Beach Stalker

Maggie and I took a walk along the beach this morning just after 8am, leaving Hubby in bed for a well deserved lie in.
With few people around, it was easy to follow her prints to her business, not that I took my eye off her anyway, but sometimes she ‘likes to be alone’ and squats behind a bush.
The beach stretches for miles in both directions from our point of entry, and the sky was a mixture of blue, grey and white. Continue reading

Posted in diary, home, Maggie, nature, observations | Tagged , | 13 Comments

Seven Day Challenge, Black and White: Day 4

I was invited by to take part in this challenge.

Rules are

  • Seven days.
  • Seven black and white photos of your life.
  • No people.
  • No explanation.
  • Challenge someone new each day**.

** I invite anyone to join in with this challenge.


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Sunday Photo Fiction – October 22nd 2017

Here we have another Sunday Challenge:

The view from her window was nothing special, just a normal street with pedestrians and little traffic.
Rose sat in her chair, a cup of tea cold on her table trolley, her breakfast of cereal and toast untouched.
The staff were used to her silences, how she would retreat into herself some days, but on others, there was no stopping her chatter, which was encouraged by all.
Rose’s lips started to move, but no sound came forth.
Gradually her eyes began to light up as she recalled from the depths of her fading memory a tongue twister from her childhood.
She started to chant:
Red Lorry, Yellow Lorry.
Faster and faster she repeated the four words, getting tongue-tied and patiently starting again.
This went on for over an hour until she was saying it at speed with no lollies.
Satisfied, her eyes closed and smiling, she drifted into a land of peace and tranquility for ever.

156 words

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Sunday Writing Prompt #225 – Know Thyself

For years I was a fraud.
Pretending to be someone I wasn’t, liking things or people I didn’t, going with the flow because it was expected. It was easier to nod and accept rather than voice a contrary opinion and face ridicule, spite or anger.
I lost my way, my sense of self was buried. No-one knew the real me, least of all myself.
It all changed in 1987.
Pushed too far, I shed everything, the result being a shivering, gibbering wreck in a corner.

It was a gift.
The chance to start again on my terms with the knowledge of what had passed and the will to ensure I didn’t make the same mistakes.
I could see so much more clearly, as the rose-tinted glasses of ‘wanting’ had shattered.
I say ‘wanting’ because that was what it was, wanting to be loved, wanting to be liked, wanting a nice home, wanting a family, so many things, yet it was an elaborate lie which extended the cobwebs of deceit to all who knew me.

Piece by piece I rebuilt my life, taking ‘the good bits’ of myself I liked as my foundations.
Not ignoring the bad, they happened and I couldn’t change that, but I didn’t have to continue to live it.
I understood my younger self, a person unsure, naive and so wanting to find her place.
It wasn’t where I was, the life I lived or who I was with.

I am still Me, but a better person than I was all those years ago.
Written for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie 22nd October.

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How loud the silence.

Since moving here four weeks ago, the three of us have been sleeping more or less soundly.
It is surprisingly quiet here, and should we wake in the early hours, unless Maggie has asked to go out, we simply roll over and go back to sleep.
On the boat, if it rained we were never worried, as we knew that should the water level rise, so would we and we were safe and secure in our floating caravan.
We had heavy rain last night. Nothing to do with Storm Brian as far as I know (we’re on the other side of the country), but it came down in sheets and lashed against the windows.
I was awake anyway, the previous silence having disturbed my slumber.
Continue reading

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The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Oct. 21/17

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “season.” Use the word “season,” add a suffix to it, or write about one. Bonus points if the first and last word of your post is a season or a seasoning. Extra bonus points if you have pictures. Enjoy!

‘Tis the season to be jolly, fah lah lah lah lah lah lah lah lah.
Yeah, right.
A friend of ours is going to Poland for a holiday next week and I said she may see Santa.
‘No’, she said, ‘I’m going to Poland, not Lapland, so I doubt it’.
To which I replied that he may be on holiday there.
She smiled, patiently sympathetic.
‘OK yes, maybe I will then.’
Well you never know do you? I mean he gets about a bit, and he’s already in some shops.

That’s the trouble with things today. Everything is out of sinc.
We have no seasons, and the months no longer play the game of The Fabulous Four. Weather wise, it’s either hot, cold, wet or dry, and sometimes you can have all of it on one day when you least expect it. After all, we had a white Easter in 2008, which doesn’t quite have the same ring to it as a White Christmas does it.
Supermarket aisles are full of ‘seasonal ware’ which is currently ghouls and ghosts fighting over fireworks, tinsel and holly, so even they are confused.
Food either contains too much fat, salt or sugar, and looking for particular herbs and spices to self-season our cooking is like searching for hens teeth in some.
Think I’ll listen to Frankie Valli. He never changes.


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Saturday Mix – Lucky Dip, 21 October 2017

Your challenge is to write a Fibonacci poem about an animal (the number of syllables in each line of the poem is the sum of the previous two lines: 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8).

Gee, thanks Sarah. This is a new one on me!

What? Where?
Duck you fool!
Why so excited?
Too late, ball’s hit you on the head.

(OK, I cheated)

Try again:

Two of them.
Both looking confused:
Odd, there were boats here yesterday.

Photo: my picture taken during the marina revamp and used in an earlier post this year.




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