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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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I’ve been inundated lately with reviews of really old stories, forcing me to revisit and reread. Honestly I’d forgotten I’d written many of them and as I read I’m forced to edit as I can’t bear to leave in such glaringly, badly written sentences. I suppose in a way it’s a comfort to see actual improvement in writing style however embarrassing that may be. This is my fourth year at WdC and before I joined the community here I belonged to a local writing group. I stayed until I just knew I’d outgrown that group. I moved to another more prodigious group in the area called the Katherine Suzanna Pritchard writing Centre. This is a retreat too, where people from all over Australia come to stay. Here I joined an all women’s group. I felt out of my depth for the first year as many of the writers had been published. Not self published but with the Fremantle Press publishing group which publishes world wide. However they gave me confidence to keep on writing my short stories. We publish an annual anthology and at last year’s book launch I was invited to read one of my stories to the assembled audience. It was well received and was one more step towards self acceptance. I’m no longer ashamed to say “I’m a writer,” when asked. The group have tried to get me to collate a book of short stories and self publish but it’s not the reason I write. I’m probably quite lazy too as I know the energy it takes to self publish and self promote. I simply can’t be bothered as I get my pleasure from the writing itself. After joining WdC I have had great feedback as well as criticism. That’s is actually fine by me. It’s the only way to improve and to keep improving. |
Words 418
What an amazing material. It’s natural, warm, can be worn on every part of the body from feet to head. To what am I referring? Why it’s good old wool. In the beginning, wool was plucked from the sheep by hand or by bronze combs. The first shear appeared in the Iron Age. So wool has been a product used by man since then, and for Australia it meant prosperity. For a century, the wool industry gave Australia one of the highest living standards in the world. The economy rode high on wealth from primary exports. By the 1950s, wool was synonymous with the Australian way of life. It's no secret, we love wool! It's an incredible natural fiber that not only prevents blisters and hot-spots, but is also fire-resistant and helps regulate your body temperature. Check out these fun facts and see why wool is so amazing! 1. Humans have been wearing wool since the Stone Age. Surely that must say something about the quality of the fabric! 2. Wool provides natural UV protection - for both humans and sheep alike! 3. You've probably heard that wool "doesn't stink." That's because it is naturally anti-microbial, which helps reduce stinky bacteria growth in garments. 4. Wool garments are typically longer lasting than those made of cotton or silk. A wool fiber can be bent 20,000 times before breaking, whereas cotton breaks after 3,000 bends. 5. Did you know a single fiber of wool is thinner than a single human hair? 6. During the Medieval times, hosiery was actually made from wool! 7.Sure, we all know sheep and alpacas make wool, but did you know camels, llamas, and yaks can produce wool as well? 8. Alpaca wool can come in twenty-two different colors! 9. One sheep can produce up to 30-lbs of wool per year! This talk of wool reminds me of when I was trying to impress my motorcycle loving boyfriend when I was about sixteen. I knitted him a wooly jumper with a motorbike pattern on the back. I was so proud of the finished article. It took me many hours to complete. He said he loved it too and of course me too. ❤️ Anyway I hadn’t seen him wearing it for a while and asked him about it. He said, very casually, his mother had chucked it in the washing machine on a hot wash and it was now the size of a five year olds garment! Needless to say I was not impressed. |
P22. Are guns the problem? What really is the problem? What is practical that might alleviate the problem? I suppose this topic sort or runs into another prompt. I may be putting my big feet where angels fear to tread. (P11. Are you willing to write in your WDC blog about a very controversial issue and state your views (why or why not)?) My opinion is yes, guns are the problem. As someone who lives a very long way from America, I suppose I see the problem of gun violence as abhorrent and unnecessary. In Australia some years ago we had a massacre. Over thirty innocent people were shot. Some simply on vacation having a meal at Port Arthur, Tasmania, in a cafe. Some locals, including children just walking home with their mother and the gunman’s own mother was also killed. The outcry was so strong, the prime minister of the time had a massive gun buy back of illegal guns