Thursday 12th December 2013
Cyber Love. not my type of music but is very apt,and I am open-minded in my music. Enjoy!
To be Continued……
Please excuse any errors, and enjoy. Thank you.
Wednesday 11th December 2013
Never the Twain.
Never the Twain.
To be Continued……
Please excuse any errors, Thank you and enjoy.
Sunday 8th December 2013.
Hope was Born this Night.
To be Continued….
Please excuse errors, and enjoy. Thank you….
Saturday 7th December 2013
I Miss You/Slipped Away
To be Continued…….
Please excuse any errors and enjoy, Thank you.
October 20th 2013 Sunday.
This prompt rings both normal bells and alarm bells. My reason for this thought is because many people write beautiful blogs whether it be a mostly photo or writing there are a few that make me think. I wrote a post awhile back and although it was critical, it was also well-meant, not aimed at any particular blog, style or subject but some of the content appeared on some blogs. It was Facebook that inspired the post firstly, and what was being posted, rather tacky comments and feed updates, and to top it all my rather snobbish feeling. But I have never seen or felt any release or satisfaction from setting this post free. I have never posted it, I have it sitting in my draft and once in a while I will edit and add to it.
One of the reasons I have not posted it is because of the thought of hurting people’s feelings or thoughts. I do not know what this actually means. I wrote it from my view-point and how I felt about things and thoughts in general, and then realised that some people might be offended with my bluntness, or how I see certain things. Even though it was not directed at any particular person, blog or style. I have been told I am not the type of person that would offend and my character would not let me be this way, but my naivety may have done so unintentionally. Hence the reason it still being in my draft.
Friday 4th October 2013
I Might Just…Do I or Don’t I?
With my music site ‘Brocks Music Shed’ joined with my rebirth of playing the guitar, my research has taken me along many different paths and journey’s. and when I found this first tune I had to write a post. The music is brilliant, even if you are not a religious person you cannot but help liking. So after listening to this song several times I was prompted to write a post, and include a second from the same artist.
Throughout my journey of life, I can honestly say that I have never actually been a religious person, not really knowing why, just me being the way I was. I will say that I have always respected it, it being the stories of Jesus and God and religion and of course the big book itself. But I suppose most people like me would have said this, maybe to appease their listeners or people who do believe. I do not like hearing people speak ill or blaspheme the topic, and I think that those who do so is because they are usually scared to admit, not wanting to open up to their true feelings. Maybe me being one, who knows.
We all at sometime say a quiet prayer of some sort, whether we would admit or not. I have under certain situations spoken the words “Thank God” or looked into the sky thinking of heaven. I do believe that everyone wants to go to heaven or have their own visualizations of heaven, and want to end up there. But and it is a big BUT, since the start of my blogging world, this new journey, actually several new journeys and new experiences. I have met many new people and the world of God has now become part of my whole experience, with many people introducing and writing of their beliefs. The thing I like about it is that, all that I follow and read have never been pushy or preaching every time they post. It is left to the individual to follow and read at will. I say this because I am one of the first people to walk away if I think or realise someone is trying to push or sell something.
After saying this I have to admit today I have become a little closer. The Universe with its dreams and the faith, the convictions and the premonitions and all that come with this is another belief that challenges religion, even if only in a small way. It is the Universe that interests me, I have become one with this, the principles and faith of both can go side by side.
To finalise with music like this, the two I have posted, and my enjoyment of the search I am certainly onto a winner. Hope you all think the same. Until next time.
Tuesday 24th September 2013.
Tell Me A Story Challenge 2 ← link
If you want to join in with fabulous fun, looking at a picture and write a story relating to it. Show everyone your creative skills. So people click the above link and read the instructions and join in. Help keep this Prompt going.
Angel of Hope
by Gerry A/C 2013©
The small single engine single winged plane glided in the wind currents. The pilot shouting orders and curses. The propeller had stopped and the engine was smoking, at first small streams of smoke wafting in the wind. Frightened stiff but not panicking was the passenger sitting along side the pilot. His eyes staring blankly, his hands and knuckles white with gripping tightly at the safety belt. He kept looking at the small plastic box sitting on the floor between his feet.
