What Is The Colour of Christmas Mummy?

Inside a tiny house, nestled in the suburbs of London. Emma looked up at her Mum. “Mummy the sunshine in my picture,” she said pointing to the drawing on the fridge door. “It is sunshine colour, isn’t it? The grass, with Daddy and Mummy, it is grass colour… isn’t it?” A frown shaped her face as she waited for an answer.”That Orange” Emma poked the pencil into the paper, “It Is an orange Orange isn’t it.” Emma’s neck was stretched to its full length, her lips pursed and a chubby hand holding a colouring pencil was pointed at her drawing. Mary dropped to her knees beside her daughter. Intently, she looked into her eyes and explained about colour and how a few had the same name as the things she drew; like Orange and lemon. Emma and her Mother drew and labelled a colour chart, while her little brother straddled Mary’s hip. They learned the colours of the clothes in the laundry bag and the cushions on the sofa; though Emma’s wings threw in some confusion. During the day they sang songs and told stories, together glued tissue paper rainbows to add to the already crowded fridge door. Mary and Joe Carpenter, went to bed that night almost as tired as the children. They were both happy, knowing that tomorrow would be Christmas. The anticipation of the excitement on their children’s faces, the reactions to the parcels beneath the tree. Though not many, each one had been chosen with love, and need in mind.

On Christmas morning Emma skipped into the Kitchen. “What colour is today mummy?” Mary lifted her head, wearing a huge smile. Her eyes crinkled as they met that face. Her five-year-old was clutching pencils and pursing her lips. Her hair knotted from sleep; her giraffe under her arm. Mary’s pride shone from her face, as she wiped her forehead with the back of her flour encrusted hand and bent to her daughter’s height. “What colour do you think it is?” Emma screwed her brow and as if contemplating the world and left the room.

Within the hour Mary had worked her magic, children clean, fed and playing nicely. Food cooking nicely and preparation almost complete. Mary wriggled and hummed to the music on the radio as she cut the last sausage roll. She wiped her hands on the tea towel stuck in her waistband. Throughout the house, the air was thick with the scent of pastry and cinnamon and the sounds of happiness. The little girl’s question forgot; in the excitement of the day.

Tom crawled up the hall chasing his new train blowing spit bubbles; giggling as he went.
Dad burst through the front door stamped his feet and brushed a light dusting of snow from his hair. Joe’s nose was red and he rubbed his hands briskly to warm them.”Kisses” he called as he smacked his lips and waved mistletoe above his head.”Kisses I want kisses” he roared. Emma and Tom rushed to be lifted in a sloppy lip smacking embrace.
There were lanterns, twinkling lights and paper decorations dangling from every space in the little house. Carols rang out from the kitchen radio and sparks snapped against the guard on their open fire. It looked a perfect Christmas to him.
Dropping everything Mary ran to join Joe for a kiss; Singing as she went. Flour covered kisses ended in chuckling and tickles. With all four sat breathlessly on the floor. Emma looked up into her Mothers eyes and quietly said
” I think the colour is Christmas mummy.”

This is a story I wrote a while ago, revamped, extended and wearing its very best party frock I have bought it back. I hope you like it, and it gives you everything you need; putting you firmly in the seasonal mood.

Merry Christmas to you all, followers, friends and visiting readers.

Do leave me a comment I love to chat.

Advertisements

Summer Tag.

I always loved Tag as a kid, today I am responding to a set of questions for those of us in the wonderful Facebook group .

https://m.facebook.com/groups/SharingInspiringBloggers/?ref=gs&fref=gs&dti=169304370376175&hc_location=group

Here are the Questions and of course my answers.

SIPB Summer tag.

My favourite holiday destination.

is Lerici in Italy, i is where the natives holiday, where The Husband took me on our first holiday as a “couple”.

My favourite childhood memory of summer.

Sand in sandwiches (that is how they got their name … well I thought) tin bucket and spades, three sisters the parents and me. Splashing about, being scared in case the undertoad got me… I didn’t ever see one; though I looked.

Which do you prefer ice-cream or frozen yoghurt.

Ice-cream, but this girl never says no to any Dairy.

What is your go to dinner on a hot summer evening? Feel free to share the recipe!!

Spatchcocked chicken, roasted with butter, herbs, garlic and lemon under the skin.

Served with steamed baby new potatoes, Asparagus tips, tiny corn cobs, all in a dish. Crumble Wensleydale cheese over the mix of potato and veg. Put in the already hot oven until cheese melts a little, then serve Alfresco with a light rose wine. Magnificent!

https://www.google.co.uk/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&url=https://www.bbcgoodfood.com/videos/techniques/how-spatchcock-chicken-video&ved=0ahUKEwitoJ-3o9vcAhVUe8AKHQFoA78Qo7QBCCUwAA&usg=AOvVaw2ruclixgpBudl3q1AEvX4B

What is your favourite BBQ food!

Due to having been diagnosed with Haemochromatosis last year. I am restricted to chicken or white fish, but I now make a Mexican style bean burger and home made slaw, so I join in and love the ambience created by a barbecue with family and friends.

A song/s that take you back to an amazing summer.

Andre`a Bocelli’s Mi Manchi.

Our song. The Husband took me to watch him live, singing in his home town, in his own outside theatre, amongst the Tuscan hills.

How do you beat the heat in the summer?

I don’t, I just go with it, lucky to be alive experiencing the sun on my bones the air on my skin.

Do you prefer swimming in the ocean or a pool?

Float, I float in the Ocean. Not a swimmer, medically I mustn’t get too tired ūüėĘūüė°

What is your preferred summer vacation. Travel with family? Solo? or Friends?

