I talk to the trees………..

This popped up in my Facebook “memories” today. I thought it may be of interest, even though it is rather a long read.

Peter's pondering

Not only do I talk to the trees, I talk to all manner of things.

Each morning I go for a walk.

I have various routes, but all take in fields, woodland, the River Erewash, the Erewash canal, bridges, a main road, and suburban streets.

Some days I hardly see a living soul, others I see far too many!

My normal route takes me down my road, which has only some 9 houses. At the bottom of the road I have my first conversation, with a brazen hussy who rolls on the ground and will not let me pass before she is satisfied. Somewhere close by her brother will be watching. He is more timid and undemanding. Their Mummy lives at the end house and thinks they are both boys!

I explain that I have to get on, and continue on my way. She follows, then runs ahead. It is…

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My inheritance

I just updated my random post generator picture and tried it out. I came across this, written 4 years ago. I like it. I hope you do too!

Peter's pondering

I love a good sentence, they’re always a joy

it’s something I learned from my dad as a boy

he left school at 14 as people did then

but always was good with a paper and pen

he used to write poems and now, so do I

they’re not very good but I do like to try

in fact, if you wait just a moment or two

I’ll write one right now especially for you

No, don’t go away, just tarry awhile

I’ll jot down a verse with a guaranteed smile

Just switch off your phone and turn up your ears

put worries aside and forget all your fears

now listen to you, switch off all the rest

listen to feelings deep down in your breast

listen to smells of the world on your skin

listen to air as you’re breathing it in

listen to images deep in your brain

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Twittering Tales # 147 – 30 July 2019

It’s time again, for Kat Myrman’s wonderful challenge, to write a story, inspired by her picture prompt, in 280 characters or fewer.

Here is this week’s prompt and my contribution.

Check out all the fabulously creative entries here and, if you’ve never had a go, why not try a story of your own? You may surprise yourself!

beach-4365491_1280Photo by enriquelopezgarre at Pixabay.com

I had difficulty this week in coming up with a tale that I was happy with. In the course of trying, I discovered that  a coarse sand grain may have a diameter of 1/20th of an inch. A first-order approximation of the number of grains of sand in one cubic inch (assuming cubic arrangement, spherical grains, uniformly sized) would be 20 x 20 x 20, or 8,000.

I am still managing to learn new things, even at my vast age! Use this information wisely folks.

Instead of a tale I imagined all of the difficulties of keeping the family happy, and entertained, on a crowded beach.

Happy holiday

Lots of people twittering

most of them are littering

beach and ocean too

surely that’s not you

 

angry folk are bickering

bullies nasty snickering

what are we to do

what is that to you?

 

Mums and Dads with separate lives

wonder then that love survives

a rather dismal view

it’s really up to you

(280 characters)

Song Lyric Sunday 16/06/2019 – Dad /Father /Barbecue

img_1345-3Thank you to Jim Adams, who tirelessly hosts Song Lyric Sunday and gives us the chance to share lots of favourite, and some not so familiar, songs.

The theme for this week, Dad/ Father/ Barbecue, is apt in some ways for anyone in the United Kingdom in that it is Father’s Day, as it is for the vast majority of countries, although not all. However, we are experiencing some pretty awful rainy weather at the moment so you’ll have to forgive me if I pass on the Barbecue!

If you fancy sharing one of your favourite songs you can find out how to participate, and also listen to all the great entries, here.

Not everyone wants to be a Dad, although, for me, I reckon it is one of the best things in the world.

I consider myself very blessed to have been able to be responsible for my little girl, and to have seen her grow up into a fine young lady, and to get married to a marvellous, loving, and caring husband. So, to celebrate that fact, I have chosen to share with you Daddy’s Little Girl written by Robert Burke and Horace Gerlach in 1949, and recorded by Steve Conway, in 1950.