The pilot shouted, “Mr Lake, be prepared for a rather bumpy landing. If the wind currents maintain their directions we might be able to make the small runway. If you care to look it is that runway to your left, 8000 feet below.”
Mr Lake cautiously looked, hardly moving frightened his movement might upset the balance of the small plane. “I have alerted the airport and they have their safety measures in place,” the pilot finished. The pilot looked briefly to see Mr Lake was showing signs of panic, he then spoke, “Mr Lake try not to worry, we will make it, I have been in worse situations, and I do know how to fly a glider,” the pilot said with a tense smile showing on his face. Mr Lake just nodded.
Suddenly appearing before Mr Lake was a being, an ethereal being, so fine a filigree a spectral being. A face of the most beautiful lady ever seen, flawless skin, bright green eyes and long fluttering white hair, dressed in a white flowing dress. She was floating, inside the plane, but she was also outside in open sky, but always only a few feet from Mr Lakes face. She moved closer to him, her smile gave Mr Lake a feeling of hope and calmness.
“Believe, I am your Angel of Hope, clear your head, keep your faith, belief and hope and you will see another day” He could hear the words but she was not speaking. All he could see was her face, her smile and hands waving in front of him. Her hands then brushed his face, he felt the warmth and love she was passing to him.
“Believe, and faith, and hope, you will survive.” these were the last words he heard from her as she faded slowly and disappeared.
Mr Lake became relaxed, and felt really good within himself, he believed that this day was not to end here. He closed his eyes, and drifted, thinking of the Angel, seeing her face.
“Mr Lake, embrace yourself.” shouted the pilot. Mr Lake did not hear.
The pilot then guided his ill plane to the ground safely and eventually came to a halt where all the rescue vehicles were waiting.
After breathing clear Mr Lake climbed out and then grabbed the small box. The vehicle with the blue lights sped across the runway and came to a halt, a lady rushed over to Mr Lake, he promptly handed her the box and she said “Thank you” and turned and returned to the car. The organ donor vehicle then sped off with lights flashing and siren blaring. Mr Lake just watched and saw the Angel of Hope and her smile and then heard her voice, “Believe”
“I believe thank you” Mr Lake whispered back.
Wednesday 28th August 2013
I do hope you read this, and let me know what you think.. Thank you!
Express Yourself ‘Man’ Part 2.
[Continued from Luck, Punished or Just a Man]
Enjoy the music while reading it is great.
I have had some great comments from my last post and therefore encourages me to do this follow up. I know I said I would, but it really depended on the response, and it was very positive. So I have decided to do it for that reason and my own piece of mind.
One blogger [blueribbonfair] left a comment regarding allergies and so right she is. I did have an allergy problem, but lucky enough not to have it so badly that it affected my life like I know it did with others I knew. And of course the lady who commented was also affected, sadly to say, some by peoples ignorance and some by the affect of the allergy on the person. With her allergy comment and how it affected her reminded of the time I was admitted to hospital for a week. For this reason, for allergy tests and anything the doctors saw fit to try. Please remember that the time period I am talking about is 1966 in England.
The wards, a long room wide enough to have a row of beds up against each opposing wall, and walkway wide enough for trolleys to pass. Each bed had a curtain surround for privacy, which was used when patients were being seen by doctors. My particular ward had about 15 beds along each wall. There were windows for all to look out, adding more daylight to the wards. At one end of my ward there were double doors that led to other wards, toilets and a leisure room, the other end was reception area and exit. The leisure room was for patients who were allowed out of their beds, here they could sit and play card games or watch tely. No football, [soccer to my American friends] or contact sports allowed. Just generally trying to relax, if one can do this in a hospital.
