Snoring

Whenever the word snoring is said , we all conjure up our own mental image related to it.
Countless women complain that their husband's snoring keeps them awake at night, but they probably snore themselves, only you don't hear yourself snore.
I'm not altogether sure of the reason people snore, but I think everyone must do, at some point in their lives.
At the back of your mouth, at the top you have a soft palate, and your tonsils. The air has to get past these, the more loose they are the more they will vibrate when you are asleep. Stands to reason.
When I was in hospital a few weeks ago I fell asleep one night to a symphony of snores. Each persons snore was slightly different, and they were all slightly different in timing. Animals snore, at least both my dogs do, which is why I am guessing that everyone snores.
It must be awful on the plains of the Serengeti, do you think the zebras go up to the elephants and poke them from snoring too loudly. And what does a giraffe snore sound like?
So next time you are about to complain about someone snoring, stop, and think. It could be an elephant lying nearby snoring, keeping you awake.
And as I have been writing this there's been a background snoring, as my son is asleep, and he has tonsillitis, his throat is very swollen, so his breathing is blocked causing him to snore. He must keep moving as the sound keeps changing slightly.

Parrot

Parrot

I need a parrot
Not called Polly,
Although
It could sit on my shoulder
Look rather jolly.
What colour would I like?
Don’t really know,
Yet not fond of the grey ones
They don’t look parrotty,
You know
Nice bright colours
Would suit me fine
So long as it looked
Where it was shitting
And vacated my shoulder in time.


I just wrote that after having a discussion with a friend about my impending ankle operation. I'd been saying that I perhaps should just have a wooden leg fitted and get the parrot to complete the look. To me, I feel it needs some re-drafting, and will probably tweak the words and form , but only slightly, another line or two might appear as well.

Parachute

Parachute
Usually umbrella-shaped apparatus allowing person or heavy object to descend safely from a height, esp. from aircraft. Yes, that’s what the dictionary says about parachutes. I remember the little parachuting things you could get in a lucky bag when I was young. A moulded soldier, with his own little parachute. If Chris would let us, we would throw them out of our bedroom window. Other toys would have parachutes made from cotton handkerchiefs, and they would be tested.
Most people who parachute have two, one spare in case the regular one doesn’t work, but what if the second one doesn’t work? I know the old joke, cross your legs so that when you hit the ground you’ll screw yourself in, then it’s easier to get you out. It’s not the fall that kills you, well, most of it does no harm, it’s just the last few feet, and the pull of gravity.
But what is a parachute? It’s a kind of safety device, like the safety net at a circus, when the acrobats go onto the high wire. Seat belts in a car as well, they are safety devices. I hate seeing people driving around with their kids not belted in, apparently the police can stop the car and charge the driver and standing fee of £25, or thereabouts, for each passenger not wearing a seat belt.
Anyway, back to the parachutes, I love the little parachutes on dandelion seeds. Even now I like to blow at a dandelion clock, and see all the seeds blow away. The part of me that weeds the garden doesn’t like me doing that, but the big kid inside me likes it. And I let the big kid have their fun every now and again.
Would I like to parachute jump? Well, no, not really, seems to me a very dangerous thing to want to do. If we were meant to jump from planes we would have wings. Although I wouldn’t mind paragliding, or whatever they call it, where you have a huge canopy and get the wind to lift you, and you travel on the thermals. I watched someone doing that at Heysham Head one day, it must be incredibly restful. Then there’s the one’s who have parachute like canopies, and surf boards, kite surfers I think. That looks so much fun, I think the thing that makes me like some activities and not others is the amount of control over a situation you can have.
During the war some women got married in dresses made out of parachute silk. Not quite sure where they got their parachutes from, or was it after the war, I’m not sure. If I had a character having their wedding dress from parachute silk I would check up the facts, and make sure I got the timing right.

Random

This one just is what the title says. I challenge you to follow my train of thought here! I just let my mind go on the word Random.

