scribbles tagged ‘magic’

open sesame

Wednesday, December 18th, 2013 | tags: , ,  |

finished curbI reversed onto my drive, with no bumps or bangs as would happen before my dropped curb. Beautifully smooth. A figure in the dark opposite is fiddling with my neighbours door. I get out of the car and can hear the figure cussing.

Wendy: Can I help you?

The elderly lady sounded distressed and talked about how the keys my neighbour had given her weren’t working. I offered her a cup of tea in my place and I’d call my neighbour’s mobile phone. She calmed down and tried the keys again.

Wendy: it probably won’t make any difference, but I’d really like to try the keys.

She gave me the keys and the door unlocked smoothly with absolutely no problem

Wendy: I’m magic

The lady laughed. We exchanged praise of my lovely neighbour and went our separate ways.

I’m magic and available for all your ‘locked-out’ needs

open sesame
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imagination

Wednesday, May 22nd, 2013 | tags: , , ,  |

OrigamiI was 6yrs when they started dating. I’ve no memory of the widow without him next to her. He would tell an engaging story, fold some paper, do some magic. She enthusiastically edited and annotate his stories. They talked, behaved so smoothly, as if they were one.

8-AlbertMagicThe front door opens as I walk up the garden path. With a smile and short wave of her hand she beckons me in, while she puts on her coat. Piles of papers and boxes of things are neatly arranged around the edges of the very clean lounge. I’ve been wondering what to say to her. What do you say to recently bereaved people? She places a photograph album on my lap. Her step-children made the album for her from photographs they printed to the wall at the wake. Her coat is nowhere to be seen as she talks me through the photographs, boxes and piles of paper. The photographs are all of her husband, she’s in almost everyone, his smiling shadow.

Her conversation flows easily and is fascinating. It’s easy to listen to her, asking a few questions. She seems to be pouring out all the stories that have built up in the new found silences of living alone. Her conversation is mostly on topics that have arisen because of his death, practical things like dealing with finances, probate, the single-person supplements charged when you’re planning a cruise holiday for one, and learning how to cooking for one. She says ‘as you know’ whenever she talks of being single, talking to me rather than at me. She comments in passing on the difficult emotions;  not being ready to box or clear-out his things, trying to help with her step-daughter’s persistent crying, depression.

The days are alright. The sun is out and I’ve plenty to do. He would be on the computer all day, so we didn’t spend them together anyway. It’s the evenings that are difficult, when it’s dark. We spent our evenings together.

I pretend that he’s at a (Masons) lodge meeting, he often went out for them, so that helps.

imagination
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Magic December

Tuesday, December 25th, 2012 | tags: ,  |

Warm wishes from our the bottom of our hearth

Magic December
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through the magic door

Friday, December 7th, 2012 | tags: , , , ,  |

Costume HireColourful costumes adorn the window of ‘Event Junction’. C3PO, Marilyn Monroe and more.

I walk by several times a day. It always brings a smile to my face. Cemetery junction is a lively community hub and a traffic nightmare. This store compliments the diversity of the area and starts you dreaming of possibilities and happy events.

It reminds me of the 70’s children TV program “Mr Benn“. It’s a pleasant diversion from the other local, numerous, convenience and fast food stores.

At the moment I’m trying to pluck up the courage to go in and try on the costumes… find my own adventure.

Just seeing the shop makes my day.

through the magic door
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magic kilt

Saturday, November 17th, 2012 | tags: , , , , , ,  |

Walking along a crowded platform on Paddington station, suddenly an arm wrapped around a shoulder and a Scottish accent welcomed me. My friend had seen my Royal Stewart tartan through the crowds and recognised my gait. How lovely that the kilt could help bring us together in this otherwise unfriendly milieu.

Later, standing on a tube train, a stranger smiled at me and invited me to take an empty seat they had rights to by proximity. This has never happened before during my London commutes. Later again, a young man invited me to pass in front of him to leave the train rather than taking my natural place in the rambling crush.

I love all 9 yards of my kilt, it helps people see me.

