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 |   The simplicity of my day to day. |
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This is where I write my thoughts, feelings and my daily trials, tribulations and happy things
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Prompt: My favourite toy when I was a child. Well we’re talking about 1944 onwards. A time of war onwards. In the UK rationing was in full swing. Everything was in short supply including toys unless they were hand made. I can’t remember having many toys but when I was about six I had a doll and pram. The pram was a replica of a SilverCross, preferred by royalty for their babies. I have no idea how my parents ever afforded to buy the pram or the doll even. The doll was about eighteen inches tall and when you laid her down she would make a sound as if she was saying Mamma. Of course this was not electronic but just a squeaker in her back. I wish I knew what happened to my doll, although she was certainly still around in my parents’ house long after I left home. Mostly any other toy would have been a cricket bat and ball which were my big brothers’ pride and joy. My time would be spent playing cricket or football with them.  |
| Something wicked this way comes." — William Shakespeare, Macbeth Let this quote inspire your writing today.
This quote from our friend William Shakespeare is one we might used today. However the language would be different. We might say something like, “I’ve a bad feeling. This isn’t going to end well.” Or, “he’s trouble, mark my words!” I wonder why? Is it a sixth sense, this feeling of foreboding I am experiencing? First impressions take all of a couple of seconds before we make a judgment about someone. Is it the way they look? Or perhaps the way they speak which causes concern. A seventh sense perhaps, lost in the midst of time. Dogs still have that sense though and it’s one I’d really take notice of. Currently we all must have a sense of foreboding with the world as it is. So much trouble is brewing. It feels to me as if the world is holding its collective breath as Russia flexes its muscles and the Middle East conflict continues with no solution in sight. There are millions of displaced people looking for refuge whilst borders are being closed to them. So how else can we continue to imagine all is well? I know WdC is a non political zone but if ever a quote held some truth it is now. Trump is the wicked something coming our way. |
Prompt: Right as rain. Write about this term in your Blog entry today. This saying was commonly used in my family as I was growing up. I actually have no idea of its origin or meaning. All I knew was it meant everything was alright. I’m trying to think of in what context it was said. Maybe it was in reply to the question “how are you today?” My dad would reply “right as rain, thank you.” I just looked up the meaning but it seems there is none! Originated in the UK that would explain it being very normal to me as I was born in 1944 in England and it would have been in common usage then. Anyway, I actually like the saying and may well start using it. |
Prompt: "Fine Mess" Oliver Hardy often said to Stan Laurel in several Laurel and Hardy films, "This is another fine mess you've gotten us into." What is your definition of a fine mess and what kind of images does the word mess bring into your mind? I remember Laurel and Hardy from when I was very young. Their films would often play at our local cinema. I’ve seen little pieces of their classic scenes pop up on Facebook occasionally, and as they say, you’d have to be dead not to raise a laugh, or at least a smile. I believe I’ve been known to use the term,’fine mess,’ on a few occasions in my life, and have been in a fine mess myself on more than one. It’s usually been when someone starts out with good intentions and things go awry. We have a family member who currently has got herself into a fine mess and it’s hard at the moment to see how she’s going to get out of it. All sorts of people, even those who should no better, such as politicians find themselves there too. It’s usually drugs, greed, or an old fashioned sex scandal one those occasions. They often lose everything they worked for because of one stupid mistake and find themselves in hot water. Or in those cases a ‘fine old mess.’ |
Words 343
Prompt 7. The world is not an ideal place for lots of people. What can YOU do to make it better? To even look beyond your own family, friends, town, suburb, or even State, is to be overwhelmed. The problems of the world are too much to bear. Sometimes one can become defeated and give up. You may think there’s nothing you could possibly do to improve our messed up world. The problems such as climate change, world starvation and disease are surely too complex for one person’s actions make a difference. But what if we start by looking closer to home, perhaps starting with our own family structures? Just imagine for one minute if we all stopped messing up our own little corner of this precious world. If we managed our own mess. We could start by not polluting our local environment. Dispose of our own waste and help prevent the oceans from being choked by ever more plastic by simply