Google+ Followers

Friday, March 24, 2017


24th March 2017

Just want to wish my lovely husband a very Happy Birthday today.

Haven't written much on my blog lately . But here is a Six Sentence challenge for this week, using the prompt : Point


Do you use butter or margarine and why do you make that choice  and is there any point in spending at least twice as much to have real butter?
I lick my lips and fingers as butter melts and drips from  my toasted rolls, while I ponder that for years when we were bringing up the children we chose, for reasons of cost and many mouths to feed, to buy cheap margarine.
Because, isn't it true that you wouldn't want your margarine dripping down your chin or to bite into thick lumps of it in your sandwich, which means that you eat less or none at all,  being as it's not the tastiest accompaniment to your fresh bread.
But  the children have left home and so now we spoil ourselves, eating nearly half a pound of butter each every week.
My mother and my grandmother both had butter in their pantry or fridge all the time, having no time at all for the unnatural alternative and mum would bring her own with her ( only Kerrygold would do) whenever she came to visit.
It has become, for me, one of the pleasures of life, which I don't want to give up but which I have to watch carefully because I am eating a lot more bread and new potatoes, both tasting so delicious with the added knob of butter.

Saturday, March 11, 2017


11th March 2017

It is heartwarming to see that my blog has had over 28,100 visits. Thank you to all those who read and comment. 

Enjoyed the writing workshop this morning.

So this six sentence challenge incorporates the cue word "will" and one of the themes of the workshop.


She would not be known by that name anymore- Philomena - the name they gave her when aged five and an orphan she was taken to the convent in Eniscorthy.
Although her will was nearly broken, working everyday in the the laundry with  little food, no conversation, or any time for childlike activities, something deep inside her clung to a hope of new beginnings and a better life.
The secret silence had become as loud as thunder, a silence that separated, a silence that pulled a chain tight around her soul and now Marie was going to shatter that silence.
Even before she spoke and although she was worried how her family would react she felt the fetters fall and a longed for freedom fill her lungs with promise.
So, after supper one day , when her husband and children were bantering about whose turn it was to do the washing up, she sat them down and spilled it out and tears fell and bathed the hurt that all of them felt.
Not one of them spoke for a moment or two but when they did they said everything would be ok and they hugged her, while she said, "my name is Marie" and they nodded.

And out in the garden just now plants seem to be growing as you look at them and there are four goldfish in the pond.
Today was definitely a bit spring like.

Friday, March 3, 2017

Ash Wednesday

3rd Mar 2017

The cue for this week's six sentence story is the word  "return".

Ash Wednesday

"You have some dirt on your forehead," the young girl at the supermarket checkout announced whilst efficiently scanning the contents on of my shopping basket.
"Yes, it's ashes in the form of a cross," I replied and that was all I could say as the customer behind me had already taken her attention with stories of where she was going later and why she was in such a hurry.
In actual fact the little cross, which we receive on Ash Wednesday, the start of lent,  did look  more like a thumb sized blob, a bit of dirt.
It made me think that this muck, this easy way of life that I've slipped into where I think only of myself and my own concerns, is precisely what I need to clean up during these forty days.
So, I will return to the narrow way, spending time in prayer and trying and come closer to The Lord.
I will look foreward to living the Easter story with joy as a brighter, more spiritual me.

Thursday, February 23, 2017


23rd Feb 2017 

We are busily getting ready to have visitors at the weekend  for the celebration of our Sapphire Wedding. My health has not been so good , so my dear hubby has been working hard doing it all.
I am so looking forward to seeing family and friends. I can't wait.

Six sentences .  Prompt word - second


Henry put his beer can down next to the tiller and concentrated  on easing  the old girl gently into her mooring, trying to avoid colliding with the towpath as she bobbed about in the early evening breeze.

He crawled along on all fours thinking,  this is not to do with my drinking, it's just that the ruddy wreck can't be still, just like her previous owner.

He got the rope and tumbled out, managing after a few tries and some frustrated remarks to secure the barge to it's post.

He'd inherited the boat sixteen  months previously when his wife died, murdered actually, and he'd wanted to get away for a bit, which the money from her will provided for nicely.

The investigation was ongoing as the police, although they'd interviewed one man for a second time, hadn't arrested anyone yet.

