Is This A Writer’s Affliction? Or A lack Of Conviction. Writers Block.

I have always thought …
We may have a bad day. We may have no ideas. Blank unforgiving spaces between our writer’s ears.

Maybe we are feeling low, With life to do and places to go.
So we put it off … penning I mean.
We procrastinate and are not so keen.

When we give ourselves a shake,
Stop feeling lazy; checkout of our writing break.
Pick up a pen and start again. It’s not a bore or some godless chore.

It is a gift, a time to live and work in fantasy.
For most, it would feel like ecstasy.
How many others wish they could too … if the shoe was theirs; instead of worn by you.

Writers Block … is it just a phrase?
to disguise the days we chose to Laze.

Pictures by way of Pixabay.

What do you think?

Is there truth buried in my tongue in cheek?

Or is it a contagion, a nasty communicable disease? I truly want to read your replies c’mon let me have it straight between this writers eyes. 😉😗

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All Teachers are Monsters.

Thank you Linda for this opportunity. The prompt word is ‘post’ to be used alone or as part of a word. Press RIGHT HERE to join in or read some great responses.

“Post my letter” Mother called after me. Stamping my feet with slumped shoulders I went back in the kitchen. “Give it me then, quick! you know I hate being late.” I snatched it from her hand and slammed the door. I lifted my arm pushed back the sleeve, my trusty Timex startled me.”Rob, can I bag a leg on your crossbar?” I yelled. He was a bit fly was Rob but with my prim plait, flat chest and tough shoes he was hardly seeing me as a girl; one of the lads that’s me. I closed my eyes and hung on as he weaved through the traffic; my lady parts bruised with each bump. Rob stuck the vee’s up to Mr.Light the Maths teacher as he passed in a rusted Vauxhall Viva. Embarrassed I try to hide my face in Rob’s back. So relieved I was to jump off; in front of the corner shop … Not quite like in the movies.

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Rob ruffled my crooked fringe, “Maths homework … you owe me.” He called as I hobbled away tidying my fringe. Waving as he wheelied off, I rub my shoe on the back of my sock to try to rid it of oil. Letter posted and Parma violets purchased I made it to class in good time. At lunch break, I would go to the phone box to phone Mum, make amends for being grumpy; I wasn’t late after all.

Mr. Wright called me over. “Cheshire,” He called. “That lad, he is a little rough … around the edges.” He stumbled his words awkwardly, “your parents, they would be displeased at you … marauding around on his crossbar. Take heed, he will end up in Borstal if he’s not careful.”

I knew he was right, they would give me chores for a month if they knew. “Sorry Sir, I didn’t want to be late.” My cheeks and neck grew warm and I just know I was scarlet. He gave me double homework and tapped the side of his nose as he handed it over. That was all I needed what with Robs lot and now this I’d be at it for hours. I sighed, pushed it into my bag and thanked him. Because good girls do not answer back, ride on crossbar’s with reprobates, and expect leniency from the teacher who received the Vee sign.

Mother, wearing her furious face; stood cross armed at the door. “To your room young lady, post-haste!” I should have guessed he would tell; all teachers are monsters but none more than Mr.Right.

Did you do something foolish that bit you back? Do tell I am waiting with Bated breath.

P.S. I love and respect teachers, this is a work of fiction, or as Mother would say damn lies. *gulp*

#1LinerWednesday.

Here is where you press to ping over to Linda Hills read and connect or have a go yourself.

Remembering that the person rushing who spilt your drink, cut you up at the roundabout, banged your ankles with the trolley in the shop, may be newley bereaved,lost his job, or became a parent, we can’t know so think before you loose your temper.

DON’T BLAME IT ON THE MAGPIE.

Singing in the Rain

This is about my rebirth, moving away from familiarity, family and friends. Starting afresh and trying to fit in. Leaving employment where I was held in high regard, to retire ten years earlier than I imagined, given the oportunity to write. Find a new life with a new husband.

Me and He, have only lived in Somerset for three and a half years, we relocated from East Anglia and are still trying to fit in to rural life, amongst people who’s families have resided in the area for generations. We have a pleasant home at the end of a small Cul-de-Sac in a tiny village. We have a mature garden with tall trees and a stream running along the bottom. The gardens a south facing corner plot; the reason we bought it.

Today I will introduce you to Doris and Mandy. Both names I changed for privacy sake; and my safety. Doris is eighty something years young, has a string of children, grand children, and great grand children, Somerset born and bred with a rich accent to boot. She lives alone in her bungalow at the end of the close.
Last year Doris had a car accident, after some weeks in hospital she was allowed home wearing a neck brace and sporting a twisted hand and a nasty leg injury.

The other person is Mandy, she is also Sometset born and bred. We go walking together, shopping and generally enjoy being what my Father would call “Silly buggers”.

So between Mandy and myself we pop in on Doris and check she’s okay. Mandy picks up medicines and shopping, I bring her the few yards to our home where we chat, drink tea and hopefully stop her being lonely. Yesterdays visit went something like this.
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Mandy brought Doris in for a cuppa, a cake and a chat. Doris was selling the church/village monthly paper which she put on the table, as I fetched my purse.
“Thrush hasn’t visited the area for nigh on three years” Said Doris as She took the money for the paper. She sniffed and went on to blame the majestic Magpie that bounced like a youth across my back lawn.
*Pointing* she said “Bloomin vermin they are, steal eggs, eat chicks and hedge hop, that’s the rascal”, she unpeeled her coat and nestled her bottom into a big armchair. I was pretty sure Mr Thrush had been feasting from my lawn for three weeks now, but not wanting to contradict until I was certain; I kept schtum.

