Would it be a bit pre-emptive of me to say I am looking forward to December and the annual holidailies? An excuse to write a little something every single day from piffle to whatever takes ones fancy? With the Christian holidays as a backdrop and for us, the possibility of snow, it provides an extra diversion. Such that it seems a whole month and more can be taken up by working towards just a one or two day event in the calender!
Nevertheless, it is fun. I do not go in for getting into unnecessary debt or buying flamboyant presents I can not afford, though if I had the money I might buy flamboyant. To me it very much is about togetherness. Sharing an event and making it very special. Being thankful for each other and thankful for another year. Catching up and being close. It is for family and close friends. For those that can make it.
I love designing the menu with all the planning and preparation and then making it work effortlessly on the day. It is a joy and a pleasure. If I am lucky with a dear friend coming then it will be twelve of us for the banquet.
Some years I am full of bah humbug about the decorations and Christmas, however since my father decided to give my sister and I hampers for Christmas which he gave us at the end of October and are sat here, I have a desire to get on with the decorations this year. It is hard to comprehend on what planet my father is but he was so obviously so excited with his collections of items for the hampers he wanted us to have them early so we can check them and not get any duplicate items. Very thoughtful.
It is four weeks to the day until 1st December 2013. I do not spend much time shopping apart from our local smallish supermarkets so all in all I guess I am not overwhelmed by Christmas everywhere. I'm pretty sure it is out there but I am not jaded by it.
Alongside getting my bedroom and clothes into tip top order I have a private photoshoot to arrange. Something akin to "How to look good naked" and something I have wanted to do for myself in my fiftieth year. I have found a photographer and just need to pull out some images of picture styles I quite like so that we are all on the same wavelength. After all, those naked shoots do not show anything though one is technically naked. It would be good to reveal a pic for my Darling Mr Doris, and me, for Christmas.
Showing posts with label creative writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label creative writing. Show all posts
Sunday, 3 November 2013
Saturday, 31 August 2013
August Ends
The end of August feels significant. Every year.
This year in particular. We've had a good summer
with sunlight and warmth, not perfect. Better
than most, maybe for a decade or so. Then
August ends.
Imagine a seaside town with laughter
and noise. A warm sea breeze whispers
sweet nothings and utters promises of
an eternal present full to the brim. Then
August ends.
All of a sudden the winds cut deep. Dreams
pack up for another year. Boulevards empty
as if flocks flying south for the winter. Shutters
reluctantly pulled down, slam shut. Then
August ends.
School days return and businesses crank up. Colder
months steam towards winter. Some complain
the year is already out. Not I, not this year
of life and death, of sickness and health. This year
the world stopped then spun and spun. Where goes
your hopes and dreams? Energising mine across
rainbows here and now. Late summer postcards
say, "Wish you were here". The year still lays ahead when
August ends.
This year in particular. We've had a good summer
with sunlight and warmth, not perfect. Better
than most, maybe for a decade or so. Then
August ends.
Imagine a seaside town with laughter
and noise. A warm sea breeze whispers
sweet nothings and utters promises of
an eternal present full to the brim. Then
August ends.
All of a sudden the winds cut deep. Dreams
pack up for another year. Boulevards empty
as if flocks flying south for the winter. Shutters
reluctantly pulled down, slam shut. Then
August ends.
School days return and businesses crank up. Colder
months steam towards winter. Some complain
the year is already out. Not I, not this year
of life and death, of sickness and health. This year
the world stopped then spun and spun. Where goes
your hopes and dreams? Energising mine across
rainbows here and now. Late summer postcards
say, "Wish you were here". The year still lays ahead when
August ends.
Saturday, 24 September 2011
Thursday, 2 December 2010
Writing from the heart
It is just after six thirty in the morning sat here having just showered and with my porridge bubbling gently on the cooker. With half a dozen flitting ideas for topics to write about I start, stop, erase and start again. Not happy with any of it and I realise that I am trying, and when you try the words just do not flow and they can sound contrived. At least to me they do when I write like that and this morning I am trying to sound intelligent or witty or something and that never works. Writing from the heart does work for me and having not written for such a long time I remember that is the case and is the best way for me. In any case, with a tight schedule and needing to leave in less than an hour to scrape the car and to get on with the day I am rather pushing it trying to be all creative.
