A CRY OF DESPAIR AND FEAR – a short drive in the car would be my exercise but I am not allowed it, whilst others can go out of four walls at least.

So bad
Like a knife
Cutting my heart
Until I scream out
At last the scream rises
Stifled for so long knowing
That it will not be understood
Told that everyone is in the same boat
But my boat is different, a prison

Around me are walls of blindness and pain
A law that says I must not go out
Whilst others can run, walk, cycle
Go in the park see others
Shout “Hi” to the neighbours
I am excluded
Mental anguish
Takes me Home




This photo was taken the day before we went  into lockdown.  It is a photo of day old lambs.  We had seen them the day beofore just after they were born, wobbling around trying to walk on their little legs.  We had gone back to see them (well I cannot see them but hubby describes them to me),

It was very strange because I had a horrible ominous feeling that we would never see those lambs again.  Yet I did not expect the complete lockdown that we have got.  But inside me I said goodbye to the lambs and cried tears of grief.

I love lanbs and the new life that they bring.  But now we cannot go to see them.  They will probably be almost full grown by now.  I dare not think of lamb chops lol.  Maybe next year things will be better and we will be able to go and see the lambs again. i hope you enjoy the picture.



It was there in the tiniest PRINT. A small camp site in the Lake District in a field with no amenities, except a toilet. Not your usual state of the art camp site with showers, laundry rooms, a food shop, a gift shop, and various other attractions. But just right for Ray and Angie. They hated those overpriced, over full, and over publicised camp sites. They did not offer the real thing. Camping was not to meant to be like this.

It was a cold, windy day when they arrived. They only had a small tent, and soon, they had it up, sleeping bags on the floor, and an extra COVER to keep them warm. This was the life!

The next day saw them going out on a long walk in the hills with their two rough collie dogs. It was an all day affair, and the dogs were in their element. Travelling back to the camp site, they stretched out full length in the back of the van.

Suddenly, Ray and Angie heard the sound of sirens, and saw blue flashing lights behind them. It was the police. They flashed them to pull over. Ray and Angie were shocked. What on earth had they done?

A policeman came to the driver’s side of the van, and asked Ray to show him the back of the van. Ray obliged, wondering what on earth was wrong.

The policeman peered into the van, where two very sleepy dogs half opened their eyes and looked blearily at him. The policeman laughed, and said to Ray,

“Those looked just like SHEEP from inside our car. We thought you were sheep rustling.”

Relieved, Ray broke into laughter too, and the dogs fell right back to sleep again.



One day I found that I was flying,
Soaring in the sky, exhilarated,
I used to think that I was dying.

Many desperate hours spent crying,
Blossomed into joy, elated,
One day I found that I was flying.

My voice came back and now I’m singing,
I kiss the clouds, I am not fated,
I used to think that I was dying.

I’m living now, death defying,
My zest for life cannot be sated,
One day I found that I was flying.

The time has now long gone for sighing,
Those dreaded times that I so hated,
I used to think that I was dying.

Life picked me up while I was trying
To take Hope’s hand, I’m emancipated,
I used to think that I was dying,
One day I found that I was flying


from a site called Hidden Hurt.  This poem is on that site but there is no name attached to it.  So I am just giving the site name.   Hiddenhurt.com

Like a bird shot to the ground, just as she learns to fly
Pulled from the warm winds, on the weight of all the lies
Her saviour’s silence deafens her, shadows embrace her all around
She listens in the darkness, broken winged and never found


Ancient days, old like the paths we tread
Full of all that is
That was and can be
Stretching into the unknown
And back into time
When do the two meet
And is there really no tomorrow
Or yesteryear
Seamless like the sky
From which comes sun and rain
Making rainbows
Arching over life unknown
For who can know
The sum of everything
Or hold time in a crucible
All is One my friend
As you and I are one
In the great Cosmos
To the Ancient of Days


In the Sanctuary the light burns strong
There within the holy place so safe
Eternal and yet ever new
There my heart and soul refreshed
Absorb the light once more
I walk upon this soil
This dark earthly place
And see heaven
Made new



She sat staring at the COMPUTER.

“Give me a pen and paper,” she had said. “They’re good enough for me. You’ll never get me using a computer.”

