“The world is not to be put in order. The world is order. It is for us to put ourselves in unison with this order.”

― Henry Miller

Henry rested his head in his hands. His crops had produced poor yields again. He’d bought the best quality seeds, and high-quality fertilizer, and followed every instruction to the letter, yet the outcome wasn’t great. He looked over his fence at old John’s plot. Row after row of large healthy looking plants stared back at him.

He packed up his tools and started to head for home, John joined him on the path. After the dutiful discussion about the weather, Henry glanced back down towards the two allotments.

“John, what’s your secret?” he plucked up the courage to ask him.

“To growing?”


“Cow Sh*t, my lad. Cow Sh*t and Chicken Sh*t.”

“What?” Henry couldn’t keep the shock from his voice.

“Nature, my lad, does a better job than any of us could ever do. She knows already provides all the best solutions we just have to understand them. Manure is better for the soil than anything you can find in your fancy packets. Those books of yours don’t take into account what the weather doing each year, some years like this, it’s worth holding back and putting your crops out a little later, give them a little longer to stand the weather. Whatever your issues, nature usually has the answer. That’s what I’ve found.”

“Thanks John,” Henry said.

The two men stood at the end of the lane ready to part ways.

“One last thing before I go, lad,” John said. “We all have bad years, don’t be too hard on yourself. You will do better, I’m certain.”

“The world is not to be put in order. The world is order. It is for us to put ourselves in unison with this order.”

Originally written in response to:

Much Love.




“If you want to govern the people, You must place yourself below them. If you want to lead people, You must learn how to follow them.”

― Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching

Eden stepped out from behind the wall. He glanced around him, ensuring the guards had not followed. He reached down and instead of brushing dust from his clothes, he patted it in. He hadn’t climbed walls since his childhood, today he’d climbed three. Instead of shaving and grooming, yesterday he’d told the servants he felt unwell and that they were to just leave him to rest, today the two-day-old stubble would hopefully be just enough to give him the disguise he needed.

The market stall holders were busily setting up their trade for the day, some still holding lanterns in the gloom of the early morning light. He walked on past them all, ducking his head whenever he felt someone was staring at him a little too long. He made his way to the docks and sat on the dockside watching the fisherman load their boats ready for the day. He’d always loved the water, but it was rare he was allowed to set foot near water these days. Too much of a risk. Maybe it would change when he married and had an heir, but what a heavy burden to put on a son, he should know.

A bell began to toll loudly, breaking his chain of thoughts. The people began to move and after a moment or two he followed, trying to blend in. The bodies heaved together in the narrow streets, eventually arriving at the temple. He found himself standing at the back with the other men, pretending to be one of them. There were not enough seats for everyone. He’d never noticed this before. His family had a special place they were led to each time they entered. The men around him lowered their heads and mumbled along with the prayers. When the time came for each of them to say their own prayers, they whispered of hopes for their families; food, shelter, medicine and health. Lastly, they whispered for the Monarch, thanking God for his presence in their lives and praying for his continued good health. As he heard the words of the whispers drift towards him, his eyes filled with tears.

As he made his way back to the gates, he felt a wave of understanding fill his heart, and his sense of purpose renewed. His role was to be a servant to his people and he would never forget it.

If you want to govern the people, You must place yourself below them. If you want to lead people, You must learn how to follow them

Originally written in response to:

I’ve not done one of these combos for a while. The story was written SOC style.

Much Love.


A Woodland Walk – Flash Fiction

She watched the young couple walk through the woods. She could feel their new love tingle in the air like static, fresh and exciting. She followed them, unseen, unheard, as always. Finally, they stopped.

“This is the place.” He stepped back and swept his arms widely to indicate the trees in the forest.

“What?” she asked, confused.

“This is where I shall build our future home. The builders start tomorrow.”

The wood nymph felt her fury rise, and when the lightning struck the woodland, she felt only sorrow for the plants and trees, but she would heal those later.

Couple in the Forest – Image credit; Shahzin Shajid @ Unsplash

For the visually challenged reader, this image shows the scene of a forest. One can see a couple walking in the distance through the hazy fog.

Originally written in response to:

Sadje’s What Do You See – #155

Much Love.