Steve was one of Britain’s leading 20th Century popular singers. Born Walter James Groom in Bethnal Green, on 20 October 1920, he came from a very poor East End family. He began his singing career in local talent contests before being spotted by Reg Morgan and Charlie Chester (it was Chester who originated the stage name Steve Conway). Together they ran the Victory Publishing Company and managed to get Conway an audition for the BBC. Steve Conway appeared on several BBC shows and also began to appear on the club circuit, singing for such orchestras as Joe Loss, Maurice Winnink and Lew Stone. As Steve Conway’s career progressed so too did his popularity both in the UK and in America, with celebrities such as Bob Hope seeing Conway live. Arguably his best remembered broadcasts came in the Sunday afternoon series “Sweet Serenade”. Later he broke into post-war television work which began with the variety show “Melody And Mirth”. Steve Conway was plagued with a heart condition for most of his life. He died in London’s Guys Hospital, following surgery, on 19 April 1952, at the age of only 31. His death received wide coverage in both the musical and national press. He was cremated at Golders Green Crematorium on the 25th April following a service at 2:30PM. A congregation of about 100 attended which included bandleaders, vocalists, musicians, recording executives, music publishers, song writers, artistes, agents, managers and reporters. Amongst the many wreaths from fans and stars alike was one from his daughter. It was in the shape of a miniature chair inscribed “Daddy’s Little Girl”, a poignant memory of his hit song.”

Bio by: Kieran Smith

Daddy’s Little Girl

You’re the end of the rainbow, my pot of gold
You’re daddy’s little girl to have and hold
A precious gem is what you are
You’re mommy’s bright and shining star

You’re the spirit of Christmas, my star on the tree
You’re the Easter Bunny to mommy and me
You’re sugar, you’re spice, you’re everything nice
And you’re daddy’s little girl

Little girl of mine with eyes of shining blue
Little girl of mine I love you, yes I do
No one else could be so sweet
You have made my life complete

You’re the end of the rainbow, my pot of gold
You’re daddy’s little girl to have and hold
A precious gem is what you are
You’re mommy’s bright and shining star

You’re the treasure I cherish, so sparkling and bright
You were touched by holy and beautiful light
Like angels that sing, a heavenly thing
And you’re daddy’s little girl

I am adding links to alternative versions below. The Mills Brothers recording is particularly good, but there are very many versions and the song has become quite a popular Father/Daughter first dance at weddings.

The Mills Brothers

Al Martino

Michael Bublé

 

Who Paints The Sky? — Gloria Smud

Over at Gloria Smud, Debbie’s Dad has been busy, as usual, helping to paint some really glorious skies. Pop over and hear all about it. You will not be disappointed.

Who Paints The Sky? Who has the job of painting the sky, Who owns the ladders to reach up so high, Who knows which colourful palletes delight, Perpetual artwork designed to excite! A fracture appears at the breaking of dawn, A slither of pink cracks; the new day is born. A blank canvas waits for…

via Who Paints The Sky? — Gloria Smud

Twittering Tales #134 – 30 April 2019

It’s time again, for Kat Myrman’s wonderful challenge, to write a story, inspired by her picture prompt, in 280 characters or fewer.

Here is this week’s prompt and my contribution.

Check out all the fabulously creative entries here and, if you’ve never had a go, why not try a story of your own? You may surprise yourself!

img_4478-1Photo by Suzy Hazelwood at Pexels.com

Special Delivery

There was no such thing as first and second class post then, all letters were important.

These, especially.

They explained why Daddy had to go away; why he couldn’t return.

Sadly, they never arrived, having been stolen by a dishonest postman.

Found 20 years later.

Delivered too late!

(280 characters)

These types of UK definitive stamps known as Wildings were first issued in 1952

In 1956 when this letter was sent, the postal rate was 2½d for up to 2oz (1 penny for 56.7 grams)

Twittering Tales #130 – 2 April 2019

It’s time again, for Kat Myrman’s wonderful challenge, to write a story, inspired by her picture prompt, in 280 characters or fewer.

Here is this week’s prompt and my contribution.

Check out all the fabulously creative entries here and, if you’ve never had a go, why not try a story of your own? You may surprise yourself!

img_4326Photo by Marc Schäfer at Unsplash.com

A sad room, full of empty bottles, was the only thing left by the father I’d not seen for the past 25 years.

The police had contacted me after finding an old newspaper cutting that identified me.

After settling his debts, I left the room, the memories, and the empty words, behind.

(279 characters)