More Sunshine

Thanks to Nora of JOY journal for nominating me for another Sunshine Blogger Award.

You can visit her happy blog here and read her answers to the interesting questions she was given.

https://noraedinger.com/2019/05/15/sunshine-blogger-award/

Here are my answers to the questions she posed for me and the other nominees.

Why and when did you start blogging?

Originally on Goodreads, but I realised everybody else was on WordPress and I felt left out. I have been Tidalscribe since September 2016, my first blog had one Like!

 How do you manage your blogging schedule?

I try and schedule ahead, especially if I will be away, but ‘ahead’ might mean posting well after midnight.

Do you blog on more than one platform? Where else?

I write a Beachwriter’s Blog on my website that is mainly pictures.

https://www.ccsidewriter.co.uk/chapter-five-beach-writer-s-blog/

What’s your favourite thing about blogging?

Meeting bloggers from all over the world.

What don’t you like? 

Keeping up with all the posts I want to read.

What advice would you share with new bloggers? 

Use WordPress, write about anything that interests you and hopefully others. Only blog if you enjoy it, not just because you want to sell your books or crafts. Don’t mention your latest book in every blog! Write less rather than more. Long blogs can be interesting or a story you want to read worth bookmarking for later, but often later never comes. Text spaced out with a few pictures is easy on the eyes.

How do you stay motivated? 

I love writing fiction and non fiction and haven’t run out of ideas yet…

Is the graphic design of your site an important part of your blogging?

Not really as that isn’t one of my technical strengths; I just hope my photographs will keep it looking bright.

What is your favourite quote? 

Anything from Winnie the Pooh

What are you looking forward to doing this summer ? 

When it’s half term next week we are renting two cottages next to each other in Somerset with Team H. Should be fun with little boys of 1 and 3. Then a visit from Team G from USA and finally up to Ironbridge to see the new home of Team AK. If you have never been to Shropshire it’s worth a visit.

What would you like to happen with your blog by the end of 2019?

I shall probably stay with the same format of Wednesday main blog, Friday Flash Fiction, Silly Saturday and occasional Sunday Salon with book and other reviews. Hopefully I shall continue to grow genuine followers and if the occasional person accidentally buys one of my books, even better.

sunshine-blogger

Not every blogger likes being nominated for awards or has time. Some throw it open to all their followers, so I shall do the same. If you would like to accept the challenge

Here’s what to do!

1- Give a big thank you to the person who nominated you so others can find them!

2-Answer the questions from the blogger who nominated you.

3-Nominate other bloggers and ask them your own set of questions!

4- Let the nominees know about the nomination in one of their posts.

5-List the rules and the Sunshine Award nomination on your own site.

6- Let the fun begin!

Or if you prefer put your answers in the comments.

I thought it would be fun to have quick fire questions.

1 Desk top or lap top?

2 Walk or cycle?

3 Town or country?

4 Ship or plane?

5 Dress up or down for an evening out?

6 Living person you would most like to meet?

7 Dead person you would most like to meet?

8 Gardening love or hate?

9 House or high rise living?

10 If offered a seat on the first commercial flight to the moon would you go?

 

 

 

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Silly Saturday – How to Cheat at Saving Society

Some might say that the planet should be saved, not society, but we shall deal with that next week. It is probably easier to start on a small scale with your own street/farm/castle or country estate (delete as appropriate ).

To avoid trying to define society, just imagine a perfect neighbourhood and if you are ambitious, your own town or city run exactly how YOU like it. With a bit of crowd funding, quietly taking over while no one is watching because of Brexit, it should be no problem. London National Park City is launching in July, so how hard can it be to change your street?

http://www.nationalparkcity.london/

Here are some simple ideas to start with. Make it compulsory for everyone to have nice front gardens; the sort you like to walk by, green lawns, beds and tubs full of flowers, delightful scents and the happy sound of bees. If anyone complains, point out that the government has pledged to create green corridors for bees; if they complain they have nowhere to park their car refer them to idea number two.

