Mike Driver
cherry valley forever
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Noah Kahan
occasionally subtle
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One Nice Bug Per Day
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KIROKAZE
macklin celebrini has autism
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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RMH
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The Bowery Presents
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@fleursdemontblanc
Trobairitz - Book Two continues her story
She’s on the road again Book Two of Trobairitz is due for publication. Her real name is Fleur but she prefers the nickname Weed. In Book One, Trobairitz the Storyteller, readers learn how she came by that nickname and why she still prefers to use it. At the overnight truck stop near Béziers in southern France, a group of drivers become used to her regular visits as she returns from her delivery…
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Holidays nostalgia A tribute to my late mother.
Holidays nostalgia A tribute to my late mother.
Holidays nostalgia during Covid restrictions It’s easy to get nostalgic about going on holidays when you can’t go away. I watch the Covid news and sigh. At the moment in the UK we have a traffic light system showing which countries are considered safe for travellers but none of them are where I’d like to go. Actually, I wouldn’t go anywhere this year but I will plan something for next year. My…
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A Measured Man a romantic uncertainty
A Measured Man a romantic uncertainty
A Measured Man – my latest novel How to describe it? I can tell you what it isn’t. The book doesn’t fit the RomCom genre. Although there are elements of comedy within its themes, A Measured Man’s humour is poignant. Sometimes it’s painful, at times exasperating. Aubrey Tennant is a complex character as you’d expect from my novels. I placed it in the contemporary literary fiction category because…
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Trobairitz the Storyteller. How a Blog Tour revitalised interest. Weed's on the road again.
Trobairitz the Storyteller. How a Blog Tour revitalised interest. Weed’s on the road again.
Trobairitz the Storyteller Blog Tour People told me a Blog Tour was a good way to go. As a #CRPS sufferer my energies are limited and I can’t always keep up with social media. But I want more people to find my books. I’ve had some fabulous reviews but not enough. I tried making my own ‘advert’ designs. Here’s one. home-made advert I posted this and other images with slightly different wording on…
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My Covid Months. Did I finish my next novel?
My Covid Months. Did I finish my next novel?
How has Covid affected you?
My ‘Covid World’ experience has been bugging me since February. I haven’t been able to organise my thinking or my writing for quite some time now. As a result, my work-in-progress, A Measured Man isn’t as close to The End as it should be. That isn’t because I don’t know the plot. I know it very well. But, actually writing it has been beyond me.
Instead, I’ve been on a…
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Orchestrate. It's more than music. WP prompt.
Orchestrate. It’s more than music. WP prompt.
Orchestrate – there are a lot of synonyms
that mean orchestrate. Here are just a few:-
orchestrate – working together
harmonize, integrate, synthesise, unify, put together – or, as is appropriate right now- PULL together.
We’re having to do all these things during these weeks of Covid 19 lockdown. It’s important we’re all attempting to orchestrate our recovery from this horrible virus that’s…
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Writer's Block Why do I have it now?
Writer’s Block Why do I have it now?
What is this writer’s block thing?
Writer’s block must be the thing holding me back. Lately, I’m not satisfied with anything I write. I rewrite opening chapters or compose entirely new openings. If possible I switch chapters around. I introduce new and sparkly secondary characters. And I still don’t like what I’ve written.
I’m suffering
I’ve hit the sufferingbutton so many times I don’t where I…
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Variety is necessary. But nothing in excess, please.
Variety is necessary. But nothing in excess, please.
Variety is the spice of life.
I’m not on my own. Most people like variety in their lives. We get bored, don’t we, doing the same things over and again? Who would want to eat the same meal day after day? Would you want to read the same book or watch the same film for eternity? Wouldn’t that be like being stuck in your personal Groundhog Day?
No, we wouldn’t like that at all. We enjoy some change…
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Psychopaths. They may 'tell' you who they really are.
Psychopaths. They may ‘tell’ you who they really are.
What does a psychopath look like?
Psychopaths aren’t all like Hannibal Lecter. They’re not all criminals. They can look normal. But outward appearances are deceptive and they are masters of deceit. You’d never know just to look at them that their brains are different from mine and yours.
In a previous post I wrote about how their brains are wired differently.
lack of connections
The area of the…
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Passive aggression. Is it psychopathic?
Passive aggression. Is it psychopathic?
