A Helping Hand…

It was a vicious attack on an old man. He had been walking his dog in the local park when he was approached by a couple of lads. They looked alright and didn’t appear to pose any threat. They were chatting and laughing as they approached him.

“Good afternoon sir” said the younger one and suddenly he knocked the old man down. Laughing he kicked him in the ribs and then just as suddenly walked away chatting to his friends.

This attack was witnessed by a number of people but only one, another older man came to the victim’s aid.

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The challenge is to write a story in 100 words having been given a word.  This week’s word is Vicious.

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Note – this is based on a real life happening.  My father was out walking when he was approached by a gang o youths.  they were chased away by another elderly man while the younger folk looked on.

It’s Saturday Again

How quickly the weeks pass and it’s already Saturday again and time for Six Word Saturday.  If you would like to participate please either click on the picture above or click this link.

LATE SUMMER SUNSHINE
PEACE AND TRANQUILLITY

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Summer is shaking off her finery for another year, and as the days grow shorter, the wind changes and there is a bite in the air, we are sadly about to say goodbye to her until the next time or as my French friends say a la prochaine.

We have been particularly lucky this year.  Some years Summer seems to just by- pass our corner of the world, but this year we made her welcome and she stayed.  We have had long lazy lunches with friends in the garden.  Have had a few day forays to the beach; had three weeks at the beach house and in all have thoroughly enjoyed summer.

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And now my partner who is recuperating from hip surgery is taking advantage of these last days of summer to sit in the garden with a good book and his legs elevated and supported

But maybe summer will be around for a couple more weeks, and so
just in case she decides to leave us for the Northern Hemisphere, we are getting out cardigans to put on in case of a change.

“Summer afternoon—summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.”
― Henry James, Novelist 1843-1916

The Concrete Wall

NOTE: The WordPress weekly photo prompt for March 13, 2015, is wall: This week, consider the walls you’ve erected and decorated, the halls you walk down each day, or the exteriors you’ve ignored or neglected. What do these walls reveal about a place, people, or you?

OK so this is the first time I have used a photo prompt.  If you are a regular reader of my blog you will know that my photography is simply point and shoot, usually with my iPhone or i Pad.  But today I read What Happened to that Fantastic Wallpaper”.  and I decided to give it a try.

Concrete block wall with Virginia Creeper

Concrete block wall with Virginia Creeper

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Growing up the car port

This obviously a concrete block wall surrounding our house.  The house was recently completed and the bare, stark walls were in need of softening.  So six Virginia Creeper plants were ordered, delivered and planted some 2 months ago.  Look at how vigorous they are – they are already creeping into the car port and at one point ready to leap over the wall and drop down on the other side.

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The strong young plants are thriving in our corner of Paradise,  Come over and see for yourself.  The coffee pot is on.

Coffee and cake

PS     WordPress still playing up – the photos are all the same size but alas when I publish the post they are different sizes.

More WordPress Grumbles

I read this from Viv at Vivinfrance’s blog.   I am pleased to read that I am not alone in disliking (hate is too harsh a word) the new format.  I find it unwieldy but now have found how I can use the original.  Thank you Viv.

My next grumble is that I am receiving very few of the posts from bloggers that I follow.  Some that I have been following since I began blogging four years ago.  I have to resubscribe.  Bah bah WordPress.

Off to subscribe to all those bloggers of whom I have lost track.

 

 

There’s Always Wednesday

Through the busy years bringing up her children there had always been Wednesday to look forward to. And it didn’t matter what mood he was in when he returned from work, taciturn or just plain mean, she always had her books to disappear into.

Wednesday was special to her, her day for the library. From an early age she communicated her love of books to her children and enjoyed their excitement at finally discovering how to read.

And now she was here, waiting in the communal hall for the library bus to come with its books offering excitement and pleasure.

This week’s word was Library.  How did I do?

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How’s Your Backhand?

judithhb:

Just had to Reblog this one. Thanks Nancy for sharing this with us.

Originally posted on Spirit Lights The Way:

Goofy-Riding-A-BikeTwo young boys walked into a pharmacy one day, picked out a box of tampons and proceeded to the checkout counter.

The pharmacist at the counter asked the older boy, “Son, how old are you?’

‘Eight’, the boy replied.

The man continued, ‘Do you know what these are used for?’

The boy replied, ‘Not exactly, but they aren’t for me. They’re for him. He’s my brother. He’s four.”

Swimming“Oh, really?” the pharmacist replied with a grin.  “How’s that?”

“We saw on TV that if you buy these you can swim, play tennis and ride a bike. Right now, he can’t do none of those things.”

Aah . . . that’s better!

E-mail from unknown author (sent by Joe M.)