I remember my mother bringing me in and getting me admitted, shown to the ward and eventually to my bed. Mother promised me she would visit, and she was true to her words. The first couple of days I was not allowed out of bed except to visit the toilet, so I often did this, the nurse must have thought I had another problem. Over the course of the week my arms and body were covered in all sorts of test substances. Peanut, fish, chicken, butters and cheeses, milk, and dairy products, chocolate. Animal related stuffs, dog and cat fur, and saliva. Farm animals cows and pigs, and all sorts of plant extracts. Each one was dabbed onto skin and covered and left for twenty four hours. I looked like a spotty dick pudding, or should I say ‘dick’ covered in small plasters all along my arms and over my chest, lucky I was a hairless 14 year old. Can you imagine what it would have been like pulling off all those plasters. Well guess what, results were ‘inconclusive’. That is a fabulous word and widely used in the medical world. I told them about feathers and eventually they found an extract and tested, and yes, it ballooned and said. ‘hey this boy is allergic’. For other tests I had so much blood taken I was surprised I had any left. Can you imagine or remember the size of needles in those days. I cannot stand needles today, and man! did I hate them in those days. Some needles were like trying to shove scaffolding tubes inyo my arm. Again I was given lots of advice and suggestions but results inconclusive.
Previous to all this my mother taught me how to play ‘Crib’ a game played with cards and a cribbage board.As shown. Back in the ward I was now aloud to walk about and started talking to other inmates. All older people, grown ups to me then, and in the leisure room they often played this game. Eventually I was asked if I knew how to play and if I would like to join in. I did and won all my games. Glad they were light hearted about it, the small competition they held daily I also won. In fact I never lost a game, and I became a hero in their eyes. Crib Champion of Lymo Hospital. oh yes oh yes!
I am making light of this but at the time I did not find it amusing, I remember how scared I was. I had been a regular to hospital visits and stays but this scared me most. Not knowing what to expect. I was released after a week and it proved ‘Inconclusive’
Types are as below. Like most Asthmatics, Eczema and Asthma went hand in hand. I suffered greatly, I think Atopic, but not sure, up until the age of 10 – 11. My small body was completely covered in the rash. I was bandaged all over and smeared with oily ointments. As I got older it healed slowly but I did continue to have it on my joints mostly. Inside my elbows, under my arms and back of my knees. Terribly itchy and it was like being tortured trying not to scratch, which I did rather a lot. It was a mess and I did not look very pretty. I was very lucky, however not to scar. Again my mother was my Angel
Atopic - The term ‘atopic’ refers to a personal and family tendency to develop eczema, asthma and/or hay fever.
Contact - dermatitis is the most common type of work related skin disease.
Seborrhoeic - Eczema tends to affect the scalp, face, torso and flexures in both adults and children or babies.
Discoid - eczema is very distinct with ‘coin shaped’ discs of eczema the size of a fifty pence piece.
Gravitational - Gravitational eczema (also called varicose or stasis eczema) is common later in life.
Asteatotic - Also known as “eczema cracquelée”, Asteatotic eczema almost always affects people over the age of 60.
Pompholyx – The key characteristic of pompholyx eczema is blistering that is restricted to the hands and feet.
Next post, bombshell of being told diabetic…
3rd May 2013 Friday.
A slightly longer one than usual please bear with it and enjoy..
Let me take you back in time,to the quaint little village of Burley set deep in the New Forest. A young verderer, by the name of Robert lived. Verderers were administrators of the forest law and were set in place by William the Conqueror, so Robert did have some power.Also living in the village was his love Mathilde. Their love was given the blessing of Mathilde’s father,although Robert was an important man it was still advisable to be discreet. The couple would meet in the evenings on a forest glade just outside the village. This glade was commonly known as the ‘lawn’ this might sound to most people as nice piece of grass in ones back or front yard, but is actually a name for a grassy clearing within the trees.
They would walk there separately, and, separately each would pass the hovel in which an old woman lived. She would always be at the doorway stirring her cauldron, and both Robert and Mathilde would avoid her gaze because her look was malevolent, so full of contempt and hatred, that they would rather not see it’s existence.
The night before their wedding they both passed the old woman at separate times on their way to the tryst. As Robert approached the hovel he saw something incredible. There, fondly nuzzling up to the old woman was a stag a white stag. she spoke to it in strange guttural sounds and words, and it responded to her by breathing on her and rubbing it’s antlers on the walls of her hovel.