But there it was, staring at her from the table, daring her to use it.

Maud stared back at it. Almost angrily. It was no good. In the end, life had forced her to do this heinous thing. Maud resented it.

Suddenly, as she sat staring huffily at it, there was an almighty CRASH. She jumped, and rushed into the kitchen to see what it was. On the floor was a BOTTLE that seemed to have jumped all on its own onto the floor from off the kitchen worktop. Mystified, Maud looked out of the open kitchen door, and saw a magpie sitting cheekily on her patio.

With a sigh, she returned to her computer. How boring this was going to be.

Sent from my iPad


Once upon a time there were some cringlyboppers who loved bopping around. They were so full of lifeliode, and they were always happity. They loveised a good time, and partyised a lot. They were very affectionate and loved huggiesing peopliodes and each other as welly. They boppieses here and they boppiesed there and they boppiesed everywhere. Life could not have been better. Everyone loveised the cringlyboppers.

Then one day something terrible happened. A terribley diseasey struckised the whole worldliode. It passied so easilyode from one persony to another, and loadsie of peopliodes were diesing. The cringlyboppers were very scaredilode because they loved huggiesing so much and having a good timeliode. They knewised that it all had to stop. And the governmentie said it had to stop too. They broughtised in a thing called social distancing, which the cringlyboppers could not for the life of them understand. They had only ever known loveising and huggiesing. That was what they were made for. And they knew that no cringlybopper could ever be an island.

They wringed their handies and weepised and wailised dead loud. Everyone heard their deep anguish. And they all telephonised each other and said,

“Did you hear those cringlyboppers weepising and wailising dead loud?”

And they all had.

This went on for a very longy time, and it nearly killiesed the cringlyboppers and everyone else off. If peopliodes were not killiesed by the diseasy they diesied of boredom and lack of human touch. No kissylodes and no touchtsing.

In time though, someone foundies a vacciney and all peopliodes and the cringlybopoers had to have a prick up bumilode, and that protected them from the dreadful diseasey, and everyone was happy again. There was much kissying in the bushes and holding handilodes and peopliodes giving each other smackaroos on the cheeklodes. It was a beautiful time, and the sound of smackeroos could be heard throughout the land. Nine monthies later there was a baby boom, and the cringlyboppers got lots of little cringlyboppers and they bipped and bopped all over the place and everyone was happy again.


Last night I experienced the first bit of joy and happiness that I have felt since the beginning of this Covid 19 outbreak. I went onto Facebook, which I normally don’t frequent, and there were various videos on there that people had posted that were so wonderful. People like Neil Sedaka (that tells you how okd I am lol) singing his hits and accomanying himself on the piano from hs home. Wonderful. Of course he has aged too and looks very different according to my husband. Julian Lloyd Weber is doing it too, from his home, playing hits from his musicals on his piano. He lresents it in a way that engages his viewers in it as well. It is fantastic. Carol King has done it too. Daniel O’Donnell has spoken from his home (no singing though). There all kinds of videos like this. Some choirs have done it – wow, all those people harmonising together from their own homes.

Last night I felt happy for the first time in ages. I was kind of able to forget the damned virus. I thought it amazing how people have joined in doing these things.

There was also a wonderful video on our local website posted on Facebook, of a young woman doing sign language, and singng, so thst the deaf can join in singing with her. Apparently these people normally meet in a group and she has taught them how to sing, as she says on the video, “Remember, you know this one. We have practised it.” Anazing.

I went to sleep happy last night.

Woke up, posted on my blog, but for various reasons took the posts down again.

I now need to attempt to get my feeling of happiness back again, for, though we know people are dying horrifucally and the world is in chaos, we still have to try and find some relief somehow or we would go mad. I have been going mad. My mental health was suffering terribly, after quite a lot of emergencies for us during the week, that nearly finished me off. And hubby too.

I shall be back on Facebook later to see if there are any more of those videos.



More Stagnant than Dormant – a post by our friend Ruth. Puts it all into words so well.

