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Stirred Up Vehicle Memories…

June 10, 2013

Today’s word – Vanguard, which is defined as the leading or forward position in a movement, actually reminded me of a vehicle my parents owned when I was quite young. That car was a Vanguard, and popular in England in the 1950’s. Look at the two tone paintwork and those eyelash head lights. They certainly don’t make beautiful, charismatic vehicles like that anymore. The front has a ‘face’ and the curved lines are visually pleasing. We lost the individuality of vehicles once the wind tunnel became a major factor of design. In those days each manufacturer was instantly recognizable, not just because of the badge, as now-a-days.

Standard_Vanguard_VignaleThe interior of our Vanguard had a large bench like seat in the back, where my siblings and I were seated. There were no seat belts…so my father instructed us to roll into the foot well and crouch there, if he ever shouted ‘down’. Luckily, we never had to do that in an emergency, although on occasion he would test our reactions.

I have one clear memory of the Vanguard. After visiting my grandparents, we were just along their street and rounding a curve, when the car door on my little’s brother’s side of the car swung open. He was leaning on it at the time. I saw him falling and managed to grab his legs before he fell completely out of the car. All the while screaming at my father to stop the car. It was one of those moments I will never forget. Luckily, my brother was unharmed but very scared. From that day on we always doubled checked the doors were closed tightly.

Another vehicle I remember fondly, is the Morris Traveler I was transported in going to school. The lady who took us, lived nearby and offered her services to local parents. There were probably too many kids in that car, morning and afternoon but seat belts were a thing of the future at the time. (Doesn’t this make me sound old – good grief!)

Morris_TravellerAustin Traveller

Just look at the rounded lines and head lights, such character. The wood is real wood not plastic!

And now I will share a picture of the first car I bought. She was a fantastic vehicle and I loved her,  naming her – Babe! A Mk2 Ford Cortina two door saloon. I probably have photos of her buried deep within my photography collections but here are a couple of photos to give you the idea. Babe’s color was called Aquatic Jade. I drove Babe for many years and even blew up her first engine! I learnt how to drive properly in her and she will always have a special place in my heart.

CortinaFord Cortina

Have you any vehicle memories?

Thankful and excited all rolled into one…

August 13, 2012

This past weekend is amongst the best I have ever had. Why you may ask, well in short two great writing events came to fruition for me. I was beside myself with excitement and smiling like the preverbal Cheshire Cat.

Literally bursting with happiness and wanting to share with everyone not just because I was proud of myself but also to show that determination, hard work and commitment bring their own rewards. If you follow your dream it will become reality, maybe in small steps but that is the joy of our journey.

My first event was submitting my fantasy – The Rython Kingdom – onto Smashwords. It was a nerve racking experience, letting go of a manuscript I had worked on for over a year through revision after revision and numerous edits…but the immediacy of its availability to the global community was the part that took my breath away. We are used to everything being instantly accessible – just not our precious words – there was no time to adjust to them being out in the world for all to see.
Why not take a look? The next event was quite a surprise. I had been asked to write an article for a new online newspaper, so submitted one, not really expecting it to be accepted. Almost as soon as I had sent my email, I got one back asking for my bio & a headshot! I frantically read through my bio’s and then took a few new photos to send off. As many of you know I am passionate about my writing but also my writing group and that is the subject of my article.
I encourage you all to follow your dream and take advantage of any and all opportunities that come your way.

Smiley face – Daniel Y Go

An Industry on the Brink—Five Mistakes that are Killing Traditional Publishing

July 22, 2012

An Industry on the Brink—Five Mistakes that are Killing Traditional Publishing.

I suggest you read and digest…its a new world out there. Kristen has her finger on the pulse and worth following.


Mayor’s Celebration of the Arts…

June 13, 2012

Another evening of celebration for the arts.

Cultural events abound this week. I will be attending this one as secretary of the Writers Foundation of Strathcona  It is always a delight to mingle with like minded people and the food is good too.

P.S. – I won the door prize too – super box of wine, carafe & glasses.

I Write…

September 8, 2010

I have found many words of wisdom regarding the process and skill of writing, whilst searching the internet. The one ‘constant’ bizarrely is the variety of views and thoughts, which come from author’s blogs. Each individual’s experience of writing is as unique as they are and that is what makes this writing life so special. No matter what you write, it is your own originality that makes it distinctive. A case in point is the variety of responses we receive from Saturday prompts posted on the WFSC web site. Even with a common starting point, no two pieces are alike, making the reading even more enjoyable.

