My weltanschauung is no secret
I love the world and all its continents
I would remove most of the population
while I travel to see the sights
Leaving my admirer at home
He would disturb my peace
The trip would end in turmoil
Leaving my blessings on my best writing paper
On his pillow, I took off for two weeks
I hope he remembers the word honour
when he sees my PS, no phone calls
I need this time out
I cannot wait for my eyes to take in all the beauty
So far, seen only on television
Remembering to keep my yin yang in balance
Toss out preconceptions
The overall tone is one of peace
Don’t take the high road, stay centred
A slight nod of the head, hands clasped
Jill Hayes discovers that not all is as it seems in her new post as a college examinations administrator. When she turns whistle-blower and tries to report her findings to the authorities, she is horrified to discover that some people will stop at nothing to ensure her silence.
Starting a new job is always fraught with tension, you worry whether you will be liked, and more importantly, are you able to convince them of your competence?
Jill Hayes is met with total disdain from her new superior, so when she questions something that doesn’t seem right, she is met with hostility on many levels.
If you discover something is wrong, could you be a whistle-blower, or would you hope that someone else would do it instead?
This story has it all, corruption and greed, and an interesting cast of fascinating and true to life characters. Although Examining Kitchen Cupboards is a work of fiction at its finest, you could be forgiven for thinking it seems far too real to be comfortable, and I’m sure some of it must be based on fact, which of course, makes it all the more chilling…
About the Author
Stevie Turner is a British author of suspense, paranormal, women’s fiction family dramas, and darkly humorous novels. She has also branched out into the world of audio books, screenplays, and translations. Most of her novels are now available as audio books, and ‘A House Without Windows’ gained the attention of a New York media production company in December 2017. Some of Stevie’s books have been translated into German, Spanish, Italian and Portuguese.
Our winter ski holiday,
Years later, no more than a treasure
A shadowy memory
An element of toujours perdrix
A sign to the past
Together we navigate
the slippery road ahead
Crisp white winter
Warm within, cold without
Years slow the body, not the mind
We sit, wait for mind and body to catch up
To forget the wonderful winter holidays skiing
Time to make new memories
Slow, warm, indoor memories
I have been told that thinking is a dangerous thing to do at my age. It is possibly a dangerous thing to do at any age if you think about it, for who knows where it may lead?
I quite like thinking, and all the things that trigger it off. Like books and pictures for instance. What I could do with is a method of keeping said thoughts, as they usually evaporate like so much smoke, never to be seen again. I make notes on everything in a vain hope of remembering all the good stuff, and it works most of the time.
Then I am told ‘what do you expect, at your age?’
But this is the difficult part. My mind does not feel old, even though it seems to have more holes in it than my favourite cheese, and when I see or read something that stirs my imagination, I am back in my prime, having a sneaky feeling that this is not all there is for me.
Some of the time I must admit I really don’t want any more, I am too tired to even consider the possibility. Then there are the other days– when you forget just how old and how stiff you are. That you find it difficult just going to the shops and back.
Days when you choose to ignore the sands of time slipping through your fingers and find yourself considering the most amazing possibilities.
Of course, this may be what happens as you approach old age. I don’t know, I have no experience or knowledge of it, not having done it before.
But if you can think, you can dream. And if you can dream, I believe you can do anything… at any age!
I have been struggling to finish the fifth book in my crime/mystery series. Although I am three quarters finished, the sneaky feeling that there might be something wrong just won’t go away.
It gets worse.
I have been waking up in the early hours, thinking about the story. This has been going on for weeks now and last night I dreamed about it. In the dream, my hero and my villain changed places for some reason.
I wanted to know about temporary and easily changeable hair colourants. None of this made any sense to me, all my book needed, I think, is a substantial edit to tighten up the plot. But it did get me thinking.
Could my choice of villain be all wrong? This could be why my hero was a bit lack lustre too. The whole premise could be askew. Anita and I had a brainstorming session to try to make sense of it all, and although we came up with some interesting ideas, they all involved major rewriting. No mean feat when you are 60.000 words in already.
I should be feeling devastated, and not sure why I’m not. The problem may or not be sorted, but whatever happens, it is doable. So that old post was right after all. If you can dream, you can do anything…
I cross the old wooden bridge
A time machine to the past
Each step could be the one
To trigger the magic
I am halfway across, looking back
I can see nothing,
clouds, mountain tops, no bridge
My footsteps vanished,
alongside the old wooden planks
I walk on, praying
Please let the next step take me home
The clouds ahead looked thinner
Started to clear
I could see the most amazing buildings
Blue and white
Gripping the rail edge to move on
A white shroud stole my beautiful vista
I was alone,
nothing but wooden planks ahead of me
That’s when I heard a small voice
Do you want your old life?