Ruth Blogs Here

Of all of the many words I could use to describe my life at the moment, hectic is not one of them. Life for me, as for so many just now, is quiet, on hold, just waiting… too quiet, too much on hold, so that things feel more stagnant than dormant. The days are long, without any real pressure to do anything in particular but frustratingly are neither truly calm nor peaceful. To feel calm and peaceful I would need to be choosing to stay confined at home, choosing not to see my family or friends, choosing to restrict my favoured leisurely wandering and pondering to the recommended walking for exercise.

But then again I know I’m luckier than many: I do have beautiful places nearby to go for walks, I do have a lovely garden to spend time in, I do enjoy my own company and spending time doing…

View original post 207 more words



Always, there was some POT of some kind in the OVEN, the oven being at the side of the fire in the kitchen of the farmhouse. At the other side of the fire was a boiler with water in, that the fire heated up for washing hands, crockery, and anything else that needed washing. Even in the hot sumners, for summers were always hot in those days, the fire would still be burning away, heating water and cooking food. The huge long handled toasting fork would be used to make toast, brownded in the fire.

Life was hard, but simple in those days. No running water, so water had to be pumped in the pumping house right next to the farmhouse kitchen, then carried into the farmhouse. No electricity, and so an oil LAMP would provide light at night.

This was my childhood, and if I could go back to those days I would.  They were the happiest days of my life.


The willywongers contemplated the weekend in front of them. Everything had changeised lately, and with no shoppes open much, and everyone being toldised to stay at home there was littyiode to do. All the willywongers screechised and screamised because it was the weekend and they were so bored. They got really tetchy with each other, and fightliodes were breaking out between them.

Suddenly one of the willywongers had a really goody idealiode.

“Let’s climb that treeilode,” he said.

Everyone lookised at the treeilode and thought what a good idealiode it was. It was so boring willywongering on the ground, and it would be much more fun willywongering higher up.

And so, one by one they started to climb the treeilode. There was much sqeakising and laughising. No longer were they tetchy.

Soon, everyone was up in the treeilode, and they all lookised around them from a great height, and it was so great that they decidised to stay there forever. They felt like they were Kings of the Castle.

But one day it rainised really really hard, and all the willywongers were washised out of the treeilode. They were all unharmed apart from a few bruises on their bumilodes, and no,longer could they be Kings of the Castle and they had to go back to being low down willywongers again. It was a very sad day for the poor willywongers, and what was more, their bumilodes hurt quite a lot. They could not sit down on their bumilodes and so lay on their tummies crying. And that is why willywongers are always such sad creatures now.



Clothed in the scent of summer
I come to the place of my destiny
Where the breeze wafts the blooming poppies
Reminding me of my sacrifice
Too long have I acquiesced
But now it is my time
A time that was waiting
Beneath the church clock
You knew that I would be coming
From your resting place behind the wall
No one knew you were there
And only by accident did I find you
But you knew that I would
Even though I hardly knew you
You knew me
Made promises divinely sanctioned
Then brutally I was ripped away from you
And from my very self
Many years have now passed
But this is the day
Some things can never be eternally broken

TAKE SEVEN 17th. April


It was AWFUL. There he was, in the kitchen, CAMERA in hand, trying to get a photo of the camellia at the bottom of the garden., the EMOTION of the moment tangible. There was almost a tear in his EYE. Camellias held a deep meaning for Sam.  Suddenly, he felt an itch on his lower leg, and he knew immediately what it was. It was a FLEA bite. He’d had them before, and damned itchy they were too.

On the kitchen work surface was a roll of FOIL, ready to wrap sandwiches in, for he and Sandra were about to go out on a jaunt, with the new camera. But when Sam felt the flea bite he let out a loud shout. It came out with such FORCE. Enough to wake the dead.

Sandra had always had the reputation of being a bit of a FRUMP, but marriage to Sam had released her a bit. She always enjoyed a good HOP now, and would have been down at the pub every night if Sam had been willing, singing and clapping and enjoying herself.

It seemed to Sam though, that she lived in an IMAGINARY world, having been cooped up for so long like a fly in a JAR, with the LID screwed tightly on. Sam did not really LIKE some of Sandra’s tastes. Even her tastes in their home decorations seemed outlandish. Painting the bedroom bright red and black was not exactly in Sam’s line. And he wasn’t really interested in whether she did it in matt paint or satin, and refused to enter into the discussion about it.

