, so to speak. At the bus stop she stamped up and down to keep her feet warm. Why was the bus late on cold days? No point in complaining to the driver, its never their fault is it!
She alighted in the center of Totton noting the paper blowing alongside the empty tins and plastic bottles. What’s wrong with people, are they blind she thought crossly. She noted the locals, heads down against the wind, all in their own little worlds.
Outside of Asda the small trolleys were neatly lined up, she put in her coin, it stuck, and giving it a quick shake twisted her wrist. We wouldn’t have to do this if people didn’t steal the baskets she thought.
It wasn’t like this when she was young. You could leave bicycles, babies in prams, newspapers with honesty boxes…what has happened!
As she walked in the noise hit her sensitive eardrums. Loud mothers with equally loud children, don’t they realize that if they spoke softly to their children they would speak softy in return? Strolling along the news isle she noted the headlines, even they screamed at you. ”Blue Roon”shouted one ,isn’t £250.000 a week enough for kicking a ball around for 90 minutes, it won’t make you happy she thought.” EU lottery ticket unclaimed” screamed another. I pity the poor family that will be ruined by the £113 million. Whilst thinking about the EU she couldn’t understand why we are giving them £38.4 billion of our money and £12.6 billion to mostly corrupt foreign dictatorships! Foreign Aid indeed! Where will it all end..it looked like a never ending boom, gloom doom future for us all.
Mrs. Cross strolled on past the lady’s magazines with perfectly airbrushed faces on the covers. Who are they kidding…the gullable young she supposed. Can’t they see!
Shopping done she returned home to peace and quiet. As the night drew in her ears pricked up, the boom, boom of fireworks in the distance as another multi layered cruise ship sailed away. She could imagine the conversation…”This is our first cruise,” a self conscious couple in brand new outfits said” its for our anniversary”. The couple opposite, looking smug replied “ oh really, this is our 17th.”
Mrs Cross didn’t fancy cruising anyway, and settled down to watch Strictly Come Dancing. Tonight, Ann Widdicombe was going to fly, and so she did.
Next month 22 November "she blinked"
Monday 27 September 2010
September Meeting
We met at John's today just eight of us. Sheila's story was about school village life and a young lad inheriting a cottage later on in life. John played out a James Bond scenario shooting villains which turned out to be playing a video game. I wrote about how I thought up my story. Joan wrote of an old man remembering his past life and then his children and grandchildren arrived. Pat gave the illusion of investing in property but it was just a game. Rosemary told of a £10 pom returning to her roots visiting the places she played as a child.
Brian told us of an unfortunate Miller who was found to be cheating his customers and paid a high price for his crime losing his entire property.
Ann got most votes for her story
Next month "It looked like"
The Entire Property
Joyce and her husband Reg lived about fifteen miles from Bristol on the edge of a small village nestling in the folds of the Mendip Hills. They were farmers; at least Reg was, having been brought up on the farm he then inherited from his parents. Joyce had been a teacher, but when she married, she gave up her job and concentrated on becoming a good farmer's wife. As the war progressed and more and more children were being evacuated to the country, Joyce put the suggestion to Reg that maybe they could take in some. He had no objections, so Joyce decided to present him with her full plan. They lived in a large rambling house and as she was a trained teacher maybe they could have about twenty children and she could teach them with the help of their daughter who was about to leave school herself. They could employ a couple of the young women from the village to help with the children and in the house. Initially Reg was doubtful, but Joyce was very persuasive and eventually everything was set and they were ready to greet their new guests. The countryside proved to be quite a new experience for most of the evacuees although they quickly settled into their new routine. School work was completed as hastily as possible so they could get outside and enjoy exploring and helping with any small tasks they could on the farm. Towards the end of November, Bristol experienced its first Blitz. It started at six in the evening and for six hours the city was bombarded as wave after wave of the bombers droned overhead. The sky over Bristol was aglow with the crimson and orange from the burning buildings. Eventually it eased off and as the planes returned some discharged the remains of their cargo before completing their journey. The farmhouse received a direct hit and as the emergency crews arrived they could see the entire property was smouldering.
Fast-forward seventy years. The Walking group of the USA had decided to take a short break in the Mendips. They were staying in a small hotel near Cheddar. The weather had been very good as it always was on these trips and again they were joking that the organiser must have a direct line to the top man. At breakfast they were discussing their trip for that day and chatting to their host. When they mentioned their proposed route, he said they must look out for the chapel. They couldn't miss it and should have a look around it. Having looked at the route map, they were rather mystified as there didn't appear to be any chapel or church marked, however, they set off and after a very pleasant walk over quite undulating countryside noticed what appeared to be the outline of a chapel across the valley, just off the track they were on. It was decided to veer off and take a look. What they saw was quite extraordinary. It was the ruins of quite a large house and around the boundary walls the trees had grown forming new walls. The branches met overhead to form a vaulted roof and at one end on the corner there was one very tall tree that towered above the rest like a spire. On one shorter side there was an opening. They all trooped inside to find the floor covered in moss and the light shining through the branches of the trees shed a tracery onto the moss like stained glass windows. Someone had fashioned a wooden cross and placed it at the end on a large flat stone. Beside it there was a small posy of fresh flowers. There was also a wooden plaque underneath on which was written," Nature and the Elements have designed and constructed this chapel on the site where twenty five people lost their lives on 24th November 1940. Twenty were young children from the London area and the remaining five from our community. This is dedicated to them all."
Brian told us of an unfortunate Miller who was found to be cheating his customers and paid a high price for his crime losing his entire property.
Ann got most votes for her story
Next month "It looked like"
The Entire Property
Joyce and her husband Reg lived about fifteen miles from Bristol on the edge of a small village nestling in the folds of the Mendip Hills. They were farmers; at least Reg was, having been brought up on the farm he then inherited from his parents. Joyce had been a teacher, but when she married, she gave up her job and concentrated on becoming a good farmer's wife. As the war progressed and more and more children were being evacuated to the country, Joyce put the suggestion to Reg that maybe they could take in some. He had no objections, so Joyce decided to present him with her full plan. They lived in a large rambling house and as she was a trained teacher maybe they could have about twenty children and she could teach them with the help of their daughter who was about to leave school herself. They could employ a couple of the young women from the village to help with the children and in the house. Initially Reg was doubtful, but Joyce was very persuasive and eventually everything was set and they were ready to greet their new guests. The countryside proved to be quite a new experience for most of the evacuees although they quickly settled into their new routine. School work was completed as hastily as possible so they could get outside and enjoy exploring and helping with any small tasks they could on the farm. Towards the end of November, Bristol experienced its first Blitz. It started at six in the evening and for six hours the city was bombarded as wave after wave of the bombers droned overhead. The sky over Bristol was aglow with the crimson and orange from the burning buildings. Eventually it eased off and as the planes returned some discharged the remains of their cargo before completing their journey. The farmhouse received a direct hit and as the emergency crews arrived they could see the entire property was smouldering.
