WPC – Signs.

Friday 3rd October 2014.

Signs.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_photo_challenge/signs/

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Gerry A/C © 2014.

Restawyle

Write 101 #7 Give and Take and Enjoy.

Tuesday 23rd September 2014.

 http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_assignment/writing-101-dialogue/

writing-101-june-2014-class-badge-2Write a post based on the contrast between two things — whether people, objects, emotions, places, or something else.

Today’s twist: write your post in the form of a dialogue. You can create a strong opposition between the two speakers — a lovers’ quarrel or a fierce political debate, for example. Or you could aim to highlight the difference in tone and style between the two different speakers — your call!

Give and Take and Enjoy.

Today I have posted one that I posted before so apologies to anyone who has read it before. On this challenge I try to do a different story but today I thought this was good and hope you do. 

Day 7

Words 626

Gaa/C June 2014

“But dad, I don’t want to go, there are loads of others going, and I don’t want them to see me.” Annie was arguing once again with her dad.

“Annie, it is your last time, after that you wont see any of them again.”

“But you don’t see do you? going up on the stage is so yuk! everyone will laugh.”

“Annie you will not be the only one, all your year will doing it as well, so some of your friends will be there doing. You should be so proud of yourself, I am. I am very proud of you. And I’ll be there with your mum.” her father said quietly putting his point across.

“That is my point, all the adults watching.” Annie then sulked off into her bedroom. Her father thought it best if he left her alone for a moment. She was obviously scared about it, and he thought it was up to him to try and show her there was nothing to be scared of, but a moment to be very proud. This is her last moment to show her achievements and be very proud of them. Just to give her a few her father went and made two cups of tea and a salad sandwich.

Ten minutes had passed and he tapped her bedroom door and entered, handed her the tea and sandwich.

“Annie you know way back when I first started playing my guitar and I had the opportunity to play in front of an audience I chickened out. Like you, I was putting all sorts of excuses in the way, telling myself I was not any good, people would boo’ me off stage or just not like me. I went to the clubs and watch other people and kept saying I was as good as them but when the time came I could not do it.” Annie and her father sat quietly eating their sandwich.

“As you know Annie I did go on stage and played, and a few years later did it with bands and it proved to be the best thing I ever did.”

“What made you do it, I mean what changed your mind gave you confidence to do it?”

“One night I went along to a club to watch, my friend came along, he also played the guitar. On arrival he checked in to play, the people who run the club asked if I wanted to play. I said no, not today, however they tried to encourage me, not to worry how good I was as the club accepted and enjoyed all standards. But I still said no, but inside I really wanted to play.  So when my friend was called for his turn ha played a couple of songs and then announced that he was inviting a guest and then called for me. At first I would not go, it was then the audience started slow clapping, I borrowed a guitar and played a couple of songs with him. It was the best experience I had ever felt and wanted more. The next time I played on my own and again I enjoyed the applause. I would not want you miss this experience and enjoy the moment.”

Annie finished her tea and sandwich and looked at her dad, “okay dad, as long as you and mum are there with me, for support I mean.” she said and hugged her dad. “Of course we will be there, for support of course.”

 

The following week Annie walked onto the stage and collected her school certificates, she passed on 12 subjects and stood smiling while she accepted the applause. The proudest moment for all the family.

Gaa/C© June 2014.

Restawyle

Butterflies. {short story}

Thursday 28th August 2014.

From an original idea from a good friend and exceptional blogger and writer herself.  Pop over and say hello. Carol B Sessums at adjustingyourfocus. – http://adjustingyourfocus.wordpress.com/

The Butterflies.

Flight-of-the-Butterflies-H

Words 1106.

It always started off with her stepping outdoors, walking a few steps into her garden. A large orange and black butterfly would flutter around her head, then land on her shoulder. She would walk a few more steps then a blue one would flutter in front of her face and then settle on her other shoulder. She never attempted to wave them away, she always welcomed them. Even though she was walking she never moved any further away from her back door.                                        

The next time the same would happen but now four butterflies would appear and settle on her shoulder. Each time she would then wake up, sweating all over, her forehead soaking her pillow, and her bed wear had to be changed. She could not understand why this happened because the dream was a pleasant one, no threat or horrid visions. The sunny day and butterflies gave her a sense of security and serenity, a feeling of love. On this summers day these gorgeous creatures were always visible in her garden. This day she noticed something that was different to her dream, and confused her a little.