One day he came home from night SHIFT and was shocked to see a kind of blacky red SHINE in the bedroom. Up on the ceiling she had painted a silver STAR. He was in shock and in his anger created such a STIR.

“Come to bed darling,” said Sandra, “and I wil give you a TREAT.”


Well, today we have had further clarified information on what we can and can’t do during our lockdown. It came from some body within the police (can’t remember its name but it is over all the police forces in our country) and it made it clear that the police had to be reasonable and not be heavy  handed, like telling people they are not allowed to sit in their own gardens and telling them to go indoors. It was stated that it is O.K. to drive your car a short distance to your permitted exercise.

Now, we were missing out on leavng our house as we can’t walk and, with me being blind I cannot even ride around in my power chair. So we had been stuck inside our house going stir crazy. Literally. We used to go out for a drive each afternoon to relieve the boredom and the tension. But not now. It was not oermitted. It was not classed as exercise even though it was mental exercise.

Then, today, after three weeks of nearly going mad, we read that it was O.K. to drive to your exercise. Soooo, we decided that in future we could drive to some place that is quiet and safe, and I could use my power chair there, as my exercise. My husband pushes his own arms around to push his wheels round so that is DEFINITELY exercise for him.

Brilliant! They cannot stop us doing that, surely, though it is not walking, cycling or running.

Anyway, we are going to try it. We will never survive this lockdown if we cannot get out at all. And if we go where there are no other people for me to run into, we should be O.K. So watch out. Here we come!

As a P.S.  the rules are mad though.  You are permitted to sit down on your walk and have a picnic but you are not permitted to sit down on a park bench for a breather if you are tired.



One day some mambypoobers decided to go to the market in the next townieville. Normally they spent the day mamypoobling around in the fieldoes, so this was something really newilode for them. None of them could drive, nor even ridies a bikelop, so they had to walkies the five mileiodes to the towniville. It was quite a chillyode day, and so they had to dress up warmilode in lots of jumperies and three coatilodes. They still shiverised though and chatterised their teethilodes. They blewised on their handies and rubbised them together.

Lots of caries droveised past them on the way, but no one stoppised to pick them up. They booed and they baaed at the caries, and made a right racket.

Eventually they got to the market, and there were lots of stallies there. There was fruitie and vegetablie, and there were underwearie stallies, and jumperie stallies too. They were fascinated by the underwearie stallies, and ooohed and aaaahed as they looked at all the stylodes and colouriodes. Everyone tryised to decidey what colouriode would suities them best. They held the underswearie up against them to see if it would fit. It was a bit big for most of them but they boughtised it anyway, thinking they might grow into it.

Then because it was so coldie they all boughtised a new jumperilode and tryised to put it on on top of the three they already had on. By the time they had put them on and then put the three coatilodes on top, they were so fatilodes and they wobblised and wobblised around like Humpty Dumpty. They thought they might fallies down, so they decided to go and sit on a wall. But then they wibble wobbliesed off the wall and brokiesed into lots of pieces and no one could put them back together again, and so that was the end of the mambypoobers.




How many doors does your property have (rooms, back, front etc)

We have a front door, white with a goldy coloured knocker on it and a bell too. We have a door going from the kitchen out onto the drive at the side of the house, which is, at a certain point, closed off by tall bolted gates so that no one can get round to the back from off the street. Then we have a very very small dining room off the kitchen which has a patio door out onto the small back garden that slopes uphill a bit and is rather uneven.
Do you have a separate lounge to entertain your guests or do you prefer to congregate round a table in the kitchen?

We don’t have many guests but we sometimes have one male friend who comes. He used to be our gardener and we knew him from Tropical Fish Club in the past. He sits in the kitchen with us, and we just natter. He has a cup of tea or two, and hubby used to make him a bacon butty but he doesn’t now, as our friend doesn’t want one nowadays. Sometimes we have someone come who used to go to the writing group that I used to go to, but we all sit in the front room and natter when he comes.
Do you have a garden?

