It was probably a warm and sunny morning in late May 1995,when Christopher Reeves set off to participate in an equestrian event.
The American actor is well known for his role as Superman. He may even have felt pretty confident the day would go his way.
Little did he know his life was about to change forever. He fell from his horse, landing on his head and leaving him paralysed from the neck down for the rest of his life.
I think we should think about and remember this true story, from time to time.
I would like to change the word ‘ Where’ in today’s Prompt, to ‘ How’.
In 10 years time I would like to be breathing. Healthy and mobile. Secure and content.
I just made the big mistake of deciding to have a ‘quick game’ on my tablet before I came to WordPress. Of course, it wasn’t a quick game, was it? At least 40 minutes passed before I got here and read coincidentally our DP today is about having fun. It’s true, I was having fun. Or was I? Maybe just consumed by the black hole which has become our devices. Not much exercise to be had here, other than our fingers and hopefully some grey matter.
Picture this…..It’s a warm, bright sunny day. In a garden somewhere the grass is as green as it could possibly be. The flower beds full of colour. In the middle is a paddling pool. A hose runs with fresh and probably chilly water. A dog runs in and out of the small children as they shriek with glee. The one with the hose being IT for the moment. They are in a safe space and free to scream and shout, to their little hearts content. This is kids having fun. Their cognitive creativity peaks around 6 years old. Motor skills, imagination, problem solving and balance ease up at this age and they begin to mimic the ‘grown ups’ around them. If they are not lucky this can have quite a detrimental effect, I think to myself.
Research suggests that adults lose their sense of fun in their early 40’s. Saying that around 42 years of age, things change somewhat. I wonder if that goes for 40 somethings who have a passion? Surfing, hand gliding or skiing, for example. Surely it would still be fun to do those things at any age, as long as you are fit enough to do so?
These days having fun for me is maybe having lunch out and/or window shopping with a friend, simple things in life. Again not too much exercise going on there, though.
I get to have some fun the three times a day I go out with my boy. I’m not a fair weather dog walker. We’ll go out in whatever. I’m happy to see him having a good time, running like the wind-ish, eating sun-dried sheep’s poo or swimming in the streams. He’s a bit of a bruiser and he has trained me well. He’s taught me how he likes things done and when. I’d say that the walking is exercise and we have fun. So, there it is WP, I’ve answered today’s question.
As we are given a Daily Prompt and not a ‘ Brief’, I want to tell you about a book I was given over twenty years ago. Take into consideration I have lived quite the transient life and for this to still be in my possession says a lot.
When you move around you cannot ‘ hang onto things’, to be a hoarder would be a luxury. Well, perhaps not. But you get my drift. When a person gifts me with something I’m grateful for their thoughtfulness and generosity. The item becomes precious, as is this, for several,reasons. (I thank you PN)
For clarity, transparency, call it what you will, I will state here that I am not a religious person, but I do respect the path some folk take. You would be more likely find me in a book shop eyeing books about Paganism or Buddhism. Each to our own.
Mister God, This Is Anna, is an extraordinary little book of less than 200 pages. Published in 1974 and written by Sydney Hopkins with the psudonym Fynn.
In the book Fynn then aged 16 finds an abandoned and neglected four year old girl wandering the streets of docklands, on a cold and foggy night in 1930’s London. He takes her home to his parents where for a few years she amazes everyone around her with her intelligent, lively and curious precociousness. She has a luminous innocence and wisdom which dazzles Fynn. They bond quickly and become the firmest of friends.
It is a religious book, yes. However it is defiant of unscientific dogma. Physics, biology, maths are all of interest to Anna. Herself an instinctive theologian.
Her luminous innocence, wisdom and infinite relationship with Mr God and her friendship with Fynn are woven together in this story, which totally undercuts adult pretensions.
This is a fine book, which I am now ready to read again.
If you could be a character from a book or film, who would you be? Why?
I would choose to be Mowser, the companion cat to Tom, a Cornish fisherman. The book being The Mousehole ( mau-sel) Cat. A children’s book, written in 1991 ( but first written about in 1927).
In Cornwall on the south west coast of England is a fishing village called Mousehole. It got it’s name as it has a small single point of entry for the boats. Thus a mousehole.
Tom and Mowser lived a content and tranquil life, in a little cottage overlooking the sea. Daily they would go out fishing and at tea time Tom would cook them an array of delicious meals, which they enjoyed together, before they relaxed into the evenings.