For example one prompt was – You see a lone shoe beside the road. Tell its story. My response was a piece I called – Phenomenal Shoe

scarpasa boot

  Whilst driving homeward one evening I spy a shoe lying beside the road. Where had it come from? Who did it belong to? How did it get there? These thoughts run through my mind as I near home but are soon forgotten once the evening meal preparations occupy me.

It is not until the following evening that I again glimpse the shoe. Appearing and disappearing in the brief gap my wipers allow me through a veil of water on my windscreen. Why do I worry so about an abandoned shoe? It seems to pull me toward it. Before rational thought can take over, I pull my car to the kerb.  I brave the rain and pick up what is an extraordinary looking shoe.  Placing it in the foot well, it gradually oozes water, making a small puddle. I continue my journey home.

“Hey Mum, we’ve got a power cut. Dad said we are going out for supper.”

My son’s declaration distracts me. The shoe is forgotten in the bustle of our departure.

“Put your seat belt on, Timothy.  Joy put your glasses on – how many times do I have to tell you?”

Hours later, my two young ones tucked up in bed and my husband snoring gently in front of the television, I remember the shoe.  I find it partially dried out awaiting rescue. How can this innate object hold my attention?  Its pale grey layered vamp and the highly unusual heel make it a thing of beauty – it is obviously a very expensive designer shoe – where could its partner be? Why was it discarded? As I turn it this way and that, admiring the delicately layered cloth, the fascinating heel, a sensation of familiarity flows through me. This is my shoe – lost long ago. What is this – a déjà vu moment?

Settling the shoe on my bedside table – as a sort of talisman – I drift off to sleep. My dreams are of a rich dazzling life, enjoying expensive restaurants, fancy hotels and exquisite clothes. Even the silk sheets underneath me feel real as I turn over to see voile billowing into a perfectly white room. This is not my bedroom, am I still dreaming?

“Darling, are you awake? I’ve brought you breakfast.”

I turn to see an incredibly handsome man walking into the room. He is carrying a laden tray complete with a red rose.
“Where am I? How did I get here?”

“You are home, my love.  I thought I had lost you after the accident but now the doctor has let you come home. He thinks being in familiar surroundings will help your memory.”

“But I’m married with children – this isn’t home.”

“The doctor told me you may have false memories from your time in the coma but they will fade, darling. Truly you are home now.”
I turn toward the bedside table, there lies the shoe.

“Is this my shoe?” I’m sorry, who are you?”

“I’m Dominic. My darling, I’m your husband. Do you know your name? Is anything familiar?”

“My name is…..? I don’t know! I must be dreaming. I have to get back to my children.”

“We don’t have children Francesca. You said they would tie us down, hamper our travels, our life style.”

“Francesca? I do have children – Timothy and Joy they……. I am so confused. Is this one of my shoes?”

“I think it is – let me look for you. Here in the bag the hospital sent home with you. How did you manage get its partner?”

“I found it beside the road, abandoned. It seemed to call to me – isn’t that strange?”

“No, I think your mind was trying to bring you back to me, my love. But how could you have picked it up from the roadside when you were lying in a coma? That is the strange part.”

As I look at the pair of shoes, one pristine and the other water marked and grubby, a feeling of recognition fills me – now I know who I am. Francesca Mendez, heiress to a hotel empire. I live a life of luxury but deep down I have a yearning – a yearning for children.  I will take advantage of my second chance – have those children that are waiting within me. I hold out my hand to Dominic and pull him toward me.

“However strange it may be, this shoe has brought me back to you and given us the chance to change our lives. Will you make a baby with me, Dominic?”

“My darling I have wanted children but you were so opposed to the idea. Are you sure?”

“I am very sure Dominic.”

Our lust consumes us, the shoes forgotten for the moment.

Epilogue:  Years later, when my children are older I show them the special shoes. They are encased in a specially made glass case, in pride of place in my boudoir. Sitting Timothy and Joy beside me on a soft couch, I relay the story of the shoes and how, without them, life would have been very different.


Why don’t you try writing a piece with this prompt? See where you thought process’ take you and then post it here. We can compare and comment. Have fun – that is what writing is all about after all.


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