People – Whittlesey Wordsmiths

Travelling to America. by Jane Pobgee

Photo by Gyu00f6rgy Tu00f3th on Pexels.com

My journey to America started off brilliantly. A taxi driven by a lovely young man (well younger than me) named Shiraz came to take me to the airport. The car was very luxurious and comfortable. I sat up front with Shiraz as it was easier to talk and lip read that way. We talked almost non stop and I learnt all about his family, he has fourteen year old twins. It made the journey pass quickly and pleasantly and we soon arrived at Heathrow.

Once I had deposited my case I then headed to security. That is always fun. I passed through their scanner and then had to be wanded. The reason was simple, I had forgotten that I was wearing my lip reading metal badge. Thankfully they soon realised that was the only thing wrong and I wasn’t an international drug smuggler or slave trader, just a slightly forgetful dotty old lady.

I passed the time in the terminal people watching as I walked to our take off gate. Once there I introduced myself to the people at the desk and explained that I couldn’t hear the tannoys and would need to be told when to board etc. The staff were very helpful and when they were ready to start boarding they allowed me to go on the plane before the first class passengers to find my seat. Deafness has some perks. Once onboard I was delighted that I could do up the seat belt easily, previously when I flew to America I had been much larger and needed a belt extension. So it felt good to be a regular passenger .

The steward was a lovely guy who went through the safety procedures with me, and then explained that when I reached Chicago my stop over I would have to collect my suitcase and go through American customs. Then I would have to put my suitcase through again so that it would go onto Grand Rapids. He was most insistent that I understood the procedure as if I didn’t do this my luggage would stay in Chicago. The flight was long but uneventful and I was glad to get off the plane The layover was just over two hours but there were so many people trying to get through customs that it took forever. I began to worry that I wouldn’t make my next plane.However I did eventually get through and made it onto the plane the penultimate boarder.

I finally arrived at Grand Rapids only to find my luggage didn’t. Just when I was wondering what to do next I felt a hand on my shoulder, I turned to see the friend I had come to visit and I was so glad to see her because I was so tired my brain was refusing to lip read. She helped explain to the airline staff what had happened and that my luggage was missing. They managed to locate it in Chicago and told me it would be put on the next flight out and delivered to my friends address. I was asked some questions to identify my suitcase and a few other questions and I was free to leave the airport.

The very next day my suitcase arrived in the afternoon and my holiday proper could begin .

Photo by Monstera Production on Pexels.com

My Room 101 by Val Fish

I’m not sure how many things you are allowed to dump in Room 101, I’m afraid my list is rather long. Is that a sign of old age, am I really a grumpy, Granny ? I’m sure my grandson would have something to say on the subject. And although we do seem to go on about the youth of today, my gripes are not aimed at any one generation, I personally think us oldies can be just as bad…

In order to narrow it down somehow, this is a typical day out shopping for the Fish’s…

The journey:

1 &2. Traffic lights and cones shutting off a lane when there isn’t a workman in sight.

3. People on their mobile phones whilst using the zebra crossing, not even looking up or acknowledging that you have stopped for them.

(Mobiles in restaurants would need a whole new blog).

The Supermarket:

4. People having a natter blocking the aisle with their trolleys, oblivious of your presence.

5. & 6 People packing all their shopping before getting their purse/cards out, and / or keeping the till operator talking when they’ve finished.

7. Children sitting in their trolleys eating something that hasn’t yet been paid for.

No, strike that; change to the parents who let them.

8. Self service tills

‘Unexpected item in baggage area, assistance required’. Aaagh!

Retail Park:

9. Any chain that does not have what I want in store.

‘You can order online; we can’t stock everything.’

(Then don’t complain about Amazon taking your business.)

For No 10, Prats at parking, please see Mr Fish.

I could go on, but goodness me, Room 101’s getting rather crowded, isn’t it?

I sincerely hope I haven’t offended anyone here, and you are not one of the aforementioned people.

But if you are, please feel free to explain yourself, and I’ll consider fishing you out of my Room 101 (no pun intended)

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to write a letter to The Times,

Regards,

Whinger from Whittlesey x

Author of A Sexagenarian from Smithy Fen.

