tirsdag den 30. november 2021

Farvel og tak!

I dag går en gammel dame på pension.

     155 var hendes telefonnummer hele min barndom. I dag er det lidt mere kompliceret: 70101155.  Det er længe siden, at jeg har talt med hende, men jeg kommer nu alligevel til at savne hende.
     Bare visheden om at hun var der, med sin sirlige og præcise og let gammeldags stemme, gav mig en slags sikkerhed i hverdagen.

Efter 82 år siger vi farvel til Frøken Klokken.


Kilde: dr.dk


Today we say goodbye to an old lady

  During my childhood her phone number was 155. Today it's a bit more complicated: 70101155. It's been a long time since I've spoken to her, but I'm going to miss her now anyway.
   Just knowing she was there, with her neat and precise and slightly old-fashioned voice, gave me a kind of security in everyday life.

After 82 years, we say goodbye to the lady telling us the time.

mandag den 29. november 2021

Poetry Monday :: Chia pets

If you want to read some better  poetry,  Diane - who has taken over the hosting of  this challenge - and Mimi of Messymimi's Meanderings - who also supplies us with topics - are writing wonderful, funny, thought-provoking, ingenious and honestly well written verse. Go and read.

  Karen of Baking in a Tornado has joined us in this crazy pursuit, and promises us at least a poem a month - may  we hope for more!
  SpikesBestMate often publishes a nice verse in the comments.

  Jenny at Procrastinating Donkey who has been a faithful participant, is slowly returning to blogging after her husband's passing from this world. Let's continue to send warm thoughts, good energy, and lots of prayers her way. And dare we hope that she will join Poetry Monday again.



In Danish Chia pets are not Chia pets, they are Cress pigs, like the happy fellers in the photo, so please imagine one of those, instead of your standard chia pet.


-- 🐖 --



Chia pet - to be sung to the tune of Jailhouse Rock.

Once I had a chia pet, I lowed it so
I sowed and I watered; watched the chia grow.
And when its fur was lush and green we cut it off
And then we started over, it was fun for all!
It was my chia pet,
Oh yes my chia pet!
It was my chia pet,
My chia pet!

Then I got some children they were big and small
They went through my kitchen and began to play
What went to the floor and then broke in two
I bet that you can guess it - and can sing it too:
It was my chia pet,
Oh yes my chia pet!
It was my chia pet,
My chia pet!

- - - - -

Next Mondays topic: Hanukkah/Holidays and I actually feel a bit miffy that there's a Hanukkah prompt now, but no Christmas prompt later on. Diane has 'mended' the prompts - thank you!

Coming prompts
Hanukkah/Christmas/Holidays (December 6)
Ice Cream (December 13)
Music (December 20)
Fruitcake (December 27)
Sleep (January 3)
Peculiar People (January 10)
Ditch Your New Year's Resolutions
(January 17)
Opposite Day (January 24)
Typo Day (January 31) Celebrate those funny (autocorrect) mistakes.

søndag den 28. november 2021

Sunday Selection -- Happy New Year!

New Church year this is. Today is first Sunday of Advent.

Starting with a dreary picture. This was taken at noon yesterday. The Sun was out, but did not make it through the lens, so I pasted a comics sun over it. Not quite clearing the trees at noon. And there's one month - and the loss of 40 more minutes - to go before the days grow longer again. Sigh.

We had the first frost:

And the advent window is ready for hanging of ornaments:

torsdag den 25. november 2021

Jessetræet 2021

     På søndag er det 1. Søndag i advent og igen i år er min Jessetræsblog klar med adventslæsninger og aktiviteter, der vil gøre os klogere på julen, juletræet og dets pynt.

-- 🌟 --

A "commercial" for my Jessetree-blog. It's only in Danish. As previous years, I recommend English readers to visit  Shower of Roses for a fine explanation.

-- 🌟 --

     Jessetræet er en meditativ vandring gennem bibelhistorien, fra verdens skabelse frem til Jesu fødsel.
     Hver dag hænger man et ornament, adventspynt,  på træet, hører en bibelhistorie og leger, snakker, tegner eller noget andet.
     Adventstiden er forskelligt lang hvert år. Der er altid tre hele uger og så mere eller mindre af den fjerde uge. Hvis juleaften er en søndag, er 4 søndag i advent juleaften, altså er der ikke meget af 4. uge. Hvis juleaften derimod falder på en lørdag, er adventstiden så lang, som det er muligt. I år er den 24. december en fredag, så der er brug for 7 læsninger til den sidste uge. Den sidste dag er nemlig den 25. december, som jo egentlig er Jesus' fødselsdag.
     Vores plan ser altså sådan her ud i år:

1. uge:
Søndag 28. - Jesse rod   - Selve træet
Mandag 29. - Skabelsen - Jordklode
Tirsdag  30. - Syndefaldet - æble eller slange
Onsdag  1. - Noahs ark - Ark, dyr i par
Torsdag  2. - Abrahams forjættelser - Stjerner
Fredag  3. - Melchisedek - Vin og brød
Lørdag  4. - Isak ofres - Vædder eller brænde

2. uge:
Søndag 5. -  Jakobs drøm - Stiger (guirlander)
Mandag 6. -  Josef, drømmetyderen - Mangefarvet kappe eller kornsæk
Tirsdag  7. - Den brændende busk - Brændende busk
Onsdag  8. - 40 år i ørkenen Det røde hav - Moses, stav eller hav
Torsdag 9. - De ti bud - Lovens tavler
Fredag 10. - Ruth - Kornaks
Lørdag 11. - Samuel - Lygte eller olielampe (ikke lys)

3. uge:
Søndag 12. - Kong David salves - Harpe
Mandag 13. - Tobias og fisken - Fisk
Tirsdag 14. - Profeten Esajas - Lys
Onsdag 15. - Daniel i løvekulen - Løve
Torsdag 16. - Jonas og hvalen - Hval
Fredag 17. - Engle - Engel
Lørdag 18. - Zakarias - Vokstavle, Hebraiske bogstaver

 4. uge:
Søndag 19. - Mariæ bebudelse - Engel, lilje, due
Mandag 20. - Johannes Døberen - Muslingeskal, tre dråber
Tirdag 21. - Betlehem - By med mure
Onsdag 22. - Josef - Hyrdestav, tømmerværktøj
Torsdag 23. - Hellige tre konger - Kroner, stjerne, gaver
Fredag 24. - Jesu fødsel - Baby Jesus, Krybbe
Fredag 25. - Guds Søn - ChiRo monogram

onsdag den 24. november 2021

Words for Wednesday -- November 24

  This was supposed to be an augmentation of the first chapter from the Birch Manor. But all the strange prompts - big words indeed - supplied by Margaret Adamson and friends and posted on  Elephant's Child's blog took flight and mixed up with my trouble finding a good adblocker. But that's what happens.

  Please all reading this go to Elephant's Child's place to find the prompts, read some good stories, and be inspired to write your own.
  This is a challenge, where the old saying "The more the merrier" holds true, therefore: Please, remember to go back, read other peoples' stories there or follow their links back. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction.

The prompts we were given are these words. The explanations in brackets are my own.



Memorialise (to commemorate eg. in a speech)
Terpsichorean (to do with dance)
Flotation (water therapy / cleaning technique / buoyancy helper)
Gusto
Obnoxious
Phlegmatic

     And/Or
Philately
Swaddle
Voice
Voluptuous
Yolk
Appraise
(to examine someone or something in order to judge their qualities, success, or needs)

  Susan stared blankly at her monitor, thinking back to that last day at The Unicorn Farm. In Gilvi's speech he had memorialised all the dead and missing wizards and witches, among them Rósa’s whole family, and it dawned on her that he actually had told them that Heidi and her family had survived. He had proposed a toast for the Bach family with the words: “Long may they live! ” Whereas the toast for Rósa’s family had been “Never forgotten!” Heidi and her family was alive, somewhere, out there. She felt a Terpsichorean mote in her stomach, Heidi was alive! It was like a flotation device to her temper. And with gusto she tipped Heidi’s name into the search field on the screen.
  All those obnoxious adds always surfacing! Knud was more phlegmatic, and never got upset or irritated over them, but Susan was more sanguine. She sneered at yet another add, this one for a philately circle somewhere in England. Next hit was an add for swaddles. I’m over that age, Susan said at the computer, exasperation colouring her voice. The photo showed a voluptuous lady carrying a lusty babe in a flowered length of cloth tied in an intricate criss crossing pattern.
  I need a new adblocker, Susan thought. Next time Josh is home visiting his mom and dad he’s got to help me find the right one. I heard him talking . An advertisement for a separating device for eggs in the form of a fish surfaced on her screen. It sucked up the yolk, and left the white in the bowl. ‘That does it!’ Susan exclaimed. And she opened her mail program to send a note for help to her tech-savvy son, he knew how to appraise adblockers and find the exact match for her needs.

tirsdag den 23. november 2021

Tirsdagstips - 2

Tuesday Tips

      At støvsuge i mørke kroge i novembermørket kan godt være udfordrende, så er det jo godt at cykellygten er opfundet og passer til støvsugeren også.

