Childhood

I started writing this as a comment on Janus’s post but got a bit carried away. As I did not want to hijack his, (I am considerate that way), I decided to write my own.

I have mentioned that I came from a large family. Living in the Tropics meant that the hours of daylight were fairly constant throughout the year. About 11 hours in winter and 13 hours in summer. In a farming community not a great deal went on after dark, especially during the week. We did not have television at home and so we spent our evenings together talking, reading and playing games. My mum taught us at home until the age of 10 when we were sent off to boarding school. Continue reading “Childhood”

February Competitions – Results

Well, I trust you are all enjoying St. David’s Day.  I am, especially after Saturdays match.

Lets start with  the Photo’s, some good one’s here.  Being a boaty type  I particularly liked Araminta’s varnished craft, spoiled only by the mooring line.  But  I have long admired the craftsmanship of the Zimbabwe ruins as shown in Sipu’s photo  they have a kind of alien order with their  flowing curves that is never seen in the more formal architectures.  So, well done Sipu the prize yours, and over to you for the next contest.

Yes, I will give the Poetry award to Soutie for his Haka, not only did it rhyme but it was good too.  Well done Soutie and set one that Janus can understand next time.

What a shock, nothing all month and then two gems for the short story.   I liked them  both.   Ara’s was as dark and tangled a web as only reality can be,  and saw the journey as a voyage through several troubled lives.  Pseu’s tale was strictly that of a journey, the trials and tribulations  of  preparations and separations.  Incomplete?  Maybe, but journey’s do  end when the destination is reached and story’s do not.  I liked it much.  Well done Pseudonym a prize for you, but maybe, like Laura a little more planning would be time well spent.

 

 

Time for bed, said Zebedee

I may have mentioned that I was a war baby. If not, I was. That meant that Dad worked 12 hours at the Siddeley and Mum continued to cope when he spent half the night doing his duty as an air-raid warden. So bed, I understand, became very precious. And that feeling was passed on to me and my sister. Of course we rebelled a bit as teenagers but in general we respected the hours set aside for sleep. The evening ritual of blacking-out, locking up and filling the kettle lived with us for many years. Continue reading “Time for bed, said Zebedee”

Short Story for Low Wattage

The Journey’s Start

Even as we waited at the coach station I had misgivings. We had been planning this for months – but now Laura had a boyfriend, and that boyfriend, Sam, had come along to see her off on our trip. They stood under the bus shelter engrossed in one another, as if I wasn’t even there. He was tall and blond: slightly androgynous in my view. I suppose I could see what she saw in him, though was so completely not my type, he was very much hers. She fitted neatly under his arm when they walked along side by side, wrapped in each other, her thumb in his belt loop or fingers in his back jeans pocket. His height emphasised her petite frame and her delicate prettiness. He had to tilt his face down to her upturned one to kiss her. They said nothing much and I realised, when I looked up again from checking the tickets that she was crying. Continue reading “Short Story for Low Wattage”

The Journal: February Short Story Competition

It was a grey morning in November when my brother decided that enough was enough. Of course this wasn’t an instant decision; it had been creeping up on him for some years. Slowly, of course, but nevertheless it had been on his mind.

My journey of exploration through his life on reading the journals he kept, though painful, revealed such a miasma of tragic occurrences that I could not believe how the Church had kept a lid on all this.

On the whole, he had not been outwardly unhappy; one could almost have described him as contented. Good old Philip with the worthy job, the perfect wife and a couple of well-behaved children. The two girls had inherited their mother’s looks according to my brother, whose relationship with his daughters seemed tolerant but slightly distant.

Looking back, his parishioners did begin to see the changes, although being abroad at the time, I only discovered this at the funeral. He grew his hair, appeared unkempt and frequently relied on his Rector to conduct services at short notice. He grew more unreliable at time went on, and this inevitably was brought to the attention of the Dean.

Continue reading “The Journal: February Short Story Competition”

I’m Here, or Hereabouts.

Well not exactly.  I was there yesterday but then I moved out to the big city, well Great Missenden is a big place compared with the creek.

Today is the day for the comps, it’s the last day and there are only a few HOURS left.

A few observations

Apart from a goodly number from Janus which do not meet our rigorous standards of rhyme, I see only one entry for the pomes right Soutie?
Short stories are also very short this month, so far entries consist of a promise by Araminta.
Photos are a better represented but there is still time to enter before “Last orders please.”

Judging tomorrow early GMT.

Nice weather here.

A conundrum

How stupid have we become?

On Saturday evening we were out with friends supping the brown stuff (or wine for the women), now after a few glasses I had to go and make room for some more of the brown stuff.

Having done my duty and putting my apparatus away I turned to the sink to wash my hands to be greeted by a new tap. One of these automatic single taps, so no touchy to pick up bugs. Above the tap is a sign saying “Warning the water is very hot” actually it wasn’t it was bloody scalding. As I like my skin to be in one piece I did not wash my hands fully. Now next to this damn sign is another sign saying “Now wash your hands”. I tried to but the water is too hot. Continue reading “A conundrum”