The Husband and I, in the motor home, working our way from England to Italy. Finding new places to stop, new people to watch; making memories.

So flip-flops or barefoot?

Either, I love barefoot and am always at home. But on sand flip-flops stop the sand burning my feet.

SIPB peeps your are it! Tag!!

Now it is your turn. Cut and paste the questions, answer in a post on your blog then link to Reshare. https://www.facebook.com/groups/SharingInspiringBloggers/ It is a super group if you want to join in follow the link join the group and make A Summer tag post. Good luck and hope to see you there.

  1. What is your favourite Summer holiday destination?
  2. What is your favourite childhood memory of Summer?
  3. Which do you prefer: ice-cream or frozen yogurt?
  4. What is your go-to dinner on a hot Summer evening?
  5. What is your favourite BBQ food?
  6. Share a song that takes you back to an amazing Summer
  7. How do you beat the heat in the Summer?
  8. Do you prefer swimming in the ocean or a pool?
  9. Do you prefer to travel with family, friends or solo?
  10. Flip-flops or barefoot?

A Song or five.

A super blogger asked me to take part in a song for a day for five days, as we are moving house this will be difficut but I will take a twist on the rules and post 5 songs on one day so I can take part. Please visit Here  at the lovely ladiesthatlunchreviews

The rules are to post the lyrics of a favorite song five days in a row, explain what they mean to you and add the video if available. You then nominate two other bloggers who can participate if they wish and my choices are:  Steph Richmond and my lovely friend from unfolding the fog.

My choices are ecclectic and maybe my favorite colour is yellow, I love blues and jazz, Who wouldn’t love listening to Janice or coldplay…The world is a better place with music and tomorrow my favorites will be different because a memory was nudged or a note bought a tear for what ever reason enjoy my choices today.

 

Yellow is just the best.

 

I hope I  posted at least one you can dance to. So like nobody is watching let me know your favourite and why.

¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† ¬† Hear The Song.

The Daily post prompt today is  ūüĒú song    ūüĒö press it to read loads of wonderful entries or to participate.
  

I heard the beat the boom of the base

I could visualise the look on her face

 the moody frown the smoldering pout 

 as she mouthed the words as if in shout.


The song she thought  had been new

was done long before my baby grew.

A new band covered the tune

The one I hear pump out her room.


I sit on the stairs transported back

to Marc Bolan singing the track

my hand reaches for the curl of my perm

The platforms that made mum squirm.


Bright shaddow, the blush on my face

the sulky look off into space

The frills on my sleeves

The stars in my eyes.

 hopes and dreams
the forgotten lies.


I jump up as she opens the door

silent now , clothes on the floor

she wears a badge of girls of her time

her in Dm’s… me in mine.


Our lives so close

A mirror of me
 back in the day

when we were free.


I hope you enjoyed the video clip nostalgia plays such a big part in everyones lives.

Do you have a song that whips you back? Leave a comment and once I climb off my shoes Ill get right back. 

A little Reggae

14 year old girl from the Solomon Islands sings Adele.

Posted from WordPress for Android

 

I haven’t really listened to much Reggae music since the time my sisters and I danced the same moves in a line to the Four Tops , Jackson five or Jimmy Ruffin. My memories come flooding back, the Crombie jackets and two tone clothes, the way¬†I would slip between the¬†smart mother¬†requires me to wear¬†clothes,¬†into¬†hippie psychedelic wear, and the “fashion” worn by my¬†peers.

How I ever got my own identity I am unsure, with a sister who was a faded hippy come rock queen and one a smooth looking crop haired fashionista; then me. Still having hand me downs from above and, too young to stamp my metaphorical foot and complain; I hovered betwixt and between.

Today when I heard this song¬†although fresh and exciting, not quite mainstream and not old style either, I realised those other times, those youth making confusing days¬†were just not¬†my time, I didn’t fit in any pigeon hole. Because I am a quirky hippy type non conformist that¬†at times is¬†a conventional styler. A girl/woman¬†who loves blues, soul and¬†smooth Jazz,¬†reggae, Motown, swing, rock, opera and ¬†don’t forget country; and¬†all the¬†stuff that sits between.

Music for me is just an extension of writing, reading, talking and all other wordy things. It has never been about fashion or what is right, it has always been about the movement of words. This is why my eclectic taste in clothes and music are more about inspiration and motivation. If you thought you’d get the measure of me by just looking, or guess my era by the music in my car you would be mistaken. A chameleon probably describes me best, but not in my nature¬†that is even very rarely swings up or down.

For today I hope you will listen and let me know what you think,¬†did you find inspiration in the music? or not?¬†¬† Why don’t you tell me what motivates your creativity.

Farewell Maestro

There’s a starman waiting in the sky
He’d like to come and meet us
But he thinks he’d blow our minds.
There’s a starman waiting in the sky
He’s told us not to blow it
Cause he knows it’s all worthwhile
He told me:
Let the children lose it
Let the children use it
Let all the children boogie

May this lyrical master of music rest peacefully.

My mother thought him too radical and in cahoots with the devil for her girls to listen to, my big sister ignored mother as usual and rebelled. She would hide his records so I couldn’t play them, and I could only listen through the wall that seperated our bedrooms; this made me like him even more.
School had two camps in the play ground, those who were brave and did, and the un – hip. When my daughter was of an age to put a face to the music she heard me play, she was scared of him (i think it was the pink eye).

So across the airways and sea’s, spanning the generations, Bowie went where no man before had dared to tread, changing opinions and some say the world with his radical words, music ,dress and sexuality. Today I heard him described this way: ¬†Bowie’s open sexuality was the Gay ¬†world’s equivalent, to Armstrongs moon walk. Both altered the world’s perception forever.
For me his music lives on.