Patricia Purvis

Episode from  long-running tale ‘The Blacksmith’s wife’

Kick a corpse to life and you’ll inevitably disturb carrion.

Tao knew this but only recalled it on attempting to leave his inn-room. The body that had earlier impeded his exit messenger for the man whose name Tao had evoked in hope of boosting his financial standing, believing those who…[Read more]

Thanks Libby for the prompt and your kind words. Only as I finished writing my entry did I recall the only holiday spent with my parents was in 1973 , after chld#3 born. It was NOT a success (and Dovercourt still feels like home)

Orientation

In July 1953 we  – Dad, mum. brother and me, left  our  now-echoing  and curtainless home on the edge of Dovercourt Bay – an Essex seaside town dominated by a pair of cast iron  lighthouses whose clean, and well-protected sands were sectioned by sea-slimy black wooden groynes within which squatted large black crabs. There was  also a…[Read more]

Thank TOY Ath foc comp and commentryand well done to all of us for so vividly  evoking childhoods now past, I  particularly enjoyed Ath’s reference to radio – ours was a brown 18″B Bakelite cube which was only allowed into our bedrooms when we were sick (and often. it seemed. Luxembourg sicker. Looking forward to Libby’s comp for August.

Don’t mind at all; hope fulfilling demands not too onerous.

There’s a word for it!

The much faded five inch Quality Street tin I inherited from my mother is near-filled with  buttons, their variety in part due to them having been donated by my aunt Muriel, who was a dressmaker and her mother Dora who was a tailoress. Needless to say, had there been such, I would’ve won ‘best-dressed child’ many a time had…[Read more]

Echoes of a life twinkling in time.

As years roll away from me I look back at reflections caught in memories rainbow.

I know I was lucky. My childhood was idyllic, because woven among the colours of my life and simplicity of youth, the feelings of each moment are held, perfect and bright, like small lights of sheltering warmth against the…[Read more]

Me too, Sandra,  mine’s a  green one . I also have  my  grandparents  twisted  metal  meat  skewers  too.  🙂

Well done, Jill – the only inspiration I’d had so far, came from my mother’s mincer (of which I’ve a 1960’s version in a cupboard. Back to the drawing board for me  🙂

Hooray!! Well done Ath for your last minute, colourful Teabreak entry thus rescuing me from having to devise July’s competition  and thank you Jill. for your kind words re ‘Snap is not a Children’s Game’, adding impetus to my getting on with it.

<h3>Prior to the magic going black</h3>
<h3>June 23rd, Caithness</h3>
 

Pre-dawn on a midsummer morning, Tait Duncan, drove  south-east along an A1 empty of all but Highlands-bound supermarket wagons, conscience similarly uncluttered by the lie he’d last night told his wife as to the reason for his early morning departure. (In what had become th…[Read more]

Congrats, Jill.

Looking forward  to  seeing the prompt  for June .

A fascinating quartet of music-generated memories resulting in stories that couldn’t help but provide  their own soundtracks.  Ath’s tale fully matched  the discordant challenging streetwise vibes  of the music chosen. Libby’s rich  musical pot-pourri connected brilliantly with the warmth of disparate family interactions. Terrie’s combining ne…[Read more]

  Songs from the charts  31st  October   1998  – 

Aerosmith   ‘I don’t want to miss a thing’

Bachman Turner Overdrive – ‘You aint seen nothing yet.’

Contains one, bleeped, swear word.

True   story

This story involves my youngest daughter, who’s the sassy, won’t give an inch if she thinks she is in the right, type, and the anniversar…[Read more]

MONTHLY COMP ALERT – I was hoping for earworms, from songs I remember but despite two excellent entries,  I feel a little disappointed so more Top Ten memories by Sunday night would be much appreciated.

Jill – this story was woven with the muted grey overtones of something unpleasant being cast off.  I enjoyed how you linked the idea of metamorphosis with the prompt word butterfly as well as showing the protagonist dealing with the stages of an abusive relationship and its outcome with quiet strength too. Perceptively written.

Sandra, I loved…[Read more]