Fitness – Humour

She moaned and puffed and panted and wheezed

She felt the twinge in her knees

She reached further than she’d ever reached before

Then collapsed in a heap upon the floor

She had to push through this, giving it one last try

(even though her whole body wanted to cry)

Every part of her had started to shout ‘ouch’

But she had to stretch for that chocolate that rolled under the couch.

Probably not exactly what Marsha had in mind when she posted this week’s WQW challenge #fitness but I hope you all enjoyed it anyway.

Much Love.


Packing – Flash Fiction

Ally stood in the workshop and stared at the racks of tools and equipment. She’d managed to pack the bedroom, even when she cuddled into his beloved checked shirts. She’d sorted the kitchen cupboard, even when she came across his favourite mug. Even the bathroom, when she’d caught the scent of his favourite aftershave. But the workshop was different. It was truly his space. She let the tears flow freely as she lifted the first cardboard box. The workshop was the chink in her armour and once the hole was established, her grief poured endlessly. God, she missed him.

Workshop – What do you see # 154 – Keep it alive

Originally written in response to:

Sadje’s What Do You See – #154

Much Love.


The Dirty Jobs

Week 1 – Tuesday: The always give me the dirty jobs, the sucky jobs, the ones I’m never going to develop, I’m never going to shine! They are undervaluing me and everything I do. Apprenticeship, they say, like they’re doing me some big favour, apprenticed to these old goons that don’t know their apples from their oranges.

They tried the traditional jokes, we need tartan paint, haha, yeah everyone laughed, but I got it right away, knew they were trying to mess with me. Jokes on them, I took an extra long lunch break to get the “tartan paint” got myself a nice coffee, browsed my phone, got my nails done it was great.

Week 1 – Friday: The twats tried it again with a long stand – seriously, I’m sure these jokes were around with the dinosaurs, so I took a long stand, in the shopping queue, got myself some great new clothes, I’m so ready for this weekend. I wonder what time they let people leave on a Friday? My friend Georgie has got half day finish on a Friday, lucky sod. IF they think I’m working to five they can do one.

Week 2 – Monday – Thank god! One week left. I showed up today in all my new nails and new gear, looking proper smart, ready to be wheeled out in front of the customers, well that’s why I applied here for my work experience. Do you know what those b*ggers had me doing? Emptying their blasted bins, and moving boxes around the stock room. Covered in dust head to toe.

Week 2 – Wednesday – I walked in late today and no-one really noticed. I spoke to the girl on reception (she seems nice enough but a bit mousy) and she said she thought that was me finisihed up! Hah! I wish. I wonder if that means if I took Thursday and Friday off no-one would notice. Probably a bad idea, I need to get that completion certificate and Keira said last year after her work experience they had a whip round and gave her fifty quid! And that was just for waitressing in a cafe. Imagine what I’d get at a place like this!

Week 2 – Friday – Well thank god thats over. I got no fairwell, no pat on the back, no cash, just a piddly handshake from the CEO who I’d only seen once.

Work Experience Report for C Mitchell

C Mitchell has problems with authority and a poor work ethic. They failed to establish any working relationships with the team and at best could be described as idle.

Parents Signature….
Students Signature….

Week 3 – Monday – Bollocks!!! My mum’s going to kill me.

Apprentice jokes – Google Search
I have the energy of a Duracell bunny, the sex appeal of Jessica Rabbit and a brain like Einstein.

I actually really enjoyed my work experience (I worked at a local cafe, got to keep my tips and even got offered a Saturday job at the end of it) but I saw this quote and couldn’t resist.

Originally written in response to:

Much Love.



“When you’re young you think that you’re going to sail into a lovely lake of quietude and peace. This is profoundly untrue.”

-Doris Lessing.
Family – Image by KL Caley



“You can’t keep blaming the bubbles in the water on the fish, you scared them all away when the last collection of bubbles came from your behind.”

“One day you’ll find your own handsome male swan whose bubbles you’ll find endearing, won’t they Darling?”


Originally written in response to one of my #writephoto prompts but re-shared for this short but sweet lake prompt.

Much Love.



‘A river cuts through rock, not because of its power, but because of its persistence.’