Yes, we have a small front garden, just a bit longer than the length of our estate car (needed to transport two wheelchairs plus one dog behind us). In it is a beautiful corkscrew willow tree that we transported here when we moved here from Derbyshire. It was very small then, but now it is huge! We get lots of birds in it as it is the only tree on our road.

We have a small back garden, with a small lawn, and some shrubs and bushes. Bamboo, camellia, roses, passion flowers going the full length of the garage at the side, lilac, magnolias. We have a very small round garden table and two chairs (they look like iron but they are not) a bird bath and a sun dial.
Do you have the radio/music on when you have visitors.

No we never have music on as we talk.
Do you prefer a group of guests or just one or two at a time?

Just one at a time as mentioned above. Both of those who occasionally come are ill in some way, and disabled.
Do you provide biscuits or cake?

No, but they could have them if they wanted them.

Do you keep specific crockery (mugs, cups, plates) for visitors only?

The ex gardener has his own mug.

Do you have pictures on the wall?

Yes we have lots of pictures on our walls. Above the huge farmhouse type brick fireplace in the front room we have a picture called “The Angelus,” which is of a man and his wife in medieval times working the land, but stopping and bowing their heads at the sound of the Angelus Bell, as happened in those days. We have one or two small Lowry pictures, and some of the Harvest to remind me of my grandparents’ farm and happy days. None of these pictures can I see any more.

Do you have flowers indoors?

Not very often but I would like to have them even if I cannot see them



“Oooh, I really LIKE that man,” said Joanna to her friend, as David passed by the window to their office on the steelworks. David had noticed Joann too, and the feeling was mutual. And, as things are wont to go, they soon ended up together, and in fact, married.

They both enjoyed a good HOP and went often to a local pub where the men got dressed up in cowboy hats and the women had cowgirl boots on. Joanna had never seen anything like this before, and, being the person she was, she wanted to enter this IMAGINARY land. And so, one Saturday found her trying on and eventually purchasing what looked like cowgirl boots.

David, however, was much more conservative, and did not want to enter into such frivolity. Joanna was most upset by this, saying he always wanted to spoil her fun. And that was the first row that they had in their marriage.

Sent from my iPad


The WordPress flea has bitten a few
I’m really sorry, with no more ado
I’ll look for some spray to exterminate
And all of those fleas will graduate
To a higher place right up in the sky
To a much better land now they will all fly
And you will be free and we will be bold
Plese, don’t stand out there, come in from the cold




I watch them swooping, soaring, diving,
Dancing in the air in pure joy
And I hear their song from the trees
Their wings unclipped
Their voices not silenced
Free to sing as they will
Whatever their song
I sang to you a song
and you silenced me
Clipped my wings
No longer could I soar with the birds
But in the darkness of the prison you put me in
My song rises
In the night I sing as I will
That love is nothing to do with fear


I wrote and posted this a while ago.

When this life is over as sure it soon will be
Where then will the birdsong go that joined in tune for me?
Is there then another life awaiting in the wings?
Or will the dust that’s on the ground become the thing that stings?

Can we imagine our lives gone and nothing to remain
Except the call of the mourning dove in grief for a life that wanes?
We make up talk of heaven above a place where we will go
But do we know it’s really there, that what we’re taught is so?

How many lies have we believed in our time on this earth?
Deceptions cruel that cut our hearts in pieces of no worth
How many masks have people worn when talking love to us?
How many words that were of nought creating such a buzz?

Some tell us that we will be safe no fear must then remain
Reaching out and speaking words that are their own refrain
Illusions live within these words to wrap around our soul
One day my friend your pain will go and then you will be whole

So take this Bread I offer you believe in what I say
It will go in be part of you until another day
But soon that Bread becomes as nought, broken like your life
And words remembered come to you and cut you like a knife

And so the dust will be your home the soil will be your clay
Hardened like your heart within no words now can you pray
Just leave me now to die my death alone in this hard world
Illusions gone and lies all dead deceptions all unfurled


They say
In times
Of adversity
Must be
A rainbow
Out there
Different colours
Which one
Are you
Drawn to
The darkest
Of those
Who walked
Breaking promises
Do not
Shine bright
Are lost
The night
The horizon
Your hopes
And dreams
Your colour



I’m looking for good books to read! Problem is I don’t usually like what everyone else likes! Also, I need to know and understand audio books. Sometimes my husband will read books to me but he gets very tired and this does not work out too well.