What is passive aggression? smile to your face; dagger in your back
Passive aggression is nasty. It’s what manipulative people do to hide behind. You can’t call them out on being openly objectionable. They’ll say you’re being silly; you’re looking to create bad feeling where none was intended. There you go again, over-analysing everything.
You can’t point out that they said they would do A and…
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Creativity block.Emotional abuse
Where’s my creativity?
(Edited) I removed this post from public view in May 2015. Now I’m in the right place to re-release it)
I have a creativity block. I’ve posted on creativitybefore. In the early stages of my CRPS I was in so much pain I had no energy to write fiction. Constant pain and exhaustion, not to mention medication-induced nausea, put paid to creating new short stories or plot ideas…
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Secrets and Lies. Tools to manipulate.
Disordered individuals keep secrets. They tell a lot of lies. My previous post describes some of the different kinds of lies disordered people use against you. In my new book, People Who Hurt, publication January 23rd, I devote a whole chapter to the various tools narcissists, sociopaths and the like use against you to get you to do what they want.
People Who Hurt -abusers and codependants –…
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New Post has been published on Celia Micklefield
New Post has been published on http://celiamicklefield.com/aesthetic/
Aesthetic.
What is aesthetically beautiful country?
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/aesthetic/
The WordPress daily post is always a challenge but I don’t often find time to write on the chosen theme. Today, however, we’re on the same page. I’ve been considering writing about where I live now.
I have long-held opinions about what I consider aesthetically beautiful scenery. It involves water, mountains and blue skies.
Well, here in Norfolk there are no mountains. But there’s plenty of water and sometimes there are also blue skies.
January Broad
I started out feeling cold on this Sunday afternoon walk around the Broad but soon had to peel off the top layer. Some Norfolk Broads came about as a result of peat diggings in medieval times but others, like this one in my photograph were chalk excavations. Rising sea levels completed the job. You’d never know it, but the fine city of Norwich is just behind those trees.
The Norfolk Broads are a popular English tourist attraction. Thousands of people come in summer to spend their vacation time on the water, stopping off at waterside hostelries before moving off in time to moor at another hostelry for the evening. Boat hire is big business here. Some folk live by the water and have their own. It’s a good place to house-sit!
private mooring
Winter brings a different kind of aesthetic beauty and makes creatives like me get out the paint brushes and/or write poetry, especially when mist hangs over the water and everything is still.
winter staithe in mist
Winter Staithe ©
( a staithe is a cutting or inlet )
No wind to fill the billowing sail.
No sun to bathe the picnic decks
where plimsolled little sailors skipped
gaily in and out and dripped
their melting ice creams down their necks.
No birds to follow in the trail
to search for scraps, to wheel and cry
and loudly squabble ownership
of tasty morsels newly slipped
into the wake. The staithe and sky
in rippled stillness form a pale
and misty shadow of the days
gone by. The old gate creaks
its winter joints. The reeds break
through the grey and filmy haze
with shots of gold: thin echo of a summer’s tale.
. . . . . . . . . .
More Norfolk posts to come in the goodness of time. Leave a comment, please. Don’t be shy. I love to hear from you.
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New Post has been published on Celia Micklefield
New Post has been published on http://celiamicklefield.com/hello-stranger-hows-your-crps/
Hello, Stranger. How's your CRPS?
It’s been a while. I haven’t written a new post since May. If you’ve read previous posts on the pain of CRPS you’ll know how it sometimes affects my creativity.
Chronic pain knocks the stuffing out
It’s like there’s no energy left for anything other than crawling back into bed. With an extra pillow to support the throbbing arm. With a hot water bottle to ease the painful shoulder. With a heated lavender pack under your neck. Sexy, huh?
In the early days my hand was swollen. If you Google images for a CRPS hand guess whose comes up?
yes, folks, that’s me
I found I could use the keyboard with one hand but sitting at the desk in constant pain didn’t get my head in the right place for writing, especially the kind of fiction beloved by women’s magazines. Besides, my head was in a fog most of the time due to side effects of various medications. But I could edit. So, little by little I managed to get my first two novels out.
Oh, that seems so long ago.
CRPS beginning
Where my CRPS is now
The swelling has gone now. Thanks to early intervention my claw of a hand is more user-friendly. (You cannot peel a potato with one hand, not to mention putting on a bra!)