Robert seeing this shouted, “Leave the beast alone,it is the kings property.” The old woman glared at him with deep hatred showing in her eyes. The white stag ran off into the forest. The fact that was lowest of commoners upset him so much. He then went to meet Mathilde, and in the glade they talked and planned their future. Robert and Mathilde embraced each other completely forgetting the old woman and the superstition of bad luck of meeting on the eve of a wedding.
On their separate ways home Mathilde came upon the woman in the middle of the lane, standing and staring, her gaze was hostile and full of hatred and Mathilde scared had to run around her to get past and only felt safe when she reached the triangular green that marks Burley. That terrible glare haunted her in her dreams that night.
As Robert approached the hovel he noticed the door shut and no sign of the woman.He couldn’t admit to himself that he felt relief, but he felt that he was passing the hovel for the last time after one of his trysts with Mathilde, and it was so good that the woman was not there. But then he saw, staring at him from behind an alder stump, the largest black cat imaginable – and if the woman’s stare was malevolent, the cats stare was positively malignant. Robert stared back at the cat, then Schplatt, it spat the most disgusting flob of mucus into Roberts face. He screamed and clawed and rubbed the vile stuff from his face, but his eyes still burned. The cat leaped from the alder stump and was gone before Robert could react. While at home he washed his face as many times as the fetching of water allowed, and then it was his wedding morning.
All the musicians played and the vicar said his words and the wedding passed successfully, and the wedding guests dancing happily on the green. Then there was a shout and all stopped what they were doing and stared at the edge of the forest trees, there stood watching them, the sun behind it, was an enormous white stag. It is hard to stare into the sun, and the stag seemed to shimmer and change – perhaps it was not a stag, perhaps it was a wild boar, a huge wild boar foaming at the mouth charging at them. The screaming and shouting of the scattering wedding party, did not put the wild boar off, he was locked on chasing the bride around the grounds. She was screaming and being caught when Robert managed to throw a coat over it’s massive head,and he leaped onto it clinging to it’s thick heavy neck. It screeched, a terrible noise in between a squeal and a roar, it tossed the verderer over it’s head and gored him to death with it is tusks. It was a white stag rather than a boar that bounded into the nearby woods.
A vengeful party marched to the old woman’s hovel but she was already dead.On the face of the corpse was a smile. It was the first time any of the appalled party had ever seen an expression other than the look of hatred on the old woman’s face.
All within the vicinity of this story my own one begins, it was in the bar of the Queens Head, my friend and I went into the lounge bar where there was a roaring welcoming log fire. After ordering our drinks we sat and started to talk, we were waiting for a couple of friends. The fire probably tells you that it was cold outside, we thought we were the only ones in the bar, but we were not there were two old men sitting at a table near the fire. At first we took no notice, until we heard one ask the other how long they had been here in the bar. It might have been purely a play on words. The other in reply said “oh must be 90 years now.” We being very alert and clever and having our wits about us thought nothing of it, we just laughed at the thought that the two men, old they were, but not 90 years old. Both of us just thought the usual, two old men and too much ale inside of them. As we finished our drinks we went outside as we saw our friends coming down the hill. This time went back into the bar but went into the public bar, here we met with others to listen and lay music. My friend went to the bar to purchase another drink. He came back and put the drinks on a table, he pulled my arm and led me away.
“I just started talking to the barman about the two old men in the other bar, he said there is no one in the other bar only us two were there.” We both went through too other bar where we were only ten to fifteen minutes earlier and right he was, no one in there and no sign of anyone being there.
Friday 26th April 2013
Carisbrooke Castle. My Story.
by cobbies69 (Gerry)
The present castle was founded soon after the Norman invasion, and was a simple mott and bailey, which was greatly improved and built upon in the medieval period. The castle remains are impressive with much of the original structure still surviving, including the keep, medieval buildings, and two wells – one with a treadmill utilising donkey power to draw water.
The French once laid siege at the castle during the medieval period. During this siege, legend tells of a bowman called Peter Heynoe, who killed the French commander with a shot from the castle walls, causing the French to withdraw.