She did not dream this dream for a while, the nights passed and nothing to be remembered. She even researched what dreams mean, but for this particular dream she was unsuccessful in finding any answers. As the nights passed and no more dreams she eventually forgot about them. But the night of the eve of her mothers birthday, she was planning to go and place some flowers on her grave, she did this every month. She was very close to her mother and tears would flow every time she thought of her, finding it hard to let go or move on. Laying in bed thinking of her day tomorrow, many pictures drifting in and out of her mind until she eventually drifted off to sleep.  The sleep was restless, fidgeting and snoring causing her to keep waking, unfinished dreams causing minor distress and hitting a point for her to waken with a start. Again sweating all over and feeling very hot, she could see the full moon in the sky casting its bright golden glow upon the earth. She lay looking out her window staring at the moon, imagining people living on it. She became fixated on it, hypnotised, being in a trance waiting for someone to click their finger to bring her back to the living world. But of course it never happened.

Butterflies fluttered about her face, first two orange and black ones then two pale blue. She did not flinch or try to brush them away, she did not mind them  near her face. Two more appeared followed by two more, the appearance of more until there were hundreds maybe thousands. All fluttering about her face and body, circling her in a whirlwind of colour. She noticed she was standing next to an apple tree, which appeared to be in her garden. Everything else was the same, she could see the chicken run, the gooseberry bushes but there was no apple tree. Yet here one was, bearing fruit, nice perfectly formed red apples. She turned around and saw that her house was not to be seen, she was only a few feet from her back door, but now the house was gone.  The butterflies eased away from circling her, forming a cloud of colour in front of her. Fluttering, hundreds corkscrewing, a mass of delicate wings tightening, no particular shape, just a cloud of colour, continuing  to spread out and up and down until they resembled a shape of a human being. All fluttering now in a constant shape for a short while, as she watched a figure taking shape, all the butterflies melting, shaping slowly until a person, another woman was seen standing only a few feet away. She took shape, her face becoming recognisable, the vision of the woman in front of her, not believing her eyes. “Mother, it can’t be, is it really you?” she whispered. Then the woman spoke.

“Hello luv, don’t be afraid, it is really me your mother. I have only a few moments.” She was about to rush to her mother and throw her a hug, but her mother noticed this and abruptly spoke firmly with a raised voice, “No luv, don’t try to touch me, I will just vanish and you will be hurt and might even join me in the world of the dead.” She stepped back a little.

“I want you know, I left you in a hurry, beyond my control I did not want to, I had no choice in the matter. But I want you know that I love very much  and hope that me being here now will relieve any guilt you may have. I have heard your words and felt your tears and because of this I have been allowed to come to you and tell you not worry, none was your fault. Most of all my luv’ I will always be by your side, looking over you. You may not see me but I assure you I will be there for you.” Her mother then held out her hand, her image flickering a little, “Don’t touch me, just hold out your hand I have something for you. They were interred with me and I have no use for them so you just as well have them back and make use of them.” She then dropped some jewels into her daughters hand. A wedding ring and an engagement ring and a bracelet, not just any bracelet it was a charm bracelet. All the charms were collected over the years of her life and the holidays she had been. All with some history. “Thank you mum, but it was not necessary.”

“They are of no use to me, you just as well have them and do with them as you wish.” Mother and daughter stood looking at each other, the daughter shedding tears mother would have if she could. The silence was broken by her mother, “Sorry luv’ but it is time for me to go, remember I am here with you always. I am being called, remember I always love you.” they both held out their hands, not touching but symbolising their embrace. As quickly as she said goodbye her mother burst into a mass of coloured butterflies, blue and orange and white all fluttering madly eventually dispersing, all but two, the two on her shoulder, the orange and black on one and blue on the other.

She looked at both butterflies in turn and whispered “Thank you mum, luv you to.” the two butterflies then fluttered away. She could now see her house and where her mother had stood the apple tree now stands full of perfect fruit.

Gaa/C© August 2014

Enjoy Thank you.

