I believe!

I’m sure you’ll all be sick of me talking about this, but thank you Daily Prompt for a perfect oppertunity! Another reason to believe….

Currently my reason to believe is the generosity of the people around me. A few weeks ago I put out a call for poems, stories, artwork and photographs to pull together in a book. The purpose of this book was to help raise money and awareness for cystic fibrosis and the fire fighters charity via Alex’s Adventures.
I was overwhelmed by the amount of work I received back, and the immense quality of so many of the pieces.
One of my favourite things is a poem written by my three year old niece about her favourite person. Honestly, it’s inspired! But there are also some gorgeous short stories and many poems dedicated in love to those who have passed on from this world. I’m so proud of the collection and just feel so grateful to all of the contributors who helped make it what it was.
It’s been an emotional journey, pulling it all together but it’s worth it. I hope it does well as all proceeds will go to charity and help raise awareness for things that are close to my heart.
One final, enormous thank you has to be to a friend I contacted, out of the blue just two days before sending the book to print. I asked, because I knew he was into arty things, if he had any illustrations that would fit the theme. His response was just incredible. He managed to get three amazing pictures back to me, for three poems. They are amazing and so beautiful. His website is Unknown Creatives and they come very highly recommended.
If any of you lovely bloggers would want to review this raw and heartfelt collection that would be amazing! Please contact me 🙂

And here it is! You mean the world to me… a collection made and dedicated to love.

Daily Prompt: Drawing a Blank – Play your own game

Daily Prompt: When was the last time your walked away from a discussion, only to think of The Perfect Comeback hours later? Recreate the scene for us, and use your winning line.

We don’t argue, I just tell him when he’s wrong. – This was a brilliant quote from around the family table at the weekend. We all, at one point or another have sworn blind that we are the original inspiration for the television series, My Family – Susan, the ‘Mother’ really can’t cook, the siblings offer up the youngest as an offering to try experiment dishes, as he’ll react faster to any adverse effects. This is very familiar; and people wonder why my youngest brother is a fussy eater…

My actual family, not the series now, is fairly combustible at the best of times, and so this was a fitting representation.  After all, we’re all right, all the time…

Enough of my familial ramblings though, when did I last walk away from a discussion only to think of the perfect response later? I have to admit it’s been a while, I work in a fast-paced, fairly high-pressured role and I have to keep my wit as well as my wits about me.  To have walked away, and still be going over a discussion, also implies that you’d felt upset at the resolution – and frustration that you cannot say or do something can lead to severe unhappiness. Currently, and friends may explode into laughter at this point, I feel content, zen-like even. I am a temple of tranquility – except when I’ve eaten too much sugar and I can’t sit still.

The comeback:

I’ve always thought that ‘Pinch Punch, first of the Month’ as a stupid idea. Mainly because I had an unhappy time at school and didn’t relish the opportunity that it gave other students on a monthly basis. What I should have done, was approach them first and performed the ritual, before they got to me. But being the shy sort I never did. This caused a slight ball of rage. Poor Rob.

We were sat on the 1st of March, on the sofa, watching something innocuous on the television. He lent over and went “pinch, punch, first of the month” (Albeit, without any intention to cause discomfort on my part). I waited for three seconds, turned and punched him in the arm.

“I play my own game” I informed him.

I returned to watching the television. Rob roared with laughter, and I couldn’t help but join in.

I have since explained my aversion to the poor man, but from that point he has happily reminded me that ‘I play my own game’ at any appropriate opportunity. And I do, I irrevocably play my own game, sing to my own song sheet and dance to the tune that only I can hear.

It has been years since the pinch punch thing actually upset me, and the whole scene was actually just hilarious, to the pair of us at least. But don’t get caught up in rituals that you find pathetic and demeaning.  Play your own game.

Warning: This Blog May Contain Cats!

Warning: This Blog May Contain Cats!

I felt that this was probably an appropriate time to introduce two current stars of my short fiction and poetry. Please meet Lewis and Rosie, and be warned that if you have an adverse reaction to cute and fluffy creatures, this may not be the blog for you to follow.
My cats certainly provide a great deal of comfort and entertainment, but they’re both very different. Lewis is a possibly part Bengal, tabby with white feet and a superbly fluffy belly. His emotional range swings from desperately needy and affectionate to storming off in a huff and sitting alone in the bath. (Literally the bath, he’s very strange.) Rosie, who is black and white and a quarter Siamese, remains consistent in her affection.
I will refer to Lewis affectionately from time to time as a fluffy moron – as he is frequently ridiculous. He loves boxes! Put any box, or bag on the floor and he’ll climb straight in. (Very useful for taking him to the vets!) However Rob and I had an ice lolly each the other night, so imagine a standard size box for three ice lolly’s… This was left on the table. We heard a thump as we sat watching the TV. We looked around to the door and all we saw was this box skidding across the hallway floor, Lewis desperately trying to get in it! He’d managed to just about get his nose and half of his face inside and such was his determination, that he ran the box into the wall; KADUNK! Box and cat rebounded. He bounced away, shook himself and stalked away glaring at us both. As you can imagine we both dissolved into hysterical laughter.
Fortunately Rosie is much more intelligent.
I will do my best not to blog about the cats too often, but thought that everyone should have fair warning!

Like no Pie I have ever seen before.

My mum is infamous for her desire to ‘experiment’ with food. She’s going to kill me for publishing this, but it was just too funny to ignore.

Lemon Meringue Pie

I couldn’t take my eyes off the lemon meringue pie. My mother had laid it in the center of the table. She then sat down with an expectant air.

“I brought cheesecake!” I announced, placing it carefully beside the first dessert. Eight pairs of eyes flicked from one pudding, to the other.

“Cheesecake for me,” my brother was first to break the silence. His request was echoed by his wife, then my sister, her husband, my dad, myself – the gaze finally rested on my boyfriend, Rob.

He swallowed, “lemon meringue please.” A thick slice was cut and set down for him. We were transfixed by the way it wobbled. It just didn’t look…right.

My mum looked up, as an afterthought “I ran out of biscuit- you know, for the base.”

Rob doubtfully tapped the bottom with his fork. A wheeto fell off, rolled across the fine china and bounced onto the floor.

My sister lent forward, “Mum, why is the lemon bit, orange?”

“It’s not!”

“It bloody well is – why is it orange?”

“I ran out of cornflower,” the admission was almost a sigh.

“What did you use?” I hardly dared to ask.

“Custard.”

We watched every slow mouthful that Rob took, fascinated. A lemon meringue pie made from stale wheetos, and custard. “Mum,” I could no longer resist the temptation to ask “did you grate a lemon into the custard?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a lemon meringue pie without lemon, would it?”

“…was it a waxed lemon?”

We left the house quickly that night. My brother –in-law slapping Rob on the back.

“Well done mate,” he laughed “took one for the team.

I started this story as an exercise, aiming to fit it onto a post card. This meant that it had to deal with a crisis and resolution quickly. I struggled, but I’m happy with the overall outcome. I hope some of the hilarity of my family dinners comes across. God bless substitution of normal ingredients – to things a little out of the ordinary!

Please find below, a picture of my post-card story. Try writing one? Let me know how it goes!

Image

Fi