One of the castles most famous visitors was Charles I, who was imprisoned here for ten months before his execution at the culmination of the Civil War. Charles attempted to escape from the castle a number of times, although each attempt was thwarted.
The castle is reputed to have a number of ghosts, befitting its long history. The deep well was the scene of the tragic drowning of Elizabeth Ruffin, her disembodied face is reputed to have been seen in the well water. The castle also has a Grey Lady, a phantom wearing a long cloak accompanied by four dogs, the ghosts of a man in a brown jerkin and trousers – seen near the moat, and other presences that have been felt by castle visitors.
The castle is a fantastic site with many attractions, and it is well worth spending a few hours exploring.
More information on the hauntings of Carisbrooke can be found in Gay Baldwin’s The Isle of Wight Ghost Book IV, also consider her website: ghost-island.com
Dennis and Dave my partners in crime decide to go to the Isle of Wight, we caught the local ferry from Lymington and arrived at Yarmouth an hour later. As none of us drove, I don’t think I was old enough, which meant Dennis also as he was younger. We therefor had to rely on local transport, so we caught a bus that was going to Carisbrooke. Carisbrooke is a nice stand alone little village, even without the castle standing guard, it was a nice picturesque village with beautiful buildings.
We decided to check out the castle, but it was closed, cannot remember as to why. So we walked around the moat,, which had no water. just sleek slopes going downwards and rising to meet the walls of castle. We reached the far side and climbed the grass bank and reached the wall. Along the top was enough edge for us to walk along and follow the walls. Walking and looking and managing in places to see through parts of the eroded wall. We were being very careful about not being seen, when suddenly Dave, who was leading, shouted “quick some one is coming” and without a second thought Dennis went running down the moat grass wall. Where it was so steep he stopped running and started rolling, and when reaching the bottom he actually bounced a few feet and came to rest. When me and Dave reached him, and asking the silly questions like “Are you okay?” or “what the matter?” He was writhing about on the ground in great pain and shouting “my ankle it bloody hurts, it hurts like hell” I gently pulled his trouser leg up and exposed a blood strewn leg and ankle. Where he should have only one ankle joint he actually had two, and protruding slightly through a broken skin. “We got to get him some help” I said to Dave.. and after a short discussion Dave opted to go and find some while stayed with Dennis. After about half an hour Dave came back with a man, who turned out to be the castle caretaker, key keeper. He lived on the grounds in a small tide cottage. Me and Dave helped Dennis up, and the man led us through a small gate and into the grounds, and onto a rampart, slowly walking, in Dennis’s case hobbling. And then onto a wooden walkway, it was while we were slowly making our way across this walkway I noticed in the window across the yard in a room on a turret part of the castle, a person watching us as we slowly made our way across. I pointed the figure out to my friends and they supported me on this. So it was not my imagination. This actually moved back and forth before disappearing from our view. The figure could be described as the one in this report,, As we eventually reached ground level and hobbled across the courtyard, “Well we are seeing the castle now, and it hasn’t cost us anything” Dennis said smiling, in pain. Again, I noticed another figure in a ground level window, but this time it was not witnessed by my friends. At the time I thought nothing of it. We sat on a low wall while the keeper phone for the ambulance, and when the blue lights and siren of the ambulance could be heard, Dennis was so happy knowing this was for him. He was taken to Newport Hospital, but me and Dave had to find our back to the ferry terminal at Yarmouth. Before we left we thanked the keeper, I asked him about the people I saw in the windows. The castle is closed and there is no one here in this castle apart from us.
Dennis was returned home in two days fully plastered up and told to be very careful because of the break he might have a leg slightly shorter than the other if it does not heal properly. It was not until a few years later that I found out how haunted this castle was or is.,,allegedly.
I do hope you enjoyed this little story, it has been cut short purely for the post length,, and the boredom factor, but My Story is the truth and actually happened. Dennis was about 15 and my self would have been 16 and Dave 17. Dave had his own little guitar band, he was almost like a local John Mayall. Anybody that played a guitar would have played in his band for a short while at least. As did I.