Doris and Mandy debated the culling of Magpies and Badgers in Somerset, as they blew their tea, licked chocolate from their fingers and chortled away in their Somerset dialect. John ‘best half’, championed the Magpie and thought Badgers beautiful, which gave me an opening to voice my opinion. Doris was having none of it “Vermin I say, and so would the farmers if you asked them”.
Doris let slip a few snippets of village gossip (which are now in my note book for later use) she wagged her finger in her I’m telling you manner several times before her cake was finished. A pleasant interlude was had, everyone hugged and thanked my best half for the lively debate and the ladies left.

This morning in writer mode I got up about five thirty after an hour #writing #Editing I took my morning tea to the french windows and sat. The sun filtered by the rain began to sneak through the sycamore at the bottom of the garden. Then there on the lawn, delving it’s spikey beak through the sod in search of a juicy breakfast was Mr Thrush. My photographic skills or lack of stopped me from catching a picture good enough for here. But fortunately my sister in law is an avid photographer and allowed me to post her picture of a thrush in full song.
Our love of the wildlife here had me researching the RSPB website; hoping to see if I could do anything to encourage more into the garden.
My googling revealed that the Thrush is on an RSPB red list; which means numbers are very low . But I was pleased to be right when I read that the Magpie and Sparrow Hawk are not responsible for the decline of small song birds.
The ‘offender’ as Doris would say, are the farmers, for filling in wetland ditches and pulling up the hedgerows. The very people that were being defended ( by the farmers daughter) only yesterday at my table.
Now I just have to get the courage to tell Doris she is wrong…
I may leave it a while, after all I can’t afford to lose a source of information, or upset the locals… not this week.

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press  here to read others take on Coleen and Ronovan’s prompt.
My picture says it all… tea the cure for everything, the first step to fit in to a new life. A rebirth of us.

She Was Small But She Was Fierce “Where did I Go”?

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“Sometimes I wonder how we did the things we did.
A smaller version of me climbed trees to scrump apples, ran so fast the wind couldn’t ruffle my hair, made a collage, painted a scene; art fit for a gallery. Was it me at all?”

Others built warships from balsa wood, and painted soldiers ruby red, danced with satin laced shoes and some learned needlepoint, or pricked seams to craft a frock.
Boys with hair grips showed us how to pick a lock. Riding the handlebars of wonky wheeled bikes, proud on a stage with squealing mic’s that didn’t spoil what I would sing or say, that self took it in her stride and did it anyway.

I championed the underdog and put playground bullies in their place; mostly with my tongue, because in my head it was the right thing to do. After such a scene I’d maybe come off worse and cry like a sop, but I’d get up with a skip and a hop and carry on undeterred, lesson learned but sometimes a gentle soul saved.

Mostly I have done what I thought was right, at least in the guise of my smaller self I believe I did. My need to talk and tell a tale stayed as did the ability to hold time still with words. My wordy thing didn’t escape nor the tears, the ones that flow shamelessly at a nasty word, or a sad film, or brought on by the pages of a book. I was and am a crier it is the part of me that exposes my underbelly.

“When did the courage to leap dissipate? When did I begin to hesitate, or worry what other people thought?” I am still that girl, I am older, taller (not much) heavier than I once was, which I suppose slows your pace. Now i have wisdom on my side, but I think it through first and the moment has gone. I wonder what others would think if I gave him a piece of my mind … the boy who kicked his Mother in the supermarket, or the teenagers shoving a child at the bus stop. When did the fear of me being hurt get in the way of what I know was the right thing to do? These hesitations, or lack of finishing, the things that once you would not have given a second thought to; they bother me.

writers quote wednesday writing challenge

This was inspired by Writers qoute Wednesday Thank you Ronovon and Coleen
Please do visit and read other interpretations of wisdom press to do so thank you.

My Shakespeare Quote made me think outside of the norm I really hope you like it.

We grow and allow insecurities and media hype get in the way of what was seen once as ” putting someone in their place.” We had an unspoken respect for people, those who without violence pulled you up, put you right. We are a society of people scared to use freedom of speech, we turn the other cheek, don’t look it will go away. I want to be that fearless girl, who takes a knock or two for standing up for others. I want my smaller fearless self back.

This post, some would say is the indulgent outpourings of my mind, and on that note I don’t expect much in the way of responses but if you do… if you feel, we as individuals have left something behind; along with our childhoods, and you like me wish it hadn’t gone; then tell me. Or maybe I am… the only one?

Picture was loaned from pixaby. Thank you a free resource that is greatly appreciated.

 

A Musical Reminder For A Valentine’s Weekend.

If this is the pain of love does it mean that it will make me sing like this? A fantastic voice and magnificent artistry.
On Valintines weekend we must recognise the pain
Please press the link there is no filth not on my watch, just an over cautious censorship scantily clad couple but no “Bits showing” please enjoy her voice is amazing.
Mix – Paloma Faith: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PaKr9gWqwl4&list=RDEM_u1Z4hWjcHRotgPSJynsRQ

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A match made in eutopia?
Oh my, a Valentines mischeif is afoot.
Please let me know what you think of my song choice
then pop across here to join the valantines party here with Jaquie here
Also right on this link is a wonderful musical blog share why not join in leave a like or a favorite song.
https://jenslyon.wordpress.com/2016/02/13/valentines-day-weekend-blogshare/

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