“Tell me and I forget, teach me and I may remember, involve me and I learn.”
― Benjamin Franklin
For today’s #maydays prompt it’s back to school! Today’s theme is about learning and teaching. Interpret the theme however you may wish.
Remember you can write a memory, short flash fiction, poetry or whatever may take your fancy and pingback here so that I can pop by and visit you. Don’t forget to TAG your prompt #maydays too.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “An Odd Trio.”
Today, you can write about whatever you what — but your post must include, in whatever role you see fit, a cat, a bowl of soup, and a beach towel.
“Are you ready to travel?” I looked at the kitchen floor at the cat currently making its way around the chair legs. The cat twitched its whiskers and wafted its tail towards me, I took that as a yes.
“Right good, I’ll finish my soup and then we’ll be off”
I stand up, pop the bowl in the dishwasher and pick up my back.
“Oh wait, I forgot something!” I rush up to the towel closet and pull out a large beach towel.
“It says here in this guide that a towel is just about the most massively useful thing any interstellar Hitchhiker can carry.”
The cat seemed to nod knowingly then returned to its cushion and began grooming itself. Cats don’t need towels.
My life is probably more like a soap opera than a movie, and who knows maybe I’ll write a book about it someday!
My mother is crazy, impulsive and loud. She would have to be played by someone who could pull off crazy pretty well! Perhaps Meryl Streep?!
I think I get my strong will from her.
My dad is the opposite, quiet, intelligent, grounded. He would have to be played by someone who resembles these qualities. Colin Firth maybe?
I think I get my focus from him.
My husband is my strength, he is smart, funny and very outdoors-y. He would probably be my Ryan Reynolds.
I get my sense of adventure from him and also the ability to let things go every now and then nothing in life should be that stressful.
Who would play me? A strong willed redhead who can be stubborn but is generally laid back, well I think I would like Isla Fisher for this role.
Haha or maybe for my husband and I, I am just imagining one of my favourite romantic movies, Definitely Maybe. But who doesn’t love a story with a book giving them their happily ever after!
If you were the new leader of your country and had the chance to transform something that’s currently an annoyance (or worse) into a very fun activity, what would it be?
I had to have a think to this one and then realised the answer. For me as an adult I find exercise tedious. That in itself I know is a terrible statement but it’s truly how I feel. The only activities I enjoy are walking the dogs and I quite like swimming (but nowadays find most public swimming pools to be far too busy to be enjoyable).
This was not always the case, I used to love exercise as it used to be about playing, meeting friends and teamwork. For me the answer to obesity is to create a fun gym! Something like a giant soft play with rope bridges, slides, space hopper races, sumo suit wrestles. This could even be themed such as “I’m a celebrity” or “Crystal Maze” with little challenges or clues to find. Who’s with me?
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Fun Platform.”
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Handwritten.”
When was the last time you wrote something by hand? What was it?
Quite excited to say todays prompt was my suggestion – Yey! Typical that I wasn’t home on time to get an early response in . Oh well you can’t win them all. 🙂
Part of the reason for this prompt is I am a nosey parker! I know there are so many talented writers on here and I wanted to see if people still plan their work, ideas, etc on paper. This is something I regularly do and really enjoy. I like to see my thoughts before me and decide which ones are the best to work with. Does anyone else do this?
I also still write to my godmother by hand about once a month, although slightly worried that I am sure my writing deteriorates each time.
It is actually a slight addiction to handwriting, that I think I have. I particularly like traditional scrawls especially those that are loopy or squiggly, than the plain rounded lettering most people have today. I recently went to Wordsworth House in Cumbria, which is the childhood home of William Wordsworth before his mothers passing. I was so pleased to find there was a lot of beautiful handwritten items around the home (as you can imagine), although it was more his mothers household notes and letters to family. His father was a solicitor of sorts so there was a beautiful writing desk like he would have had with a lot of notes on it.