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Abolish all private vehicles and, just until your local town becomes fully functional with solar powered moving walkways, set up a car share scheme.

Soon everyone will be happy; flowers and wild life put everyone in a good mood and those living in cramped flats with no gardens have been helping with the digging and planting.

Idea number three, take over every empty plot of land, however small and plant trees, create allotments and parks for children. While your local millionaire is away on his expensive yacht, commandeer that land where he had two houses demolished and plans to build a block of flats for rich people.

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Fourthly, all vacant buildings of any sort, shops, offices and second homes to be commandeered for the homeless and as workshops for the self employed. A little networking on the internet should bring you a team of building experts to supervise and train school leavers and the unemployed. It won’t be long before you have created a happy healthy local neighbourhood with no problems and others will be keen to take away your ideas to their own cities and countries.

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These are just a few introductory ideas, feel free to make suggestions and tell us if you have managed to create utopia where you live.

For a clue as to how humanity will save itself read the best selling book nobody is talking about…

 

 

Friday Flash Fiction – Wander With Wanda

Is it Fiction, is it Friday? This week I share the blog of a writer introduced to me by Baz the Bad Blogger … I take no responsibility for what she may say…

WANDA ON WEDNESDAY

The Woman Who Tells It How It Is

THIS WEEK – WANDER WITH WANDA

This week H3 and I have been travelling and visiting, with all the unpleasant mingling with people that involves; and that’s just H3’s relatives.

At the inevitable motorway services we encountered that condition I am fortunate not to suffer from, ‘Indecision’. It gives me indigestion when people hover as I eat. We knew they were a posh family because the fortyish woman with long legs, tight jeans, designer boots and jacket addressed an expressionless facelift woman as ‘Mummy.’ ‘Daddy’ stood with arms dangling, slender fingers deathly white, a medical condition perhaps, certainly he did not look robust enough to cope with young grandchildren. There was a toddler in a wheeled contraption and a boy of pre-school age.

In an unusual moment of grandmotherly sympathy I said ‘Plenty of room here’ motioning to the table next to us and the pair of empty chairs at our table. H3 frowned at me.

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Yes, we are to be a grandmother, the daughter waited till the twelve week scan to break the news. I told her not to expect me to baby-sit, as with the puppy when she was nine, ‘You wanted it, you can look after it.’ Of course it’s about time, I had told her often enough not to leave it too late; she’s older than Meghan. I had even tactfully asked if there might be a problem, wouldn’t have been surprised if her so called ‘partner’ was not up to the task. H3 already has a couple of grandkids, in New Zealand thankfully.

Anyway, back to motorway services. How hard is it, in a building full of tables and chairs, to find somewhere to sit for three adults and two kids? A staff member was summoned to clean the table and Grandma steered the baby vehicle behind us. A high chair appeared and was wedged in behind H3’s chair, toddler was inserted and boy enveloped in an arm chair and given a plastic box of healthy fruit portions. His mother dashed off to the loo with the question of what to eat and drink and who was to fetch it, left in the air.

It came to me then that the whole ‘family motorway operation’ is an insurmountable problem; the unfamiliar high prices, the atmosphere of rush, the jumble of counters and tills leaves even normally functioning adults in a quandary.

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The mother returned with news of a better table spotted just as Granddad tried to move the high chair a fraction; the tray came off surprisingly easily in his frail arms and he nearly toppled backwards.

‘Come on Darling,’ mother to boy ‘we’re going to another table.’

‘I don’t want to move’ followed by an ear piercing scream.

Perhaps he had one of those syndromes, or maybe he was just a brat. By now H3 had his impending migraine expression and I had indigestion. I leaned in to make a witty remark to cheer him up.

‘Shsh, they’re sitting behind you, they’ll hear’ he whispered.

Further conversation was impossible as the toddler, upset by her brother’s tantrum, decided to join in. H3 made a play of looking at his watch then stood up; he did not want to be rude and look as if we were escaping from them.

