Notes from suburbia

The prompt for this weeks 100 word challenge is this:-  '...the extreme weather meant...'. Along with these words, and a timely reminder from a friend on Facebook to put out food for our feathered friends in the snowy conditions, I came up with this little story...   Singing for his supper   The extreme weather meant that the tiny bird found himself to be in a bit of a quandary.   His favourite hunting haunts had been adversely affected by the cold white stuff that now surrounded him.    At almost every turn, he found himself face to face with cold wet surfaces that covered up, or frightened away,   the food that was usually so readily available. He had no choice but to sit and wait – curled up as tightly as he could, his brown speckled feathers plumped out, he perched on the tip of a snow covered branch and sang as sweetly as he ever had before...     Find more entries at Julia's Place

... is the prompt for this weeks 100 Word Challenge For Grown Ups - week#73 .   Here is my entry:- He was expecting her.   A gentle push at the already slightly ajar door allowed her to enter in to the hallway silently.    The bitter-sweet aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped   her   senses, inviting her further in to the sprawling apartment.    It was as if he knew her already.   Knew how she would respond.   She stepped carefully out of her shoes and slipped off her heavy winter coat before tip-toe-ing along the parquet floor of the corridor that lay before her.   As yet, unwilling to announce her arrival. All the while, the notes from the piano rose in to the air and danced around her head.   ________________________________________________________   It's been a while since i took part in the 100WC.  I've missed it.  I like the challenge of having to stick to a strict word count wi...

Of all the slippers in all the world, what, I wonder, is it about these slippers that screams to The Female Parent (aka my Mum and usually very good present choosing generous woman who is both loved and appreciated) "BUY THESE FOR YOUR DAUGHTER"!!!!! The call seems to be so loud and clear that I have received almost identical pairs of these slippers for at least the last three Christmases. I know it sounds ungrateful. I don't mean to be. Not at all.  But...they are not only lilac, they also come complete with ribbon bows - pink and MORE lilac, topped off with tiny teeny weeny pink and LILAC buttons.  They are fancy.  Some would say, fussy. Now. Don't get me wrong.  The comfort is all there.  Snugly warm feet when encased in said slippers? Check! But they are sooooooooooooo very very very extremely very girly.  And that's just not me.  I admit to liking some prettiness in some things, but mostly when it com...

It's that time of year isn't it.  The time when we are encouraged to make resolutions for improvement over the next twelve months. Whilst I do feel a sense of reflection on the year that has passed and a feeling of another year bringing with it a fresh new chapter, I'm not fully onboard with the "let's get healthy/fit/more intellectual/more skilled/more cultural".  More more more more more!  Unless of course it's less.   Less food. Less alchohol.  Less telly. Less lounging.  Less of the things you enjoy one might say.  I'm all for a sense of regrouping but I'm not ready to resolve that 'less is more' or, 'more is less'.  As it were. I'm not the only one it would seem.  Increasingly, rather than referring  to 'New Year resolutions', which can be perceived as unrealistic and all too often, short lived, there is instead reference to 'intentions', 'goals', 'aims'. I'm not convinced this...

New Years Eve 2012... it all went a bit like this... 10am  - me and The Husband talk about how we may spend this particular New Year's Eve and come up with a BOLD PLAN. 12noon - we collect The (now) Nine Year Old who celebrated his birthday at his Dad's the previous day.  As The Husband and The Nine Year Old share a 30th December birthday we are having small scale belated birthday celebration at home today. 12.30pm - The Nine Year Old opens his birthday presents which include - to The Husbands horror - a Chelsea Football shirt.  The Nine Year Old is delighted and proceeds to put the shirt on and starts tugging at the tags whilst me and The Husband are looking at him trying to decide whether or not the top fits him.  Too late, the tags are off - the top, therefore, it is decided, does indeed fit. 2pm - I decorate the Nine Year Old and The Husbands birthday cakes - one each as The Nine Year Old prefers to keep i...