Lovely flowers, remind me of the Mediterranean, delighted to be able to grow them at home.
#hibiscus #gardens #flowers #beauty
Lovely flowers, remind me of the Mediterranean, delighted to be able to grow them at home.
#hibiscus #gardens #flowers #beauty
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
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?
#STAYSAFE
 © 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
Demonstrations
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)
RIP Joe
Word Count 100
Fiction
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…
Beautiful day here, couldn’t resist taking a photo of my view from the terrace.
It is difficult to choose my all time favourites for the final weekly photo challenge but here are a few of the photos I treasure for various reasons; happy memories, lovely holidays, and just because…Â Â I hope you enjoy them.
The view from Wiseman’s Bridge towards Saundersfoot, Pembrokeshire, West Wales
The Azure Window on the island of Gozo, it fell into the sea following a storm last year. Feel privileged to have seen it.
This is the ship ‘Vasa’ – it sank on it’s maiden voyage in 1628, in the harbour in Stockholm, it was raised over 330 years later and is now in the Vasa Musuem in Stockholm.
Peonies, my most favourite flower
This pearl monument is sited at the entrance to the Dhow Harbour in Doha, Qatar.
These are some of the super ‘trees’ that form part of the Gardens by the Bay in Singapore.
The café is at the crossroads. It is set back from the road, with a large parking area at one side and a smaller grassed area at the front. There are tables and chairs on the grass, in case anyone is brave enough to sit outside. From my seat by the window, I can look down the High Street and today being Friday, it is quite a busy thoroughfare. I am surprised that the elderly couple, who normally sit at the table across from mine, are not here. I wonder what the problem is and hope nothing has happened to either of them.
Halfway through my first cappuccino I look up and see them at the crossing, waiting patiently for the traffic lights to change. I relax and smile, happy that they seem alright with no outward sign that anything is amiss.
Seated at the small table at the back, next to the magazine rack, Barry the Builder is eating his full English. I only see him on Fridays, but I am reliably informed that he is here every day without fail. He is working on the new housing estate where, according to him, the houses being built are expensive, but have a ‘great spec’.
Next to me, two ladies are discussing the diet that one of them has just started. It seems quite harsh – no carbohydrates, no fat, no sugar, lots of protein and three vitamin supplements every day. The one on the diet has lost 1 stone so far and tells her much slimmer friend she is determined to continue until she gets to her desired weight. From where I am sitting, it seems she has a long way to go. I look at the Danish pastry on my plate and wonder how many calories it contains, but eat it anyway.
The elderly couple are telling the waitress that their house was broken into last night and have spent quite a long time with the police team. Recounting the story, the lady is visibly upset and Kath, the owner of the cafe, comes forward with a pot of tea and a comforting arm. The man says that the police phoned him, just before they left the house, to let them know that two boys have been apprehended.
I feel for them. We were burgled once, a long time ago and it took quite a while to stop thinking about strangers rifling through our possessions and being worried about leaving the house empty for any length of time. Kath thinks it’s disgusting and says that quite a lot of houses in the area have been broken into during the past few weeks. Barry gets up to pay his bill and tells the couple that if he had his way, the boys would be flogged. They think it a bit extreme, but Barry is convinced that it would stop the boys doing it again.
The friend of the lady on the diet, orders another coffee, ‘could you do me a large latte?’ she asks in a sort of self-satisfied voice, Kath tells her she will bring it over. With friends like that, I doubt the diet is going to last for long…
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