I couldn’t stop myself from yelling, yes!
Then turn around. If you have faith
The bridge will appear
Would you take that step back
With nothing to see but clouds?
Yesterday you could have called me adroit
Today I am more vestige
Someone has taken a large eraser
Now a part of my mind no longer exists
I walk the streets;
tug my hat tighter on my head
If my nose runs now,
I swear it would freeze
My hands cupped to keep warm
A few yards down the street
I step into the gallery, art on canvas
I feel my gruff exterior slipping away
I realised the desire to paint
Hasn’t vanished completely
A small piece whispers in the hollow space
Where old skill lived
I thank the universe for cold weather
I might never have stepped inside
Suddenly my fingers itch
for the feel of a paintbrush…
I have my ticket for the
First passenger flight into space
Not until next year
will I be able to take my seat
To sit in that sacred space
Will bring comfort to me
This may sound lame to most
In my mind I avenge myself
On all those who said
I will amount to nothing
Here I am the cat with the cream
I know for most folk,
life gets in the way
Dreams die by some evil desire
Life pulls you in the wrong direction
Could be we walk the path
of second-hand dreams
Old, used parts of life
A mishmash of leftovers
that never amount to much
I count myself lucky
that my dream has been paid for…
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Remembering my first Encounter with a Mobile phone…
It’s not often that I give up on anything. Being one of the most stubborn people on this planet, means that I usually persevere or (drive myself and the rest of my family insane) until I master whatever it is I want to do.
But giving up doesn’t happen often, and I am ridiculously happy to be able to say that. I gave up on a job once. It was well paid but strenuous, and after two weeks, I was forced to admit that it was slowly killing me. I gave up on my marriage for roughly the same reason.
What this usually means, is I regard it as a personal failure, rather than the acceptance that it was a mistake and not for me. It has to be my fault, you see, that I had to run away/or give up.
And today, I gave up on my first mobile phone.
Sounds silly I know, when you consider that I have tackled the world of computers, the internet, self publishing and the vagaries of Twitter, to mention but a few.
I had wanted a mobile phone for a while. Everyone I knew had one, so they couldn’t be that difficult to use, I thought. What I didn’t realise, was that you are essentially looking at a computer system in a very small box.
“Just charge it up and switch it on…” the attractive young man in Carphone Warehouse told me. Adding, with a smirk, that I could return it inside two weeks, if I changed my mind. And that should have alerted me. For if it was that easy to use, why would I need to change my mind?
I chose a Samsung, nothing too fancy, assuming it would be easier for me. It had a nice big touch screen, and I remember looking at it in the shop and wondering how on earth it could be operated with just the one button.
The first day, I opened the box and stared at the phone for most of the morning before switching it on. I was at once assaulted by several messages – all requiring me to do various tasks. I tried to understand what they wanted, but after just one hour of insanity –I switched it off in disgust and not a little frustration.
I had been assured it had an instruction manual, but a small leaflet explaining how to change the battery did not cut the mustard!
On the second day, I tried again. After several attempts to enter the required information, I gave up again. Mainly because it logged me out after two attempts. I moved on to more interesting subjects, installed a few apps and explored a bit. But even with my stubborn streak running at full throttle, I ended up switching it off again.
The damned thing goes into stand-by mode every time you stop to think.
It also makes countless annoying bleeps, for as yet unknown reasons.
None of the menus appear to work, switching you to other screens as and when it feels like it.
I eventually found the help screen, but even following the advice to the letter, nothing helped. The instructions were concise but didn’t seem to be referring to my phone. And even when I found something to actually try, it didn’t work.
I was beginning to feel increasingly more stupid than usual, so I decided to quit. I didn’t really need a crazy, non functioning nightmare accessory to highlight my faults, so I put it back in the box and went back to my regular means of frustration, most of which had already learned who was boss…
The trouble with being super stubborn, is that you never really give up, and of course, I hadn’t. Sometime later, I was introduced to an Apple iPhone and fell in love with how easy it was to use. Makes me wonder if I would prefer an Apple computer too as they are so user friendly…
My granddaughter dropped her kaleidoscope
From the top window
Tiny, coloured pieces scattered across the patio
I heard her little footsteps running down the stairs
Holding my breath, hoping she wouldn’t fall
Three-year-olds often know no fear
The tiny jewels shone under bright sunlight
Lost treasure belonging to the shining ones
Running into the kitchen where I stood
Watching the coloured dancing lights
Renewing my faith in magic
“I didn’t throw it Nan,
I tried to find more light to make the pieces shine”
Hugging my leg, her tears drying on my apron
Looking at her tear-stained face
I couldn’t tell her off for playing near an open window
Taking her hand, we walked outside
We will go to town and buy a new one
With a sob in her voice, she said
“It is a broken rainbow…”