Patterns and Shapes

At first glance, there’s just nonsense. There’s just a blur of squiggles and lines. There may be some repetition or a hidden object to decipher. It can be soothing to follow but also chaotic to make sense as you try to work out what it all means. If you can just find the starting line, you might be able to follow each stroke around the page. But one cris-cross and you’re all lost. What was the artist trying to achieve? And did they get bored in frustration or lose focus on their goal? Or perhaps they completed their project as intended. If you stare at the page for long enough, you might just find some meaning. A face may appear, or even an animal. You may even see an original subject that was scribbled out. Either that or your brain has wandered off and has found something more interesting to focus on.

Key Chaos

I managed to finish my shift early. I got back to the yard and signed off the van. There was even someone willing to let me out. He just had to unlock the front doors. We walked through the shop but the keys weren’t there. He wandered off to look for them but five minutes later he returned with a sheepish grin on his fence. ‘I’ve locked them in the office’ he said. Luckily, there was a supervisor nearby in the pub, but as someone always had to be on site, I was the only person who could go and get them. So I had to walk out the service yard and past the other service yards to get to my car at the front of the store. I then had to drive round the one-way system to get to the pub; only to find that roadworks had recently closed the street that I wanted to get to which forced me to do a second lap of the town. I met the supervisor who gave me the keys and told me not to worry about returning them to her tonight. I don’t think we even bothered with greetings, but I was off with a quick thanks back to the store. Half an hour later, I was allowed to go home. 

The Worst Day Ever

I woke up. Something in my stomach is churning. My brain says that I should get up and do something about it but I’m too comfortable where I am. Slowly, I sit up and think about it some more. Maybe I can wait and it will pass. I think about lowering myself back down again but then my stomach decides for me. A mixture of undigested solids and putrid liquids spews out of my mouth and onto the bedclothes. This has instantly given me a lot of work to do and if I don’t deal with it soon enough, the after-effects will ruin the rest of the day. But my priority is to make sure that my stomach has finished its business so I make a beeline for the bathroom. On my way my foot catches the door and I bang my toe. This reaction causes me to lose control of my stomach and I fire blindly into the void of the bathroom, knowing that I’ll probably hit anything but the bath, sink or toilet which gives me even more work to do. Then I hear voices telling me what I should and shouldn’t have done but it’s far too late for this pointless advice. Still, everyone loves a nag…

Address Agony

You’ve got to wonder how some of these councils planned the roads. Sometimes they just go out on a frenzy securing more and land to be developed on. Closes technically evolve into roads as they lead to other closes. And someone from the Post Office must have got drunk when it came to writing out the house numbers on the map. You’ve got no idea whether they follow a circular pattern or whether someone just decided to join up the dots. Half of these new estates them don’t even go to the hassle of putting signs up directing you to which number or even which road is where. I expect that they think it’s a waste of money since they’ll be vandalised. You can spend ages trekking around to find the right place. And if you’re delivering something heavy, it’s probably better to make two trips just to save your arms.

Chris the Lad

Tall and cuddly with wispy white hair and a distinguished deep loud black country voice, he’s always keen to see people. He never makes jest unless he knows who he’s talking about and never intends to offend. He looks as dopey as he sounds. He’s always aware that he’s not the clever one and in most cases he’s willing to learn and adapt but never at a disadvantage to others. He can be a true country bumpkin but he can always make a tall tale out of his adventure afterwards. He’s very partial to hospitality and has a golden heart. He loves parties and gatherings and always knows how to host one; and never skimps on the supplies. He loves to party and always indulges when offered elsewhere; though he isn’t always aware of the needs of others when it comes down to it. He’s a true lad who will always be young at heart.

The Shell Seekers by Rosamunde Pilcher

The Shell Seekers by Rosamunde Pilcher
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Pilcher creates a perfect blend of characters who intermingle between wartime Britain and as close to modern-day times as she can get. I love her liberal characters that don’t judge people by convention and are happy to support and respect others independently and without any meddling. The passion that Pilcher uses to describe her relationships is simple and honest; there’s no vulgar metaphors or lengthy descriptions about the scenery; just honest dialogue and interactions between her characters. I did find the flashbacks quite annoying at times; I would have liked to learn about the interaction between Antonia and Olivia before the reunion with Penelope. During the flashbacks I expected further relationships which led to disappointment. The conclusion was so sad that it brought a tear to my eye; but it was fantastic that Penelope overcome her tragedies and took steps to choose compassion over maternal bonds to build future hopes.

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Living someone else's dream #dreamdiary92

I’m standing in a large building with a corrugated iron roof. Inside, there’s thin red metal rafters holding everything up amongst piles of rubble. I’ve been trying to attract video gamers into my venue to play laser tag but not a single person has turned up this morning. I’ve used my best on-line marketing skills to attract people by placing adverts on social media, but the building is quite makeshift and sparse which hasn’t encouraged anyone to make a booking. There’s only a few rusty barrels and yellow illegible graffitied signature plasterboard walls that I’ve put up myself alongside overturned stacking tables which people could use as cover. I haven’t even got a light and sound system. As I pass through a doorway, the wall surrounding it collapses behind me. It seems that the path to follow my own dream has failed and all that remains is to live out someone else’s and help them to realise their potential.