To give you an idea of how book reading has gone for me in the past, I will tell you what my favourite books have been.

I found it exceedingly difficult when I was younger to make the transition from children’s or teenage books to adult books. I am not sure why that was, but at that point I ended up reading nothing at all. I had until then been a regular visitor to my local library every Saturday morning and I would always go home with three or four books tucked under my arm. I would get very excited at the thought of reading those books and could not wait to start reading them. However as I say, this all changed in that transition period,

It was not until I was introduced to certain books in our English literature classes at school that I began enjoying books again. My enjoyment began with the reading of “The Rainbow” by DH Lawrence. This was our prescribed book but sadly my mother confiscated it due to the sex scenes within it. I had a hard job explaining to her that it was our prescribed reading from school. I did manage to read it in the end and I absolutely loved that book. I then progressed to “Women in Love,” which I found brilliant.

My all time favourite book became “Rebecca” by Daphne Du Maurier, and I have read it so many times that I almost know it off by heart!

Another all-time favourite is “Tess of the D’Urbevilles,” and again, I nearly know that book off by heart.

I have read numerous books since then. But I am now looking for more. I used to love Agatha Christie’s books, but these days find them far too complicated to follow. I can never eep up with all the characters in them.

The Classics? Well, I have for some reason never been able to get into those.

I love humorous books, and do giggle easily, as you can probably tell from my writing. I can be rather silly though 😀

I also like some biographies and auto biographies. I like true stories that are gripping.

Sooooo, I will continue searching for books. Any suggestions anyone? What book has gripped you lately? What book has made you laugh? I would love to know.

lorraine ❤️




In the old days there was no difference between different kinds of paint. It was distemper, and that was that. I have fond memories of my grandmother who was forever distempering the walls in the farmhouse kitchen. Going to the nearby market town on. Tuesday was a treat, but always, we ended up perusing the different colours of distemper. Green seemed to be the all time favourite. Always, however once home and the distemper on the walls, Gran would say,

“I didn’t expect it to come out as deep as that.”

Those were very happy days.

Many years later it was not called distemper any more, but paint, and you could get it in either MATT or SATIN finish. In my family, satin was frowned upon, as being “loud.” Gran would have been horrified by it. But once married I made my own decision and went for the satin, which had a lovely SHINE to it. Indeed, I went for some very strange colours, according to my mother in law, who walked into our bedromm, glowing purple and deep pink, declaring that you needed your sunglasses on in there. Gran definitely would not have approved of that!


Beyond what is possible

Comes the impossible

Trying to go beyond

You broke today

For so long

You kept it together

But today

You let it go

And ripped your heart in two

Tried beyond bearing

And now

I have to pick you up

Off the floor

Put you together again

And see your fragility


Soon will come

The breaking of all time

And who then

Will pick you up?



By the lake my EYE strayed
To the place where the heron laid
When the wind blew with FORCE and the rains came
Nothing could now ever be the same

Habitat destroyed while the dogs bayed
Now was the time when all felt betrayed
Nature was fierce there was no one to blame
By the lake

The LID had blown off, plans waylaid
Grief the currency the storm paid
Tears now cried without any shame
Now put out the heart’s burning flame
But look, just there, a green grass blade
By the lake


Once in the misty yonder someone died. No one noticed.

Sally was a mountaineer. Mountains were her life. She could not imagine a life without them. Not only mountains but the wild places too. Places where you could see the raptors soaring into the sky, their wings beating powerfully and majestically.

Not only did Sally love mountains and birds but she loved cycling too, with the sun and the breeze on her face. Wind and rain presented more of a problem, but Sally still got on her cycle and rode miles.

Life took a very different turn for her when tragedy struck. Tragedy in a number of different forms. The final one was when she got cancer. When discovered it was very advanced, and tumours had developed all over her body, some, in very dangerous and crucial places. It was thought at this stage that she would die. Chemotherapy was administered in the hopes of saving her.

