My first post on May 25th 2015.

Song Bird Songs

A new realm to explore – blogging!

Apprehension turns to fascination as slowly I begin to reconnoiter these new domains. No stranger to communication I’ve tended to avoid the world of technology in favour of living breathing humanity. Then exploring I realised the potential.

There are the images one sees every day on the street, or hanging from a strap in crowded commuter trains, but inside under the veneer hide creatures of infinite depths, each a universe in themselves.  Blogs, tapping those depths, reveal glimpses of the most fascinating of all domains the human entity, each in its own surrounding cosmos.

So who am I then?

I never fit well in any box but words may help – idealist, artist, writer, traveler, radical Christian, teacher, mother, volunteer, counselor and perpetual student of life. I am at my happiest, absorbing, creating and communicating.

I’m at home in many worlds, many cultures…

View original post 70 more words

A matter of perception. (flash fiction)



Steve had often told him he should’ve paid into some kind of pension plan, have bought property, made provision. His executive son was embarrassed by him and rarely invited him to his barbeques and house parties. John was always clean and tidy but his clothes were not name brand and he had no conception of style. He lived alone on his pension in his little council flat his past deeds mostly forgotten, his wife long ago moved on to the arms of a better provider.

John had never really considered he’d live this long. He’d seen too much death and suffering to expect it. He stroked Felix’s ears, his only companion now his legs had given out. Felix rubbed his body against his arm purring softly in utter contentment. John had a way with folks, cats too, they appreciated his gentle, caring nature. Long ago John had worked in troubled areas, a volunteer helping hand out food and supplies but adding something all his own, a calm and confidence that went far beyond filling an empty belly.

He looked fondly at the photos adorning the old dresser the sea of smiling black faces where he’d once belonged, before his son’s insistence that he return to the UK, before his legs gave out. Perhaps he should have stayed there, have lived out his life among those he loved and who loved him, but you can’t use a walking frame in the African bush, he’d just be a burden, that’s why he’d come back. Now his days seemed empty, he wasn’t used to not being of service.

He went to make a cup of tea, Felix following. It happened just as he was pouring the kettle. Felix had to spring aside to avoid the scalding water, but John never felt it, the pain shooting down his arm and through his chest was far too intense.

It was next day when Felix’s plaintive mewing alerted a neighbor that something was wrong. Steve was horrified. Why hadn’t dad gone into the nursing home he’d suggested, didn’t want his charity, stubborn to the end…

“It wouldn’t have made a difference,” the doctor later told him, “He had a massive strove, must have died in seconds, better that way he didn’t suffer.”

“Didn’t suffer,” Steve thought angrily. What kind of life had dad had, he was glad he’d gotten out when he could, made something of himself. A slight pang of guilt touched his heart. He could have done more, could have been there for him, but dad was always a bit of an embarrassment, didn’t fit in so well with his Tory friends. None the less he’d loved him and it was with teary eyes that he ordered the best teak wood coffin for his earthly remains topping up his meager insurance claim with extra cash. Dad had never wanted a fancy funeral but he got one.

John meanwhile looked down at his son. They hadn’t always seen eye to eye, but it was clear Steve loved him. He’d take care of him when he came. Steve didn’t have much of an insurance policy after all. He’d be lucky to get a shack up here, but that didn’t matter John had plenty of space now and his legs once more cooperated, he’d build a special house where Steve and family could stay in the grounds. They wouldn’t be comfortable with all the African refugees crowding his mansion, but perhaps they’d come to a barbecue …

Congratulations you graduated! (In the school of life.)



Congratulations you graduated!

These words came upon me suddenly in a dream for no apparent reason and (still in the dream) I was arguing saying how could that be the case, I wasn’t aware of a “test” and if there was one I’d certainly not “passed”?

On waking I pondered how like life this actually is. In life’s “university” we are often unaware we are being “tested” till long after the event when we can look back with long-term eyes of wisdom and perceive that we are changed. Things impossible before are now easy to us, our patience, understanding and faith have been deepened in some way.

