Thursday, September 21, 2017


20th Sept 2017

The cue for the six sentence story this week is "plate" . So, here, I had a go...


The leaves -  brown, golden, red - pirouette around  tree trunks in the park - remains of warmer days.
 Those long , sunny days when children chased each other round these same trees, while parents sat chatting on picnic blankets in the still shade of colourful parasols,  a feast of tempting summer foods laid out before them.
I shiver in the chill earthy breeze and remember a plate of cold meats, mixed green and purple leaves, sweet, red tomatoes, spring onions and  home made mayonnaise and fresh bread and butter and think that today I would prefer hot thick soup with a crispy roll.
It wasn't an unusual scene, nor an exceptional day - we'd had many such outings - except that it was the last time we would ever see Charlie.
I hold my coat around me, walk slowly around the trees and notice the green to pale brown colour of the acorns that I crunch underfoot with each step.
I don't often come through the park these days, but am on my way to see his mum and have been thinking a lot about that picnic, how happy all the children were, how Arthur and Charlie, both twelve during that week, spent the afternoon climbing trees and how, when it was time to go home they begged to stay  for just another half an hour and come home on their own.

Saturday, September 16, 2017

Camper days

13th Feb 2020

We seem to always like being near the water. Can't wait to go off again in the camper.  We're thinking it might be the summer in Cornwall this year.

16th Sept.2017

It seems such a long time now since our trip to France and Spain with our camper. The memories, though , are still fresh in my mind and like new bread the aroma of them wafts over me sometimes. So today I searched out a photo of those warmer days. 
I had to stop to take this picture when we were driving  up through the mountains on the coast of France before crossing the border into Spain. My husband is standing next  to the sheer drop of hundreds of feet that are on his right. Notice her isn't leaning on the red railing , or looking down at the view - a bit scared of heights. In front of him there are more mountains to climb. This was an exquisitely beautiful part of our journey. But again the photo doesn't do it justice at all.

Not sure what bridge I am on in this picture but I think it's a good example of the many lovely places we stopped at. Not that we took as many pictures as we might have done, because everywhere was just amazing.

And this is another take on the same river . Ahh, I remember now, it was a little town we passed through and stopped for a while because it was "pretty" . My husband peered into this river for ages watching the fish . He grew more determined as time went on that he would buy a fishing rod to take on our adventures. I'm happy with that as long as we can eat the catch.
He has now bought a rod and is waiting to use it.

I hope you like the pictures.

Friday, September 15, 2017

Border / Cast

14th Sept 2017 

Joining this weeks six story sentence challenge with  the cue cast. As I didn't post anything for the cue "border" a few weeks ago, I thought I could amalgamate the two .

Border ....

While Adnan's  hands grew painful and his throat dry with the fumes from the lorries ahead making it more and more difficult for him to breathe, he dreamed of a new life that was awaiting him when he crossed the border and pondered  what it might be like and decided that all of this would be worthwhile in the end.. 
It had been easy to stow away on the underside of the huge artic, finding a place where he could almost sit , although perched precariously, needing both hands to hang on. 
The lorry slowed now as they neared the border, and he prayed like mad, his heart thumping loudly, water running from his face and dripping onto the road as, looking through the gaps he could just spot other lorries being stopped and checked. 
Was this going to be the end of the road, his new life cut short before it had begun, all the suffering of the last four weeks for nothing , just to be sent back to Syria?
He let out a soft , slow breath when the artic was waved through and with no inspection the journey began again.  
Two hours later in a dark motorway car park the lorry pulled to  a stop and as all seemed quiet Adnan  uncurled his cold, aching bones,  lowered himself to the ground and on hands and knees,  crawled out and cast a furtive glance around him wondering which way he should go now.