 

 

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H3’s relatives took us to a well known family restaurant chain which I had not visited since the days when the daughter was little and it was H1’s idea of the perfect family outing, no wonder I divorced him. At the bar for drinks, while we waited interminably for a table, we found ourselves in the middle of an old boys’ reunion. Memo to self, never attend a reunion when you get past a certain age, even if you are hale and hearty you will be cast into dark despondency by the sight of former lively colleagues with walking sticks, stoops and tremors.

‘Hello Dave mate, how are you doing?’ translation ‘Oh my God, I hardly recognised you.’

Our table was on the other side of a flimsy trellis from a children’s birthday party, could it get any worse? Yes, our very attentive waitress, did not allow the confined space to deter her from appearing like a parrot at my shoulder every ten minutes to ask if everything was all right… and all the while H3’s aunty trilled how she always came here because she liked the salad bowl.

 

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Imagine my relief at the end of the week to be alone in a First Class lounge at Heathrow Airport, or so I thought until I heard loud voices. Buying a first class ticket does not make you First Class, common was the word that sprang to mind. When an attendant brought my coffee and croissant I gestured to the couple who were now complaining to another member of staff.

‘Nouveau Riche?’ I whispered.

She stifled a giggle and nodded.

Other passengers sighed with relief when the couple’s flight was called, except for those on the same flight.

We all sat in silence with newspapers, books and lap tops, but sometimes it can be too peaceful. Mr. Important Businessman sat opposite me and methodically opened his lap top and briefcase and inserted earpieces, looking round with an expression that said Do not disturb, important e-mails to answer, vital documents to read.

Within seconds his head drooped and he was fast asleep, woken only half an hour later by the call for my flight. He sat bolt upright in alarm, then glared accusingly at his lap top screen, he managed to swallow his pride enough to ask me which flight had been called; he was on the same flight.

I gathered my belongings calmly, I had written and scheduled this blog five minutes before the call. I enjoyed imagining him arriving utterly unprepared for his meeting of world importance.

Read more flash fiction and stories of all sorts including two novellas.

Only $3.26 or £2.49. also available in paperback.

 

 

 

Silly Saturday – Height of Hypocrisy

To reach the heights of hypocrisy is harder than you think, there are so many hypocrites around it is hard to compete, but don’t give up yet, you can be hypocritical without even realising it, without even being able to spell it.

Did you sign that petition to save orangutans, without even knowing how to spell orangatangs? Good, but when you went shopping for your peanut butter you picked the one with palm oil in. At least you bought a compassionate mouse trap at the hardware shop, remembered to check it when you got up and tip toed into the garden in your dressing gown to release the dear little mouse through the fence into next door. Then you had a cooked breakfast; so a mouse’s life is worth more than a pig’s?

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You signed the petition against using fossil fuels, but had a lovely day out on a heritage steam railway. Pondering on trains made you decide to sell your car, but luckily your partner also owns a car as you were very grateful when they drove you to the emergency weekend dentist when you had that abscess.

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However, you are feeling extra virtuous because you were part of the Extinction Rebellion protest and your picture appeared on Facebook, with at least two friends recognising you. Of course you had not actually intended to sit on Waterloo Bridge with the protesters, but were trying to make your way home after visiting your grandmother in Saint Thomas’ Hospital; as the buses could not run across the bridge it was easier to walk across and catch a different bus. Then Isabella from work spotted you and enveloped you in flowers and kisses and introduced you to all her green friends and somehow you couldn’t get away…

If you haven’t already had a go at playing the Gaia game – Snakes and Stairs, why not try it?

https://tidalscribe.wordpress.com/2018/10/20/silly-saturday-snakes-and-stairs/

sunshine-blogger

 

 

 

The Blog of Many Colours

Times and Tides of a Beachwriter is brought to you today by the colour purple, chosen by Sandra. You can visit Sandra’s blog here.

https://acornerofcornwall.com/

Purple is no ordinary colour, too frivolous to appear on nations’ flags, but too important for ordinary folk; it has long been a colour of royalty and the church. Red, yellow and blue are the primary colours, but in practice red, yellow, green and blue are the main colours. Were you in a house or team at school? Four teams in those four colours I expect. If you wore school uniform it was probably navy, grey or green with red or yellow… I think purple is less favoured for school.