Breakfast is to be eaten, a flask of coffee to be made and me looking like a professional is yet to achieved. Oh yes, each day is a lovely achievement just living it.
So there we are. The second day of December and I have written again. Wahey!
Breakfast is to be eaten, a flask of coffee to be made and me looking like a professional is yet to achieved. Oh yes, each day is a lovely achievement just living it.
So there we are. The second day of December and I have written again. Wahey!
Friday, 27 November 2009
Embraced
Embraced, I feel
your warm arms
wrapped around
holding tight
so I can let go.
Embraced, nuzzled
into your chest
hearing the familiar
heartbeat grateful
with love.
Embracing, you keep
holding, not wanting
to let go, or for
this moment
to pass.
Embraced, each
time rebuilds
lost strength
easing the
bruised soul.
Dedicated to the darling Mr Doris
by Doris Mash
PS Uh-oh, it is pass the puke bucket time again! :-)
Sunday, 1 June 2008
Furstjewnitis
Introduction
Furstjewnitis is a common mental affliction that affects mature adults feeling their life is somewhat out of control and rushing past. It is a momentary precipice that can either lead to depression, great soul searching or even increased activity.
Furstjewnitis is most commonly a response to calendric triggers and the condition usually occurs in summer. It is not contagious. There is no medicine that can deal with the affliction, although alcohol has been known to be used, and the affliction usually clears up on its own.
Symptoms
The early symptoms of furstjewnitis are similar to those of common depression. They include:
Causes
Most cases of furstjewnitis are a simple process caused by the passing of time. Particularly the end of May and the onset of June triggering the realisation that the middle of the year was rapidly passing by.
Once the affliction enters the sensory system, it makes its way down to the furthest reaches of the mind distorting all perceptions.
Diagnosis
Self-diagnosis is usually sufficient. The blot test involving discarded calendar pages may also be used.
Treatment
There is no medicine that can deal with the affliction that causes furstjewnitis and most cases clear up on their own within two weeks. However, there are treatments that can ease your symptoms and make them more comfortable.
If your furstjewnitis is mild, you can treat it at home in the following ways:
Complications
Severe depression leading to the pits of hell.
Prevention
Get off your backside. Go out and have fun or at least try to. Walking the walk and talking the talk is extremely effective as a preventative measure.
Useful advice
Blogging has been known to be a help and sometimes a hindrance.
Furstjewnitis is a common mental affliction that affects mature adults feeling their life is somewhat out of control and rushing past. It is a momentary precipice that can either lead to depression, great soul searching or even increased activity.
Furstjewnitis is most commonly a response to calendric triggers and the condition usually occurs in summer. It is not contagious. There is no medicine that can deal with the affliction, although alcohol has been known to be used, and the affliction usually clears up on its own.
Symptoms
The early symptoms of furstjewnitis are similar to those of common depression. They include:
- twinges of the mental faculties
- mild feelings of loss
- mild anxiety
- confused thought processes
- fear of losing all
- faster than normal heartbeat
- irregular eating and sleeping patterns
- continuous low mood or sadness
- feelings of hopelessness and helplessness
- low self-esteem
- tearfulness
- feelings of guilt
Causes
Most cases of furstjewnitis are a simple process caused by the passing of time. Particularly the end of May and the onset of June triggering the realisation that the middle of the year was rapidly passing by.
Once the affliction enters the sensory system, it makes its way down to the furthest reaches of the mind distorting all perceptions.
Diagnosis
Self-diagnosis is usually sufficient. The blot test involving discarded calendar pages may also be used.
Treatment
There is no medicine that can deal with the affliction that causes furstjewnitis and most cases clear up on their own within two weeks. However, there are treatments that can ease your symptoms and make them more comfortable.
If your furstjewnitis is mild, you can treat it at home in the following ways:
- Being proactive - stop whinging and get on with getting things done.
- Alcohol - used sparingly, alcohol can numb the effects of furstjewnitis but this is only a temporary sedative. However, on occasion, it may be sufficient to allow the affliction to pass and no longer be a problem.
- Retail therapy - use online shopping websites to order the most extravagant items that make you smile. However, it is important to not actually enter any payment details and to definitely not press the buy button. This form of retail is particularly effective as it does not lead to further debt.
- Glass therapy - look at the year being half full and all that has been done and achieved rather than the year being half empty or half gone and nothing done.
Complications
Severe depression leading to the pits of hell.