Fast-forward seventy years. The Walking group of the USA had decided to take a short break in the Mendips. They were staying in a small hotel near Cheddar. The weather had been very good as it always was on these trips and again they were joking that the organiser must have a direct line to the top man. At breakfast they were discussing their trip for that day and chatting to their host. When they mentioned their proposed route, he said they must look out for the chapel. They couldn't miss it and should have a look around it. Having looked at the route map, they were rather mystified as there didn't appear to be any chapel or church marked, however, they set off and after a very pleasant walk over quite undulating countryside noticed what appeared to be the outline of a chapel across the valley, just off the track they were on. It was decided to veer off and take a look. What they saw was quite extraordinary. It was the ruins of quite a large house and around the boundary walls the trees had grown forming new walls. The branches met overhead to form a vaulted roof and at one end on the corner there was one very tall tree that towered above the rest like a spire. On one shorter side there was an opening. They all trooped inside to find the floor covered in moss and the light shining through the branches of the trees shed a tracery onto the moss like stained glass windows. Someone had fashioned a wooden cross and placed it at the end on a large flat stone. Beside it there was a small posy of fresh flowers. There was also a wooden plaque underneath on which was written," Nature and the Elements have designed and constructed this chapel on the site where twenty five people lost their lives on 24th November 1940. Twenty were young children from the London area and the remaining five from our community. This is dedicated to them all."
Monday 23 August 2010
23 August
Met at Pat & Brian's to hear a varied selection of interesting stories. Joan E told of a builder who lost his footing and found his wife. Rosemary told of a very clever cat who got left behind. Anne related a story of a clever dog and a boy who fell out of a tree. Sally continued the story of two boys trapped in a cave. John told us of a childhood during in the war and the teacher Miss Crook. Sheila said how she had to baby-sit a dog for a friend and returned to find her apples were rotten. Joan R learning to trust a second dog.
Mine was about a builder who lost his home to a greedy wife.
Pat was apologetic for writing such a brief story promptly got most votes.
A ROTTEN SITUATION.
I was reading in the Sunday paper that the average women would spend £16,000 on shoes in her lifetime! £16,000! How much is that per year? Divide £16,000 by 70- no, you can’t count your first 15 years can you? Divide by 60, that’s £266 a year. Lets see- this year I have purchased one pair of dressy sandals to go to a wedding at £25. One pair of lace-ups for daytime at £55, one pair of walking shoes, on sale at half price at £25. That’s £105! I don’t need any winter shoes this year as I purchased 2 pair last year for under £100. The way I look at it is, I still have approximately £332 left to spend by December.
Over my lifetime, if I averaged £100 per year, I should have saved approx £10,000. Where’s it gone? Have I been depriving myself? Do slippers count I wonder.
Then I spotted another shoe article, about a singer spending £2,000 on a pair of Jimmy Choos with heels like stalks. Then I read another shoe story about the Prime Minister’s wife purchasing a pair on E-Bay--imagine. How embarrassing to get caught buying worn shoes! What a rotten situation. Then there’s Theresa May, Home Secretary, with her exotic wellies and leopard pumps. She shops at Russell & Bromley I understand. I imagine she spends more than “Miss Average”
I find my self-thinking about shoes all the time, asking friends and family about their purchases. I’m becoming a foot fanatic, keep looking at feet, wondering how much they paid for their shoes, finding myself working any conversation around to, you guessed it, |SHOES!
There are so many styles_ sky-high heels, walking on tippy toes! What about crocs? - So ugly. I watched them all go by, so engrossed I forget the time and almost missed my lunch date.
I must stop this- get a grip for Heaven’s sake! Get back to normal.
OH NO, look across the road. A BIG shoe sale. Must run, I still have £332 to spend before December.
Next month "entire property" 27th September.
Mine was about a builder who lost his home to a greedy wife.
Pat was apologetic for writing such a brief story promptly got most votes.
A ROTTEN SITUATION.
I was reading in the Sunday paper that the average women would spend £16,000 on shoes in her lifetime! £16,000! How much is that per year? Divide £16,000 by 70- no, you can’t count your first 15 years can you? Divide by 60, that’s £266 a year. Lets see- this year I have purchased one pair of dressy sandals to go to a wedding at £25. One pair of lace-ups for daytime at £55, one pair of walking shoes, on sale at half price at £25. That’s £105! I don’t need any winter shoes this year as I purchased 2 pair last year for under £100. The way I look at it is, I still have approximately £332 left to spend by December.
Over my lifetime, if I averaged £100 per year, I should have saved approx £10,000. Where’s it gone? Have I been depriving myself? Do slippers count I wonder.
Then I spotted another shoe article, about a singer spending £2,000 on a pair of Jimmy Choos with heels like stalks. Then I read another shoe story about the Prime Minister’s wife purchasing a pair on E-Bay--imagine. How embarrassing to get caught buying worn shoes! What a rotten situation. Then there’s Theresa May, Home Secretary, with her exotic wellies and leopard pumps. She shops at Russell & Bromley I understand. I imagine she spends more than “Miss Average”
I find my self-thinking about shoes all the time, asking friends and family about their purchases. I’m becoming a foot fanatic, keep looking at feet, wondering how much they paid for their shoes, finding myself working any conversation around to, you guessed it, |SHOES!
There are so many styles_ sky-high heels, walking on tippy toes! What about crocs? - So ugly. I watched them all go by, so engrossed I forget the time and almost missed my lunch date.
I must stop this- get a grip for Heaven’s sake! Get back to normal.
OH NO, look across the road. A BIG shoe sale. Must run, I still have £332 to spend before December.
Next month "entire property" 27th September.
Monday 26 July 2010
26th July
Only seven for today's meeting each with a story with a different slant from each other only Brian's maurading tribesmen seemed likely to be the same barbarians haunting Sue's dream story.
John wrote of a poor girl who was jilted after taking a year's Sabbath to Australia. Ann told of a woman finding a friend who was in actual fact her daughter. My story told of a succes story of an ambitious woman making her way to the top. Joan's story of widowhood and the passing seasons.
Joan Read once again got the most votes.
When Day Broke
Martha King was wide awake in bed when day broke she seemed to have been awake for hours she laid in bed and listened to the dawn chorus and tried to get back to sleep but her head was reminding her of all the things she should have done and all the things she needed to do after while she knew that she would not sleep so she got up opened the curtains and could not believe what she was seeing it was raining after weeks of sun, rain, oh, she knew that everyone needed the rain but could it not have waited for one day just one more day.
She was due to host the writing group and had been planning to have it in the garden her two sons and there families had been to stay Richard his wife and two girls had gone home three days ago but James his wife and two boys did not go until yesterday evening now she said to herself" I truly love my grandsons Andy and Tony but to be honest they really are little horrors" the house was in a terrible mess she was completely exhausted by the time they left so she had gone straight to bed.
Martha went down stairs and into the lounge it looked like a war zone the dining room was no better but first things, first, breakfast. In the kitchen she went to the fridge to get the milk only to find a note from, Tom, her husband, who had gone fishing, the note read: Could not find a spare bottle so having taken milk, left enough for your tea in a cup: Great she thought the house is a mess and now no milk.