But colours bring different images to all of us. When Sandra suggested purple my first thought was Cadbury’s milk chocolate, that purple paper wrapper, then the opulent shiny purple foil with the promise of pure pleasure waiting to be unwrapped.

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My next thought was flowers, purple is the only colour that makes petals look like velvet. Purple pansies are my favourite. Irises have just come out this week in my garden, decadent in purple and yellow. Cyberspouse plucked one to take into his ‘studio’ and this is the result of a little digital manipulation.

 

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You can visit his Facebook page here.

https://www.facebook.com/photogog/

Colours are also trademarks. The first time we took three weeks off to journey up and around Scotland we stayed in a cottage for the middle week, but the rest of our trip was an assortment of bed and breakfast and Premiere Inns. Along the way we bought a few new clothes and my purchases included a mauve blouse and a purple fleece. When we arrived at our first Premiere Inn I realised that not only did I look like a member of staff, but I matched the whole place. Yes, Premiere Inns are purple; from the large sign that guides you to the building to the interior decor; purple carpets, purple spreads and cushions on the bed and purple information leaflets.

Though I may love yellow and dusky pink, purple seems to feature in my life rather a lot. Cyberspouse designs my book covers and the personal favourite of my novels has a cover that matches my glasses…

Silly Saturday – Instant Instagram

Should you be on Instagram? Of course, you should be on everything, just in case you miss something.

What is Instagram for? I have absolutely no idea, but it is quite fun.

‘Instagram is a photo and video-sharing social networking service owned by Facebook, Inc. It was created by Kevin Systrom and Mike Krieger, and launched in October 2010.’

Any the wiser?

Don’t worry, as long as you have a mobile phone that takes pictures you can join. Post your picture and put some hashtags.  Why, I’m not sure, but if you put #brightonpier  you are linked with all the other people who have taken better pictures of Brighton Pier. Some people put a few hashtags, others a whole list of them, which is a teeny bit showing off.

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But the most important thing, Rule One, is to take pictures instantly and send them off instantly. As soon as you arrive on holiday or you are in the middle of a big street demonstration, take a photo with your phone so that your followers will be envious, or impressed that you are protesting instead of sitting at home on the sofa looking at your phone. Don’t try to cheat by sending a picture of last year’s holiday; especially if it is a picture of you standing in front of Notre Dame. Someone is sure to find out…

Hey I’m in Venice at the moment and it’s raining not sunny.

Or That’s the Brexit march, not Extinction Rebellion.

Rule two, post pictures every day, or better still, every hour in case your followers wonder what has happened to you. If you are not going anywhere, or your life is unbelievably dull you can always pop in the garden, or someone else’s garden and take pictures of flowers. People like bright happy flowers to cheer their day. If you have a cat or puppy, even better, followers will never tire of endless pictures of your pet’s cuteness.

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How do you get followers? Wait or follow other people and hope they follow you. Occasionally you may get a message

ilovemyself is now following you, why not follow them back.

Look at their gallery, if they only take pictures of themselves you may not want to follow them…

Hopefully you will soon see a little red heart flashing to tell you someone liked your picture. You can also share your pictures on Facebook and Twitter, though when you go on Facebook and see your picture on the big computer screen it may not look as good as it did on your little phone screen…

Happy Snapping

If you like looking at photos there are always plenty on my website.

https://www.ccsidewriter.co.uk/chapter-three-picture-gallery/

Do you like taking photographs?

Do you prefer phones or cameras?

Do you enjoy posting pictures on social media?

 

Friday Flash Fiction – Tomorrow

I hesitated before I answered my mobile, it was my sister again.

‘Tomorrow… perhaps’ I said curtly.

