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No two the same

click the logo to visit Julia’s Place 100 Word Challenge for Adults

This week’s challenge is to write a dialogue, in no more than 158 words, that includes the question “Are you sure it should be that colour?” And this is what that said to me:-

– “Are you sure it should be that colour?”
– “Why, what colour’s yours?”
– “Hang on a tick, I’ll have to check. Oh, similar, but yours is so much more vivid”
– “Oh dear, that doesn’t sound good, do you think maybe there could be something wrong with mine?”
– “Hey I’m no expert. Just because I’ve never seen one quite so, err, eye-catching as yours doesn’t mean there’s actually something wrong with it.”
– “Reading between the lines, you think I have a problem but you just don’t want to embarrass me by saying anything, Am I right?”
– “Well, all I can say is that I have seen a few in my time and I’ve never actually seen one quite so vibrant. I think you probably need to ask an expert, though.”
– Good idea. Hey, chef, will you take a look at my tikka masala? Might I have added a little too much turmeric?”


This is a turmeric root. I thought it just arrived in a jar 🙂

Lest We Forget

Elizabeth, reluctant to leave the cosy warmth of her bedroom, and irritated by Ann’s cheerful reminder that she needed to be ready for the concert, grumpily took her seat in the communal lounge, glancing at her neighbours whose demeanours ranged from jittery excitement to blank disinterest.
Children filed into the lounge, music filtered into Elizabeth’s foggy consciousness and the singing began.
“Pack up your troubles”… Elizabeth closed her prickling eyes against the painful, sudden memory of her beloved Jack, smart in his uniform, waving and smiling as he left to show Hitler “what for”. Never to return…never to be forgotten.

In response to Julia’s place 100 Word Challenge week 18 “Lest We Forget”

In Winter We Shiver…

In response to this week’s 100 word challenge…which this week is shortened to 21 words, inspired by:

Remember remember the fifth of November
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
I see no reason why gunpowder, treason
Should ever be forgot…

….and has to include the phrase “in winter we shiver”

here is my humble offering

Afloat on the river, in winter we shiver
Occasionally becoming stuck
The swan population, avoiding migration
Unlike our neighbour the duck

Click here to visit Julia’s Place for the 100 word challenge

A Recipe

A heart, not broken but bearing many scars
A spirit, shaken, then stirred by a lover’s touch
A mind concocted from doctrines since unlearned
A body whose burdened yoke became too much
Fears coddled and wrapped in a coating of care
Ambition simmering on a fearless flame
Imagination whisked by fresh inspiration
A recipe whose flavour will not twice be the same.

© Gill Simpson 2005

Romance, Yorkshire Style

Matty and Rosie were sweethearts
Up in t’West Riding o’ Yorkshire
Rosie were such a sweet little thing
“Me buttonhole” were what Matty called her.
The couple were engaged for donkey’s years
‘Til Rosie said “s’time we were wed!”
“What give up me nights in the boozer?
Me mates’ll think ah’m soft in th’head”
“Nay lad, tha’ll still ‘ave tha drinkin’
Ah’ll niver stop tha’ fun” Rosie said
“But think on’t, p’raps when tha gets ‘ome
Tha’ll appreciate me warmin tha bed”
Matty pondered a while then he grinned
‘Appen it wun’t be a bother
His lass were a sight for sore eyes
And it’d get him away from his mother.

The weddin were such a spectacle
Wi’ all them relations in suits
Rosie in white polyester
And Matty in newly soled boots.
They all had a right good do after
Down at the Old Duke o’ York
It were just nine months later that Rosie
Were paid her first visit by t’stork.
Young Matty were a right bonny baby
He weighed in at 9 ‘n half pound
Rosie were happy as Larry
And Matty bought his cronies a round.
Soon it were th’anniversary
O’ t’day Matty and Rosie were wed
He bought her some right pretty roses
And were ‘ome afore she went to bed.
Right touched were our Rosie to see ‘im
He bent and kissed her on th’ ‘ead
An’ e’d brung ‘em both a fish supper
Who said th’age o’ romance were dead?

© Gill Simpson 2006

Mirror

I see a face, reflected,
Bold lines across it drawn.
Laughter etched, and worries too
Memories past, not gone.
Eyes, the windows to the soul,
Reflecting all those years
Of love and hope and challenges,
Of hopefulness and fears.
I see the ghost of a young girl,
Shyly, hiding there,
With dreams she’s carried in her heart,
Hoping one day to share.
I see a face, reflecting
Truths I already know.
A future’s waiting patiently,
For the past to be let go.

Gill Simpson © 2011

Leaving Autumn

They danced through gentle early autumn’s breeze as the sun played on their vivid green faces The year marched stealthily toward winter. Sunlight visited rarely, and as their tree dispensed with its need for them, the autumn leaves donned their vibrant coats in red golden hues ‘til winter’s wild winds whisked them away.

In response to Julia’s Place 100 Word Challenge