Prevention
Get off your backside. Go out and have fun or at least try to. Walking the walk and talking the talk is extremely effective as a preventative measure.
Useful advice
Blogging has been known to be a help and sometimes a hindrance.
Thursday, 17 April 2008
Wanna be adored?
Jay of The Depp Effect is playing around with words which is a meme she found elsewhere on the blog trail, originally from Booking Through Thursday. This meme might be a tad old, but it is Thursday today!
The idea is to ‘pick up the nearest book and turn to page 123′. Write down the first and last sentences on that page and connect them together with some new writing.
Most of our books are still in boxes for "the big move" when that finally happens which leaves only a selection of more eclectic non-fiction books on the shelves. Therefore, doing the first book that came to hand was not an option as I need to be impassioned and not bored to tears by the whole idea. So here goes, a completely different re-write as there is no way I can really read what happens between these two sentences from page 123 of "The Science of High Explosives" by Melvin A Cook, 1963. Not to be confused with the likes of Practical Bomb Making found online by day to day terrorists.
Nonideal detonation is associated in general with a finite reaction-zone length a or a finite reaction time r. He loved it when his wife spoke dirty to him. Using interesting and complicated words linked together with a reasonable amount of logic. But tonight she was on to a corker talking about high explosives as their bodies melded together and moved to a passionate rhythm. The moment was electric and took what had become a perfunctory activity done so many times before into the realms of, well, high explosives!
He adored his wife with her wide knowledge of life and the universe and her way with words. He would do anything for her, and often did. Making sure she was the happiest she could be by remembering all those small daily details such as replenishing the chocolate supply in the car door for all her driving, making her frothy coffee and warmed croissants each morning, or touching her in the right way to make sure that her body and mind felt fulfilled. Yes, he knew he was the luckiest man around as the words continued to gently bubble from her lips with a delicious musicality massaging his aural receptors. As she uttered the final line, her voice slowed to an allagando pace with each syllable hitting a nerve desiring more, releasing the final equation through the rippling after shocks as his hot sweaty body clung to hers with gratitude, immense love and honour: Then, using an expression for the ideal detonation velocity D*, he obtained the equation (D*/D)2 = 1 + 2.25 ((r1)4 - 1)
;-)
P.S. (D*/D)2 = 1 + 2.25 ((r1)4 - 1) reads "D star over D all squared equals 1 plus 2.25 multiplied by r1 to the power of 4 take away 1"
Let me know if you do this meme and I'll come read!
The idea is to ‘pick up the nearest book and turn to page 123′. Write down the first and last sentences on that page and connect them together with some new writing.
Most of our books are still in boxes for "the big move" when that finally happens which leaves only a selection of more eclectic non-fiction books on the shelves. Therefore, doing the first book that came to hand was not an option as I need to be impassioned and not bored to tears by the whole idea. So here goes, a completely different re-write as there is no way I can really read what happens between these two sentences from page 123 of "The Science of High Explosives" by Melvin A Cook, 1963. Not to be confused with the likes of Practical Bomb Making found online by day to day terrorists.
Nonideal detonation is associated in general with a finite reaction-zone length a or a finite reaction time r. He loved it when his wife spoke dirty to him. Using interesting and complicated words linked together with a reasonable amount of logic. But tonight she was on to a corker talking about high explosives as their bodies melded together and moved to a passionate rhythm. The moment was electric and took what had become a perfunctory activity done so many times before into the realms of, well, high explosives!
He adored his wife with her wide knowledge of life and the universe and her way with words. He would do anything for her, and often did. Making sure she was the happiest she could be by remembering all those small daily details such as replenishing the chocolate supply in the car door for all her driving, making her frothy coffee and warmed croissants each morning, or touching her in the right way to make sure that her body and mind felt fulfilled. Yes, he knew he was the luckiest man around as the words continued to gently bubble from her lips with a delicious musicality massaging his aural receptors. As she uttered the final line, her voice slowed to an allagando pace with each syllable hitting a nerve desiring more, releasing the final equation through the rippling after shocks as his hot sweaty body clung to hers with gratitude, immense love and honour: Then, using an expression for the ideal detonation velocity D*, he obtained the equation (D*/D)2 = 1 + 2.25 ((r1)4 - 1)
;-)
P.S. (D*/D)2 = 1 + 2.25 ((r1)4 - 1) reads "D star over D all squared equals 1 plus 2.25 multiplied by r1 to the power of 4 take away 1"
Let me know if you do this meme and I'll come read!
