Twittering Tale #72 – 20 February 2018 – “Hopewell”

It’s time again for Kat Myrman’s wonderful challenge to tax our creative souls. Just take her photo prompt and write a story, inspired by it, in 280 characters or fewer.

pexels-photo-816501.jpgPhoto prompt by Leigh Heasley at Pexels.com

Here is this week’s prompt and my contribution. Check out all the fabulous entries here.

For a school founded in 2001 it sure was a strange old gate post.

Mo had chosen this particular High School for the sports, and he was looking forward to joining the athletics team.

He was a little wary though because to be accepted he knew he must first find the other gate post!

(280 characters)

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Twittering Tale #66 – 9 January 2018 – The Interview

It’s time again for Kat Myrman’s wonderful challenge to tax our creative souls. Just take her photo prompt and write a story, inspired by it, in 280 characters or fewer.

eddie-garcia-503678

 

Here is this week’s prompt and my contribution. Check out all the fabulous entries here.

“So, Mrs Slaney, you taught Peter, and his sister, at age 10?”

“Yes. I taught a lot of brothers and sisters over the years. Most were a pleasure to teach and really made great efforts.”

“Can you remember what you wrote on his final report?”

“What I always wrote, COULD DO BETTER!”

(279 characters)

Mrs Slaney really was my teacher in the final year of Primary (Grade 5). She was probably the greatest influence I had in all of my education. The very first task for every child in her class was to write, in the front of their Nature study/geography book, the following words:

A thing of beauty is a joy forever.

Now that is a good thing to remember!

Really?

I just have to reblog this because it is pure common sense. We seem to be lacking this “common” sense in all aspects of life now. Isn’t it about time that we started getting real again?

Mitigating Chaos

Here is a video by Mike The Cop, who lives and works somewhere in Michigan.  He’s a funny, yet serious guy and his videos are designed to explain aspects of police work to the public.

In the video below, he asks questions regarding common sense and the willingness to call out foolishness for being what it is?

I especially appreciate his comment at 4:55.  I think dad was right when as a police chief, he steered me away from following him in his career.  No one ever shot at me on the fire engine.

Here’s Mike the Cop:

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Reminders for Myself

Sage advice from Owen here. If these could be instilled in all, instead of 25% of the current curriculum, we may begin to climb out of the doldrums!

No Talent For Certainty

Never excuse one evil by pointing to another evil

When recounting your grievances, remember: people lose patience with reruns

You aren’t a failure just because someone said you were —
you aren’t a success by that measure, either

Never try to explain some small random thing
by substituting an even larger, more random thing

Respect people for the human value they provide; i.e.,
show a lot more respect to farmers

Better yet, respect people, period

Fight the human tendency to believe
that if you don’t know what someone does
they must not do anything

Imagination breeds expectation, which yields disappointment;
imagination also breeds empathy, which allows us to help each other through disappointment —
so, do that

Social reinforcement doesn’t make something right or wrong,
it just makes it feel that way

People are starving for any bits of respect or affection
even though we can all give them away…

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Elysian

This post by Chris Nicholas is well worth reading (right to the end!)

If you are someone who struggles to accept people who are different: try.
You just might learn something new, or even help to make the world a better or safer place.

Love is love. Human is human. And regardless of what some may wish to believe; we are equal. We are all valued. And we all connected.

The Renegade Press

Milk and honey have different colours, but they share the same house peacefully.

  • African proverb

One of the most defining moments of my admittedly short writing career came on December 20th, 2014 when I received my first death threat from a reader. The threat, received via email, was in response to an article I had written which drew comparisons between religious intolerance and a criminological model known as the Broken Windows Theory. Throughout the post, I suggested that the constant defamation of an ideology through misrepresentation and bigotry damages an individual’s perception of a subculture, and creates a rift in our society.

To illustrate my point, I spoke of the Islamic faith and the unjust insinuation that it is a religion defined by violence. I compared acts perpetuated by extremists as stones hurled through the windows of a beautiful monument in an attempt to damage its image and cheapen…

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An open letter to my children’s teachers

Read this wonderful post from Kirsty. I bet her 6YO learns far more by doing this than other children do by giving cards and presents to their teacher. I also bet that the teacher will cherish the letter greatly.

kirstwrites

I hope you don’t mind, but 6YO won’t be coming into school on her last day on Tuesday armed with a ‘thank you teacher’ card and present. It’s not because we don’t appreciate you, but just because I suspect that with 30 children in the class, you’ll be getting more cards and chocolates than you can comfortably carry to your car in one journey. 

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Letter to my Daughter

Just happened across this great post from a Stay at home Mum. It’s lovely, and makes me want to read more, and that, surely, is what blogging is all about!