taking it home, disposing of it thoughtfully or sending it to a recycling plant. We could save energy by using power and water efficiently, maybe wearing a few extra layers when it’s cold before turning on heaters. Shorter showers, saving water, and power. Food waste is another concern in a world where so many of the population are starving for lack of food. There is no shortage of food in the world but there is bad distribution. Let’s only buy what we really need and share what we don’t use. Help, volunteer at food banks, soup kitchens and care for the homeless and hungry in our own districts. We can ensure our elderly are safe by visiting regularly to check on their welfare. Say hello to a neighbour, you might be the only person they speak to that day. Try to keep regular contact to help where you can. So there are numerous simple ways we can get involved in saving our planet. If we all did these simple, easy ways, the earth would thank you. |
Prompt 6. Sept 6. Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets. Paul Tournier Can you share a secret? Small or big, tell us. No? Tell us why not. Oh my goodness, these prompts of yours jump around all over the place. I’ve gone from writing about fire breathing dragons to being asked to divulge my deepest, darkest secrets. My children were all very open with me, even as teenagers. They would tell me things all the time, always with the proviso, ‘don’t tell dad,’ at the end. I often wished they were not so willing to tell me about the things they’d done. It was to absolve them of their guilt I suppose, but then they passed the worry on to me. There were lots of times I did keep things to myself as I knew the disapproval from their father wasn’t going to be conducive to a happy household and I saved them from time in their rooms or a week’s grounding. My theory is never tell a secret to anyone if you really don’t want it sharing, because inevitably the cat will be let out of the bag. I hate secrets, even at Christmas and birthdays. If someone tells me about a present they’ve bought but then says ‘I can’t tell you what it is because it’s a secret,” then that is simply irritating. Do I have a secret? I suppose we all must surely have something we’ll take to the grave. It could be something we’re not actually proud of or even something we really did, faithfully swearing to never reveal to a living soul. I wish I did have some secret desire, or even had a secret hoard of cash I’ve not told anyone about! The trouble with me though is that I’m an open book, the least secretive person alive. |
Prompt 5. Sept 5.
384 The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you'll go. Dr. Seuss Tell us more about the writer in you. Plans/Aspirations/Fears/Status etc? I am not an aspirational writer by any means. I began my writing journey when I was seventy. It seemed like a milestone when I thought I should write down my life story for my family. I had no idea about computers at all and went to a local computer classes for seniors. I am known by my family as a bit of a Pollyanna. My saying has always been, Always look on the Bright Side of Life. I even have a gold bracelet inscribed with that saying on it. There’s even talk of the song from The Life of Brian of the same name being my funeral song! Anyway, after blood sweat and tears I produced my life story called, Always Look on the. Right Side of Life. My granddaughter made the cover and each of the family received a copy. That was ten years ago and the writing bug had bitten me. That was when I joined a local writing group. On the first day I was so nervous. Who was I who thought she might be able to write? I began to get more confidence as the weeks and months went by. After several years my sights went to a Writing Centre where people came to stay from all over the country. Again I was nervous and felt like an imposter when I joined a ladies only group. I’ve been there for five years now and feel as if I am an integral member. About the same time I discovered WdC and that was the beginning of feeling as if I could call myself a writer. In the years since I found WdC I know I’ve improved my skills, mostly with the help of other members as they’ve reviewed, suggested and praised. I’ve no aspirations other than to keep coming up with new stories to write. As for fears I’m too old to be scared anymore. If people don’t want to read anything I’ve written, then that’s ok. Status? The only status I seek is to be okay with how my life is going. |
| Prompt: Since this week is Birthday week at WDC, write something about Birthdays for your Blog entry today. Birthdays. They are the most important days of a child’s life. A year when you’re small is forever. You count your age in Quarters! ‘I’m eight and three quarter, you know.’ A child will brag about getting older. Going through teenage hood, age is all encompassing because at sixteen you can begin driving lesson. 17 you can get your licence and eighteen? Well that’s when life truly begins, isn’t it? 21 still is important because? I’m actually not sure these days. It used to be the day you became an adult but now scientists say the human brain isn’t fully developed until 25. Then we have the birthday which ends in a zero. 30, 40, when life begins properly, 50, getting old. 60, you’re getting older. 70, one foot in the grave. 80, that’s me.😂 |