Monday, 10 March 2008
God to Panini
Gallery of Views of Modern Rome (1758, Louvre, 231 x 303 cm)
Giovanni Paolo Panini 1691-1765
Giovanni Paolo Panini 1691-1765
God:
Panini! Calling Panini. Panini to reception please!
Panini:
Sure you want me?
God:
Panini! Giovanni Paolo Panini ... Italian artist born 1691 died 1765. Yes, you!
Panini:
Oooo-er (as he shuffles to reception)
God:
You painted Modern Views of Rome about 1758 .... ten foot wide by about seven and half foot high. You also did one called Ancient Views of Rome.
Panini:
Yeeeeessss?
God:
Well, that Doris Mash saw your paintings at the Louvre a couple of years ago and was mightily impressed with all those works of art within a work of art.
Panini:
I was rather pleased with it myself and the whole concept of creating a painting that does the grand tour without having to actually do the grand tour. Cutting edge it was. Anyway, so they finally found a use for that old Louvre palace. Bit of a wreck last time I saw it and there was talk of a gallery sometime.
God:
Yes, well, it seems Doris needs your advice.
Panini:
Eh?
God:
Recently reminded of her love of your painting she remembered that tucked away in a cupboard was a jigsaw which Mr Doris gave her a couple of years ago ....
Panini:
Wait a moment! A jigsaw? What is a jigsaw?
God:
A jigsaw is a picture that has been cut into small odd shape pieces so that it can be reassembled.
Panini:
Whoah .... you mean someone cut my painting into pieces? I mean, I'm honoured my painting is still around and has been appreciated but to cut it up?
God:
No, of course it is safe. In this case a jigsaw has been made from a copy of the painting.
Panini:
You mean just like the young artists in my painting who are painting copies of the paintings? Someone has painted a copy and that has been cut up?
God:
Oh dear, let's not make this too long. Listen.... it is now the 21st century and it is possible to take an instant copy of almost anything, a picture, and to print it onto almost anything. In this case it has been put onto thin card and cut into a jigsaw.
Panini:
So you are saying that instead of getting out there and painting one's own pictures one can just put together a jigsaw.
God:
Indeed. It is one of my frustrations that humans find all these diversions and "things" to do rather than learn the great arts and crafts. But I digress.
Panini:
So how can I help?
God:
This particular jigsaw has 5000 pieces and when finished will be five foot wide by about thirty nine inches high. She was wondering, since you must be intimate with the painting, if you had any tips about how to tackle it. She's pretty much done the outside edges, except for one piece.
Panini:
Hmmm. Hmmm. Hmmmm.
God:
Yes?
Panini:
People! I'd go for assembling the people first. They are distinctive aspect of the whole. Lots of small aspects.
God:
Just a moment .... just listening in to Doris' thoughts. She is wondering whether you mean the people in the foreground, the people in the paintings, the people in the painted friezes, the people in the statues or the people in the carved wall friezes?
Panini:
Errr all of them I suppose. It would be too hard to separate them. But wouldn't it be easier and quicker for her to learn to paint?
God:
Possibly. But this human seems to have some sort of bloody-mindedness about her which could be called determination though she does worry if maybe she has some streaks of hereditary malfunction.
Panini:
And just where does a person carry out this occupation? Painting the original was hard enough and required ladders and scaffolds in a studio. My assistants were very helpful.
God:
It seems that Mrs Mash has only just realised that since her eldest moved out they have the top floor of the house and two rooms in which to work.
Panini:
My goodness. And what would happen if one of these tiny pieces should be lost?
God:
Ha-ha! That would be my revenge to these silly humans to not tell her that the edge piece she has not yet found was never actually there!
Thursday, 10 January 2008
Wordplay
Delicious words weaving and wrapping. Or blunt, describing deeds. Whether from the toy box or the tool box the words matter. Sumptuous confections lifting one's soul or clipped harshness smearing one's heart on bloody walls.
Mediocrity stubbornly infiltrates the gaps.
Discrete words being discreet with innuendo and possibilities.
At the ice-cream parlour of words sometimes brevity is the order, or maybe three generous scoops with all the toppings; with glace cherry and angelica adorning the moment.