‘Andrew, you need to come now. John and I don’t care if we never see you again, but Mum would forgive you everything if you walked through that door now.’

I didn’t go the next day. I don’t like hospitals, my sister is better at that sort of thing and John has always been the reliable one. In the pub that evening no one asked how my mother was; no one there knew I had a mother.

Somehow conversation veered from sport and women to the end of the world.

‘It’s tomorrow… perhaps’ said Sean. ‘6pm according to this American bloke. I don’t know why you’re laughing Andrew. It’s not going to be the end of everything, it’s the Day of Judgement; the righteous will be taken to heaven and the wicked left in torment till the world really does end.’

‘How much have you had to drink?’

Ben had reached the maudlin state. ‘Sean’s right, I read it in the paper, not tomorrow perhaps, but soon, all the signs are there. Look at the news; every day a giant earthquake, flood, fire or volcano, we’re not even surprised any more.’

‘Not in England, the world’s not going to end here. If there was a day of judgement we’re all sinners, you two are no angels. Come on I’ll get the next round.’

They knew I’d done some bad things in my time; all my family, friends, if you could call them that, my colleagues, acquaintances and my enemies. They all thought they knew what sort of person I was, but each of them knew only a part of my life. Only I knew all the crimes and sins committed and people I’d hurt. That was the good thing about being an atheist; I was accountable only to myself. If the end of the world did come it would be by the careless hand of man and in the meantime I was going to enjoy myself. When Sean and Ben went home to their long suffering wives, both of whom had sought solace in my arms, I went to my club; the club I owned in everything but name. I needed to check if the new pole dancer was settling in.

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The next morning I did my laundry, at the bank, then strolled out into the sunshine. I contemplated visiting the hospital, but first I needed to pop back to the club to finish some paperwork while it was quiet.

My mobile rang, it was my brother.

‘I’m on my way, give me half an hour.’

‘Andrew, it’s too late.’ His coldness sent a chill even to my stony heart. ‘If you have any grain of decency left come and collect the letter mother left you.’

Before I could reply, a shot rang out. I looked up shocked; it was broad daylight and no one I knew. A man was standing over a woman lying in a pool of blood, then he noticed me, he fired a wavering shot to warn me away. An eerie silence had descended; everyone else had melted into doorways or down the subway steps; except for a young woman who had tripped or dived for cover onto the pavement, now paralysed with fear.

I’m no hero, if the man actually knew how to aim a gun I would be the next victim. A few paces and I could dive down the steps into my club; the only obstacle was the woman. The muscles I used for strong arm tactics came in handy for rescuing a fallen woman. I locked and barred the door behind us and whisked her into my office. She was too frightened to speak, but I could feel her heart thumping. Through my shirt I could also feel her warm breasts pressed against my chest, soft, not a hint of silicone. Perhaps there would be a chance of grateful sex later, but suddenly any carnal thoughts left me, I felt cold inside. I only looked the gunman in the eyes for a second, but what I saw in those eyes terrified me; he wasn’t mad, nor was he drugged up. Anyone who saw his expression would know that we are all accountable for what we do.

The woman spoke. ‘I don’t know how to thank you; it’s not just me you’ve helped, I was widowed recently, it would be unbearable for the children if they lost me as well.’

Now she’d started talking she couldn’t stop. ‘Are we trapped in here? I need to pick the children up from school. Do you think we were caught on CCTV or someone’s mobile, my mother will be frantic if she sees me on the news, I’d rather no one knew this has happened…’

I put on my best vulnerable woman approach and hugged her gently.

‘Shsh, it’s okay, I’m CID.’ Lying came naturally to me. ‘We did a raid on this place, I know another way out. I’ll put a report in, say you left without giving your name.’

Outside I found a cab for her and gave the driver cash. Then, I don’t know why, I also wrote down my ‘safe’ mobile number. She was sensible enough not to give me her number.

There are two types of women I like; the hard ones who play by the same rules as me and the vulnerable ones who I can play with. But I knew I would treat this woman with respect, if I ever saw her again, a novel feeling for me.