Kuddos and Kiddos

I thought I had a while before I had to worry about boys, sex, drugs and other perfectly normal but still terrifying things that teenage girls go through. I don’t. It’s here. And it smacked me right in the face. How do we approach this time in their lives? I mean.. parents don’t know anything right? We haven’t lived through any of it. We have no idea what that are talking about. We have no clue what they are dealing with. At least that’s what my daughter would say.

My ex husband and I got divorced when my daughter was very young. Most of her life I’ve lived in another state. I’ve been there the best that I could given the circumstances. But it’s taken a toll. It’s getting much better as she has got older, but there are still future hardships to go through. So I decided to write…

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My life#7 – The Army -First 3 years (very briefly)

This, and subsequent “The Army” entries, came about through my Niece requesting some information on my Army days. She was doing some sort of project that required a “behind the scenes” view of military life, so I started to jot things down.

I got a little carried away!

I suppose that this became the precursor to my blog, so I have Penny to thank for that!

I am offering these jottings exactly as originally presented, the only changes being the introduction of badges, where appropriate, and occasional comments, shown in blue.

For more like this click on the Tag “My Life”.


The first night is horrible, strange surroundings, strange people, strange noises, strange smells. Each barrack room has an A/T Lance Corporal or A/T Corporal in charge and the 3 rooms that make up the Squadron have an A/T Sergeant. They are not your friends! (A/T is Apprentice Tradesman – I started off at The Army Apprentices School, later renamed The Army Apprentices College, in Harrogate, Yorkshire)

That’s a good thing.

It means that we, the great unwashed, all 120 of us, have a common enemy, and that’s what good army training and discipline is all about. You are broken down, your persona is crushed, and you are built back up again. Deep inside you retain your personality to sustain the hard times and to use outside of army life but for the really hard times you need to leave it all behind and do what you have to do for Queen and Country, and I really do believe that! It is not an easy thing to understand if you have not experienced it!

The first 3 months starts off with a familiar pattern, 4 periods in the morning and 4 in the afternoon:

Drill, drill, PT, drill, Trade and Education

With Breakfast, Dinner, Tea and a night of kit cleaning, room cleaning and homework to intersperse.

One day each week we had a change:

Drill, drill, PT, drill, PAY, Trade and Education.

We were paid £2.12.06d a week but were only allowed to draw £1 one week and 10/- (ten shillings or £0.5) the next. If you needed to buy boot polish and brasso on a 10/- week you had to give up smoking! We all had to open a Post Office savings account and any left over money (commonly called credits) was given to you before you went on leave.

With lots of young men together, working hard, vying for position in the hierarchy, it was inevitable that swearing was part and parcel of daily life. So much so that, when I went home for Christmas, I said the F word in conversation with Mum for the first and last time of my life. She registered it with her eyes but did not comment!

The 3 years at Harrogate passed with varying degrees of horror, enjoyment, laughter and terror. Some fell by the wayside, some were pushed, some jumped. After the first term, if you wished to leave, you had to apply to buy yourself out of the army. I think it cost £40, quite a sum then!

As with many gung ho young men I applied to go to war and for my first posting asked for Aden, which had been a Crown colony but was in the process of being handed back, later to become South Yemen.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colony_of_Aden

Back came the reply “posted to 15 Signal Regiment” – Aden here I come!

Not so fast – 3 Squadron, 15 Signal Regiment was being relocated to Bahrain.

October 1967 saw me in London, getting drenched through, in my suit and tie (as you did!) prior to my first ever flight of 13 hours in a turbo prop Britannia, via Istanbul. I landed in Muharraq at 3am to a temperature of 85°.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Muharraq

So, there I was, a real soldier, 3,200 miles from home, no television, no mobile phones.

I wrote to Mum and Dad less than I should have. The letters obviously meant a great deal because Mum kept them for many years afterwards.

We had to book telephone calls a week in advance and they had to take place between specific times, in the evening, because international lines were few and far between and very costly to use. You were given a ¼ hour slot. If the lines were down you lost it! Very often there was a terrible delay in transmission and inevitably an echo. Great times!

I did eventually get to Aden to help dismantle some equipment and deliver it to Bahrain but didn’t stay long enough to get a medal. Shucks! It was, however, a unique experience.

After 9 months I was allowed leave for a month. I could choose to fly back to UK or go to Mombasa, Kenya. I chose to go home and I’m still not sure that I made the right decision!

This first trip home after so long away set the boundaries for my family relationships for ever. I got used to lack of close contact, I couldn’t phone often and my letter writing has never been regular, even to girl friends!

To this day I do not have an urgent need to keep in constant touch with family. I know and cherish that they are special, I know that I love them dearly and that they love me. I have fantastic memories that I cling to. When I speak to or see any of them I pick up from where I left off and it is as though it were only yesterday that we last met.

(what was your name again?!!!!)

To an infantryman, who joins a Regiment where he may well serve the whole of his career with the same 600-800 men, the Regiment serves as his second family. In many cases it is the only family! They know each other, look after each other, cry together and die together!