After she had finished her tea and toast she decided to just chuck everything in the cupboards and sort it out later. She had to get the cleaner out though because there were biscuits crumbs everywhere. Back into the kitchen to get out the cups and saucers get the coffee pot ready and the kettle filled. Now all she had to do was put out the biscuits she went to get them from the larder another note: Hope you don't mind taken tin of biscuits for the lads: She counted to ten because she did not want to scream he had taken the special biscuits she had made, for his friends, and had left her with ginger and malted milk. Well nothing for it a quick trip to the shop, 9. 1 0 into the car to the supermarket and just for the purpose huge queue. On the way home caught every set of traffic lights possible but got indoors at 9.40 so not to bad. Oh lord she thought bathroom she had forgotten to clean it she rushed in dirty washing in the bath, from showers the boys had before they left so that there were in there pyjamas ready for bed when they got home and of course no toilet paper (they seemed to use a roll a day) please let me have a spare one she said to herself she half expected to see another note but the toilet roll was there, where, it was supposed to be.
She looked at the clock ten to ten strange she thought no one here yet five to ten the phone rings it was Alice her friend "Hi Martha you haven't forgotten that the writing group is at Jim and Mary's to-day because they are away next month have you" Martha replied "Of course not I am just running a little late I'll be there in the next 5 minutes bye" She put down the phone and then she really did scream.
Next month A Rotten Situation 23 August.
John wrote of a poor girl who was jilted after taking a year's Sabbath to Australia. Ann told of a woman finding a friend who was in actual fact her daughter. My story told of a succes story of an ambitious woman making her way to the top. Joan's story of widowhood and the passing seasons.
Joan Read once again got the most votes.
When Day Broke
Martha King was wide awake in bed when day broke she seemed to have been awake for hours she laid in bed and listened to the dawn chorus and tried to get back to sleep but her head was reminding her of all the things she should have done and all the things she needed to do after while she knew that she would not sleep so she got up opened the curtains and could not believe what she was seeing it was raining after weeks of sun, rain, oh, she knew that everyone needed the rain but could it not have waited for one day just one more day.
She was due to host the writing group and had been planning to have it in the garden her two sons and there families had been to stay Richard his wife and two girls had gone home three days ago but James his wife and two boys did not go until yesterday evening now she said to herself" I truly love my grandsons Andy and Tony but to be honest they really are little horrors" the house was in a terrible mess she was completely exhausted by the time they left so she had gone straight to bed.
Martha went down stairs and into the lounge it looked like a war zone the dining room was no better but first things, first, breakfast. In the kitchen she went to the fridge to get the milk only to find a note from, Tom, her husband, who had gone fishing, the note read: Could not find a spare bottle so having taken milk, left enough for your tea in a cup: Great she thought the house is a mess and now no milk.
After she had finished her tea and toast she decided to just chuck everything in the cupboards and sort it out later. She had to get the cleaner out though because there were biscuits crumbs everywhere. Back into the kitchen to get out the cups and saucers get the coffee pot ready and the kettle filled. Now all she had to do was put out the biscuits she went to get them from the larder another note: Hope you don't mind taken tin of biscuits for the lads: She counted to ten because she did not want to scream he had taken the special biscuits she had made, for his friends, and had left her with ginger and malted milk. Well nothing for it a quick trip to the shop, 9. 1 0 into the car to the supermarket and just for the purpose huge queue. On the way home caught every set of traffic lights possible but got indoors at 9.40 so not to bad. Oh lord she thought bathroom she had forgotten to clean it she rushed in dirty washing in the bath, from showers the boys had before they left so that there were in there pyjamas ready for bed when they got home and of course no toilet paper (they seemed to use a roll a day) please let me have a spare one she said to herself she half expected to see another note but the toilet roll was there, where, it was supposed to be.
She looked at the clock ten to ten strange she thought no one here yet five to ten the phone rings it was Alice her friend "Hi Martha you haven't forgotten that the writing group is at Jim and Mary's to-day because they are away next month have you" Martha replied "Of course not I am just running a little late I'll be there in the next 5 minutes bye" She put down the phone and then she really did scream.
Next month A Rotten Situation 23 August.
Monday 28 June 2010
June' s stories
Very hot morning in Pat & Brian's garden sheltering in the shade of the porch we listened to many different stories on the word Ramshackle.
Pat's, Jamie's journey from the States and bonding with their Uncle.
Sally, Gypsy Black Jack's caravan and Ben playing near the quarry.
Ann, Brecon Beacons in the storm and a refuge manned by ghosts.
Sue a widow who makes a new life for herself by buying a boat
Sheila, a holiday cottage that despite appearances was spotless.
Joan, a boys holiday with grandparents and wood carving.
John,A husband has a fling then becomes a detective.
Brian, A hedge layer and a good lunch.
My effort was about a holiday in Wales.
"When the day broke" is next month's
Joan Read was the winner
Ramshackle
Ramshackle what kind of word is that 10 year old Danny Green said to himself, his mother had just called his bedroom this, that's two words put together if he remembered right ram meant to barge into something and shackle was something that slave traders used in the olden days well at least that's what they said on the history channel. So how could his bedroom be this, he hadn't as far as he could remember rammed anything and he had no chains whatsoever so what did his mother mean.
Ok his bedroom was a tip, but then he hated cleaning, if he did he could never find anything, but as his grandparents were visiting this weekend, he supposed he better make an effort. He started by hanging up his coats folding his jumpers and putting away his trainers but all the while he was thinking about that word he got the cleaner from the cupboard and started to hoover as he knocked into the wardrobe he thought this could be the ram part because he had done that before. When he had finished he decided to look through his drawers to see if he could find anything like shackles all he found was a pair of handcuffs that were part of a game he had been given when he was 8 years old perhaps this is what his mother meant for the second part of the word but why did she put the two together he just didn't understand.
At last he heard the door open down stairs, it was his father home for lunch, he ran down to meet him, but before he could say anything his mother said lunch is on the table and woe betide them if they were late. Whilst they were eating he was about to talk to his father when the phone rang it was an emergency call from the fire station his dad was a voluntary fireman so he had to go straight away luckily they lived quite close. Danny was very proud of him, so much so, that he was going to be a fireman when he was old enough. His father gave them both a quick kiss and rushed out the door so Danny was still left wondering about ramshackle.
He began to ask his mother questions whilst she was washing up "was the garden a ramshackle" "certainly not" was her reply "what about the utility room" he said "for goodness sake Danny the only ramshackle place in this house is your bedroom". Danny went back to his room and decided that he must be a terrible boy if it was only his room that was affected by this. He sat on his bed and was still there when his mother came up to ask him if he wanted a drink she could see that something was wrong "what's up Danny why are you not on your play station" he told his mother all about it and was surprised when she laughed out loud she said "you silly boy if you had looked it up you would have discovered that ramshackle is a very old word but all it means is that your bedroom was a mess but looking at it now its um shall we say pristine" and she went back down stairs still laughing. Danny thought pristine oh no not again, where did I put that dictionary?
Pat's, Jamie's journey from the States and bonding with their Uncle.
Sally, Gypsy Black Jack's caravan and Ben playing near the quarry.