and an amnesty. Thousands of weapons were taken offf the street, out of homes and out of the country. Of course, some people protested, there was an outcry from the civil liberty people, but it still went ahead. There hasn’t been a shooting like that since in Australia. The man responsible for the shooting is in prison and unlikely to see freedom again. It is the fact, loaded guns lying around in homes for children to get their hands on and accidentally shoot another child happens. Not the child’s fault. Domestic arguments turn into murder because of the access to a firearm when tempers are heated. It wouldn’t, couldn’t, happen if there was no gun to hand. People who love each other are killing each other in the heat of the moment. Everyone loses. Get rid of guns and children can go to school knowing they will go home at the end of the day. |
It’s so strange this prompt should have come up as today as I really did find something in the cupboard I’d completely forgotten about. It was a letter, typed, but signed by George Bernard Shaw the Irish poet and playwright. He was a man of strong views on many things. He was an atheist and as such was a regular correspondent of my grandfather. They were very much alike and agreed on many subjects, such as religion and politics. They were both members of the anti-smoking society. George Bernard Shaw wrote the letter I have in my possession in 1940, there are several more but my brother in England has them. GBS was an outspoken man, to the point of rudeness. Here are three of his quotes: Those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything. “Beware of false knowledge; it is more dangerous than ignorance.” “I learned long ago never to wrestle with a pig. You get dirty, and besides, the pig likes it.” Anyway, I was watching a programme called, ‘Antique Roadshow,’ recently and was intrigued to discover how much money people are willing to pay for the signature of famous people. On the episode I saw the signature of Tolkien fetched six thousand dollars! So after finding my George Bernard Shaw letter I wondered if there was any monetary value. Apparently it’s worth quite a bit of money to a collector. I was chatting to my 26 year old grandson, who is a bit of a philosopher, about GBS’s opinion on religion. He was really interested and we had a good discussion on what might happen to us after we die. He really perked up when I told him the letter had a bit of $value besides the interesting content. So I told him he could have it because he’s the only family member who is a deep thinker. It made his day, I think.  |
Prompt from
Prompt: Beret. Berets always remind me of my childhood in England. Now that’s a very long time ago and at school we had to wear a beret as part of the uniform. Navy blue it was. When I was seven years old I joined the Brownies. That was a group for girls who were too young to join the Girl Guides. Along with my brown dress, brown leather belt, the beret was also brown as you may have guessed. You would suspect I would never wear such a thing ever again by choice but I am the owner of two berets. One black and one Maroon. I wear them each day in winter and always get comments about how Parisienne I look. Chez Chic. Now my thoughts have turned to France, I must make mention of my recent visit to see the theatre production of the musical Moulin Rouge at the Crown Theatre in Perth. It was a fabulous evening, we had amazing seats three rows back from the stage. It was as if I was in the sleazy part of Paris, Montmartre, at the time of Toulouse Le Trec and the night life, the street artists, painters and dancing girls. I was inspired to write my latest short story ‘Burning Issue’ if you want to check it out in my Portfolio. It’s set in Montmartre at the time of the World Fair in 1890. |
Words 395
P20. Will the AI "ChatBots" replace most writers because it can "write" anything asked (essays, stories, bios, etc.)? As a writer, do you feel threatened? Can what it writes be trusted (truth or garbage)? This topic has prompted many discussions with people who either have never even heard of them, or with people who have very strong views. At my writing group which I attend weekly, I suggested maybe the AI Chatbots are not all bad. One of the members could see no possible use for them. When I dared to suggest it could be useful for generating ideas for a story or a column she got very irate. I admit to asking, chatgpt, to write me a letter of complaint to my local shire council about the installation of a very bright ,illuminated, information sign in our local park. The information I supplied was the name of the shire council, the complaint and the place of the sign, naming the park. To say I was impressed would be an understatement. The letter pointed out all the issues and was grammatically correct. It definitely sounded as if it had been composed by a human being. I had tried it out as a trial, simply for my own understanding, but I thought