After a very gruelling eight months of chemotherapy, during which Sally suffered greatly, the tumours had gone, but she had been left virtually blind and unable to walk. She would never see her beloved mountains again, nor get on her cycle. Not only that, but people could not understand her growing blindness, and life became a battle ground as she strove to keep human relationships going. Never a moaner, she was always smiling, and making people laugh. But now, people avoided her.

Sally became more and more cut off from life and human relationships. She woke in a morning to a growing fog that obscured everything that she had once known. She began to grieve – deeply. No one knew. No one ever gave her the chance to talk about these things. Inside, she was bursting. Bursting with pain, and bursting to talk. Just talk. Nothing and no one could fix her or fix things for her, but there were those who could not accept this, and then blamed Sally because they were not fixed, almost as if she was doing this to herself.

Sally fell deeper and deeper into blackness and depression. Isolation ate into her until some days she was almost screaming. The only thing that could pierce this darkness was the birdsong in a morning. But even that was not enough to save her. Her feelings of hopelessness grew and grew as she tried to reach out to people. But she became misunderstood as attention seeking. This added pain was too much for Sally. The mist took her, and she was no more.



The darkness flows into our mortal lives,
Unasked for, unexpected, sure it comes,
For the most part every one of us strives
To dispel that which now before us looms,
But as it beckons we must enter in,
Embracing it, not fighting its advent,
Fighting it will never help us to win
The fruits that grow within what has been sent,
Within the darkness gems are to be found,
And soon we will discover our true self,
To the things that hold us we will not be bound,
In letting go we find a greater wealth,
Only the darkness can deliver us
And make us free without incurring loss


Once upon a time there were lots of whindiglers who whindigled and whineised at everything driving everyone mad. They were such miserable buggerilodes and everyone told them to shutties up and put a sock in it. But the whindiglers whineised that they didn’t have any socks and so couldn’t put a sock in it and anyway they didn’t know what “it” was, to be able to put a sock in it.

So one market day some of the peopliodes went to the market to buy some socks for the whindiglers. They were absolutely fed up with listening to them. They didn’t know what colour socks to buy but decided it didn’t matter anyway because whatever colour they chose the whi diglers would whineies and moanies and make a right nuisance of themselves.

They took the socks back to the whindiglers and the whindiglers did whineies and moanies and in the end the peopliodes shovised the socks right in the mouthies of the whindiglers.

Peace was then restored to the village of the whindiglers.


The fallyfloppers were out in force, fallying and flopping around. The lovely warm sunnyfole made them fally and flop much more than usual. There was also a nice breezeyel which meant that after they had flopped they fallied up again. Some went right highilode into the air. There was lots of oooohing and aaaahing. Some even singised. It was such a happyfol day.

Some of the fallyfloppers had little chilern, and they bouncied their ballies around a lot, having a great time. When they saw their mummies and daddies fally up into the air they got all excited and could not wait for the day when they could fally up into the air as well. They were ok at flopping, and sometimes spent a lot of time on the ground. They gigglysied and gigglysied.

One day a fallyflopper failed to come back down again and got blowised away on the breezeyol. Everyone was very sad and some cryised. But the fallyflopper who had stayed up in the air flolloped away to a new land far away, and was happy ever after.

Just Released Some of You from Spam


I don’t look in my Spam box very often but was looking for one that I accidentally put into Spam today (easily done when you are blind) and found LOADS of you in there. But the ones I found had got there all on their own!  I didn’t do it!   I hope you all had a really good time, and got on well with each other.

I will try and put out a few nibbles for next time, and some wine or something.  But I hope none of you end up in there again 😀



Once upon a time there was a very fine FLEA called Roland. He was revered by all the other fleas for his ability to jump. Some of the fleas had had to go to Jumping School because they didn’t seem able to jump and they were getting thinner and thinner because they weren’t able to suck any blood.

All the fleas who couldn’t jump got a but fed up with Roland because as revered as he was, he could be a bit uppity about his prowess as a jumper. He began to JAR on the lesser fleas. But in a way that was good for them because it made them determined to learn to jump as well as him.

It was very hard work at the Jumping School but at the end of each week the flea that had done really well got a gold STAR. Before long, all their hard work paid off and they graduated from Jumping School as goid as Roland. So no longer could Roland get uppity, and he had to go and eat sour grapes.