One winter the weather was particularly stormy and the villagers were all bordering on starvation. Tom bravely chose to venture, out to save the town and of course Mowser went with him.
Everyone was aware they had gone out but when they did not return they lit lanterns and put candles in their windows, to guide them home to safety.
Meanwhile during their trip the storm intensified and manifested itself as a giant Storm Cat. This is where Mowser came into her own. From her steady purring came a voice as sweet as an angel and she managed to soothe the tempest. An operatic song which lulled the Storm Cat to sleep.
They had a particularly successful catch that night and they returned to with enough of seven kinds of fish to feed the entire village, making Stargazy Pies.
*This story is from Cornish folklore and each Bawcock (Tom) Eve is celebrated in Mousehole, where the villagers raise their glasses in his honour. There are lantern lit possions, carol singing and of course Stargazy Pie for all.
** It would have been a happy life for Mowser. Who wouldn’t want to be her? **
Dogs,dogs,dogs……and more dogs! Having said that if granted enough time on this planet and the opportunity to do so I’d would love to give a good home to a cat and some chickens.
The following was written by Billy Collins in 1998. Twice US Poet Laureate….
Good morning WordPress/Daily Prompt. You ask us about doing a job for free. From the off let’s be clear one would have to be pretty much financially secure to take on such a commitment. Sadly most of us aren’t, so what we do instead is volunteer, when and where we can. I’ve had a few such jobs/activities/the right word being? over the years. For now I’m having a breather between lives, chapters, if you will. Most likely when I find my final resting place (no not that one!) ( still in transient mode?) I shall pick up the threads of ‘ helping out’, once again.
With that question answered I shall go off piste a little.
Whilst I was considering this morning’s prompt my mind wandered to a dear friend of mine. We live in different parts of England but message each other often. Sometimes we chat about screen time. What we have seen and enjoyed, or not, if that is the case.
To said friend I recommend a programme and she responded that her eldest son had also mentioned it and she was going to decline. To be fair it wasn’t easy watching, but not a horror story either. Not in the Stephen King sense of creepy. She was right, in some aspects it wasn’t that pleasant to watch, the story I mean, not the performances. ‘ I’m too scared, to see it ‘ she said. A certain kind of ‘ hell on Earth’ exists in varying forms all over the world, sadly, and having devoted her whole life to children, her own and as a professional in Child Services, she had witnessed sad and difficult times in the families she monitored and assisted. So I didn’t push her further.
That hell on Earth, is now so widespread, it’s breath taking. Whether it be pollution on the most massive scale imaginable in our oceans/waterways, skies, land ( think pesticides ) and beyond. Destruction, cruelty, intolerance, greed, inequality.. ambivalence. There is no end to the ways Man finds to destroy the world which he depends on. Crudely digging up all the preciousness and literally filling those holes with rubbish.
What exactly is being put back, to enrich and enhance our existence on the beautiful planet we are intent on destroying, inside out?
If only all the power and energy and resources to do so where ploughed back in, it could surely be a place to be proud of. And wouldn’t the gods be happy? It’s what they intended, surely?
Shouldnt we all be paying some form of rent to reside here?
To all the beautiful souls who do volunteer ( especially you SB), I thank you.
The stars were aligned the day two things I desperately needed were handed to me. I had been feeling pretty low until my saviour said ‘ yes and yes’, when I asked him if he knew of a home to rent and also storage facilities.
That is why I landed in the neighbourhood I currently live in. I say ‘currently’ because none of us know what is around the corner, do we? I have learnt it is best to ‘ be ready’. That can be a exhausting existence, for sure, but some habits are hard to break.
Anyways, I digress. The vibrant community which I am part of, whilst remaining an outsider, is 400O strong. A well kept secret, really. Just about anything you want or need are on the doorstep and, if any service is missing the local FB page will find it for you within minutes. Quite extraordinary.
Schools, eateries, take aways, pubs, tattoo artists, well being centre, rugby club, railway station, fire station, 2 small supermarkets, gym, gift shop, ‘ boutique’..now that sounds an old fashioned word, but it describes this particular shop well. The list is endless. A big village which could qualify for town status, if there was a municipal building.
The young people all who will have suffered one way or another at the hands of Covid. This generation which is always critised from every corner, for spending too much time on their devices. The very devices they had or needed during their formative lives, whilst in lockdown. The same devices their parents/guardians praised for ‘ keeping them quiet’, for months on end. My heart really does go out to the Covid Generation and their siblings, we have no idea how it has shaped them, really.