Now I can do most tasks beyond my capabilities at the outset. And I’m grateful for that. I still drop things and take twice as long as other people at the supermarket cash desk but if I have a word with the cashier beforehand they’ll go more steadily for me. Top marks to Tesco on this one – always happy to help.
top marks for Tesco
But it seems my CRPS has spread to other places in my body. It’s gastro-intestinal stuff now, people. Look away now if the subject is too distasteful.
I have cyclical vomiting and diarrhoea. And it’s becoming more frequent. I’ve tried to ascertain which foods might be culprits and I know now to avoid heavily fatty meals but, still, some days the cycle begins without any reason, it seems to me.
I have an appointment to see my doctor next month which, by coincidence is CRPS awareness month.
CRPS awareness
My doctor knows how I feel about taking medication. I control the amount I take. Rigorously control. However, as I realise I’m a candidate for osteoporosis due to the CRPS I’m going to ask for a Vitamin D check. If I can avoid further damage to my bones by taking a vitamin supplement, I will swill it down gladly.
In the meantime, cyclical vomiting permitting, I continue with my writing endeavours.
The Sandman and Mrs Carter is under review with a publisher. I’m also revisiting Queer as Folk, my second collection of short stories.
And I’m getting my orange outfit ready for CRPS Awareness Day.
CRPS awareness
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New Post has been published on Celia Micklefield
New Post has been published on http://celiamicklefield.com/apology/
Apology
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/discover-challenges/apology/
Would an apology have helped?
I never got one. An apology. A whole year has gone by during which time I’ve had some struggle. Not to mention pain. I have CRPS as a result of injuries caused when I was knocked down by a careless driver. I cope with the pain most days with strong medication and I’ve even managed to reduce the amount I use. On warm days. Cold days are a different matter.
I had to leave my home in France. For most of last year I missed it: the warm climate, the friends I made there, the warm climate, the wine, the warm climate. You get my drift. Norfolk is a beautiful county and there are far worse places you could live in England but I couldn’t help thinking about what I was missing. When I saw flowers in a pretty garden here I’d remember the shrubs and flowers in the south of France. When I visited the coast I would long for the blue of the Mediterranean.
And I wasn’t living my life the way I wanted.
Finances have been difficult and I still await the outcome of the legal wrangle which continues over the shared property abroad. I’ve experienced anger, bitterness, a desire for revenge. All those dark emotions which don’t make you feel any better at all.
And I wasn’t living my life the way I wanted.
wise words
It took me a while. Maybe I’m a slow learner. But I got there in the end. Even though I never had an apology from the man who hit me with his car nor the man who wanted me out of his life, I am now living my life the way I want. Frugally, it goes without saying but I feel free.
I accept
I have learned so much since April 2015 and most of it has been about myself. Relationships end. It’s a fact. You can’t blame someone for falling out of love. So, instead of being stuck in thinking about what has gone from my life I’ve been able to concentrate on enjoying what is my reality NOW.
And as soon as my thinking changed so did a whole load of other things.
Now I can forgive.
forgiveness is freedom
I forgive the careless driver. I forgive my ex. Neither of them have made me less of a person. I believe I’m a better person now I’ve learned how to overcome a host of difficulties and put in place boundaries which before I chose to ignore.
I know now how I want to live my life. I can forgive the people who took away from me the life I led before because I’m free to fill my time with things I enjoy and people who love me as I am.
I have let go of the longing for what has gone. That doesn’t mean I have rolled over and allowed myself to be abused further. No. I am stronger. My boundaries mean I stand up for myself. I say what I mean and mean what I say. With gentleness. Kind but firm.
the last chapter
I’m in the last chapter of my life. It’s going to be the best. The creativity lost to me through pain, both physical and emotional, is returning.
I want to get back to my writing. I’m ready to live my life the way I want.
ditch the junk
I was crushed, I admit it. But I didn’t want to stay crushed. I still have life to live and love to give.
I want to go on loving life
There’s no point in waiting for an apology. Some people don’t mean they’re sorry anyway. Some people don’t know how to be sorry. That’s their problem. You can forgive them and move on. Let it go. Set yourself free.
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New Post has been published on Celia Micklefield
New Post has been published on http://celiamicklefield.com/cecilia-does-my-name-suit-me/
Cecilia. Does my name suit me?
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/say-your-name/
When I was a child I hated the name Cecilia.
Truth be told, for a time I didn’t even want to be a girl. My mother told me once if I’d been a boy I would have been called Howard. (She had a thing about the actor and singer Howard Keel.)