Take away this hollow box with overworked laminated words bouncing around! But it is the necessary stool beneath us all, that helps to reach up to the mysterious boxes with multi-syllabic offerings that curl salaciously around tongues and lips. Pushing boundaries, enticing minds, creating smiles. And having a laugh :-D
Mediocrity stubbornly infiltrates the gaps.
Discrete words being discreet with innuendo and possibilities.
At the ice-cream parlour of words sometimes brevity is the order, or maybe three generous scoops with all the toppings; with glace cherry and angelica adorning the moment.
Take away this hollow box with overworked laminated words bouncing around! But it is the necessary stool beneath us all, that helps to reach up to the mysterious boxes with multi-syllabic offerings that curl salaciously around tongues and lips. Pushing boundaries, enticing minds, creating smiles. And having a laugh :-D
Tuesday, 26 September 2006
Long distance trains
I've always loved the smell of diesel. Ever since the days of the boat train at Victoria station it has held a place in my soul. As you walk down the platform, alongside the diesel engine turning over with a noisy hum, the smell of diesel brings anticipation. New adventures, new experiences and maybe new people to meet along the way. Or maybe a return to the arms of loved ones, or even just home to a bed you know and things being in their familiar place.After a more than wonderful weekend away with precious friends I have returned home again. The fast train zooming across countryside stopping only a few times. Absence has certainly made the heart grow fonder as I throw myself into the arms of Mr Doris meeting me at the station. Both the children are home and both give me the loveliest of smiles hello. Like I am someone special.
I sure love those big diesel trains standing at the platforms revving up ready to go. Taking me to beyond and then back home again. Thank you.
Original Comments:
Wednesday, 12 October 2005
Drugs and the L.E.A.
We had our first visit today from the LEA (Local Education Authority). It is akin to having an inspector come in to determine whether we are providing a suitable home education for our 11 year old son. It is our right to refuse access to such a visit and they have the power, if they did visit, to take us to court to make our son attend a school if they felt we were not providing a good enough education. We allowed the visit just to make the point that school is not the be all and end all.
It went well enough. Son skated close to the wind as I felt he talked a bit too much sometimes, such as about the various bribes he gets. Or when he expressed little interest in this or that but otherwise, it was obvious he was not a child that was locked in the cellar and that he was thriving and learning well.
He was sat at his desk during the course of the meeting and had taken it upon himself to pen a few ditties and share them with us. I could only hold my head up high when he read out this one, even though I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me:
In the earlier draft he had mentioned "cooking". He checked with us the spelling of druggie - with an ie and not a y. He spelt cocaine correctly. Oh luvly-jubbly. Looks great. Our son knows the drug lingo and can spell it well.
The LEA woman was very nice and reassuring that she wouldn't mention it to anyone.... like as 'eck! That will be one of the funniest things if it wasn't potentially dangerous. That familiarity suggests our use of the stuff and inappropriate access to our son. I kept my confidence and told her how we talk about all sorts of subjects and she too agreed it is better that he talked about it. She's gone now, quite happy, and I just shake my head in disbelief.
Reminds me of the time when he was about 3 or 4 years old. He's a cute lad is my son and with very different skin colour to my own so the family resemblance is not obvious at first. In a supermarket he decided to play a trick on me at the checkouts and in a very loud voice asked me who I was and stated that I wasn't his mum! He kept it up for enough minutes for people to start taking notice. Grrrr. Today compares very well to that.
Original Comments:
It went well enough. Son skated close to the wind as I felt he talked a bit too much sometimes, such as about the various bribes he gets. Or when he expressed little interest in this or that but otherwise, it was obvious he was not a child that was locked in the cellar and that he was thriving and learning well.
He was sat at his desk during the course of the meeting and had taken it upon himself to pen a few ditties and share them with us. I could only hold my head up high when he read out this one, even though I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me:
Baa Baa
Drug dealer
have you any weed?
Yes man, yes man
Two bags full.
One bag for the druggie,
One with cocaine,
and that one's for the little boy
who smokes down the lane
In the earlier draft he had mentioned "cooking". He checked with us the spelling of druggie - with an ie and not a y. He spelt cocaine correctly. Oh luvly-jubbly. Looks great. Our son knows the drug lingo and can spell it well.
