I am grateful for many things in my life, but if I have learned anything during the first four months of 2020, it is that the material things in my life matter less. Our own home and a car, are things that many of us take for granted, […]
Thank you, Ben Huberman and Discover Prompts for today’s title prompt, Focus. My inability to do just that has been a problem during recent weeks, and I’ve even just eaten my last biscuit without noticing. As the Coronavirus pandemic started to take hold, Discover Prompts decided to post daily […]
What would we do without photographs? Sometime around 1827, Joseph Nicéphore Niépce captured the first fuzzy photo. What a long way we have come since then! We are constantly snapping away on our phones and posting the resulting images on Social Media. Visual images unite us when we can’t be together. No more so, while we are in Lockdown.
When I was young and slim , I loved granary bread. I bought it fresh from the local baker on the way home from work and demolished it before burning off its calorific content in the gym.
One day, my love for granary came to an abrupt, crunching end. I enthusiastically bit into a soft slice, excited for the nutty, rich taste to flood my taste buds and bit down onto something hard. A piece of wire wool.
The trauma was too much to bear, and I’ve never eaten granary bread again.
School friends are the best. If you had bestie at school, the chances are that you will stay in touch for the rest of your lives. Well, that’s how it was with ‘my twin’ and me. Somewhere between discovering that we shared a birthday and the end of the spring term, we had gelled.
We shared the same sense of humour, which is always a good start. After that, we never went anywhere without each other. We shared family holidays and supported each other during our early adult lives. The boyfriends, the first tentative steps on our chosen career ladder, as well as celebrating all our significant birthday’s together. The building blocks of a lifelong friendship.
Whether wearing a face mask will stop you from contracting COVID-19 or not, covering up your nose and mouth makes sense – even if I look like like a bonkers blogging buffoon. I will work on a more stylish look for my second attempt at a homemade mask. As they say, where I come from, owt’s better than nowt.
In my mind, it’s peace of mind, and it’s got to be better than inhaling anything COVID-19 related. Stay safe everyone.
I have square hands. I had no idea what having square hands says about a person, apart from realising that a career as a hand model would be a no-no.
Being in lockdown is forcing me to become a Domestic Goddess. I am trying, but it’s a slow process. I can’t see my hands ever baking bread or vying for the title of Master Chef any time soon. As for rushing around with a hoover and duster, its just a part of my daily lockdown routine.
Domesticity and I have never gone dishpan hand in glove. I blame it on my late mother’s ridiculous idea of sending me to a boarding Domestic Science College when I was sixteen. I was expelled before my first half term, which tells you all you need to know.
I live in a lane, rather than a street. There are seven houses close by and children live in two of them. It has a country feel about it, as there are fields around us, but the main road is only 200 yards away, and the town centre is just a twenty-minute walk.
There are constant comings and goings. We are all busy. Our lives taking us in different directions going to work, school runs, evening classes and sporting events.
We chat with each other when we pass in the lane, walking our dogs, going for a jog or a cycle ride.
‘We’re overdue a catch-up!’ We say. ‘We must get together soon.’
It all began in my early teens when I was obsessed with writing poetry. I started learning the guitar around my fourteenth birthday and began writing songs. It was a natural progression. I tried to write a rock musical instead of concentrating on my O Levels, which never made it to production.
You wake up every morning to the gentle whooshing sound of the sea underneath your water bungalow, before dropping off your deck into the clear, turquoise water. Flipping onto your back and staring up into the bluest of blue skies. It doesn’t get much better than that.
I started 2020 with newfound confidence and a steely determination to succeed in my writing goals. I’m over halfway through my second novel, a murder-mystery spoof, and was skipping and dancing my way down a road fuelled by purple patches with a finishing date of the end of April. Then, somewhere around the unfolding COVID-19 crisis in Italy, my bubble burst, and I lost my mojo. Since then, I’ve been struggling to find my funny.