Obviously in the house, it was imitation pieces or copies, but it is still wonderful to imagine what it would have been like. How many words would have been written by hand then, compared to now? I do suspect it is a dying art to master beautiful handwriting, but it is still something I enjoy. I wonder if in a few hundred years time people will wonder why our generation did so much typing, and be impressed by the fonts we choose. 🙂
Well perhaps not so sweet. I was never a bad girl. I was in the top sets, got great results and got on well with my parents and my teachers. However at 16 I had romance, I was dating a bad boy. Someone who was not in the top sets. Someone who’s mum drove way to fast with her music way to loud and wore her tops way too tight. He had blonde tips to his dark hair, wore a chain along his with his baggy school trousers and had a tattoo. I simply thought he was amazing.
He wasn’t all bad though. Our first day we spent together, we all hung out at a local skate park. I lived just outside of town about a 2 mile walk from the park and was under the instructions to be home before dark (a common rule in our house). As the night got later we headed back taking a short cut across the farmer’s field. My bad boy and his friend throwing sugar beets at one another while my friend and I giggled happily at them. By the time we got to the end of the field, it was almost dark and I knew I wasn’t going to make it on time. I told everyone I would go the rest of the way on my own and he rushed to my side saying he did not want me walking this late on my own. I refused to let him walk with me, as we spoke rain started to spit gently from the sky and I dreaded walking in late and soaked but at that moment he took his jacket off and wrapped it round me. As he hugged it around my shoulders he leaned in and kissed me. My stomach churned with butterflies as the rain fell around us. I pulled away and ran up the path, but when I got to the top I turned and waved, he was still watching.
When I arrived home, I traipsed soddenly into the house expecting to be told off but my mum told me to sit by the fire and dry off a bit while she made me a hot cuppa. My two dogs pranced around me eager to say hello. I buried my face into their fluffy backs trying to hide the smile that was glued on my face. Returning with the cuppa my mum sat on the chair nearest me and asked what I’d been up to. “Just hanging out at the park”, I answered. She nodded her head knowingly. After the cuppa I went upstairs to get changed into my pyjamas, only then did I realise I still had his coat on. How had my mum not said anything? It didn’t matter, I took it off his lovely masculine scent passing me as I hung it up on the back of my door. For now he was my secret, even if I hadn’t been as secret as I thought!
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Only Sixteen.”
I am a planner by choice. I love to have a plan in place, setting my goals and standards early on. Whether that be my work schedule, our evening meals or my writing tasks. I like to look at something physical and acknowledge that is what I ultimately want to achieve.
That being said life doesn’t always go to plan. One of my favourite words is Serendipity.
The word serendipity literally means “happy accident.” You have a moment of serendipity when you run into an old friend on the street, when an appointment is cancelled and you have an hour of free time, or when you get two complimentary tickets to the opening of a new museum. You’ll always have the plan. The question is, will you ever have this opportunity again?
I think there is a rush you feel when something like this happens. My “now” husband and I were walking through a market town a few years ago and playfully I pointed out the beautiful rings in the window. He played along and said to me if I was to pick one which would I pick. I pointed out an unusual little ring that seemed different from the rest. The old jeweller was cleaning the windows and overheard our conversation. He laughed and told us that was a wedding ring he had custom made but that had been re-sold back to them as the couple had split. He asked if I’d like to try it and I said no, we were just playing a game after all. But my husband smiled at me and said I could try it if I wanted. I tried it and fit perfectly. I was astounded. I imagine that is what Cinderella felt like with the glass slipper. Even the jeweller was seemed a little shocked. I took it off smiled and thanked the jeweller, one day maybe. As I left the shop and continued down the street my partner caught up behind me. He was quiet and stunned as was I. A month later he presented me with it. The old jeweller had held onto it for him, asking him if he believed in serendipity.
So allow for the unexpected, unplanned, and unforeseen events, circumstances, and challenges that come your way each day. If you take advantage of the opportunities that fall into your lap, instead of sticking religiously to a schedule, you’ll make each day one of surprise, spontaneity, and serendipity — and increase your happiness, too!
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Heat is On.”
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Fearful Symmetry.”
Challenge: Pick a letter, any letter. Now, write a story, poem, or post in which every line starts with that letter.
I once took part
In a writing challenge
It really took some time
I couldn’t think of a letter to
Initiate each line
It was something of a dilemma
I pondered for some time
In the end I took the easy route
In mastering my lines
It was a selfish
Indulgence, for which I cannot lie
I cheated just a little bit
In choosing the letter