It inspires kindness from strangers.

It’s magic.

magic kilt
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the cunnyng woman

Friday, August 26th, 2011 | tags: , ,  |

Clever woman? Must be a witch. Burn her!

Cunnying appears to refer to magic in an acceptable form – bringing health

W is for Witchcraft

the cunnyng woman
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hiding under a silk hankie

Saturday, May 21st, 2011 | tags: , ,  |

neckscarfcharming friend #1:  that’s a nice neckscarf

wendy: it doubles as a hankerchief for sneeze emergencies or magic tricks

charming friend #2: I thought it was hiding a hickie

wendy: (raucous loud laughter, trying to dispel the hickie myth before rumours take flight)

 

hiding under a silk hankie
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spring specialities

Sunday, April 24th, 2011 | tags: , ,  |

Why I love England #17:  bluebell woods

Portbury Bluebell woodSpending hours of the Easter national holiday weekend wandering through cool woodlands surrounded by dappled light, beautiful bluebells, immersed in the wonderful scent. The forests of the USA were beautiful too but the bluebell woodlands of England are magical in their own special way

spring specialities
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magic goats

Sunday, December 26th, 2010 | tags: , , , , ,  |

Mum and Dad’s house is full of all sorts of good looking Christmas decorations, candle holders, runners, baubles and tinsel.

Amongst the ever growing collection are a few things that I recall from my youth. In my youth Christmas decorations were stored in one, carefully packed, box. Opening the christmas decoration  box was a special time. Out came the red and the blue christmas goats. I always suspected them of being christmas elephants but dad assures me that they are goats. I would make up stories about the Christmas goats and move them around the house. They are magic goats.

Traditional candle holders

PS This is a 100 word post, before the PS

magic goats
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gandolf’s gnashers

Tuesday, July 6th, 2010 | tags: , , , ,  |

The graffiti of Tiverton shows the local religious practices.

The Wzards of Tiv breed a rare form of magic moth known as the gizajob.  To keep the moth pupae both moist and warm they weave the pupae into their beard just below their nose where it cunningly covers their mouth. Luckily its not currently the breeding season, though I did see many wizards with appropriately sized beards.

gandolf’s gnashers
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back in place

Tuesday, June 1st, 2010 | tags: , , , ,  |

All the wendy house blog posts dating back to February 2005 are back, BACK!   With a few bonus letters appearing as-if by magic.

My back is BACK. Sneaky little vertebrae untwisted by Paul’s expert manipulation.  Hoorah!

Matrix is back chasing birds, and Sampo is starting a weight-loss diet to get BACK to being lythe

Normal service is…   …..BACK

back in place
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imaginary friend

Wednesday, April 29th, 2009 | tags: , , , ,  |

Years before I read Peter Pan when I was less than 4ft tall I had an imaginary friend.    Without wings, he could fly into my bedroom at night while my unsuspecting family carried-on their downstairs life-after-my-bedtime.   Unlike Peter pan, John wore ordinary clothes:  flared corduroy jeans, t-shirt, jumper and daps.    You could easily miss noticing John in a crowd of shorter children.   John had an ordinary quiet, thoughful, way  about him.   His silences matched mine.   He was good company.

Decommissioned London BusJohn could fly right through the force-field  that protected me from the monsters beyond the wardrobe.    The force-field that looked like bedroom walls but was infact protection that moved with me as I travelled through planet Wendy.   John knew how to co-pilot the big red double-decker bus,   the bus that was cunningly disguised as  my single bed.     Unlike my real friends John didn’t scream or  throw the extra pillow at the slimey poison-tongued Lizards that chased the bus.   John could use his powers of flight to lift the bus out of the swamp.   John was magic,   he could corale the heard of wild unicorns into the wardrobe without saying a single word.     He was my secret, special friend.  

John stopped joining my  evenings when, in my teens, evening adventures moved into the world beyond my parents home.  I wonder if  John’s still out there,   whether he grew up or maybe became someone real.

Sometimes I miss him  

Sometimes

imaginary friend
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