Category Archives: Non classé

Listen, it’s Summer…

Summer is in the sounds. Not in the date, although I have to go with the original and official one of today. Nor the long hours of sunshine, nor the heat they sweep through the stifling streets. Summer enters through … Continue reading

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Metallic Man

My pen has run dry recently but yesterday, over at Charli’s Ranch, the weekly challenge blew a spurt of ink into my nib and a little piece came to mind. This was the prompt: June 7, 2018, prompt: In 99 … Continue reading

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Linked at the seams

Words have eluded me since the 12th of April when my lovely big cousin suffered a massive heart attack and tragically died. He was buried this morning on the island in the north of Scotland which he had made his … Continue reading

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Moongazer

Yep, I’m still flashing, still driven by the need to concoct tiny little stories only 99 words long which usually stay hidden from here, visible only to Charli Mills‘ followers. For their eyes only. But this week, for some reason, … Continue reading

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Stoned…

A lazy spider watches me from its parking space on the ceiling. He or she (I can’t tell from where I am) seems surprised at what I am doing. And so he/she should be. I too am surprised at what … Continue reading

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Dear Sacha

Yes, you will undoubtedly find me ungrateful. No, I will not just keep my big mouth shut. But, honestly? All I asked for last week was your intervention to help make the never-ending raindrops stop falling. I imagined you may … Continue reading

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Meet my other half at The Ranch

Amidst recent bouts of coughing and spluttering I have also been over at one of my favourite places – The Carrot Ranch. There Charli Mills gave me a space to bare all and let readers get to know my other … Continue reading

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Raindrops keep falling on my head…

Ever wondered why Sacha Distel snatched this song from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and sang it ever so suavely on his own TV show? Not just to show off his chic Gallic style and toothy white smile. Not … Continue reading

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La Vie est Belle

As she runs downstairs, late as always, her perfume lingers on the landing then slowly makes its way under my door, floats across the room and seeps into my nostrils which are half asleep. They had determinedly been ignoring my … Continue reading

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It’s time to anal-yse this

One of my colleagues recently told me that she thought I was ‘anal’. As a Scot, brought up in the sixties, this is not a word I’d readily use about myself, or anyone else for that matter – it has … Continue reading

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