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The Blood Whisperer

Is WordPress playing up again?  This was set to publish yesterday so now Six Word Saturday is a whole day late.  Sorry about that.

How quickly the weeks pass and it’s already Saturday again and time for Six Word Saturday.  If you would like to participate please either click on the picture above or click this link.

PLEASE DO NOT DISTURB – I’M READING.

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Saturday afternoon.  Much needed rain falling down and I am once again  enthralled with a novel written by one of my favourite authors, Zoe Sharp.

But not Charlie Fox as the protagonist this time, but Kelly Jacks.  A crime scene specialist who was convicted of a bloody murder that she didn’t commit.  Having served her sentence – six years for involuntary manslaughter, she takes the only job on offer with a former mentor, as part of a crime scene cleaning crew.

When sent out to a so-called suicide, she sees evidence that perhaps conflicts with the police verdict and from then on finds herself in a series of terrifying episodes.  Fortunately her six years in jail have prepared her for looking after herself and fighting back.

She asks questions that somebody doesn’t want answered and finds herself in the nightmare of once again being branded a killer.  We follow her through this nightmare as she tries to clear her name, with no help on any side.  Pursued by the police, Russian thugs and a so called respected businessman (here read gangster) she struggles to keep ahead of the pursuit.

The skills she learned while serving her sentence stand her in good stead and eventually with some unexpected help she succeeds in not only clearing her name but also in helping to capture the real criminals.

This is a sitting on the edge of your seat story that I couldn’t put down.  I read in while eating breakfast, waiting for the laundry to finish and then stretched out on the couch letting the rest of the world go by.

I thoroughly recommend this new protagonist and seriously hope that Zoe will be giving us more of this feisty, believable character soon.

“But, how do you know if an ending is
truly good for the characters unless you’ve
traveled with them through every page?”
Shannon Hale, American author of American author of young adult fantasy and adult fiction.
1974 –

My Name is Jane

judithhb:

I read this post today from Marylin at Things I want to tell my mother and I thought of the years when my mother suffered fro Alzheimer’s. This is a non selective disease. It seems that anyone can get it and frankly it frightens me as I think it might be hereditary.

I have written a couple of posts on this subject, most recently Tea Drinkers Unite in response to a 100 Word Challenge set by Velvet Verbosity.

Originally posted on I choose how I will spend the rest of my life:

As one gets older one is concerned about health issues but for me it is mental issues that worry me most.  My mother suffered from Alzheimer’s Disease during the latter years of her life and I wonder if it is inherited and passed down to the children.

Definition of Alzheimer’s – Alzheimer’s disease is a progressive, degenerative disorder that attacks the brain’s nerve cells, or neurons, resulting in loss of memory, thinking and language skills, and behavioral changes.

I recently read this blog from Nancy at Spirit Lights the Way and began to think what it must be like to be in a situation where you really don’t remember or know who or where you are.  This is my attempt to put it into words:

My Name is Jane, I think.

They’re calling me Jane
Is that who I am
I am perfectly sane
but I don’t know their…

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Tea Drinkers Unite

It had been a tiring day. Visit to the hospital, discussions with the doctor, the therapist and of course, her mother. It was very distressing that her mother barely recognised her; she often thought her a nurse.

The one bright moment in the harrowing afternoon was when an orderly brought the tea tray. At that moment her mother reverted to how she used to be, graciously pouring tea into the bone china cups and offering cake and biscuits.

This ritual of offering and accepting the cup of tea brought her mother back to her, if only for a short time.

The 100 Word Challenge is to tell a story in only 100 words.
This week’s theme is “Cup”

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ZERO Magazine/Cuenca: A Community of Neighbors, a Fellowship of Friends

judithhb:

This is one of the most heartwarming posts I have read in a long time. I thought to reblog it so that anyone who doesn’t know Kathy and her partner/wife Sara may get to know her.

Originally posted on reinventing the event horizon:

I was against it from the beginning—

–the notion that we should start an English-language magazine for Cuenca.  Print–of all things!

I was against it from that very evening back in October, when Sara returned from work, lugging bags and boxes of office supplies, personal photos, a framed collage that I’d created, one that featured an antique Vietnamese coin and the phrase, “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams”—words whispered toward tomorrow, then echoed back to us, like a sigh.

“They don’t need me anymore,” Sara said.  “Can’t afford me.”

“Those bastards!”  I spat at the popular online site she had worked for (though Sara still insists they were not that)..

Moments later, we were sitting on the ugly, gray sofa in my studio, the most uncomfortable, this side of zero latitude.  Sara’s office was disassembled on the floor in front of us, our white dogs sandwiched between us.

”Maybe this…

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