Ann, Brecon Beacons in the storm and a refuge manned by ghosts.
Sue a widow who makes a new life for herself by buying a boat
Sheila, a holiday cottage that despite appearances was spotless.
Joan, a boys holiday with grandparents and wood carving.
John,A husband has a fling then becomes a detective.
Brian, A hedge layer and a good lunch.
My effort was about a holiday in Wales.
"When the day broke" is next month's
Joan Read was the winner
Ramshackle
Ramshackle what kind of word is that 10 year old Danny Green said to himself, his mother had just called his bedroom this, that's two words put together if he remembered right ram meant to barge into something and shackle was something that slave traders used in the olden days well at least that's what they said on the history channel. So how could his bedroom be this, he hadn't as far as he could remember rammed anything and he had no chains whatsoever so what did his mother mean.
Ok his bedroom was a tip, but then he hated cleaning, if he did he could never find anything, but as his grandparents were visiting this weekend, he supposed he better make an effort. He started by hanging up his coats folding his jumpers and putting away his trainers but all the while he was thinking about that word he got the cleaner from the cupboard and started to hoover as he knocked into the wardrobe he thought this could be the ram part because he had done that before. When he had finished he decided to look through his drawers to see if he could find anything like shackles all he found was a pair of handcuffs that were part of a game he had been given when he was 8 years old perhaps this is what his mother meant for the second part of the word but why did she put the two together he just didn't understand.
At last he heard the door open down stairs, it was his father home for lunch, he ran down to meet him, but before he could say anything his mother said lunch is on the table and woe betide them if they were late. Whilst they were eating he was about to talk to his father when the phone rang it was an emergency call from the fire station his dad was a voluntary fireman so he had to go straight away luckily they lived quite close. Danny was very proud of him, so much so, that he was going to be a fireman when he was old enough. His father gave them both a quick kiss and rushed out the door so Danny was still left wondering about ramshackle.
He began to ask his mother questions whilst she was washing up "was the garden a ramshackle" "certainly not" was her reply "what about the utility room" he said "for goodness sake Danny the only ramshackle place in this house is your bedroom". Danny went back to his room and decided that he must be a terrible boy if it was only his room that was affected by this. He sat on his bed and was still there when his mother came up to ask him if he wanted a drink she could see that something was wrong "what's up Danny why are you not on your play station" he told his mother all about it and was surprised when she laughed out loud she said "you silly boy if you had looked it up you would have discovered that ramshackle is a very old word but all it means is that your bedroom was a mess but looking at it now its um shall we say pristine" and she went back down stairs still laughing. Danny thought pristine oh no not again, where did I put that dictionary?
Monday 24 May 2010
May story
Really hot day where we sat under the shade of various umbrellas in Jack and Joan's garden. Only eight of us today.
Joan E gave an account of winter on a farm. I wrote a story about a henpecked husband agreeing to take a puppy. Rosmarie told us about forbidden pleasures. Sally gave a graphic account of a good time girl being strangled. Ann's story involved midnight feasts and ginger beer. Sheila told a story about her her precocious grandson. John told of young men getting together. Joan Read got the most votes.
Concealed the Facts
Christine McGuire opened and read the e-mail from her cousin Maeve and sat down with a shock she knew in that moment that her life was about to change again for the third time. The first was in 1956 in Ireland where she lived with her parents who where devout Catholics as she was coming home one night she was assaulted and as a result found herself pregnant even though it was not her fault her mother sent her to a clinic run by nuns. It was a very hard life and over the 9 months as she felt the baby move and grow she started to look forward to the birth, her little girl was born May 1st so she called her Maisy she was beautiful. One week after she was born Sister Mary came and told Christine that her parents had put the baby up for adoption and that she would be leaving to go to a family the following day. She was told that as she was only fifteen she had no choice Christine cried and begged them to let her keep her daughter but the next morning when she woke Maisy was gone. Her father came to get her the same day to take her home she never said a word to him but she knew what she was going to do. She waited for them to go to mass on Sunday and then she took £100 from her father's drawer and caught the ferry to England she had never seen or spoken to her parents since. When she arrived in England she had a small suitcase with some clothes and £75 she went to her cousin Maeve who was renting a small flat and she lived there with her for six years in that time she trained to become a nurse at St Ormond's hospital and this is where she met the man she married Jonathan Grant a visiting doctor from the United States. Her life changed for a second time when they married and moved to his home in Kentucky a small ranch, which she loved. They had both been working at the same hospital for 10 years and had made numerous friends but no family to call on as Jonathan said his parents had been killed in a car crash when he was twenty. They had been trying to start a family for a long time but without success and now she had to tell him about Masie she had always concealed the facts from him scared of what he might say but now she had no choice this was made plain in the e-mail. Her daughter now 16 needed a bone marrow transplant and her adopted parents had managed to obtain her birth certificate with Christines name on it and from that had contacted her parents and they in turn phoned Maeve, she thought to herself did she really want her life to change again she could just tell Jonathan she was going to visit Maeve for a holiday. She glanced at the clock saw that it was 5pm and at that moment Jonathan walked through the door having finished his shift slightly early as they were supposed to be going out. Before she lost her nerve she told him every thing from the time of the attack up until she met him. When she had finished he looked at her picked up his coat and left the house she heard the car start and he was gone. She did not know what to think or do so she just sat and waited she was still there when he came back at 9 o'clock. He crossed the room stood her up and kissed her she burst into tears and he said everything will be OK we will both go to Ireland and see this through and perhaps we will speak to your parents and get to know your daughter but he said there is one thing I have kept from you about my parents my mother is dead that's true but my father is in jail for her murder so you see my love you were not the only one with a secret. They looked at one another and knew that after this no matter what life threw at them they would always cope because of their love.
Next month "ramshackle"
Joan E gave an account of winter on a farm. I wrote a story about a henpecked husband agreeing to take a puppy. Rosmarie told us about forbidden pleasures. Sally gave a graphic account of a good time girl being strangled. Ann's story involved midnight feasts and ginger beer. Sheila told a story about her her precocious grandson. John told of young men getting together. Joan Read got the most votes.
