The Bootmaker

Copyright @RogerBultot

The Bootmaker

After a five-year apprenticeship as a bootmaker and despite a lifelong limp, John Lobb walked 250 miles to London seeking to promote his skills to London society. He was turned down repeatedly, so journeyed to Australia during the gold rush, there creating hollow heeled boots for miners to hide contraband nuggets.

 Still longing to establish himself  in London, he made a speculative pair of riding boots for the Prince of Wales, returning from Australia in 1863 to great acclaim. He opened shops in London and Paris. He died in 1895 and is buried in Highgate Cemetery.

(Hermes acquired the brand in 1976 read more here

As usual, many thanks to Fairy Blogmother, Rochelle, for her dedication each week



Copyright @ Anne Higa

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100


Daylight showed through the ill-fitting curtains. Annie saw it was snowing and the rubbish bin was still there.

On her way downstairs, she shouted to her husband, “Sam, are you awake? You forgot the bin. Again!

The headache she’d had all week was getting worse, there was pain behind her left eye too. She was annoyed about something, but couldn’t hold a thought in her head. A hand she didn’t recognise was shaking as it fumbled with the door.

Sam ran into the yard, “Annie, stop, I’ll do it now.”

Annie stopped, then fell to the ground, quietly, like the snow.

Between the Covers

The book shelf is very much like my own at home. Spotting the book on Florence & Tuscany reminded me of a conference in Nice…

Thanks to Dale Rogerson for the photo.

Genre: Memoir

Word Count 100

Between the Covers

I was in Nice for a conference. Giovanni had invited me to a small Italian restaurant and hearing him talk about Florence was wonderful. I felt I had already climbed the Campanile, crossed the Arno to the Priti Palace, strolled through the amazing Boboli Gardens. I knew I had to visit

Later, he invited me to his room for a nightcap, I have to admit I was tempted, but one thing would surely lead to another and I was due to fly home tomorrow.

Flying home, I read the Eyewitness Guide bought at the airport. It was safer between these covers…

I have been lucky enough to visit Florence two or three times, I fell in love with it the first time. This book has been invaluable.

After a storm

Copyright Sandra Crook

I’d heard the wind howling last night, heard the rain lashing the windows. I was aware that he’d gone out just after 3am.

I slept fitfully, waking to the sound of a siren and vehicles racing down the street. I dressed and ran to the jetty, slipping on seaweed and other debris hurled ashore by the wind and high tide.

If you are totally set on a course of action, if you cannot see a way ahead despite the best counselling and help… I had grown weary trying to protect him from himself.

Mental health; so much said, so little understood.




During these very worrying times, I felt I wanted to pause, take stock and count my blessings. I have a lot to be grateful for today, a good night’s sleep, family and friends who regularly keep in touch in a variety of ways, food on the table and good health.  I am trying to make each day as good as I can make it.

“I have always been delighted at the prospect of a new day, a fresh try, one more start, with perhaps a bit of magic waiting somewhere behind the morning”

J.B. Priestly (1894-1984) Writer and Playwright

Lockdown… an unexpected side effect

Sydney Opera House

We were on what we thought of as ‘The Holiday of a Lifetime’ in Australia, when the lockdown due to COVID-19 occurred in the UK.  I hope in years to come that we can remember the holiday for the great time we had, not for ‘the virus’.

It was quite stressful  trying to get home. Our original flights were cancelled, as we were no longer allowed to transit through Singapore. Two other flights booked by our fantastic travel agent, were also cancelled.  We slowly began to realise that we may be spending rather longer ‘down under’ than we expected. Eventually, we were told she had got us two seats on the last Quantas flight out of Perth to London and it goes without saying that we were incredibly relieved and arrived home to a very quiet airport.

I usually read quite a lot when I’m on holiday, but this holiday was very different. We visited Sydney, Tasmania and Perth; there was no lying on sun loungers by a swimming pool, there was so much to see, so much to do.  Consequently, I only read one chapter of the book I had with me and, as I packed it to come home, told myself I would have loads of time to finish it and others during lockdown.

And here we come to the unexpected side effect I mentioned at the beginning… I find that I can only read books with happy endings.  I don’t want murders, grisly thrillers or anything dark and disturbing.  I have gone back through all the books I have and started to re-read the ones depicting happy times.  There is perhaps the odd divorce or even an affair or two, or a wayward daughter who eventually returned safely to the bosom of her family.

I have always written short stories and I have enjoyed writing flash fiction, (I haven’t done much of either recently due to family issues & time restraints) but I am very aware that writers are urged to read widely and as much as possible of different genres.  But at the moment I am stuck in my ‘happy’ rut.

I wonder if anyone else has experience something similar?




Fresh Fields

linda-kreger-prompt 30.08.19

 © Linda Kreger

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Fresh Fields

Cerys hated being single. Her job in the library meant she met lots of people, but there was never time to form a friendship with anyone.

A change was long overdue.

The notice about the Park Run seem to jump off the wall to her on Monday morning. She read it carefully and decided she would enter, typing in the web address before she could change her mind.

The following Saturday, she joined hundreds of others on the start line. ‘Good luck’ said the man standing next to her, giving her a gentle push as they set off, together.



Better mood this week… so fed up of the doom and gloom the ‘B’ word is bringing to everything and everyone I speak to, be glad when it’s finally sorted.

Thanks as always to Fairy Blogmother Rochelle where would we be without her…



Copyright Dale Rogerson

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100



The four of us had met at the coffee shop for years.  Every third Friday, you’d find us in the booth at the back. We had one coffee, making it last while we caught up on gossip, family dramas and recently, politics.

My father always said never to argue about politics or religion and I usually never did. But Monica got all fired up about the recent demonstrations, said if you believed in something you should stand up for it and she was going to do just that.

We met in the coffee shop today as usual.

She didn’t show.


(It’s been a while – but as ever, huge thanks to Rochelle for her constancy and support for Friday Fictioneers)


27 July 2018

Copyright – Ted Strutz


Word Count 100


It was nearly midnight when his body was discovered.

No-one had seen him arrive. The CCTV was scanned for hours; first one camera then the next and so on.

Sally, at the diner, thought she had seen him somewhere, sometime, but couldn’t remember where or when.

His face, nicely arranged for the TV cameras, was beamed out to the whole country on the network news channels.

‘That’s Joe’, Abe said, passing the bottle to Luis, while watching the huge TV in the shop across from their squat under the bridge.

‘Who Joe?’ asked Luis raising the bottle.

‘Dunno’, replied Abe.


Haven’t been around for quite a while, missed my fellow FFers.

Thanks to Ted Strutz for the inspiration this week and thanks as always to Rochelle, a Fairy Blogmother who never tires…