**A Sexagenarian from Smithy Fen by Valerie Fish**

Observations of Life on Holiday by Gwen Bunting

Before we had the Corona Virus, before we were all locked down and isolating Gwen wrote this piece about a recent holiday. Holidays seem like distant memories now.

group of person sitting inside cafe le dome — A meeting of strangers Photo by Elina Sazonova on Pexels.com

On a recent journey I could not help but find people’s behaviour fascinating. Some being friendly; others reserved; and others downright aggressive. As the journey progressed observations became very much clearer.

The mum and daughter syndrome: the mother commenting to me, that now she was a widow she could enjoy all things SHE wanted to do, as opposed to her late husband’s dominance. Little did she know she had spawned a duplicate of her husband; a daughter! The daughter was an aggressive type, would barge her way to the front of any queue. Wow betides those poor souls in her way.

The quiet man who gave off the aura of ‘don’t speak to me’ was an interesting personality. He had a partner, whom conversed with him, but his sole intention at the dining table was to eat as much as he could in the time allocated. His partner was quite different. Nice friendly person.

The very tall man, his wife was bent over due to a back problem. Preventing her falling by constantly holding her hand. How dedicated can one be: Never had a chat with him, but on leaving the group he warmly shook your hand saying ‘it was a pleasure to have met you?’

The sad lady who had dementia and caused a lot of anxiety for her friend, who had not realised she was so confused. Her wanderings around the various hotel lobbies very early in the morning asking when the coach was leaving and having her bags packed. She realised on some occasions she was confused. It made life difficult for her friend, most of the group supportive when needed.

The gentleman who requested they change his bottle of freshly squeezed orange juice as this one contained too many pips. He got his way after many arguments. His face was not dissimilar to a beautiful pencil drawing on display in one of the hotel lounges. The said ‘orange juice man’ was extremely tall and as we were in Viking country I would have enjoyed researching his family history.

The various nations with whom we shared our hotels with were varied. One nation in particular took it upon themselves to attempt to clear the buffet of all foods. Hiding loaves of bread, butter pats and boiled eggs into every orifice that was available to fill. Life is very interesting when you are travelling and gives me lots of ideas to write stories about.

Words Unspoken

This post is by Wendy Fletcher.

She shares her thoughts on people watching and how the way they interact with each other and their surroundings. These thoughts inspire her stories that form from the pictures in the mind’s eye. An interesting piece, an observation on observations.

Wendy’s new book, The Railway Carriage Child is launching soon for details follow this blog or follow the link to her site at the end of her post

man and woman sitting on bench — A young couple enjoying each other’s company Photo by Andre Furtado

I started watching people having conversations and wondered what they might be saying to each other.

Poetic licence allowed me to record these conversations without ever hearing a word.

Body language played a big part in this.

Were the couple on a bench leaning in close?

Were their knees touching?

Did they hold each other’s eyes as they talked?

man wearing suit jacket sitting on chair in front of woman wearing eyeglasses — Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

Another couple in a restaurant looked far more distracted. He pushed his vegetables around with his fork. She wiped her mouth nervously with her napkin.

person walking with puppy near trees — Photo by James Frid on Pexels.com

A man with a dog sat in the park. Every time he threw the stick, the dog bounded back, dropped it readily and waited for a fuss. The man leaned over and gave him a hug; not just a pat but a real hug.

Here were characters for a story.

Without eavesdropping, without intruding, I could incorporate their unspoken dialogue into an imaginary scene.

Maybe the young couple were being drawn closer together by some adverse reaction to their relationship. Did they face opposition from parents who perhaps thought them too young for a serious commitment?

Could the older couple in the restaurant be those parents, could they be disagreeing about handling the situation?

And the man in the park; probably Granddad, lonely after the death of his wife, relying on the closeness he feels with his dog, but about to realise how much his wise words are valued by his family as he steps into the role of mediator; to listen to the concerns of his daughter and son-in-law, to feel the pain of his grandson, torn between teenage love and parental concern.

Yes, the idea is growing. I can meld together this family of characters who have never met.

Now I just need to go and write their story.

Wendy Fletcher

Wendy has a blog feel free to visit it Wendy’s blog

Soon to be published.

Diana

This piece is Written by Val Fish another of our very talented prize-winning authors.

This was written for a challenge to imagine yourself at a famous event in history.

