Without those of you who write and read the pieces inspired by he weekly photos, the prompt would not exist.
So, if you follow or take part in the weekly challenge, why not drop me a line?
I’m not an author or poet, but I am a blogger and take part in the writephoto challenge every week.
My life is quite ordinary, the youngest of four, no qualifications other than 3 ‘O’ levels and at 62 now, a fair few years in the School of Life.
I started my blog in September 2013, totally convinced that no-one would be interested in my witterings, but I enjoy it as it gives me a chance to explore and enhance my pleasure in writing. I love to read other peoples blogs and enjoy the challenges which get my creative mind into gear.
I love dogs, and have recently taken to writing posts about breeds I’m unfamiliar with, gleaning the info and images off the internet.
The best accolade I have achieved has to be my fostering days, when over a four year period I cared for around fifteen teenagers, though I hasten to add not all at once!
I believe it was the making of me, especially as I have no kids of my own, and I tried to bring a little of the happiness experienced in my childhood to some who were not so fortunate.
Workwise, as my blog says, I’m a number cruncher. Can’t help it. Hubby says I have OCD, forever counting, but it’s held me in good stead getting me out of financial trouble without going bankrupt, and was a godsend when we found ourselves in negative equity in the nineties when the property market crashed. I’m good at budgeting, which is just as well as we’re on a limited income and our proud boast is that we don’t owe a penny to a soul. Things may be tight, but we’re doing OK and don’t go without the important things or occasional treat.
So from banking to accounts, to financial analysis and credit control, here I am. I was good at it, but more importantly, I enjoyed it.
I have a natural gift for playing the piano, encouraged by my Dad from an early age of around 3. When we moved here, Hubby insisted we get another as we’d sold mine at the end of 2013 before we moved and ended up on the boat. It had not been our intention, but the property market got away from us and with limited funds and a snowball’s chance in hell of borrowing any money in our circumstances, buying a boat suited us and if nothing else, bought us time.
Ah, boat living. Loved the life, the people, the scenery. Imagine going on a cruise but not having to pack. Bliss. Three wonderful years full of fun, learning, and relaxing. Still, times change, health matters got the better of us, and we ended up selling the boat and buying a small bungalow by the sea last year.
I love to cook, currently fighting the flab for the Nth time, but making progress, although I know it’s early days. This is something else I put out on my blog, as knowing the fight, frustration, drawbacks, temptations, success and failure, if anything I write helps anyone else in their struggle, then I’m doing something right.
Married to Hubby for 27 of the 29 years we’ve been together, we met through an ad he placed in the local paper. Both of us were coming out of bad relationships, so became firm friends, the last thing on our minds being romance. The slushy bit crept up on us and we’ve never looked back.
Maggie is fast approaching fourteen now. We’ve had her since she was a seven week old pup. She’s very similar to Ani and in some photos, I could be looking at her! She’s suffering the pains of old age as we all are, so our walks may not be as long or even as frequent, but she goes with us everywhere. She’s had her own share of health issues, so we are keeping a watchful eye and allowing her to do things in her own time. Naturally she takes full advantage and is probably the most spoilt dog on the block.
In January 2018, Di wrote this poem for one of the prompts:
If I sit here, silent,
Some may ask am I alive?
I survey the fields and woods,
Keeping an open eye.
No warnings come,
I retain my perch
Silhouetted against the sky,
There is none to hurt.
I look to my left,
This is my good side
Don’t you think?
My feathers ride
On the gentle breeze
Embracing the shadows
That scurry and patter
In trees and hedgerows.
When time comes to roost
Thousands take flight,
Our noise is deafening,
Shatters the peace of night.
All over in minutes,
Only one left in view,
And that would be me,
Staring down at you.