I went to the hospital and met my brother in the corridor; he handed me the letter, I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing, turned on my heel and walked out. At home I put the letter on the table, I would open it tomorrow, perhaps. I watched the news; the gunman had surrendered, too scared to kill himself. My phone rang, it was her.

‘I didn’t thank you properly, or tell you my name, Beth. This has really shaken me up, I can’t talk to anyone; just say no if you don’t want to, but it would be good to meet for a coffee while the kids are at school tomorrow.’

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What will tomorrow bring? Find out next Friday.

 

Friday Flash Fiction – 800 – Dream Machine

Seth tried to hang on to the memories before he opened his eyes; a whole film in technicolour. He had dreamed a whole movie, a brilliant idea for a novel if he could recall it; write a best seller with film makers flocking to his door… that would be a dream. If only he could connect his brain to his computer, time would not be wasted sleeping, unless it was the fact that he was sleeping that produced the ideas. He jumped as his phone vibrated under his pillow and played that irritating tune. Every morning he vowed to change the tune and every evening he forgot. Whatever the melody, it didn’t alter the fact that he had to get up for work.

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The school Seth taught at bore no resemblance to the one in his dream, where young minds were nurtured and different talents exposed to produce a team of world changing teenagers with Seth sharing a little of the glory, or quite a lot as he was made Prime Minister. Who would play him in the film? He snapped out of his reverie and looked at the surly faces staring at him… and that was just the staff room. Seth put his empty coffee cup down and stood ready to face the afternoon.

‘Hey Seth, you’ve got a new kid in your English class, he’s in my form, Dad’s a scientist and polymath, seen him on television, goodness knows why he sent his son to this school, something about discovering real life.’

‘He was thrown out of his private school,’ said the head of science ‘too clever for his own good.’

Seth felt his hackles rise; they should be encouraging the clever kids, not putting them down. He strode down the corridor with an idea for the warm up pen and paper creative exercise.

The class was unusually quiet, gathered round the new boy who was talking enthusiastically, his long fingers gesticulating elegantly to illustrate his subject.

‘Without any discussion class, write for fifteen minutes imagining you could plug your brain into a computer while you slept.’

Unusually they settled down quickly. Seth sauntered casually between the desks, the new boy was scribbling furiously, words and hieroglyphics.

‘Isaac isn’t it?’

‘Yes Sir.’

At least the private school had taught him manners.

‘Named after Newton or Asimov?’

‘Both Sir.’

‘Do you enjoy writing?’

‘When it’s my favourite topic, good choice Sir, my father and I have just invented such a device. It didn’t go down too well at my last school, getting the pupils to volunteer; perhaps you would like to have a go?’

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So on Friday evening Seth found himself relaxing on a comfortable bed in a very pleasant room with electrodes attached to his head; he didn’t expect it to work, but he did have an idea for a new short story about a writer who finds himself  in the hands of mad father and son scientists. It was rather creepy being in the company of the two most intelligent people he had ever met.

‘Our initial aim is to discover if brain waves will translate into images or words or perhaps both’ said Isaac’s father.

Seth drifted off quickly. He was on board the International Space Station with  Isaac and his father and the attractive married science teacher he fancied; also bizarrely his mother and the middle aged lady who worked on the till at the Co Op. They had a fantastic plan for saving the Earth from climate change, if only he could remember what the plan was… he woke up with a start.

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‘Great, we’ve got some images already.’

Seth looked at the screen as he sipped a welcome cup of tea. A beautiful view of the earth, a view inside the space station, well anybody could get those images off the internet… but not pictures of his mother and everyone in his dream, the lady still in her Co Op uniform, the science teacher in a very short skirt and low cut blouse, floating around showing her figure to full effect. Isaac chuckled.

‘Hey Sir, you fancy Mrs Greening.’

Seth ignored the remark. ‘But we’re not talking, I’m not sure if we spoke in the dream, but we had a plan…’ he rubbed his temples ‘to save the earth.’