The LEA woman was very nice and reassuring that she wouldn't mention it to anyone.... like as 'eck! That will be one of the funniest things if it wasn't potentially dangerous. That familiarity suggests our use of the stuff and inappropriate access to our son. I kept my confidence and told her how we talk about all sorts of subjects and she too agreed it is better that he talked about it. She's gone now, quite happy, and I just shake my head in disbelief.
Reminds me of the time when he was about 3 or 4 years old. He's a cute lad is my son and with very different skin colour to my own so the family resemblance is not obvious at first. In a supermarket he decided to play a trick on me at the checkouts and in a very loud voice asked me who I was and stated that I wasn't his mum! He kept it up for enough minutes for people to start taking notice. Grrrr. Today compares very well to that.
Original Comments:
- Ally said...
- Glad he shows a healthy sense of humour! :)
- Astryngia said...
- If he were at school, he would have been exposed to films and talks about drugs - as well as hobnobbing with children who take or supply drugs (even in the best of schools) so the knowledge base is not as unusual as you might fear. haha But I can guess the palpitations. I'd have been dying a thousand deaths!!!
The poem shows his intelligence, street cred and lust for life :-) and just how far he pushes the boundaries. ;-)
- MrsDoF said...
- Your son sounds like our middle one, who got called into the Dean's office for writing an essay about drugs and dealing--for an assignment in his Spanish class. He had written the whole article in Spanish, and could hardly believe it when the student down the row (he exchanged papers) could translate.
Pushing the boundaries is as easy as breathing for smart sons. Just keep on being smarter parents, and Grin often!
- Red Mum said...
- Yer kids will hang you everytime. Everytime.
I remember once attempting to continue with the free rail travel, when she turned five.
And in fairness most of the ticket people and staff at the railway station never ever asked as they were well used to us from when I was pregnant.
But one time there was someone new and they asked for her ticket and I said she's four, to which the young wan pipped up 'mummy I am five'.
- Hannah said...
- Ah! The little genius! Gotta love the kiddies!
- Cheryl said...
- Sarcastic wit at 4 and then, I'll bet, looked like butter wouldn't melt as he toyed with both you and the LEA lady today.
Far too intelligent.
So sharp he'll cut himself if he's not careful?
Was he challenging colour prejudice with 'Baah Baah drugg dealer', do you think, or playing on the concept of being 'the black sheep of the family'? If you could casually find out, do you think that an essay of his thoughts on either might be a suitably educational, um, consequence?
Poor you. :-)
- Ghone said...
- Kids eh? Tsk!
- zandperl said...
- I didn't realize you homeschooled. Do you have to submit lesson plans beforehand? I think we do that here in the States. What led you to choose homeschooling? Here in most cases I think it's religious fanaticism...
My best friend tutors high school biology and chemistry and one of her students is a homeschooler so she has to do some paperwork for the state since she's providing that aspect herself. I expect it'd be very difficult to do since most of us aren't trained as teachers and we don't have an indepth knowledge of everything. I'd think most parents would struggle with teaching science and math, though I personally would struggle with the history. :-P
- doris said...
- Zandperl Home education in the UK is very different and thank goodness.
Basically there are NO set directives, nor requirements for anything in the UK. Just a vague (non-compulsory) occasional visit from a Local Education Authority person. These people seem to be more tuned in now to making the visit more about giving support than being judgemental.
So.... Home Education can be a very different philosophy on life OR you can have set lesson plans and formal timetables if you wish. What I describe is what I do and and others do it in different ways.
The end results are happy and intelligent kids with common sense and most of all a desire to learn or find out. Some end up with a multitude of good grade exam results and others don't but are extremely employable in good jobs or go straight into University or further education.
Most of all, home-ed kids often have the ability to think and will not believe just everything they have been "taught". They have more of an ability to think laterally.
This doesn't mean that kids who go through the school system don't have these abilities... just that I reckon the a higher proportion of home-ed kids have it.
We are still at the early stages of home-ed for our son and so we have a lot of rubbish to work through with him.
We home-ed our daughter from she was 11 as well. She is now 16, in college and already has qualifications she wouldn't have gotten until she was 18. She has a desire and passion to learn.
So it is clear that our reasons for home-ed are not religious though others in the UK do have it as a reason.