Good luck with that, thought Henry as he went back on the boat, all the evidence is underwater now and maybe I'll get a new boat and start over .

Thursday, February 16, 2017

Washing Up

16th Feb 2017

Another six sentence story:
The cue is "sink".

Washing Up

Walking in the front door, she picked up the post and her gaze went straight through to the kitchen, to the sink, piled high with dishes, the sound of a plop from the  tap ,  mirroring the drip from the overflowing sink onto the floor.
Oh my goodness, she thought,  I’ve only been away two nights helping Sarah with the new baby he could at least have the kitchen tidy for when I get back.
Turning the tap off she went to take her bag up the stairs wondering where he was and deciding that he was probably with his mates down at the allotment.
Wearily, she climbed the stairs, glad to have time to herself so they didn’t have a row about his lazy behaviour, which she was just not up for today.
“That bloody man, left the ruddy toilet for me as well,” she said out loud, as a strange smell caught her unawares at the top of the stairs.

In their bedroom she stared in disbelief as she saw her husband lying there and going  over to him found his cheek ice cold to her touch.

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Coffee Cream

14th Feb 2017

A short Valentine's Day story . Hope you like it.

Coffee Cream

“That was so good. We should do it more often,” Paul smiled, raising his glass of red wine, clinking it with his wife’s, “cheers love.”
“Yes, we will, we will,” Lucy  hoped she wasn’t over enthusiastic in agreeing.  She looked around at dirty plates, waning candles - evidence of their special Valentine’s Day meal and she didn’t look forward to another effort so soon.  All she could think of was being with Josh.
“Look, there’s a chocolate left, you have it dear,” leaning across the table he handed her the heart shaped box.
“No, it’s for you, you have it,” her eyes held his in a warm, knowing gaze as she pushed it back to him. How could she love both at the same time? And when she was with one, always wanting to be with the other? But that’s the way it was. He was speaking again.
“Come on, Luce, it’s coffee cream, your favourite.” he took it out of the box and tenderly offered it to her. She didn’t take it.  He put it on her side plate.
“ I want you to have it,” she said, “ you always let me have the last one. It’s your turn. And I won’t hear another word about it.” She picked up the plate and placed it in front of him. She tried to be a good wife. And she did love him.  A heart shaped chocolate was such a little renunciation compared to all the times she had been too distracted with Josh to even get his dinner on time.  Even now she wondered how he was. Was he pining after her like she was him.
“Shall we sit on the sofa?” his soft words coaxed her and his arm reached out for hers.  “We’ll sort it out like when we were courting.  You remember?”  She wasn’t quite sure she did. He took the plate with him.
“ Mmmm,” sighing  she slumped down next to him.
“Here,” looking into her eyes he bit the chocolate in two. He ate one half. The other he slowly, seductively eased into her mouth, “share and share alike, that’s what I say, just like the old days.” He moved his hand from her mouth to her cheeks and to her eyes, that touch of his that always sent waves through her body making her feel fluttery and thrilled at the same time.
“How long have we got?” he drew her closer.   
“She said she’d have him all night as long as he slept.”

“He’ll be fine then.”  He pulled her off the sofa, “He’s over a year and your mother’s good with him. Let’s go...” and taking her hand, he climbed the stairs ahead of her. 

Wednesday, February 8, 2017

Our Daily Bread

8th Feb 2017

Just to say, the visits to my blog have just gone past 27000. Thank you loyal followers . And all those who write such encouraging messages either on the blog itself or on facebook or google, know that you give me the greatest lift when I read your words.

Six sentences:

Our Daily Bread

She whispered a prayer to herself,  Give us this day our daily bread, as she put one foot in front of the other, covered head bent against the wind.
The baby on her back was hungry and whimpering whilst the toddler stumbling  beside her battled the mud in his bare feet, hardly able to keep going
Her home a heap of rubble, her husband killed,  Maria with hundreds of others,  now headed for Calais, where they hoped to find shelter and safety.
She repeated her prayer many times as each mile they went seemed more difficult and all she wanted to do was stop and rest, but she had to go on.
Every night the whole group would huddle together for warmth and some would go and beg for food if they were near a village, sometimes coming back with a meager portion to share between them.
On the last day Maria was cheered because the weather had picked up, and when they got to the camp volunteers came out to meet them and greeted them warmly, giving them a meal, clean clothes and shelter, for now....