Concealed the Facts
Christine McGuire opened and read the e-mail from her cousin Maeve and sat down with a shock she knew in that moment that her life was about to change again for the third time. The first was in 1956 in Ireland where she lived with her parents who where devout Catholics as she was coming home one night she was assaulted and as a result found herself pregnant even though it was not her fault her mother sent her to a clinic run by nuns. It was a very hard life and over the 9 months as she felt the baby move and grow she started to look forward to the birth, her little girl was born May 1st so she called her Maisy she was beautiful. One week after she was born Sister Mary came and told Christine that her parents had put the baby up for adoption and that she would be leaving to go to a family the following day. She was told that as she was only fifteen she had no choice Christine cried and begged them to let her keep her daughter but the next morning when she woke Maisy was gone. Her father came to get her the same day to take her home she never said a word to him but she knew what she was going to do. She waited for them to go to mass on Sunday and then she took £100 from her father's drawer and caught the ferry to England she had never seen or spoken to her parents since. When she arrived in England she had a small suitcase with some clothes and £75 she went to her cousin Maeve who was renting a small flat and she lived there with her for six years in that time she trained to become a nurse at St Ormond's hospital and this is where she met the man she married Jonathan Grant a visiting doctor from the United States. Her life changed for a second time when they married and moved to his home in Kentucky a small ranch, which she loved. They had both been working at the same hospital for 10 years and had made numerous friends but no family to call on as Jonathan said his parents had been killed in a car crash when he was twenty. They had been trying to start a family for a long time but without success and now she had to tell him about Masie she had always concealed the facts from him scared of what he might say but now she had no choice this was made plain in the e-mail. Her daughter now 16 needed a bone marrow transplant and her adopted parents had managed to obtain her birth certificate with Christines name on it and from that had contacted her parents and they in turn phoned Maeve, she thought to herself did she really want her life to change again she could just tell Jonathan she was going to visit Maeve for a holiday. She glanced at the clock saw that it was 5pm and at that moment Jonathan walked through the door having finished his shift slightly early as they were supposed to be going out. Before she lost her nerve she told him every thing from the time of the attack up until she met him. When she had finished he looked at her picked up his coat and left the house she heard the car start and he was gone. She did not know what to think or do so she just sat and waited she was still there when he came back at 9 o'clock. He crossed the room stood her up and kissed her she burst into tears and he said everything will be OK we will both go to Ireland and see this through and perhaps we will speak to your parents and get to know your daughter but he said there is one thing I have kept from you about my parents my mother is dead that's true but my father is in jail for her murder so you see my love you were not the only one with a secret. They looked at one another and knew that after this no matter what life threw at them they would always cope because of their love.
Next month "ramshackle"
Wednesday 21 April 2010
21st April
Another beautiful day apart from the usual plane trails across the sky spoiling the clear blueness after the lifting of the flight ban due to the Icelandic ash. Nine of us met and read out some interesting stories. I read out Sue's as she was in Cornwall it was all about the halcyon days leading up to the second war. Joan Read described a party devoted to telling the truth. Joan told of a school prize giving book. My story was about giving a talk in a prison. Sheila pondered on sayings and wondered about new ones due to the latest technology. John took us to Vietnam and a soldier who found God. Ann a winner who buys up her old home after winning the lottery. Pat told us about Erasmus and his life. Brian a Japanese suicide warrior who died knowing his family going to the Nagasaki in the South Island would be safe.
Rosemary won the vote and is below.
Back to Monday next time and the subject words are "concealing all traces"
HONOURS
She had been born on the day the Queen's birthday honours were presented, so the family had called her Honour. They felt it WAS an honour that she shared this auspicious birthday and were quite proud of the fact, for they were out and out royalists! As she grew it seemed almost as though Honour KNEW how privileged she was to have such a name. She was gentle and obedient, always willing to listen and to learn - a real little lady, so utterly different to her two madcap brothers. THEY were boisterous and noisy, often trying to tempt Honour into their games. But she would have none of it! NO, she would NOT be drawn into their mischief, so eventually in disgust they got the message and left her alone. Don't get me wrong, she DID love to frolic and play like all youngsters do, yet seemed to be able to do so with a sort of constantly reserved and superior air.
"That's the result of Honour having been born on such a special day", her family would comment, and chuckled at the thought. And so it was that the name Honour really suited her 100%, almost as though she just HAD to live up to it!
But Oh, WHAT A SHOCK - A TERRIBLE SHOCK AND DISAPPOINTMENT IT WAS WHEN HONOUR'S OWN SON WAS BORN! For as he grew HE turned out to be just as mischievous as her brothers had been. Honour would sigh and shake her head as day after day he managed to get himself into one scrape after another. And the older he grew he became more and more trouble to her. He seemed to be completely out of control and whenever she gave him her disapproving look and tried to catch him to give him a piece of her mind, he always managed to outrun her and escape. She sighed again as he raced off into the distance without a backward glance at his anxious mother. She shook her head and thought that he should NEVER have been called Prince, for in no way did HE live up to HIS name as she had always tried to live up to hers.
So eventually it was quite a relief to Honour when the time came for her boisterous son Prince to go away to be schooled. Hopefully he would be disciplined, learn to behave himself, and have some of his high spirits knocked out of him THERE, before he returned to her!
One afternoon many many months later the sounds of a great commotion and whoops of joy came to Honours ears. Whatever could it be? Had her troublesome son come back and was up to his old tricks again? NO! Suddenly her people were gathering around her, patting her shiny chestnut rump and stroking her nose, laughing and shouting "Honour old girl you've done us PROUD! Your son Prince has just won the Grand National! What a wonderful horse he is. You must be SO proud of him!"
Rosemary won the vote and is below.
Back to Monday next time and the subject words are "concealing all traces"
HONOURS
She had been born on the day the Queen's birthday honours were presented, so the family had called her Honour. They felt it WAS an honour that she shared this auspicious birthday and were quite proud of the fact, for they were out and out royalists! As she grew it seemed almost as though Honour KNEW how privileged she was to have such a name. She was gentle and obedient, always willing to listen and to learn - a real little lady, so utterly different to her two madcap brothers. THEY were boisterous and noisy, often trying to tempt Honour into their games. But she would have none of it! NO, she would NOT be drawn into their mischief, so eventually in disgust they got the message and left her alone. Don't get me wrong, she DID love to frolic and play like all youngsters do, yet seemed to be able to do so with a sort of constantly reserved and superior air.
"That's the result of Honour having been born on such a special day", her family would comment, and chuckled at the thought. And so it was that the name Honour really suited her 100%, almost as though she just HAD to live up to it!
But Oh, WHAT A SHOCK - A TERRIBLE SHOCK AND DISAPPOINTMENT IT WAS WHEN HONOUR'S OWN SON WAS BORN! For as he grew HE turned out to be just as mischievous as her brothers had been. Honour would sigh and shake her head as day after day he managed to get himself into one scrape after another. And the older he grew he became more and more trouble to her. He seemed to be completely out of control and whenever she gave him her disapproving look and tried to catch him to give him a piece of her mind, he always managed to outrun her and escape. She sighed again as he raced off into the distance without a backward glance at his anxious mother. She shook her head and thought that he should NEVER have been called Prince, for in no way did HE live up to HIS name as she had always tried to live up to hers.
So eventually it was quite a relief to Honour when the time came for her boisterous son Prince to go away to be schooled. Hopefully he would be disciplined, learn to behave himself, and have some of his high spirits knocked out of him THERE, before he returned to her!
One afternoon many many months later the sounds of a great commotion and whoops of joy came to Honours ears. Whatever could it be? Had her troublesome son come back and was up to his old tricks again? NO! Suddenly her people were gathering around her, patting her shiny chestnut rump and stroking her nose, laughing and shouting "Honour old girl you've done us PROUD! Your son Prince has just won the Grand National! What a wonderful horse he is. You must be SO proud of him!"
Monday 22 March 2010
March meeting
Nine of us with eight producing their creative stories of varied uses of advice.