Brian, the young blacksmith in the village of Yap, worked hard each and every day. He was struggling though to keep his business thriving after his father’s death. The villagers were dubious to hire Brian to make a special gift for their wives or girlfriends as they didn’t think he had the craftsmanship of his old man. This was a shame as Brian, prided himself on his talent. One day feeling deeply sorry for himself, feeling as if he had let the memory of his father down, he wandered through the forest contemplating his future. He had planned to ask his girlfriend, Maddie, to marry him in the spring, but the lack of business and so the lack of money, stopped him from asking her. The sun was trying to break through the morning fog. As he walked, he wondered what he ought to do to regain the trust of the villagers. There might be a gimmick he hadn’t yet thought of which would stop his customers leaving the village and taking their business to ‘Jacob’s Ironmongery’ in the next town. As he walked, his head hung low, eyes to the winding path, he saw a bright white stone. Even in the gloom it shone. He bent down to pick it up but soon noticed it wasn’t a stone but an egg. It was nothing like any other egg he had ever seen before. The shell felt tough, not fragile like the eggs he used to collect in the spring from nests high in trees when he a boy. He shook it, there was something in there. He tucked into his pocket and took it home. Putting it on to a south facing window ledge, where it would get the most sunshine, he promptly forgot all about it. The next morning, he heard a cheeping noise coming from the kitchen and saw to his disbelief a tiny dragon, complete with wings. The dragon whispered to Brian and told him he was magic and asked if there was anything he could do to help. Brian was agog, thought he was having a nervous breakdown. The dragon told him his name was Alf and sent by Brian’s father to help. He suggested that he could be the gimmick Brian had been searching for. He could breathe fire instead of using the forge. People could come and watch as the pair manufactured beautiful objects using Alf’s fire and Brian’s skill. And it came to reality that Brian advertised his new apprentice. Alf the fire eating dragon. Alf grew bigger each day and his fire blowing ability grew with him. People had to shield themselves from the heat. Brian’s business grew exponentially and before long he and Maddie could afford to get married. Of course, Alf was the best man at the wedding. Prompt: https://www.writing.com/main/images/action/display/ver/1725345464/item_id/232472... |
| Brian, the young blacksmith in the village of Yap, worked hard each and every day. He was struggling though to keep his business thriving after his father’s death. The villagers were dubious to hire Brian, as they didn’t think he had the craftsmanship of his old man. This was a shame as Brian prided himself on his talents . One day feeling deeply sorry for himself, because it was as if he had let the memory of his father down. He wandered through the forest contemplating his future. He had planned to ask his girlfriend, Maddie, to marry him in the spring, but the lack of business and so the lack of money, stopped him from asking her. The sun was trying to break through the morning fog. As he walked, he wondered what he ought to do to regain the trust of the villagers. There could be a gimmick he hadn’t yet thought of which would stop his customers leaving the village and taking their business to ‘Jacob’s Ironmongery’ in the next town. He walked, head hung low, eyes to the winding path until he saw a bright white stone. Even in the gloom it shone. He bent down to pick it up but soon noticed it wasn’t a stone but an egg. It was nothing like any other egg he had ever seen before. The shell felt tough, not fragile like the eggs he used to collect in the spring from nests high in trees when he a boy. He shook it, there was something in there. He tucked into his pocket and took it home. Putting it on to a south facing window ledge, where it would get the most sunshine, he promptly forgot all about it. One morning he heard a cheeping noise coming from the kitchen and saw to his disbelief a tiny dragon, complete with wings. The dragon whispered to Brian and told him he was magic and asked if there was anything he could do to help. Brian was agog, thought he was having a nervous breakdown. The dragon told him his name was Alf and sent by Brian’s father to help. He suggested that he could be the gimmick Brian had been searching for. He could breathe fire instead of using the forge. People could come and watch as the pair manufactured beautiful objects using Alf’s fire and Brian’s skill. And it came to reality that Brian advertised his new apprentice, Alf the fire eating dragon. Alf grew bigger each day and his fire blowing ability grew with him. People had to shield themselves from the heat. Brian’s business grew exponentially and before long he and Maddie could afford to get married. Of course, Alf was the best man at the wedding. |
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