– James N. Watkins

As a writer and an author-in-progress, I adore this quote. I started writing my first novel years ago, having first read a historical account in a newspaper in 2013. The story mulled itself over and over in my head, then persistence gave way and I decided to read more into it. The characters began to speak to me, both the original storyline and a modern storyline which corresponded. I put my fingers to the keyboard and let the click-clacking begin. I had many stops and starts, I got married, attended Uni, and had a baby but still, I am drawn back to the story, which is in the final throws now. I have completed the modern storyline and have a handful of chapters of the historic storyline to go and then “Hallelujah!” my first draft will be complete.

I already have a second story outlined and a third and fourth gnawing away at me (I’ve collated some notes to try to keep them at bay for now). The hardest part, putting my bum in the seat and just writing without distraction, but I’ll get there. Like the river, I’ll ebb away at that rock and hopefully someday, I’ll make it.

Love and best wishes to all those rivers trying to cut their way through the rock. You’ll get there.

A river cuts through rock, not because of its power, but because of its persistence. – James N. Watkins

Originally written in response to:

Much Love.


The human body is the best work of art…

“The human body is the best work of art.”

― Jess C. Scott

Jess felt like she had been holding her breath for an age. Her breath, her tummy, her neck elongated. Every part of her body felt burning hot and screaming at her to move.

But she needed the money. This was easy money, she told herself. Sit still for a couple of hours in an awkward pose. Just breathe. The artist had told her to breathe in deeply and then breathe out slowly. But I can hardly breathe, she thought. Perhaps it was the hot air. There seemed to be so little air movement in the room.

“John…” she said, her voice quivering. She hated to interrupt him.


“John, I…”

The thud that followed seemed to echo around the room. Pushing his canvas to one side, John rushed over.

“Jess! Oh god.” He took his phone from his back pocket and began to tap in the numbers for an ambulance but the bleeping seemed to cause her to stir.


“Jess, are you okay?” He gathered some cushions and slid one carefully under her head.

“I’m fine, maybe just a bit of water?”

“Of course.” Within seconds, John had been across the room to the sink and retrieved what happened.

“I’m so sorry, John.” Her cheeks flushed. “I remember feeling hot and then, I’m not sure”

“No worries at all, Jess. Do you feel well enough to pose again or do you want to go home for the day?”

The thought of all the bills mounting up flashed through Jess’s eyes.

“No, no. I’ll finish” But as she got to her feet, she wobbled again slightly.

“Listen, Jess. Why don’t you lie back on that couch?”

“No, no. You need to finish your sketch.”

“I do, but Jess, you are so beautiful, I can draw you in any position. Why don’t you lie down for a while and we can pick up the other one another day. Perhaps a day which isn’t so warm?”

She smiled. Gratitude filled her flushed face.

“Thanks John.” John nodded and after a few alterations, he was soon busy behind his easel again.

Knowing she could make her bill payments, Jess finally relaxed. As John looked in her direction, his heart fluttered, he thought she had never looked so beautiful.

Many, many moons ago. Whilst I was a student, I modelled for several life drawing classes. I am curvy, pale, with wild red hair, not the person you would usually typecast to be a life model I am sure. To begin with, I was so nervous, but the class teacher was so lovely, the artists were all so kind, often showing me their works after, that despite the fact I was doing it for the money, I learned quite a lot about body confidence. Before long I was calm and natural (I hope!) and actually enjoyed the experience.

“The human body is the best work of art.”

Originally written in response to:

Much Love.


Dinner Time…

I’ve donned the apron and the cap.

Added a bit of this and a bit of that

A touch of sugar, a pinch of spice

Time to rustle up something nice

Piping hot, let’s eat straight away,

My family look at the plate with dismay,

“Shall we just order takeaway?”

After a good dinner, one can forgive anybody, even one’s own relations. – Oscar Wilde

In my family, my gran is the best cook. I am… well…in my mind, adequate. I quite like to cook but I don’t follow recipes to the letter, and I will swap out objects for what I have available, sometimes that works very effectively other times, it can be a bit of a disaster. My husband is the opposite, he stubbornly follows recipes to the letter. Normally I am juggling, cooking, cleaning, shopping, work, childcare, etc, so I am happy to make do with what is at hand.

Who does the best cooking in your house?

Are you a recipe follower or an improviser?

Originally written for:

Much Love.