John spoke for his grandson who at three had a very vivid imagination. Sheila about psychology used to get a teenager to put back a tarty dress for a more sober one. Ann a grandfather who told wonderful stories to his grandson. Rosemary a true story of a pedantic colleague who knew best. Brian told us about the 36 types of the ubiquitous spider although Google says there are 600 still who's counting them.
Joan Read church marriages in decline. Sue had an emotional ride on a bus going to work. Joan E a tale of a mysterious letter demanding an answer.
My effort was the waste of time giving advice such as be careful.
Sue and myself tied so here are both.
Next month at Cadnam "honour"
Sue's story
‘SUCH ADVICE’
I awoke feeling unusually refreshed and content, then glanced out the window and saw the sun was up and it was a sparkling, cold, clear morning. It was great to be alive and I jumped out of bed eager to meet the new day. You must understand this in itself is unusual, as I more often wake feeling I’ve been drugged, struggling to open my eyes and with a splitting headache which can drag on all day.
I’d woken in plenty of time to get showered, dressed, breakfasted and out the door to catch the nine o’clock bus to town, so my light mood persisted and I sat at the bus stop, pleasantly relaxed, enjoying the sun and congratulating myself for being so efficient.
The bus arrived on time and my good mood continued. Then things started to slip as two young girls got on at the next stop and clattered up the aisle, plonking themselves on the back seat. Then they decided to move to the pairs of seats facing each other and promptly put their feet up on the opposite ones. I felt a frisson of irritation and idly wondered what their home life was like and whether their parents allowed this sort of sloppy behaviour there.
The sound of the driver speaking on his phone intruded into my thoughts at this point. He was talking to someone at his depot, telling them he was approaching the workshops and his indicator lights weren’t working. We arrived at the next stop and I realised, as we continued to sit there after all the passengers had got on, that we were waiting for something – another bus, perhaps? Surely not; we could get to town without indicators, couldn’t we – and I needed to be at work by 10. Then a young chap in greasy overalls sauntered up, got on the bus, heaved a panel up and started to tinker. I was amazed that no-one else seemed the slightest bit put out by this, and then I realised there was nothing I could do and it WAS the first time I’d ever been delayed in this way, so who was I to be cross? I had gone from fidgety to annoyed and now was rationalising my feelings.
After about five minutes of this, the mechanic banged the lid down on the compartment he had been delving into, packed up his tools and hopped off the bus, waving cheerily to the driver as he went. I began to relax once more as we came into Totton. Then my attention was drawn to a rather unkempt young man, hurrying along the pavement with an Asda trolley containing a rucksack and a large bag. He rammed the trolley against the seat by the bus stop, unloaded it and stepped onto the bus. My mood swung again and I became really incensed. Did he realise he had taken someone else’s property off their premises, which was technically theft? He had also left the trolley in a busy place where it could cause problems, with no thought but that it was a good way for him to get his load to the bus stop. I am amazed people think they have the right to do this – and the stores and Council do almost nothing to stop it. I was very annoyed by now!
However, the bus sailed on into town on very quiet roads for a change; I’d be on time despite the problems, I thought, but no, I was forced to alight at the stop before my usual one as the roads all around it had been dug up and it was inaccessible. I now had a longer walk than usual and set off resentfully, once more in a disgruntled frame of mind. But as I walked I again became aware of the glorious day and the beauty of the park, and my sense of wellbeing returned. By the time I had crossed the park I was feeling almost euphoric, as the beauty and tranquillity had lifted my spirits once more.
This made me think, and I spent the rest of my walk to my destination enjoying the beautiful morning and remembering some advice given to me during a particularly black period of my life. Nothing lasts for ever and that applies to good and bad days in our lives – we just have to look for positive things. Such advice has been invaluable to me as I roller coaster through my life. At least I never have time to get bored!
My story
Would I give advice to anybody? No I wouldn't How many times do we hear mothers giving advice to their children such advice as "Be careful" "Mind how you go" for all the good it does. During this winter's icy roads, the result of the severe weather we had I wonder how many drivers were given those cautions. Does it make anyone more careful? Does it help - of course not. After sheltering indoors for several days and starting to get cabin fever we ventured out one day and a neighbour who is a care nurse espying us creeping up our driveway called out be careful otherwise I will be visiting you" that made us more paranoid than before. Did she think we would leap along oblivious to the danger jumping and skipping. I remember in the sixties when we had severe weather and the roads were covered in a layer of ice. At the time I lived in Sholing and Portsmouth Road was one long ice rink. While waiting for a bus I saw a cyclist tackle the long slope near Butts Road heading down to Millers pond. I'm sure anybody who cared for his safety would have called be careful as he seemed to be unaware of the danger and sped onwards. I watched him in amazement expecting him to fall at anytime but he finally turned the corner out of sight. If he had behaved as I would have done by carefully striving to keep balance pedalling slowly along with fear coating my brow in sweat I'm sure I would have quickly felt the coolness of the ice on my bottom.
I believe we function better without the incessant advice and warning of care that bombard us each time we venture out of our warm cosy environment. Courage is confronting and dealing with the situation that signals danger with our own intuition as to how much notice we need to take without added precautions. How pretentious Kipling was when he wrote IF. when he gave his advice to some poor unfortunate.
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
On the above measure I'm not one as I'm sure my head would increase in size if I walked with Kings and I never had the common touch to start with and as for sixty seconds I would prefer to sleep a few of them, without straining to pack an activity in every minute.
Another favourite is, watch how you go - how does one accomplish that from a third party viewpoint. If I consider that too long I would either fall over or forget where I was going.
Well that is long enough on the subject so I'll just sign off.
Take care
John spoke for his grandson who at three had a very vivid imagination. Sheila about psychology used to get a teenager to put back a tarty dress for a more sober one. Ann a grandfather who told wonderful stories to his grandson. Rosemary a true story of a pedantic colleague who knew best. Brian told us about the 36 types of the ubiquitous spider although Google says there are 600 still who's counting them.
Joan Read church marriages in decline. Sue had an emotional ride on a bus going to work. Joan E a tale of a mysterious letter demanding an answer.
My effort was the waste of time giving advice such as be careful.
Sue and myself tied so here are both.
Next month at Cadnam "honour"
Sue's story
‘SUCH ADVICE’
I awoke feeling unusually refreshed and content, then glanced out the window and saw the sun was up and it was a sparkling, cold, clear morning. It was great to be alive and I jumped out of bed eager to meet the new day. You must understand this in itself is unusual, as I more often wake feeling I’ve been drugged, struggling to open my eyes and with a splitting headache which can drag on all day.
I’d woken in plenty of time to get showered, dressed, breakfasted and out the door to catch the nine o’clock bus to town, so my light mood persisted and I sat at the bus stop, pleasantly relaxed, enjoying the sun and congratulating myself for being so efficient.
The bus arrived on time and my good mood continued. Then things started to slip as two young girls got on at the next stop and clattered up the aisle, plonking themselves on the back seat. Then they decided to move to the pairs of seats facing each other and promptly put their feet up on the opposite ones. I felt a frisson of irritation and idly wondered what their home life was like and whether their parents allowed this sort of sloppy behaviour there.
