Tag: Writing

The Write Stuff

Posted on Posted in Humour, WritingTagged , 17 Comments

I found this at http://www.theadventuresofwembolina.wordpress.com and it made me laugh because I know you will all laugh at me!

If you want to give it a go here’s the plan:-

  1. What is your name?
  2. Blog URL?
  3. Write: The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.
  4. Favourite quote?
  5. Favourite song? (at the mome)
  6. Favourite band/musician/singer? (at the mome)
  7. Say anything you want
  8. Tag 3-5 bloggers

Let me know if you do this! Hurrah!!

and I’m tagging

http://ayearinmyshoes.wordpress.com/

http://2e0mca.wordpress.com/

http://smallhousebiggarden.wordpress.com/

 

Flight to Krakow (part one)

Posted on Posted in Creative writing, flash fiction, short story, WritingTagged , , , , 23 Comments

A lofty bay with a shaft of sunlight peeping through the leaded windows but outside the garden had rampaged to obscure the view. The chairs in the bay were rigid and upright, but she chose to sit where she could see more than just decay. Eight years. That’s how long it had taken to keep the promise she made as her grandmother lay dying.

‘Go to Krasne, take my diaries . . . in the bureau, and all of the photos’

‘Where is Cratchnuh Gran? I’ve never heard of it’

‘In Podkar, find your aunties and uncles, you have seven.’

‘What?’

‘I am Polish Anna and you must go, there is a home for you there.’

She turned away and closed her eyes.

Anna married, and lived her life in a small Devon town but she often wondered who might be out there and why her grandmother had left them behind. She found herself alone after an amicable divorce and decided now was the time. Researching on the internet she tried every possible spelling of the place names and got nowhere. The language was difficult with its alien sounds but she tried to learn a few words and when a Polish grocery shop opened, she became a regular customer, just so that she could listen. Of course the people there were bemused by this local woman, picking up tins to read the labels, but they would smile benignly and practise their English on her. Anna told them that her grandmother had been Polish and from Cratchnuh or Podca ‘Have you ever heard of it?’ They were delighted but frowned and shook their heads. ‘Podcarpahtzee’, another shopper said smiling, I have heard of this place’, it is spelt like this, and wrote it down for Anna, Podkarpackie. Anna booked a flight to Krakow that evening.

Travelling alone held no fear for her. Her grandmother had brought her up after her parents died and money had never been a problem, she had used part of her inheritance to backpack around Australia. Arriving at Krakow her first thought was to get to Krasne as quickly as she could, but negotiating the language was a lot harder than trying to buy bread in the Polish shop at home. She would see what she thought must be a post office, and it would turn out to be a Vets surgery instead. She decided to settle in for a couple of weeks and enjoy Krakow, getting on and off of bus’s, finding out how they worked and each day going a little further. In her hotel, her patience paid off when she became a familiar face and people began to talk to her.

Of course they would help her get to Krasne, ‘Why hadn’t she said before?’ The manager helped her find the bus, buy tickets and wrote detailed instructions for her journey. The hundred miles of countryside were stunning but her nervousness spoilt her ride. She had no idea what she would find at her destination, a small town with barely any internet information where no-one knew her. Would they remember her grandmother? By all accounts she had left there at least fifty years ago and never returned. Her hotel there was not the cosmopolitan experience she’s had in Krakow and she thanked Bazyli silently for his notes in Polish.

The taxi driver waited until the studded wooden door opened to her and then gestured that he would return in two hours. She smiled down at the woman who looked puzzled at first, but then spoke, ‘Bo . . . Bozena?’

Inspired by this photo by Barbara Fritze (Beelitz Heilstaetten), courtesy of Frizz text http://flickrcomments.wordpress.com/2012/02/04/looking-back-christopher-hall/
more of Barbara Fritze’s work can be seen here

http://flickrcomments.wordpress.com/2011/04/08/barbara-fritze/#comment-12369

 

100 Word Challenge : Week # 29

Posted on Posted in flash fiction, short story, WritingTagged , , , 32 Comments

Wednesday, Best Knee Forward

She stared at the entrance from the bottom of the steps, thinking about her knees. Every Wednesday for three years she had knelt at his grave, weeding, clipping, polishing the granite stone and now her knees were done for. She carried her guilt in her knees and they wouldn’t let her move on.

