All posts by Phil

The Flower Sculpture

This post was prompted by the ‘100 Word Challenge’ here.  Please visit the post on Julia’s site and scroll down to view the photo.

Perhaps the astute wife of a country town tailor started the idea.  Imagine this:

“Bob, we should make the most of this pageant, you know.  Promote the old firm a bit.”
“Not my scene, sweetheart.  And we seem to get by…”
“Yes, love, we do.  But there’ll be another house to keep soon.  Our Nev has a thing going with Mary, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“You’ve got ideas going round in that brain of yours…”

And so, at the pageant, a cart bearing with the firm’s name carried a floral sculpture round the town: ‘Robert Flowers and Son, Tailors.’

This post is based on my own musings only.  Any similarity with any known incident, or any work of fiction, is unintentional.

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The Gallery: Week 73 – Shoes

So.  Shoes, the lady asks for, and shoes, she – and you, gentle reader – will get.  Even though I’m no great collector of them.  I count myself fortunate to find a matching pair, with non-snapped laces, as and when  I need them.  but what about these?

You see, sometimes, not only feet, but also wheels, have shoes.  But, unlike a smart pair of stilettos, ladies, they’re no fashion accessory.  In fact, they spend their working life hidden away inside a metal drum which spins with the wheel, the shoes themselves being mounted on a backplate.  Whenever a hydraulically-operated system pushes them outwards, the friction thus set up between shoes and drum slows the vehicle.

Although, increasingly, cars are now being equipped with disc brakes on all wheels, drums and shoes, many times bigger than these here, are still used on heavy goods vehicles – and stopping one of those is no mean task!  Just think how many shoes there are on a road tanker!  Oh, and the driver has a pair, too.

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Mary thought…

Mary thought that all she had left to do was to mourn.  With energy born of intense love, she got up very early and went to the place where her loved one had been buried.

She was amazed, however, to find the grave open and empty.  She ran to tell friends (who came to look, then went home.)

But Mary stayed there, weeping, then, looking into the grave, saw someone who asked her why she was in tears.  Then she turned round to see another man, who also questioned her, whom she took to be the attendant gardener.

Until he said ‘Mary.’

This post was prompted by the ‘100 word challenge’ here:
It is based on one account of the resurrection in the Holy Bible.
(See John 20: 1-16.) 

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Don’t foozle it!

There’s no time like the first time
To get the job done right.
To bungle it will cause distress
It’s not a pretty sight.

A job done well is best by far –
And if it takes a while
Reflect that just to do it once
Will leave more time to smile.

To foozle it will only mean
It must be done again.
And first you must undo the mess
(Or pour it down the drain.)

So start out now the way you wish
To see your task right through.
Then find the effort well worthwhile
As all true workmen do.

This post was prompted by the ‘100 word challenge’ here,
using the option ‘foozle.’ 

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The Gallery: Week 70 – Black and White

When any picture includes colour, it is virtually inevitable that the connections and contrasts thus brought into the image will grab the viewer’s attention more than any other feature. Without colour, however, we are drawn to study shape, line, and portrayed texture.  This shot was originally taken in colour, and was converted to black and white by desaturation.

 Now we notice the angular layout of the path, the grain of the timber, the fluffiness of the clouds, and almost feel the prickliness of the sea grass.  Less information is telling us more.  I’m not suggesting we give up colour photography, but there is certainly a place for black and white.

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The sun shone but…

The sun shone, but without the comforting warmth we take for granted during summer. Shadows were still sharply defined, yet a weird feeling of gloom prevailed, despite only light cloud presence across the sky.  A gentle breeze, usually welcome, brought a strange chill.  Then the sky darkened further, as if a storm were imminent, although the clouds were no more dense.  Now the breeze felt distinctly cold.  I watched the sky carefully, taking photographs at intervals, and drinking tea.  Then the trend reversed.  The sky lightened.  The breeze seemed warmer, as if the harmony of nature had been restored.  The moon had moved on.

This post was prompted by the ‘100 word challenge’ here:  It is based on my own vivid memory of the solar eclipse in 1999.

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