Restawyle

 

Knife and Scissors Man

Tuesday 25th March 2014.

“Knife and Scissors need sharpening ma’am. Just a penny fur each item.” He would shout with a broad yokel accent.

Just recently I have been researching folk songs and music. This particular style of music has always been a favourite of mine, and while doing so I came across this one. I could not find a recorded song so I have decided to make a normal post out of it rather than a music one that I intended to do. This song and title reminded me of old services that my mother use to use. Many of you might have even experienced or come across the same.

Knife and Scissors

Above is the song, and it brings to mind the days when I was a very young boy, a man, rather scruffy man with his bicycle toured the roads and streets touting for work. He was offering the sharpening of knives and scissors and all sorts of gardening tools, shears, pluming cutters, hoes, virtually anything that was offered to him..

Wonderful Memories!

His bicycle was fitted with two circular grinding stones. One large one and one small one, of different grades. Apparently a coarse stone and a fine stone.

Knife and scissors notes

He would  set his bicycle on a stand and make a few adjustments and somehow got his pedal and chain to connect with a few different cogs that would then enable him to turn the grind stones. Some of theses  pedlars  would be towing a small cart  which would carry other tools and a seat and cogs and connections. He would spend a few minutes setting up his bicycle so he could sit and peddle away turning the stones and sharpening the offerings given him. He was quite popular in our road, many of the neighbours would come out and get a selection of knives or scissors sharpened, including my mother.

lrg_grind_bike

This man was just one of a few that use to travel our streets in those days. We use to have a pretend Frenchman selling onions, Another was man selling fresh vegetables  and other groceries from his van. My mother used him regularly. Every Friday he turned up about 5pm and he became a friend, his name was Mr Bishop. Also a coal delivery service every week, once and sometimes twice, depending on demand.

We also use to get a lot of other door to door selling, flower sellers, wooden peg sellers, and at Christmas others would appear trying to sell wreaths and log decorations. There are probably others that I cannot remember, but I bet you can think of a few different one.

Today trends have changed so much, health and safety etc, and this no longer happens, or at least to acceptability standards.

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Restawyle

Luck, Punished or Just a Man #1

Wednesday 21st August 2013

A Factual Post, Aarrgh!   A different post for me.

Express Yourself ‘Man’  [ part one ]

I was sitting in the solitary darkness of my life, and thinking about this whole blogging world. Recently and over time I have read so many posts from people expressing so much about life, love, universe, trauma, health, God and all things that tugs at one’s emotions. All top quality work may I say, not criticizing. Also how music can be related to our emotions, poetry with humour and powerful heart wrenching words, which I firmly believe.  People respond with all the nice and supportive comments, some even expressing a little of their own and having a conversation. Mostly women, not all.

But this post from my viewpoint a mans, well I think of myself as a man.  There does not seem to be many men out there with all these powerful life stories, expressions of love, or how the universe is treating them what ever, but maybe they just cannot let it out.  Well I use to be like this in fact I still am, so I am stepping out from my comfort zone. Just this once, maybe it might even kill this blog, who knows.  I am not a writer, not as educated  and do not possess the ability and quality to equal the posts I have read, hence I will not be able use the expressive and fancy words, so please just accept for what it is. 

How many people actually practice what they preach, yes I know there are some, but in truth how many others join in to be part of the crowd. Maybe I am one.  

AUK-logoclick me for more info:

I was born very young, and from this very early age I was diagnosed Asthmatic, quite severely, but I knew no different. My youth years I spent struggling and many times being taken to hospital, and nearly died on two occasions. When I was child there were no inhalers, well not yet available for public use, so I use to suck a pill called Neo-Epinine, it was so powerful for me I had to break it into four and suck under the tongue. I do remember my heart rate rising and it felt like my chest might explode. Catch 22, either I suffocate struggling to breathe or risk my heart giving in. Nice choice.