Random.
The name of Arthur Dent and Tricia McMillan’s daughter in Mostly Harmless. She takes Arthur’s watch apart to try to see how it functions/ works. At times I think I should have called Shadow, Random, as sometimes when you walk her she bounces all over the place. She’s still very much a puppy at heart.
The dictionary definition is without method or conscious cause. Also without aim.
Well that’s how I feel at the moment. Fairly flaming aimless. I wish that I could focus myself on something, totally immerse myself in it and then I might get a feeling of achievement. One day I want to go in a hot air balloon…and fly over the hills, but will I? As I am afraid of heights, and may not even get into the balloon. Perhaps I would more likely get into a sailing boat and sail away, but lets be honest…with my ankle hurting like hell…am not likely to go anywhere….
I miss the sound of a certain voice, the smell of baking…cos I don’t do much of it any more. I miss not having a garden, but I don’t miss the weeding that entails. I miss having someone with me…even though I am officially in a relationship. I’m like a jigsaw, that my Mum has taken a piece of…why my Mum? Cos she always took bits out of my jigsaws when I was younger…she’d pick a piece up…when helping us to sort out the edges from the rest…and slip it into her pinny pocket…then come back when we’d almost finished.and PUT THE LAST PIECE in…it took ages before Ann and I caught on what she was up to…. Ann tumbled it first…she’s younger than me. But she is much more “savvy” than I am…nobody pulls the wool over Ann’s eyes and gets away with it. Anyway, a jigsaw with a piece missing…only the bit that is missing is in Spain…and one day…he’ll come back, and put it in place…and I’ll feel real again.


The short random quote is fromm Alan and Janet Ahlberg's " Each Peach Pear Plum"

Peach (by Sea)

Peach immediately brings to mind the fruit, peach, with it’s fuzzy, downy “fur” like the fine hair that covers a new born baby’s body. The first time you encounter that it is amazing, and it doesn’t stay long. People say that peaches are like a baby’s skin.
Peach slices with evaporated milk after cold meat sandwiches as a treat on a Sunday teatime. Or sometimes with bread and butter as a meal. Mum says we didn’t have that, so how come I remember having it. At least I never ate sugar butties, although Mum said she had them when she was young.
Granddad had a peach tree in his greenhouse, right next to the boiler. I remember it having tiny fruits on it one year, and when it was Granddad’s funeral the tree was still there. But by the time Grandma died the garden, The Ponderosa, was unkempt. The greenhouse was falling down, but the peach tree growing strong. Guess it didn’t need protecting against Pennine wind as much as Granddad thought.
Peach, peach, peach, each peach, pear, plum, I spy Tom Thumb, Tom Thumb in the cupboard, I spy Mother Hubbard. Oliver loved that book. I love nectarines much better than peaches, but you get some nasty ones. I think they must have been irriradiated as they never seem to ripen, and biting into them is like biting into an apple. Not the lovely experience it should be. The odd thing is, I’ve found that fruit from Netto and Aldi doesn’t seem to have been treated in anyway, and yes it does go off quicker, but when you pick it up, you can smell if it is ripe or not.
Peach, a lovely colour. I always think of it as an orangey – pink colour, but the ones in tins are yellow! Hmm, why?

Peach (by Blue)

Peach fuzz. Peaches and cream. Georgia Peaches. Peach cobbler. Which, by the way, is one of my top five favourite desserts in the whole universe. Especially with a big glob of vanilla ice cream. I could really use some right about now. I haven't had a good dessert in a while. Months in fact. I think I'd even settle for peach pie since it's close. Just pop some in the microwave and add vanilla ice cream. Voila! But now I've made myself hungry. *sigh*

What is free writing?

For those who don't know, free writing, is where you write for around 1/2 an hour, about anything that comes into your head.
Directed free writing, is when you start from a specific word or phrase, and then write all that comes into your mind about that particular word or phrase. Sometimes ideas for further work are produced, or the piece may stand alone.
If you want to leave a word or phrase to be written about, please do so.