I tried to keep up with the boys because I thought my father had really wanted a son. I ran with the lads. Played boys’ games. Most of my friends were neighbourhood boys. Until, one day I climbed up a drainpipe onto the Drill Hall roof and couldn’t get back down. Somebody’s dad had to climb up and give me a fireman’s lift back to safety.
where Cecilia lost her street credibility
My street cred was ruined. I was a real girl after all. A girl christened Cecilia after her paternal grandmother. My grandmother was a miner’s wife, skilled at spinning out the family income to feed her brood of six children. She made the best custard in the world. I digress.
It took me a long time to grow into my name. I still don’t do frills and fancies, preferring classic styles and understatements fashion-wise, but every now and then I can fall in love with most unsuitable, uncomfortable shoes.
The meaning of my name came as a shock. It means ‘blind’. What? In what ways am I blind? There are several interpretations as in ‘blind’ faith where the believer does not need proof to believe. I rather like that.
Most people will know that Saint Cecilia is patroness of music.
St Cecilia offering her music to God
According to legend Cecilia was a Roman woman of noble birth who was martyred for her refusal to worship Roman gods. She is often depicted with a musical instrument of some sort but she also sang. My grandmother Cecilia made sure all her children had a musical education. My father played honky-tonk piano, two more of the six gained degrees in music, one became a music teacher. One son married a lady with an incredible soprano voice, my aunt Irene, and many of Cecilia’s grandchildren went on to be passionate about the Arts. For me, it’s writing now but I sang with an international choir in France for seven years and before that took part in competitive singing in the east of England winning several silver trophies over the years. Strange, how things turn out, isn’t it?
Now I can be proud to say my name. I’m comfortable with it. Friends call me Celia for short, or Cee-Cee or just Cee. But I was named Cecilia and that’s all right with me. #post- .CPlase_panel display:none;
New Post has been published on Celia Micklefield
New Post has been published on http://celiamicklefield.com/flowers-from-a-secret-admirer/
Flowers from a Secret Admirer
<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/secret-admirers/”>Secret Admirers</a>
The WordPress daily challenge:
You return home to discover a huge flower bouquet waiting for you, no card attached. Who is it from — and why did they send it to you?
I love flowers. I can’t imagine not having flowers to look at. I often take photographs of plants and flowers I find particularly pleasing. They satisfy a part of me I can’t describe. I don’t know whether this kind of pleasure has a name of its own but, for me, it’s part of a feeling of connectedness, as if the plants can feel me admiring them and are even more beautiful because of that.
When I take time out to paint or draw, it’s always flowers that come to mind first.
soft pastel drawing of Hollyhocks
Even weeds have a beauty of their own.
Convolvulus
A secret admirer would know all my favourites. Someone who really wanted to reach me would know I have favourite colour combinations.
white petunia, blue plumbago
So fresh and clean: blue and white together. In fact, I have a thing about blue flowers. They resonate with me like no others. Catch them at twilight and their colour glows in the half-light with a fleeting intensity. It’s a bitter sweet pleasure: it passes so quickly. You have to be out there and specifically look for it.
Put me in a bluebell wood in April and I’m in heaven. Not only does the colour get to me, there’s the perfume as well – ah, sensory paradise.
April bluebells
Here’s a selection of flower pictures I’ve been moved to take:
Stargazer lilies
fuchsia
magnolia
rose
Seems I like a bit of pink, too, huh? My secret admirer would have this sussed. Well, of course he would; he has made a point of finding out these things.
The red rose is supposed to be symbolic of love. When I lived in France they were used as an early warning system protecting surrounding grape vines. At the first sign of disease on the roses wine growers would know how to treat the vines.
early warning roses
But, listen, here’s a secret. I have problems with red flowers. I never know where is the best place to plant them. To my thinking they can take over the whole garden with their showiness. They draw the eye and steal away attention from other more deserving beauties.
My ideal garden will be full of flowers but they will share the space with friendly companionship. They will be gentle and welcoming. There will be plenty of green also to act as a foil and add depth to the overall effect.
a French yard full of flowers
So who is my secret admirer?
A man so kind and thoughtful he has read this post and found a way to put a bouquet together that will both surprise me and fill me with admiration for the depth of his caring.
Why has he given it to me?
Because he loves me, silly!
(Don’t forget to FOLLOW CELIA for more Random Thoughts posts. Your email remains private. Or send a comment. I love to hear from readers.) #post- .CPlase_panel display:none;