These tests often come in the form of long difficult periods when life seems to be stretching us to the limit, relief coming only in small indefinable stages and the victory often coming in changes in ourselves or our perception rather than in the circumstances.

Then, when we least expect it, we suddenly discover we have graduated, “school’s out” and we find to our astonishment not only did we pass but did so with honours! We still see our performance as “loserish” but we’ve suddenly become winners!

One of Life’s greatest wisdoms.



(Usually learnt when the “something we have” is gone!)

It is part of the smugness of age to tut uncomprehendingly at so many of those “younger folks” hopelessly caught up chasing the carrot in a never ending rat race and wonder why they never seem to see through it.

Even the most successful “rats” are plagued with stress to get more or hold onto what they have. The deception always seemed so clear to me, but It’s no use trying to tell them they are too caught up to listen. I’m so glad I was a “sixties child”.

I’ll say with Solomon give me enough that I don’t hunger and steal but not so much that I forget God. Things of themselves cannot bring happiness no matter how many we have. Contentment is far oftener found with the poor than the rich. I blame advertising for circulating this myth.

I sometimes wish they could jump off the wheel and see the true value of the things that really matter, love, relationships, family, friends, health etc. So many pursue happiness in the wrong places.

The worst was over.


forest woman

The worst was over. She emerged from the dark, thorny, forest of her past scrambling into the morning sunlight pulling entangling vines from her legs. The relationship that had overshadowed, encompassed, entangling her life for so many years was over. She had escaped!

She slumped down on the hillside examining her hurts and scratches – they were many. She wondered how she could ever clean the wounds and then – it rained, (as if she hadn’t suffered enough!) Getting up she stumbled on seeking to get her bearings on life again. A deluge of troubles pelted down and she felt miserable. The rain had not affected her so much in the forest, hadn’t really touched her skin.

She thought about going back, just till the rain stopped … His arms would be waiting, enticing, encircling, but dark, restrictive. No. She wouldn’t go back. It was over!

Looking down she began to realise the water that soaked her garments and stung her cuts was washing away the dirt and grime that might cause infection. She looked at the rain with different eyes. Though she would have preferred the sun she needed rain right now for cleansing.

It continued to come down in torrents. She tried not to mind, to embrace the cleansing, it took a while.

Then the sun came out, a rainbow appeared and as she gazed down the hill a new path set before her. She was free, cleansed wounds healing and life beginning again!

Happy birthday Blog!



I just saw the message “Happy Anniversary with!” so it’s been a whole year since my first tentative attempts to learn about the strange (and scary) new world of blogging.

I seem to have learnt so much and “met” so many wonderful folks. It has surely been an inspiration to find so many “out there” that care about others and the wonderful world we live in, lots and lots of “kindred spirits”. So thank you to all of you that have written and read, liked and commented, over the past year. It’s been so inspiring swapping posts and ideas. I’ve broadened my horizons in so many areas, IT, new cultures, health, politics, even gardening, and chilled reading some of the terrific poetry and literature out there. I’m excited to venture into my second year with a little more know how under my belt (but still learning).

Since streamlining my blog and wading through a lot of old posts etc. I’ve decided to reblog some of those “oldie goldie” ones I started out with as they each reach their “birthday” dates so there’ll be lots of flash fiction and stories reappearing from their dusty archives.

A toast to the new year ahead! (Where did I put that bottle of wine!)

Nepal’s Dangers.


truck too

The two pictures where taken from a humanitarian truck on which my friend was helping deliver basic necessities to some of the more badly affected areas.

He states “Now you can see why I asked you all to pray for us.” Add to the already dangerous road the recurring after shocks, landslides and recent second quake. His former statement that they were on a bus returning from delivering needed items when the 2nd quake hit took on a whole other meaning to me!

I traveled some roads like this in North East Taiwan after the big quakes there and it was extremely scary (any lacks in my prayer life were all caught up by the time we arrived).

So my believing friends out there please continue to keep these precious folks in your prayers.

james truck