As to qualifications.... you would be surprised. As parents (any of us) we know far more than we realise. Daily life is a sufficient learning plan.... counting money in the shops; working out square yardage (meters) of floor covering; currently son is interested in compound interest as advertised by the banks; geography through travelling around and experiencing the earth in real life; geology too; history as a result of news and books and discussions; English in everything; learning a language through travel and then a class or a friend or online; green energy, recycling, conservation through all things at home; biology through discussions, human and vegetable growth; chemistry over lunch when you accidently squeeze orange juice in your eye through to simple experiments done at home and visiting museums; physics (oops, your subject Zandperl!) in the same ways plus more experimentation; and much much more.
Think about how you learned lots of things at university. You went to lectures possibly and got a brief idea of the general direction to go in. You then organised yourself and went to the library (because you wanted to) and did your research, read and discovered and thought about and digested and reconsidered it. Home education is pretty much like that approach but obviously at levels appropriate to each child.
Anything we don't know we know how to find it out. Neither Mr Doris nor I were homeschooled. Mr Doris is a character in himself with amazing openness of thought. Whilst I am very questioning. I used to be an A grade student as a younger kid and then flunked everything when it came to exams at 15 and 16. Nothing about my life has been regular and I know that there is more than one way to skin a rabbit.
Nothing is set in stone and so if a child develops a passion for a particular subject they can stay with it for the next few days if they chose to and not have to pack up after an hour or so and go to their next lesson.
As a little kid growing up, my son never did much artwork which disappointed me. None of those big splashes of kiddy colour. Nothing. He was busy and happily doing other things and then school came along and there is little opportunity for art.
Since being home-ed he has whipped up a few pencil drawings with very fine draughtsman details. I didn't have to sit down and show him how to hold the pencil or how to "see". He just did because his interest was there and he had the opportunity.
It is not easy to home-ed, I grant you! Such a responsibility.
I know other home-edding parents whose writing and spelling etc may not be so great. Strangely enough, this does not mean that their children suffer. And the kids still have all these unquantifiable skills of knowing how to learn and wanting to learn.
Hmm. This response is rather long and I reckon I should be making a post out of it!
Cheryl Your thoughts are just too impressive! I never thought all those things.... but am glad to say that he was just being his cheeky self with no further deep meanings. It was a natural follow-on to something he did the other day. He did a cracking re-write of the Red Riding Hood story. A whole three pages of handwriting, which for him, is the best so far! Never mind it was a rip-off of an existing story, nor that it was pretty bloody and foul, but as I said, it was exciting to read!
Monday, 10 October 2005
Spinning cartwheels
Sometimes I'd just like to spin cartwheels. I can see it in my mind but know I just couldn't will my body to follow through so I'd likely end up an ungainly heap on the floor. As I've gotten older I want to play more and feel a lightness of spirit.
Sometimes I get musical song tunes floating through my mind such as from "My Fair Lady" .... "I could have danced all night, I could have danced all night and never, ever stopped..." and with that my bodice clad body swings round the dance floor of my mind with the biggest grin on my face.
Sometimes it is the tune from "Sound of Music": "I am sixteen going on seventeen" sung in a clear crisp voice as I dance around the bandstand lightly jumping up and down over the seats or swinging around the bars.
Sometimes I'm Gene Kelly "I'm singing in the rain, I'm singing in the rain. What a glorious feeeeling, I'm sinnnnging in the rain.." Best of all I am Ginger Rogers against Fred Astaire. With a beautifully tailored dress of chiffon sweeping or swinging as he holds me round a tiny corseted waist dancing with swift graceful moves covering the dance floor and swirling up a magic with a life of its own.
This isn't entirely a fantasy. Many years ago I used to love going to dances with my then boyfriend. He had a group of friends I had become friends with, one of which I discovered after a while shared a passion to dance. My friend was one of those very tall and dark, scary looking characters who was actually a pussy cat.
We would dance to soca and soul and dance tunes with these amazingly elaborate dances made up as we went along. The dance floor would clear and we'd make full use of it with all sorts of moves moving from one to another with an intuitive flow and gracefulness. At times our dances would be hot and suggestive but we never crossed those boundaries. I'm sure if had the chance again we would fall into our old dancing ways.
The last time I danced was a few months ago with my beloved Mr Doris at a friend's birthday party. My outgoing ways flitted around the room chatting to everyone sat on their own individual "keeping to themselves" tables and when the music struck up I was ready to hit the empty dance floor especially to encourage others. All the while, my darling quiet Mr Doris held his head up high, and with willing heart accompanied me onto the dance floor. Looking magnificent in his blazer. And he kept on dancing, at times holding me round the waist..... For that memory I adore him so much.Original Comments:
- Astryngia said...