Nothing on the two public notice boards have any attractions for the young people of the village.For the sporty families there is the rugby club, it does well too. They are always busy training or match playing. There is a big welcoming community centre too, but it is pretty much adult focused.
So, WP/DP to answer your question. A youth theatre, wouldn’t go a miss. Purposely built for the arts. Somewhere the kids can go to meet up, express themselves, be part of something. A place to safely hang out with like minded souls and mentors.
I am an outsider so maybe I feel things differently than the older natives do, but when I see the young people on the streets every day , there appears to be a lack of good energy. Even their clothes are without colour or character. It’s like they are shut in. A young generation should radiate vibrancy, but it’s lacking.
Maybe I am wrong, perhaps the kids would say to me ‘we are alright, thanks all the same’.
But I’m not so sure.
‘ Break a leg’ is ‘ Good luck’ in UK theatre-speak.
What are your morning rituals? What does the first hour of your day look like?
What a treat! The dog didn’t wake me up until 8 this morning. I guess he doesn’t realise the clocks changed last weekend and to him it is still 7am.
But that’s ok. I went with his mindset and basked in the luxury of a lie-in. I didn’t lie in, as such. A quick look at the Sky News and a glance at the Socials to make sure World War 3 isn’t imminent and I’m up and about.
Downstairs I flick on the kettle and let said dog out. I stand on the threshold and just breathe the new day in for a moment or two. The clouds were giving way to a glorious blue sky and the sun shone on the red breast of a robin. I thanked the gods.
With coffee in hand I head back upstairs to get myself together. LBC radio with Nick Ferrari puts me firmly in the picture of what’s going down in the outside world. I briefly tidy up my surroundings before back down the stairs to saddle up my boy. And away we go.
First off we walk the few steps to a Green Space, as they are called now. It’s actually the site of an old castle. Then, with job done, into the car for a short drive up to another GS, This time a local park/nature reserve. It’s usually unlocked, but if not I will let us in and message the park ranger, to save him the time
I was saddened along the way to see the blossom had passed its best. The once pretty, fresh and pert blooms, now all tinged with brown. Happily the daffodils stood to attention and looked fabulous.
A quick whizz around the three field/areas, several ball throws and chases and we are on our way out in about 20 minutes.
Back home his lordship has his breakfast, then the birds, some of whom are sitting on the fence patiently waiting..and then me.
I then consider which errands and/or chores should be accomplished, before sitting down for a little while to see what WordPress and the Daily Prompt have in store for us..
In the UK there are many ways to describe rain and how it is falling. Colloquially we might say bucketing down, pouring down and chucking it down. All rational examples. This idiom we have all heard said at some stage, but the etymology is unknown.
In a play written in 1652 Richard Brome called City Wit, it was said ‘ It shall rain dogs and polecats’. Brome was known for being heavily influenced by the works of others ( perhaps not quite plagiarism?) So it was no surprise to learn that a year earlier in 1651 Richard Vaughan’s had a collection of poems published in one of which he describes a roof secure against ‘ dogs and cats rained in shower’. But why Vaughan should imagine / use that expression remains a mystery.
Leaving all negative connatations about wet weather to one side. I find a certain beauty in rain. The way it cleanses and refreshes. How it leaves puddles in the streets for the wildlife to access. To see a bird taking a bath at the roadside is an absolute joy to me. But best of all is lying in bed at night, cosy and warm, the dog by my side and rain beginning to pit pat on the window. Steadily the velocity and volume increase and forever I could lie there listening to this magical sound, that conjures up absolute peace….
I was about twelve years old when I learnt that’ good energy’ was a Thing.
Mr Grant, my English teacher. The epitome of cool, as I realise now. No, not a school girl crush, but a moment of clarity. It was when for the first time ever I knew that some souls are a bit different. I was all ponies and boaters but sent to a school that clearly wasn’t.
Stepping into his classroom was electrifying. I emphasis again, for you to be sure, this wasn’t a girly heart thing. I knew and know the difference.
Every word he spoke resonated.
Tall, with a slim build, long layered hair sweeping the collar of his corduroy jacket. His moeskin trousers and moccasins. Nah, I was making that up for effect. They were probably desert boots.
I remember he had asked us to bring in a book from home. I took the Politics of Ecstasy which belonged to my eldest brother. I wondered what my English teacher would have to say about that. He said not a word.
After the summer holidays we returned to find he had left ( along with the maths teacher, who was fiercely strict, but I respected a great deal) I was absolutely devastated. His replacement could not hold a candle to him. It changed everything.
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