‘Let’s try the word document then’ said Isaac’s father.

Seth thrilled when he saw words come up on the screen, he’d written a book in his sleep, he peered closer, something was wrong…

I Captain odf the mosat brillainteam o severs sent up my mother fopr got to,mask me to get milkat the shops mrs greening saya her husband is dead so its okayforhet come up herthees the moonnt asbigasithoughtihave togobalc toearth itstime forscgool wonder if the shuttle is working todayknoitdoesb’tworkanymore ohohmyspacesuitdoesn;t fit ishallppbably implode otrisitsexplode ionspace………….

sunshine-blogger

For more stories, have a look in the book.

 

Understanding The Game of Life

Today’s Game of Life reviews a new anthology; Stevie Turner invited writers and bloggers to contribute. She gave them questionaires about significant life events. I slipped in to this at the last moment, thinking our wedding by the elevated section of the M4 motorway without any parents present would not be significant enough! However I was invited to join in. You can read about some  very different weddings in our family. If you want to buy the book all proceeds go to cancer charities. We are all interested in other people’s lives and this is a rare invitation to share some very diffferent lives from your own. Here is the Goodreads review I posted.

A simple idea; ask volunteers to answer a series of questions about a life experience. There are some experiences that most of us have, others that are certainly outside our realm. Even the same sort of experience will be different according to the person, where they live, the other folk in their lives. I loved the honesty of Abbie Johnson Taylor on becoming a carer – would she do it all again?  I enjoyed the positivity of Lucy V. Hay on being a teenage mother. Readers may find comfort in knowing other people have undergone the same. We may face events in the future and remember how others in this book dealt with it. But whether you are facing illness or an addiction, one of the messages that seems to be common is that there are some things you have to want to do yourself, you need to help yourself before others can help you.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/44667522-understanding

 

Liebster Award

Thanks to Ribana of Popsicle Society for nominating me for a Liebster Award and I must apologise for taking a while to answer her questions. You can read Ribana’a answers to six intriguing questions here.

https://popsiclesociety.com/2019/04/01/liebster-award-2/

Find out more about the Leibster award here. Liebster in German means sweetest, kindest, nicest, dearest, beloved, lovely, kind, pleasant, valued, cute, endearing, and welcome and aren’t all our fellow bloggers like that!

https://theglobalaussie.com/the-liebster-award/

More Flowers 2

Not every blogger wantS to do awards or be nominated, but anyone who wants to have a go, I’m challenging you to the five questions Ribana gave me.

Ribana’s Questions:

  1. What motivates you to keep going and chase your dreams?
  2. Would you risk your life for an extreme adventure?
  3. Are you happy with your life, with the place you live or would you change something?
  4. Have you travelled to Asia? How do you find it?
  5. Are you a sweet or savory person?
  6. DSCN0283AND HERE ARE MY ANSWERS
  7. What motivates you to keep going and chase your dreams?
  8. I always wanted to live near the sea; I achieved that, now I want to keep on writing, material success is very unlikely and not as important as the creative part. Meeting other writers in real life and on line keeps me motivated.
  9. Would you risk your life for an extreme adventure?
  10. The answer to that must be NO as I haven’t. I do love nearly being blown off the cliff top or getting as close as possible to pounding waves, but that hardly compares with climbing Mount Everest or rowing across the Atlantic!
  11. Are you happy with your life, with the place you live or would you change something?
  12. Yes I am, I never did get a horse, but perhaps I wouldn’t be very good at riding. I wish all the branches of my family were closer.
  13. Have you travelled to Asia? How do you find it?
  14. Alas I have only touched down at airports back and forth between England and Perth, Australia. Karachi, Bangkok and Singapore. One of my many jobs in previous incarnations was working in business class lounges at Heathrow Airport. Singapore Airlines were the best, lovely passengers.
  15. Are you a sweet or savoury person?
  16. Both, sweet treats are only a treat because they contrast with our main diet which should be savoury.