One Wednesday, just one, she left him to join the Bridge Club and that was the day his heart gave out. If she had been there . . .

She sat on the bottom step massaging her joints, ‘Hello, Sandra isn’t it?’, he offered his arm. She let go, of a sigh. Onwards.

http://jfb57.wordpress.com/2012/01/30/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week-29/

January Small Stones # 31

Posted on Posted in A River of Stones, January Small Stones, WritingTagged , , , 24 Comments

I’ve always hated endings. Way back in time when I left school, I hated saying goodbye to teachers, other girls, even the building. If I see people in films parting, I cry, if I have to leave even a job that I hate, I still get upset. When I have to say goodbye to friends I make on holiday around the world, I cry.

As a therapist, I build intense, often long, relationships where my clients share their deepest untold secrets; hopefully they heal and are strong enough to continue their paths without me. This is a wonderful milestone that is tinged with sadness for them, to leave their ‘mummy’ and go it alone, but they are surprised that I should have a tear as well.

So here I am at stone 31 feeling sad because it’s finished. I’m very pleased with myself, I didn’t think I would make every day and several times thought I would just skip a day, no-one would know – except me of course. So I held on and found something to say or a photo to take. I haven’t taken it as seriously as some, I’ve mucked about and had a laugh, maybe not been as ‘mindful’ as intended and reprimanded myself for that, now that I am good at!

I’ve met some lovely people, received warm loving comments and read some superb writing this month and I really will take part again. Meanwhile, thank you to all involved with January Small Stones, Writing Our Way Home, and a big fat brave, GOODBYE until next time.

January Small Stone # 24

Posted on Posted in A River of Stones, Humour, January Small StonesTagged , , , , , 21 Comments

Do you remember the TV ad where the whole office stops, opens a can of diet coke, and sits back to watch the window cleaner at work? If you remember, then you may have just had an involuntary shudder. Well today my colleague and I had such an event, only it was a ginger nut break rather than a DC break!

There was a problem with the light over my desk so Estates were notified and an electrician, complete with a new fluorescent tube and a tool duly arrived. Oh my! Tall, black silky hair and with a Latin look, he stood beside me surveying the light fitting and much as I wanted to sit tight I was in his way, so I stood back with Viv and watched. He stretched upwards, revealing a sliver of taut, olive tummy and I had to grab a biscuit to stop myself looking silly with my slack jaw. He may have said a few words but I didn’t hear him, I was too busy planning how to ‘accidently’ trash the light to get him back tomorrow.

100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups Week #28

Posted on Posted in flash fiction, WritingTagged , , 29 Comments

http://jfb57.wordpress.com/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups/

This is only my second go at the 100 word challenge so be gentle with me 🙂 This weeks prompt is . . . you bought her what . . .

Surprise Gift

‘Have you tried Dingenhams? There’s bound to be something she’d like, perfume, a watch?’

‘Not a clue, wouldn’t it be better to give her money to choose her . . .’

‘I don’t believe it, you’ve been married thirty years dad’ exasperated she shoved the chair in. ‘last year you bought her what I told you to buy, for heaven’s sake you choose this time, it’s the thought that counts.’

***

            Back at the café, he beamed at her, ‘Sorted, look, she’ll love it.’

Stephanie rattled the bag and unwrapped . . . a bread knife.

‘You bought her what’?

 

 

 

A Humble Thankyou

Posted on Posted in WritingTagged , , 14 Comments

Yet again I am honoured to have been given awards by some of my fellow bloggers. Such abundance and generosity, it’s giving me a warm glow inside, just when I need it!

First I have to  thank Novie whose blog http://misexperienciaspersonales.wordpress.com/   is delightful and at times touching for the ‘One Lovely Blog Award’.

 The One Lovely Blog Award

From visiting Novie and a few more bloggers I’m really starting to like the idea of visiting the Philippines, it sounds like a divine place to travel around. Novie also gave me the Verstile Blogger Award!

Sunshine has a sweet and visually appealing blog, http://seraphim6.wordpress.com/ and she also gave me the One Lovely Blog award.