- All that music in your soul - and the words so well illustrated with the verve of the little ballet dancer. And lovely memories to share, too. What happiness in your life now! :-)
- jane said...
- awwww Mr.Doris is so wonderful. Sometimes when I'm home alone, I dance around the house with those same songs in my head.
But you obviously can dance! You've got such a way with words, as you were describing that, I saw you & your parnters dancing in my mind's eye. You're one of a kind Doris.
- mrshellonheels said...
- Ohh I love to dance too, but my style is more the jitterbug and twist : ) And I dont mind dancing with hubby even tho he looks like a chicken that had its head chopped off, arms and legs flappin everywhere heehee..hes mine and I just flap right along with him.
Your post reminded me of that song, "I Hope you Dance" I forget who sang it.
- DaFFy said...
- Oh the part about Mr Doris is SO lovely. Isn't he marvellous?
I get in trouble all the time from The MOTH for dancing jigs down the supermarket aisle if something cool comes over the speakers.
- Le laquet said...
- I love dancing - it's just wonderful, takes away all the days cares ~ there's just the music! Lovely :o)
- Le laquet said...
- p.s. hell on heels is right about the song ~ sung by Lee Ann Womack but I think it was covered by Ronan Keating or some other ex-boy band Irish chappie
"And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance,
I hope you dance,
I hope you dance!"
- Neutron said...
- Nice one! I know exactly th feeling of anting to set off on some energetic movement but realising that your leaden body (sorry..MY leaden body) would never allow itself to be dragged along. It's maybe a childhood memory of being tossed in the air by your parents of something because Ic ertainly never did any of that flitting around you so neatly describe.
- doris said...
- Astryngia It is true! Sometimes I burst with such happiness now and I want to share it :-)
Jane We could dance together :-) I think I dance in the same way I sing.... not necessarily good but boldy. Just let your body fly and feel the music. There are no wrong moves and I found that once I realised that, I actually flowed better as I didn't feel so self-concious.
Hell on Heels LOL I love the thought of your hubby but it is wonderful nonetheless. At least he is not sitting it out and is getting right on down with you :-) I don't know the song you mention - I need to check it out. Perhaps I do know it and didn't realise it!
Daffy You too in the shopping aisles?! My kids freak when I do anything out of the normal in the shops and hold on to me and the trolley very tight. Like you say, when something good plays on the tannoy. On the other hand, Mr Doris has been known to hurl himself onto the back of a trolley and whizz down an empty aisle so I reckon we are well suited!
le Laquet we could have a synchronised dance-in .... :-) That would be fun! Thanks for finding the details of that song - I must check it out.
Neutron LOL my body is leaden too. Well it is for cart wheels but never for dancing. I'd dance with you :-)
- Pookie65 said...
- One of my favorite memories of my mom was watching her do cartwheels all the way around our house when I was very young.
Thanks for bringing back this memory today. I needed it.
- Le laquet said...
- If I could work out how to record it off the cd and send it .... but I am a tad thick .... and of course I wouldn't actually do it because it wouldn't be legal! *blushes*
- doris said...
- Awww! Thanks Le Laquet! Thanks to Amazon we can hear Lee Ann Womack but not Ronan Keating And that second link actualy has the refrain. And I don't think I've heard it, ever. So, thanks!
- doris said...
- Pookie - sounds like an amazing mother you have :-) Sorry you were having a rough day...
- Jo said...
- Bit late with this one...but what a lovely post! I like your little dancers especially. I'm working on learning how to upload groovy little pics :-)
- doris said...
- Thanks Jo .... you already upload pics don't you? I use mainly royalty free pics that we have and often save them as a gif with a transparent background so that they don't look square but really they are.
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Take care xx
But you are someone special - you're Mum. How much more special do you want?
I took it with my wife in Winter, and we passed Mt. Fuji in a deep snow-fall.
Unforgetable.
Loved these lines: "New adventures, new experiences and maybe new people to meet along the way. Or maybe a return to the arms of loved ones, or even just home to a bed you know and things being in their familiar place." Hmm-mmm, that's what travel is all about.
No kids, but the cat always lets me know how happy (or hungry!) she is when I get home!
P.S. I still have your email about the Mercury thing, I'll get to it! Glad your travels went smoothly this time.