17
May
Another
kick up the butt was delivered yesterday evening folks; so this time I’ve
actually done something about it. The kick was from a Morgan Freeman film, The Magic of Belle Island, in which he
plays a drunken wrote-out writer. He moves to a place beside a lake for the
summer and slowly with the help of three kids and their mum, he starts writing
again, and in doing so becomes a much nicer man around. Best of all, he stops
drinking.
I’ve
had so many butt kicks just lately but that one was enough to get me going
again. So I pulled up Arathusia and I added a goodly bit to it before going to
bed around 10.30. Later today I will get on and get more done now that I’ve
been retaught something I’ve always done anyway, even before I was a writer.
That something is plain and simple folks, use your imagination. Easy eh? At
times it isn’t, I can assure you of that!
Mind
you, it wasn’t just that film, no; a number of my FaceBook friends also suggested
that get on with it, saying that it was my world and I should write it. They
were right, it is my world and I am the only one who can write it properly.
Do
you ever buy yourself a present when you go out some new, even if it’s
something small and insignificant? I do; everywhere I go I always buy myself a
pencil, sometimes a pen. No idea how many I have now seeing as I’ve been doing
it for years now. What I really need to do now is to find some way of
displaying them. At the moment they are in an old pewter tankard I have. It’s
sat on my shelf in front of me, but sadly I can’t see them cos of all my books
stuck in front of them. This all came about after I saw an item on the news one
day about a so-called ‘people display’. One such display was a collection of
different pencils. I’ve just had a thought … if I could find a way of
displaying them, and I’ve thought of too, they might make an interesting photo
too, hmmm … needs more thinking about methinks thinks … err, you know I mean.
It
struck us the other day that when all this work is being undertaken in doing up
our kitchen, we won’t be able to have Kile for his regular weekends. We’re not
sure just yet if it will be for one or two of his weekends though. He’s old
enough to understand why though and he’ll know that it’s only a temporary
thing, at least we hope so. Whatever happens, I’m sure we will make it all up
for him when the time comes. This weekend is not one of his weekends seeing as
his step sister Vicky is there. They get on together very well, and not only
that she helps out a lot with Billy too.
Photo
time … Defused colours.
Our
friendly Sage has been good to us again …
Poor old Granddad's passed away, cut off in his prime,
He never had a day off crook - gone before his time, We found him in the dunny,
collapsed there on the seat, A startled look upon his face, his trousers round
his feet,
The doctor said his heart was good - fit as any trout,
The Constable he had his say, 'foul play' was not ruled out.
There were theories at the inquest of snakebite without trace,
Of redbacks quietly creeping and death from outer space
The doctor said his heart was good - fit as any trout,
The Constable he had his say, 'foul play' was not ruled out.
There were theories at the inquest of snakebite without trace,
Of redbacks quietly creeping and death from outer space
No-one had a clue at all - the judge was in some
doubt, When Dad was called to have his say as to how it came about, 'I reckon I
can clear it up,' said Dad with trembling breath, 'You see it's quite a story -
but it could explain his death.'
'This here exploration mob had been looking at our soil, And they reckoned that our farm was just the place for oil, So they came and put a bore down and said they'd make some trials, They drilled a hole as deep as hell, they said about three miles. Well, they never found a trace of oil and off they went, post haste,
And I couldn't see a hole like that go to flamin' waste, So I moved the dunny over it - real smart move I thought, I'd never have to dig again - I'd never be 'caught short'.
The day I moved the dunny, it looked a proper sight, But I didn't dream poor Granddad would pass away that night, Now I reckon what has happened - poor Granddad didn't know, The dunny was re-located on that night he had to go.
And you'll probably be wondering how poor Granddad did his dash. Well, he always used to hold his breath until he heard the splash … … …
'This here exploration mob had been looking at our soil, And they reckoned that our farm was just the place for oil, So they came and put a bore down and said they'd make some trials, They drilled a hole as deep as hell, they said about three miles. Well, they never found a trace of oil and off they went, post haste,
And I couldn't see a hole like that go to flamin' waste, So I moved the dunny over it - real smart move I thought, I'd never have to dig again - I'd never be 'caught short'.
The day I moved the dunny, it looked a proper sight, But I didn't dream poor Granddad would pass away that night, Now I reckon what has happened - poor Granddad didn't know, The dunny was re-located on that night he had to go.
And you'll probably be wondering how poor Granddad did his dash. Well, he always used to hold his breath until he heard the splash … … …
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