One of the most courageous bloggers I know is Cee, http://ceeslifephotographyblog.wordpress.com/ she is a brave inspirational lady whose writing is honest and talks about subjects that need to be talked about. Cee, we have things in common. She very kindly sent me the

which I will pass on as soon as I can!

Jake over at http://jakesprinters.wordpress.com/ is an incredibly talented graphic designer, each week his take on the weekly photo challenge is totally unique, skillful and sets a standard I could only dream of. Jake gave me the very special

I think this one will bring me up to date now, Just Ramblin’ Pier http://justramblinpier.wordpress.com gave me the Creative Capture Award. Just Ramblin’s blog is packed with great dogs and is so cute. Wonderful photography as well! JRP actually created this award

so it’s a real honour to receive it from the horses mouth especially as I’ve never had one for photography!

Thanks again to all who have bestowed these gifts to me, I will gradually pass them on in the next few weeks, looking for less recognised people who I feel really deserve them.

January Small Stones # 17

Posted on Posted in A River of Stones, January Small Stones, WritingTagged , , , , , 13 Comments

School’s In

The state school kids walk down the                            Independent school children slide

hill their uniforms ‘customized’ to                                from Range Rovers, Mercedes and

define their identity, identically                                    more, driven up the hill by a parent,

individual. Girls with ruler straight                              they wait patiently for the boot lid to

hair, darkly lined doe eyes and thick                            open automatically, thus saving the

foundation, pert breasts forced                                     energy it takes to lift it. Their

skywards under polo shirts with St                              discreet sports bags are smart and

Someone’s embroidered. Boys                                      unmarked. The senior boys look like

hiding school clothes under hoodies,                            daddy clones, in navy blazers, beige

pushing the boundaries of accepted                             chinos immaculately pressed, ties

footwear. Some of each gender                                      perfectly ordered around proud

brazenly taking the odd puff of fag.                              necks. Pink cheeked girls, knee

Boys shove their mobiles in their                                  length skirts, tidy hair and not a

back pocket; girls show theirs off                                  smudge of lippy anywhere. The

while they Facebook and tweet.                                    occasional middle nowhere voice of

Check out the street corners, you’ll                             mummy, ‘Darling, please don’t

see some Good Morning gropes.                                   forget the Humphrey-Pococks

Hugs or fights.                                                                  are dining tonight.’

Kite Surfing, Kite Rescued.

Posted on Posted in Devon, WritingTagged , , , , , 19 Comments

A mini adventure today! On the beach at Dawlish Warren where the waves were fierce, the sun bright, and the sharp wind made it barely tolerable. We had scrambled past the fifth groin when we saw some green things, one flapping on the next groin and another being taken in and out by the waves.

It soon became clear that it was kite related and I hurried to get a closer look and found that someone was trying to untangle it, and getting wet in the process. He managed to get it onto the sand but it was being blown in all directions and wanted to take him along for the ride. 

The two pieces were tangled together with a cobweb of line that wanted to weave around our legs so I helped to drag it up the beach. It fought back. The section I tried to control was about eighteen feet wide and I could distinguish it from a power kite by the air-filled sausage that wanted to render me horizontal.

Rescue man, being a lot stronger than me managed to locate the pully-outy thing to let the air out on his, which was bigger, then we restrained mine and I strangled it with its own lines. He hadn’t really worked out what sort of beast he’d subdued so I pointed a few miles across the estuary where a few kite surfers were still on the water out of Cockle Sands. We discussed what to do with it, he mentioned the words ‘salvage’ and ‘ebay’, I think he was joking, because he turned it round quickly when I said that I knew a tiny bit about the kiting community, because my daughter has power kites. I told him that I was fairly certain the owner could be found and hoped to God he was also in one piece.

Carrying our loads we headed back to the car park, deciding on the way that he would take it home for safekeeping. Because of his first reaction and knowing the kite’s value, part of me wanted to take it but he had got it out of the water so it didn’t feel right to take over. Instead I took his email address and said that I would do some detective work.

Back home I checked the internet forums, that I knew were out there, again because of my daughter, registered on a local site and posted a message to say it was found. Within an hour I got a reply from someone who knew the owner, a guy who had had to release his kit today while trying to help someone else who was in trouble. I’m really not surprised by that – it was very rough out there and the channel is known for its treacherous currents. Anyway the guy is okay and he will be reunited with his gear so all is well.