In my case, I didn’t need to imagine, I was there…

Diana

I woke up around six am, after for the first time in my life sleeping on the pavement.

It was the 6^th September 2007, the day etched in history when the whole world said a sad goodbye to Princess Diana.

A friend and I had come down the night before and as we walked down the Mall that evening I remember the sweet fragrance permeating from the thousands of flowers laid along the route.

We’d managed to nab a prime spot right in front of the railings. As the clock ticked on that morning, the mood amongst the crowd began to change, I think we were all still in disbelief as to what we were about to witness.

The realisation hit us when we heard the sound of approaching horses’ hooves, that’s when the wailing started.

The sight of that cortege will stay with me forever, the bouquet of lilies on the coffin, the boys with their heads bowed. I remember thinking ‘We shouldn’t be there, this should be private, that’s their mother.’

It was impossible not to cry…

diana_funeral_02 Dave Chancellor — The coffin carried in (Picture credit Dave Chancellor)

The service was relayed on a loud speaker; the crying now was more subdued, and as the choir began to sing ‘Libera Me’ from Verdi’s Requiem, I thought it was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.

And then it was over and once again the cortege passed us, this time the coffin in a car, and everybody was throwing flowers.

And then she was gone…

I felt almost honoured to have been there that day; I was one in a million.

I was part of history.

Another way of seeing things

Wendy’s interesting perspective, it really is another way of seeing things.

Val’s piece about Plagiarism probably touched a nerve with most of us. We do not write in isolation, somehow screened from the real world and its influence.

When I first learned to write, aged about four, I traced the shape of letters that had been designed by someone else; A, B, C and D were not my invention.

Within a year or so, I was putting those shapes together to write my first words: C-A-T and D-O-G. Again, there was nothing original here.

It is just a myth that we writers produce anything original. We are not the proverbial chimps sitting at a keyboard and likely to produce a masterpiece if we are given enough time.

The secret of good writing and, perhaps more importantly, staying out of trouble, is to be inspired, influenced, led by others, but to build our own framework on which to hang these snippets.

An analogy might be that we see leaves blowing in the wind and scoop them up, then drape them on a branch where they form an interesting and unique pattern. We don’t uproot whole trees.

With this in mind, I would like to tell you about my latest collection of leaves.

I have been unable to drive for the last three months and have relied on public transport. The conversations that I have overheard have been an eye-opener of some magnitude. You wouldn’t believe what goes on in the Fens.

So, if you have been travelling in East Anglia, over the last few weeks, you might want to see if you can spot a few words from that lengthy discussion you were having on the bus.

“Well, it was only this morning I was saying to my ‘usband………’

Wendy Fletcher

SPELING

Does anyone else get as irritated by bad spelling as I do?

Don’t get me wrong here, I freely admit to having to use help to check my spelling frequently.

The thing that bugs me though is, if I can do it, why don’t lots of other people?

I know I’m not the only one who sometimes needs help, and indeed there is plenty of help out there (thank you Alexa)

I have been looking at a lot of adverts online recently, where people try to sell things they no longer have a need for, or have made and want to sell on, and have been so frustrated, disappointed, and frankly quite angry about basic, relatively easy words which have been spelt incorrectly.

If people are unsure about how to spell something, why don’t they find out? Especially if you are putting it in the public domain. I’m not talking about a shopping list here.

It just strikes me as being lazy, and to be perfectly honest, If you can’t be bothered, I really don’t want to buy whatever it is you are selling, thank you very much!

I have been known to walk past a greengrocer’s shop to go to the nearest supermarket because the sign in the grocer’s window read ‘Collies 80p’.

And no, they weren’t selling dogs.

Talking of dogs, it was a website selling dogs that I was most recently annoyed by. The number of people who can’t spell ‘miniature’, ‘puppies’ or even the name of the breed they are selling was, in my opinion, shocking.

Someone was selling their shih-tzu, and yes, they did spell it the way they obviously say it, sh## zhu.

Anyway, rant over. I try to be forgiving, but sometimes, just sometimes, I despair of people’s lazy attitude towards English. Well, the spelling of it anyway. Apostrophes and grammar can wait for another day.

And don’t get me started on some cafe menus……………

Val Chapman