to myself, why bother spending half an hour composing a letter when this will more than suffice. I must admit it worries me for sites such as WdC. Take poetry for example. How can we differentiate poems written originally by a member and one generated by a bot? Perhaps in future I may have cause to doubt the origins of some of the contest entries. Short stories and novels are different. It would be almost impossible for a bot to write in the style of a writer and I believe would be spotted as being generated by AI. But some universities are accepting the use of AI bots. Their rationale is that they are here to stay and to use them for better rather than worse. After all in an exam it wouldn’t be allowed so the students would still have to have the knowledge of the subject being taught. It’s a tricky one to get used to but as all technology we will find ourselves asking an AI bot to do mundane tasks, giving us more time to utilise in a productive way. |
| https://www.writing.com/main/redirect?htime=1676557817&hkey=4cff69be4655b2c1177f... There is a place, the Ruby Slipper, A café far away from here. It’s not a place where there’s a stripper, Of that you have no cause to fear. No matter what the time of day There’ll be a welcome here. The coffee’s hot. The food at this café Is tasty, different. You can even buy a souvenir. One wonders if the Slipper Ruby Has members from the Ozzy Wizard. Like Tonto or the Tin Man from the movie, Blown there by a windy blizzard. Or maybe it is just a diner Serving breakfast lunch and dinner. Simply that, nothing finer But to me it looks like such a winner. |
| https://www.writing.com/main/redirect?htime=1676471837&hkey=b0b141b8d908e503fccc... This photograph really appealed to my sense of the ridiculous. I too see faces in the most mundane objects. This particular photo of a seemingly simple broken branch could be a clawed hand or an animal with its mouth full of some unfortunate prey. I used to love lying on the grass staring up at the clouds. They’re forever changing and no sooner has a shape of some animal or object is discerned it morphs into something completely different. It makes me wonder why I don’t look up at the sky more often. Perhaps it’s because if I lay down in a field these days someone would likely think I’d had a heart attack and begin CPR! There is a dead tree I pass each day and I always imagine it’s the statue of a headless St Venus de Milo! I suppose it must be the brain’s attempt to give sense to an object not immediately recognisable. |
| https://www.writing.com/main/redirect?htime=1676209620&hkey=5f8762f7f20ab16743b1... This image reminds me of a park across the road from where I live. It’s aptly called Sculpture Park. There are many arty types of seating, such as the one in the photograph. None are made for the seater’s comfort, but are mainly conversation pieces. One is shaped like a woman and her hand as the seat. It’s called Mother’s love for some reason. The one piece I do like in the park is a group of statues. The whole is supposed to depict a group of middle aged tourists. There are three portly, short men and two women. They stand about three or four feet tall, dressed in shorts and brightly coloured shirts, sun glasses, caps and hats. I used to take my granddaughter to this park when she was two years old and she always enjoyed the statues. She is thirty six years old now and her children climb on ‘The Tourists,’ shoulders and have their photographs taken. Art, whether useful, beautiful or as the seat in the photo is, brutal, it certainly makes us stop and think and comment. |
| https://www.writing.com/main/redirect?htime=1676088227&hkey=69e6605b77e807d9dc60... This image took me straight back to a vacation in Vietnam. The wet markets there are a sight to behold. My husband and I watched in amazement at the assortment of strange fish, crabs, and other types of sea food, and as both vendors and the customers bartered, aiming for a price which seems fair and equitable to everyone. I took many photos that day of ancient women crouched next to their wares and I wish I could find the photograph I’m thinking of. It was of a vat of eels crammed in together, their tiny eyes and mouths just above the water, seemingly the poor creatures were gasping for air. There are so many stories we remind ourselves of when we reminisce about the trip. One in particular stands out in my memory and somehow the event has taken on a bit of a family catch cry. My husband is a vegetarian and he approached a street vendor who was selling baguettes from her stall. The French connection is quite strong and baguettes are sold everywhere. This particular vendor was a very old lady and when John asked her for a baguette without meat, just some salad and tomato she simply refused to sell him one. The words, “No meat, no baguette,” is often repeated in our home when someone is getting a bit picky with meals. 😂 |
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