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Showing posts from February, 2017

A letter to Doris; avoiding the W word and a little bit of Thursday escapism.

Imagine having a word that you can't mention. Like Voldemort, say, in Harry Potter land. Or fart when in the company of a great aunt. Or ice-cream if surrounded by toddlers. A bad idea, in the wrong situation, to utter any of those out loud. So it is with the W word in our house. If we say it and don't act upon it, it becomes a form of torture and a source of great, moaning-laden frustration. Utter it and the excitement created could be bottled. If you are in possession of a canine companion ... that looks wrong; arguably, it is the canine companion who possesses you ...  you will be aware of the strike-a-match potential of the W word. And the need to find alternatives - shall we go for a perambulation in half an hour? Or is it time for a stroll? Or what about a wander across the fields? Or anyone fancy placing one foot in front of the other for an hour or so? Speak the W word itself and observe the transformation, from this



to this
...
actually it is surprisingly difficult t…

A procrasti-ramble and a rant - on writing, fear, muddy wellies and when the only direction is up

Early morning sun



and a walk with Four-legged-friend and Bertie Baggins



Frosty underfoot



giving way to blue sky and long shadows



and sunny boys



Taking 'the path less travelled by' takes on a whole new meaning here - left, right or straight to heaven?



But perhaps, this procrasti-rambler needs to forget heaven and see it as up. Stepping upwards and onwards. Taking the harder choice, the brave one, the one where challenges are met and tackled and overcome. Maybe, I should see it as a metaphor for ceasing to procrastinate and doing the things that are frightening and hard to face.
When it comes to writing, criticism and rejections are hard to receive; praise is seldom fully believed and there is, ever present, the niggling doubt that the only person you write for is yourself. Being a writer can be immensely lonely. Sharing your writing risks increasing the loneliness, because, once it's out there, you avoid situations where others could comment. You become fearful of judgment…

Dreich, dogs, deer, drops and when a Donald isn't a duck

Dreich - Scottish word: meaning dull, damp, gloomy, perhaps a bit misty, and generally miserable as applied to weather. It could involve rain or just the heavy wetness that hangs in the air going nowhere until you step out into it and soak some of it up. It's wet. British. And in summer, associated with midges. Thankfully, this is winter and England. So no flying beasties with teeth. Just a pair of dogs and lots of water -




raindrops on the village duck-pond




deer on the horizon




and dogs in the stream







A clean stream.

A stream (hopefully) protected by UK or (at the pre-Brexit moment) European laws.

Unlike streams, waterways and rivers in America. They were protected. But no more. Not after Yuge  D and his gang of environmentally unfriendly friends swung behind a Congressional Review Act to repeal the Stream Protection Rule. They prefer coal dust on their hands to clean water in their streams and lakes and taps. Mining companies will no longer risk prosecution if they block, divert or…