The sound of the driver speaking on his phone intruded into my thoughts at this point. He was talking to someone at his depot, telling them he was approaching the workshops and his indicator lights weren’t working. We arrived at the next stop and I realised, as we continued to sit there after all the passengers had got on, that we were waiting for something – another bus, perhaps? Surely not; we could get to town without indicators, couldn’t we – and I needed to be at work by 10. Then a young chap in greasy overalls sauntered up, got on the bus, heaved a panel up and started to tinker. I was amazed that no-one else seemed the slightest bit put out by this, and then I realised there was nothing I could do and it WAS the first time I’d ever been delayed in this way, so who was I to be cross? I had gone from fidgety to annoyed and now was rationalising my feelings.
After about five minutes of this, the mechanic banged the lid down on the compartment he had been delving into, packed up his tools and hopped off the bus, waving cheerily to the driver as he went. I began to relax once more as we came into Totton. Then my attention was drawn to a rather unkempt young man, hurrying along the pavement with an Asda trolley containing a rucksack and a large bag. He rammed the trolley against the seat by the bus stop, unloaded it and stepped onto the bus. My mood swung again and I became really incensed. Did he realise he had taken someone else’s property off their premises, which was technically theft? He had also left the trolley in a busy place where it could cause problems, with no thought but that it was a good way for him to get his load to the bus stop. I am amazed people think they have the right to do this – and the stores and Council do almost nothing to stop it. I was very annoyed by now!
However, the bus sailed on into town on very quiet roads for a change; I’d be on time despite the problems, I thought, but no, I was forced to alight at the stop before my usual one as the roads all around it had been dug up and it was inaccessible. I now had a longer walk than usual and set off resentfully, once more in a disgruntled frame of mind. But as I walked I again became aware of the glorious day and the beauty of the park, and my sense of wellbeing returned. By the time I had crossed the park I was feeling almost euphoric, as the beauty and tranquillity had lifted my spirits once more.
This made me think, and I spent the rest of my walk to my destination enjoying the beautiful morning and remembering some advice given to me during a particularly black period of my life. Nothing lasts for ever and that applies to good and bad days in our lives – we just have to look for positive things. Such advice has been invaluable to me as I roller coaster through my life. At least I never have time to get bored!
My story
Would I give advice to anybody? No I wouldn't How many times do we hear mothers giving advice to their children such advice as "Be careful" "Mind how you go" for all the good it does. During this winter's icy roads, the result of the severe weather we had I wonder how many drivers were given those cautions. Does it make anyone more careful? Does it help - of course not. After sheltering indoors for several days and starting to get cabin fever we ventured out one day and a neighbour who is a care nurse espying us creeping up our driveway called out be careful otherwise I will be visiting you" that made us more paranoid than before. Did she think we would leap along oblivious to the danger jumping and skipping. I remember in the sixties when we had severe weather and the roads were covered in a layer of ice. At the time I lived in Sholing and Portsmouth Road was one long ice rink. While waiting for a bus I saw a cyclist tackle the long slope near Butts Road heading down to Millers pond. I'm sure anybody who cared for his safety would have called be careful as he seemed to be unaware of the danger and sped onwards. I watched him in amazement expecting him to fall at anytime but he finally turned the corner out of sight. If he had behaved as I would have done by carefully striving to keep balance pedalling slowly along with fear coating my brow in sweat I'm sure I would have quickly felt the coolness of the ice on my bottom.
I believe we function better without the incessant advice and warning of care that bombard us each time we venture out of our warm cosy environment. Courage is confronting and dealing with the situation that signals danger with our own intuition as to how much notice we need to take without added precautions. How pretentious Kipling was when he wrote IF. when he gave his advice to some poor unfortunate.
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
On the above measure I'm not one as I'm sure my head would increase in size if I walked with Kings and I never had the common touch to start with and as for sixty seconds I would prefer to sleep a few of them, without straining to pack an activity in every minute.
Another favourite is, watch how you go - how does one accomplish that from a third party viewpoint. If I consider that too long I would either fall over or forget where I was going.
Well that is long enough on the subject so I'll just sign off.
Take care
Monday 22 February 2010
22 February
Pat and Brian's today on a cold rain filled cloudy day for a bright friendly, group story telling, taking advantage of the warmth from the newly installed gas fired coal effect hearth fire. Brian regaled us about the wayward road roller. Ann told of the visual splendour of a park from an overlooking window. Rosemary with all the "treasures" that accrue over a life time. Joan E about sisters taking their families on a seaside holiday. Mine was about a racist finding he had an Indian half brother. Joan R story about losing weight and having a baby. John retold of his war time experience and Pat told of a child hiding below a cliff face and not judging people on face value.
Sheila' story although short gained most votes perhaps it refreshed us with its clarity.
ALL AND SUNDRY
Well, how do I get these words into a story? It is not a phrase that is used every day - I just can't think of the last time I heard it. I thought that I would look in the dictionary: it said that ALL AND SUNDRY meant 'everyone'. O.K. Then I looked up SUNDRY. It said 'various: several'. I suppose put the two together meant various or several people, hence everyone. Right then, but I still don't know how to get ALL AND SUNDRY into a story. I got to thinking:- when Jack fell down the hill did Jill shout to ALL AND SUNDRY what a clumsy brother she had to fall down and spill all the water they had collected - probably not. When Little Miss Muffet ran away screaming, did a friend tell ALL AND SUNDRY that Miss Muffet was scared of spiders? She wouldn't have been much of a friend would she? Then again did the Sergeant tell his soldiers that Humpty Dumpty had fallen off the wall and all he was good for now was a big scrambled breakfast! They would have fallen off their horses laughing. These are some ideas I suppose, but how am I going to get even one of them into a story? Oh no, I shall have to start thinking again. Er, no. I know what to do, - I shall just give up thinking and do the story another day!!!
Next month 22nd March "Such advice"
Sheila' story although short gained most votes perhaps it refreshed us with its clarity.
ALL AND SUNDRY
Well, how do I get these words into a story? It is not a phrase that is used every day - I just can't think of the last time I heard it. I thought that I would look in the dictionary: it said that ALL AND SUNDRY meant 'everyone'. O.K. Then I looked up SUNDRY. It said 'various: several'. I suppose put the two together meant various or several people, hence everyone. Right then, but I still don't know how to get ALL AND SUNDRY into a story. I got to thinking:- when Jack fell down the hill did Jill shout to ALL AND SUNDRY what a clumsy brother she had to fall down and spill all the water they had collected - probably not. When Little Miss Muffet ran away screaming, did a friend tell ALL AND SUNDRY that Miss Muffet was scared of spiders? She wouldn't have been much of a friend would she? Then again did the Sergeant tell his soldiers that Humpty Dumpty had fallen off the wall and all he was good for now was a big scrambled breakfast! They would have fallen off their horses laughing. These are some ideas I suppose, but how am I going to get even one of them into a story? Oh no, I shall have to start thinking again. Er, no. I know what to do, - I shall just give up thinking and do the story another day!!!