[ Neo-Epinine (Isoprenaline sulphate) tablets, mid 1950s
The drug isoprenaline is a bronchodilator. It was first introduced in 1948 for use with asthma.
Its over-prescription in aerosol form in the 1950s and early 1960s contributed to a rise in
asthma-related mortality. These Neo-Epinine tablets are believed to date from the mid 1950s. ]

info from – http://www.rpharms.com/museum-pdfs/a-asthma.pdf

  I am one of 5.4 million in the UK, and not many people know that an average of 3 people per day in UK still die from it. This is today, so you can imagine what the statistics were when I was a child. I missed a lot of schooling and hence my education suffered. One particular teacher realised this and helped me beyond the normal schooling hours, and if it was not for her I would not have gained 7 x GCE’s. So I say a big thank you MRS WINGATE. tears are swelling my eyes at this thought. I did try to partake in the PE lessons [Physical Education] I did two cross country runs and the second time I collapsed, and was taken to the nearby hospital. So no more.

Peak Flow Meter,N3103 and diary. Over the years and even as recent as a few months back I have had to do twice daily peak flow meter tests, usually over a period of a month and record each test (best of thee puffs) and no cheating. I still have my meter from a very long time ago. My mother taught me this. And while I am on the subject of my mother. Well she was a true Angel,[click me] not just because she was my mother and I loved her dearly, but because she was always there, by side and supporting every little moan, each wheeze, and every night when I coughed myself to sleep, only to awake a few hours later. This caused a great deal of tiredness and tension. It made things so awkward if I ever did a sleep overs, which as kids we liked to do, or other times when everyone else is sleeping cozily and here I am trying not to cough, or wheeze to attract attention. Plenty of time to think.

Today I still hide when taking a puff from the inhaler. Even today this is so, I am lucky to get 5 hours sleep. Always tired, I know many of you out there experienced this lack of sleep as well, for different reasons maybe, so you know what I am talking about. Although this is an on going story this is for another day, today is about….well what is it about really? Am I preaching, letting off steam, looking for sympathy or just being informative and letting you my readers, if any do read that is, get to know me a little better. A few posts recently mentioned things like do we really know who is behind the blogs and words, and having the belief and trust a reader has to have. Anyway I am going off the beaten track and do not want to bore you more. There will probably be no reader that gets this far anyway. So I will tell you what, I will break this up into parts so I will do another follow up  post if there is any interest. My battles with life and more recently Diabetes, which is still like a bombshell hitting me.

I would like call any other men and see if they wish to join in on this ‘Express Yourself Man’ so come on and help set up a club. I know this will be hard because I do not have many men followers and probably less who read. Contact me as per normal Thank you.

Part two coming shortly, a day or two. for my own piece of mind,

http://www.asthma.org.uk/Default.aspx

http://www.rpharms.com/museum-pdfs/a-asthma.pdf

Angel

http://gerrygeelong.blogspot.co.uk/2013/08/the-parchment-fantasy-story.html

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Happy Birthday Mum.

13th December 2012 Thursday

Happy Birthday Mum.....


Today is my mothers Birthday and if she was alive today she would be a ripe old age of 91 years of age. This is one day that saddens every year. But as each year passes I know we are getting closer to meeting again after such a long time of being apart. I know there must many others of you out there with similar feelings of loss so this post is also in memory for all  of you as well.

Mum dateand Place Unknown

Mum

Mum with Her Mum Mable

Fawley House Lymington 1937

Mum and me

Copy of mum

The colored picture above is probably the last ever  picture taken of her, it was approx’  a year to a year and half when she passed onto a better place. the small picturesque village of Golden Hill, Shaftesbury,which is in Dorset. As seen in the bottom photograph. This is one of many beautiful Villages in Dorset and Hampshire. Her husband, my dad had died a year or two earlier and the time lapse was only two and half years before she was taken. Today she would have lived longer, because of the modern medicine.

So Here it is to you MUM, 

See you Soon…

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     OK

Sunday Post ‘Black and White’

August 19th 2012 Sunday

The Star of this Show….

 ………..My Mother

Pictures are of her at approximate ages 24. Circa 1940-44.

And if I may say so myself, ….

A very Attractive Woman, and she was way ahead of her time.

I am putting this post for her,  as Hollywood would in stone on the sidewalk/pavement.

A Permanent Epitaph for My Mother..

 

       

 

 

        

 

If you want join in with these wonderful challenges, then  please click the link and pop over to Jakes..

  http://jakesprinters.wordpress.com/2012/08/18/sunday-post-black-white/