Thursday Thoughts

It’s been raining for most of the day today, dark and dismal with it.  I thought I’d try and find an image which evokes memories of sun, heat and leisure to brighten up the otherwise miserable gloom, and came across this photo I’d taken whilst on holiday earlier this year.  It shows the April sun setting over the Palais des Papes in Avignon and was truly beautiful.

Thursday Thoughts

Portals to a Magical World – Writing 101 Day 9

To my dear darling grandchildren,

I wanted to tell you all about the magical world that is hidden away inside every bookshop, especially second-hand bookshops – those that sell books that other people have read before.  I know that you may never have seen a bookshop, especially as ereaders are so popular now.  You may even have an ereader of your own, but I think you should know something about bookshops in case you should ever come across one.

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Thursday Thoughts

The Bequest

This morning I thought I’d have a look at recent posts to see if I could find something inspirational to write about quickly.  This is not something I’ve ever really done before and I was curious to see how I would feel about it.

One blogger I follow has posted a weekly event called Creativity Carnival where the inspiration is a drawing she has created and posted.  I’ve copied the drawing below – she’s very talented :-).  Please click on the link to take a look at her site.

creativity-carnival-blogging-event-for-bloggers-pocket-watch-pen-and-ink1Louis stood looking down at his grandfather’s coffin.  Tears were pricking at the corner of his eyes as he muttered his last goodbye and threw in his symbolic handful of dirt.  ‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust …..’ rumbled on the minister in that heavy, tuneless way that ministers do.  Louis wasn’t listening, he was thinking of the last time he had seen his grandfather, the last words he, Louis, had angrily shouted at him and the look of hurt on his beloved grandfather’s face.  Even as Louis had slammed the front door on the way out of the house he had longed to go back and tell his grandfather that he was sorry, that he hadn’t meant what he’d said, that he loved him and always would.  But he hadn’t gone back.

Too late now.  That chance had slipped him by.  His anger had clouded his mind and his pride had refused to yield.   If only he could have that time again, to go back and right the wrong he had done, the hurt he had caused.  Regret sits in the heart forever, whilst anger is quickly forgotten.

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