Next month 22nd March "Such advice"
Monday 25 January 2010
January Meeting
Met at Jack and Joan's for a convivial get together. Widely different stories that gathered mainly single votes but Ann was voted the best. Rosemary told of a couple who after 11 years had a baby who ended up being killed in Afghanistan. John of a handicapped child taken to the USA for treatment. Sally hinted once again about a dalliance from the past told over the phone. Pat found a pheasant in her garden with a liking for peanuts. Brian told a story from a birds point of view. Joan told of a boy's liking for Lego. Sheila's story was about weather forecasters of old being replaced by youngsters. Sue the cat that sneaked upstairs into her daughters bedroom. Joan Read the footballers' clubhouse and the deaf girl.
I'm Watching Him
As I left the building for the last time, I realised I had become another casualty of the recession. My job had ceased to exist after the merger. I had joined the firm after leaving university and taken every opportunity to better myself and gain promotion before reaching the position of head of the legal team in the business. This proved no guarantee of further employment within the new group though. I could console myself with the knowledge that I had met David through my job. I had never had time for long -term relationships, but when I attended a conference a few years ago I was introduced to one of the speakers and there was an instant attraction between us. Within a few months we had moved in together and I felt more contented that I had imagined possible. I decided to take a short break before getting down to the serious job of finding new employment and accompanied David to Switzerland where he had a meeting. We had planned to enjoy some skiing after, but cut this short as David was suffering with severe headaches. On our return these got worse and after a visit from the Doctor, he was rushed into hospital, where he lapsed into a coma. Scans revealed a brain tumour and several days later he died never having regained consciousness. I was distraught. My whole world had come tumbling around me. I did what I always did as a small child. I turned to my parents. They had always made things better, but on this occasion I knew the job would be much harder.
After about six months I was beginning to rethink my life and decided I wanted something completely different. I didn't want another job in the city. I wanted to get away somewhere quiet and think my future through gradually. I decided to rent a cottage on the edge of Exmoor. My parents thought I was out of my mind, but having failed to persuade me to rethink my plans, gave their blessing anyway. I had been given an extremely generous golden handshake from my job and David had left me very well provided for, so I had no immediate money worries. The cottage was in a little village and had a beautiful view across open countryside to the moors in the distant. There was a stone paved area outside the back door that stretched the width of the building and beyond that lawn. It was very peaceful and I spent many hours there. One evening I sensed someone watching me and slowly looked towards the hedge. I could see a pair of eyes staring at me. For the next few evenings I played "I'm watching him watching me." Then one evening my watcher pushed through the hedge and I saw the creature clearly for the first time. As he gazed at me I quietly spoke to him and told him not to be afraid and that Iwouldn't hurt him. I said what a gorgeous creature he was and I would call him Flame as he reminded me of the colours in a fire. So began my love affair with this fox.
My days fell into a regular routine. I walked to the village shop to get a paper and any odds and ends I had run out of and when my jobs were done I would sit in the garden and sketch and paint. This was something I had always enjoyed, but never had time for in later years. I became quite friendly with the shopkeeper. One day I overheard a conversation between her and the local vet. He was worried how he would manage now his regular childminder had fallen and broken her leg. Grace, his daughter had just started school and he had late surgery three nights a week. After he had gone I mentioned that I had overheard his problem and said I was quite prepared to collect Grace and give her tea on these nights, but I didn't want to appear pushy. Later that evening I had a phone call from Tom, saying he had heard of my offer and would be pleased to accept.
Grace and I enjoyed each other's company. When Flame came to visit one evening she asked him if he had a mummy as her mummy had died when she was two. She said her daddy was a vet and made sick animals better and if he got sick her daddy would make him well again. A couple of nights later Flame arrived followed by a smaller fox. Grace said she was going to call her Goldie. They became regular visitors and I would make up stories about them to tell Grace.
I am now about to embark on a new chapter in my life. I have just had my first book published of short stories about Flame, Goldie and their family, illustrated with my own drawings. I have dedicated it to my new stepdaughter, Grace.
I'm Watching Him
As I left the building for the last time, I realised I had become another casualty of the recession. My job had ceased to exist after the merger. I had joined the firm after leaving university and taken every opportunity to better myself and gain promotion before reaching the position of head of the legal team in the business. This proved no guarantee of further employment within the new group though. I could console myself with the knowledge that I had met David through my job. I had never had time for long -term relationships, but when I attended a conference a few years ago I was introduced to one of the speakers and there was an instant attraction between us. Within a few months we had moved in together and I felt more contented that I had imagined possible. I decided to take a short break before getting down to the serious job of finding new employment and accompanied David to Switzerland where he had a meeting. We had planned to enjoy some skiing after, but cut this short as David was suffering with severe headaches. On our return these got worse and after a visit from the Doctor, he was rushed into hospital, where he lapsed into a coma. Scans revealed a brain tumour and several days later he died never having regained consciousness. I was distraught. My whole world had come tumbling around me. I did what I always did as a small child. I turned to my parents. They had always made things better, but on this occasion I knew the job would be much harder.
After about six months I was beginning to rethink my life and decided I wanted something completely different. I didn't want another job in the city. I wanted to get away somewhere quiet and think my future through gradually. I decided to rent a cottage on the edge of Exmoor. My parents thought I was out of my mind, but having failed to persuade me to rethink my plans, gave their blessing anyway. I had been given an extremely generous golden handshake from my job and David had left me very well provided for, so I had no immediate money worries. The cottage was in a little village and had a beautiful view across open countryside to the moors in the distant. There was a stone paved area outside the back door that stretched the width of the building and beyond that lawn. It was very peaceful and I spent many hours there. One evening I sensed someone watching me and slowly looked towards the hedge. I could see a pair of eyes staring at me. For the next few evenings I played "I'm watching him watching me." Then one evening my watcher pushed through the hedge and I saw the creature clearly for the first time. As he gazed at me I quietly spoke to him and told him not to be afraid and that Iwouldn't hurt him. I said what a gorgeous creature he was and I would call him Flame as he reminded me of the colours in a fire. So began my love affair with this fox.
My days fell into a regular routine. I walked to the village shop to get a paper and any odds and ends I had run out of and when my jobs were done I would sit in the garden and sketch and paint. This was something I had always enjoyed, but never had time for in later years. I became quite friendly with the shopkeeper. One day I overheard a conversation between her and the local vet. He was worried how he would manage now his regular childminder had fallen and broken her leg. Grace, his daughter had just started school and he had late surgery three nights a week. After he had gone I mentioned that I had overheard his problem and said I was quite prepared to collect Grace and give her tea on these nights, but I didn't want to appear pushy. Later that evening I had a phone call from Tom, saying he had heard of my offer and would be pleased to accept.
Grace and I enjoyed each other's company. When Flame came to visit one evening she asked him if he had a mummy as her mummy had died when she was two. She said her daddy was a vet and made sick animals better and if he got sick her daddy would make him well again. A couple of nights later Flame arrived followed by a smaller fox. Grace said she was going to call her Goldie. They became regular visitors and I would make up stories about them to tell Grace.
I am now about to embark on a new chapter in my life. I have just had my first book published of short stories about Flame, Goldie and their family, illustrated with my own drawings. I have dedicated it to my new stepdaughter, Grace.
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