-- ☁ --

  Vacuuming in the darker corners in November - a dreary and dusky month here in Denmark - can be a bit of a problem. What a good thing that my bike lamp fits the vacuum cleaner too.


Ikke flere dunkle hjørner og skjulte nullermænd  --  No more dark corners and surviving dust bunnies.

mandag den 22. november 2021

Poetry Monday :: Your favourite record (or) best stereo or record player ever

If you want to read some better  poetry,  Diane - who has taken over the hosting of  this challenge - and Mimi of Messymimi's Meanderings - who also supplies us with topics - are writing wonderful, funny, thought-provoking, ingenious and honestly well written verse. Go and read.

  Karen of Baking in a Tornado has joined us in this crazy pursuit, and promises us at least a poem a month - may  we hope for more! I think this theme should entice her to participate.
  SpikesBestMate often publishes a nice verse in the comments.

  Jenny at Procrastinating Donkey who has been a faithful participant, is slowly returning to blogging after her husband's passing from this world. Let's continue to send warm thoughts, good energy, and lots of prayers her way. And dare we hope that she will join Poetry Monday again.



     Well, as usual when asked for my favourite whatever, I'm in troubles. I do not have one favourite, but more; depending on season, time, weather and mood. But my most memorable record - now that's an easy question. I wrote about it once before - in Susan's tale:  A Trip to Bakken.
     We had a very smart record player. It had an in-built thingie that let you stack 12 records and then played them one at a time; of course only the sides turned upwards ;)
     Today's rhyme is more folk song army than anything else, well "Ready, aim, sing!"



My favourite record is called The 78
That we met one another was decided by fate.
It is long ago now, I remember it still.
And when I think of the record, it gives me a thrill

I think I still know all its songs by heart
For such play with words I just loved from the start.
It had crazy songs named: My Hat would be pleased,
In Dreamland we met with The Count out of Nowhere.

It was nonsense and joy, and we learned all the songs
I played on my guitar and we sang along,
As we sat round the fires in warm summer nights.
We were young, we were happy, the future was bright.

And here I stop, before the grown up me raise a moral index finger.

 - - - - - - - - - -

Next Monday we'll rhyme about Chia Pets

fredag den 19. november 2021

Words for Wednesday -- 17 November

My first ever story from the Unicorn Farm was in bad need of a rewrite. The photos supplied by Margaret Adamson and friends and posted on  Elephant's Child's blog was perfect for this.
Please all reading this go to Elephant's Child's place to find the prompts, read some good stories, and be inspired to write your own.
  This is a challenge, where the old saying "The more the merrier" holds true, therefore: Please, remember to go back, read other peoples' stories there or follow their links back. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction.


The Monday after all the fuss with the kelpie, the four apprentices met just outside the magician's house. For once, they were on time, and agreed to walk down the asphalt road to where the road was barred, the way the police car had come the Friday before. And not, as usual, take the fast path across the field.
    "We might spot something the police haven't seen," Heidi said optimistically.
    "You probably shouldn't count on that," Susan replied. I bet Taavi and Tähti have been combing the roads around here, and Jon too for that matter."
    "Yes," said Tage. "They've been snooping around here all weekend, and so has Torben, and then David, the new boy."
    "David!" Susan said in surprise. "What was he doing here this weekend? He was so busy getting home to his family in ... uh, I forget the name of the town."
    "Shh! He's over there!" Heidi whispered. And indeed. Just around the bend, David was leaning against a tree on the other side of the road. The four children stopped and Heidi whispered to the others: "I don't think he's seen us. Let's slip into the park here."
    They slipped in through an old, mossy iron gate. It was very big, double and very heavy. The chain that held the wings together had rusted through long ago, and there was an opening for them to slip through. They were now in an unkempt garden with unusually tall privet hedges. Tage drew his wand, and before Lis could protest, he whispered: "It's an emergency, like," and cast a semi-invisibility spell on the four of them. It didn't exactly make them invisible, more chameleon-like colour-changing, and besides, it made them a bit more silent. The latter wasn't really necessary in the deep, soft grass of the unkempt park. Susan looked away from the hedge and saw a large, red brick, two-story building. The shutters were closed,  and the place looked deserted and abandoned.
    "What is this place?" she asked quietly.
    "It's an old sugar plant," Lis answered, "It was closed down when sugar production was centralised. Before that, the sugar beets were boiled in small plants like this one, and then the sugary water was pumped in pipes into town to be purified and crystallized, or whatever it's called.
    "Shh!" Tage hissed. "You can discuss that when we get home."

They crept on along the hedge until they were very close to where David was standing. They were close enough to be absolutely sure that it really was David standing there. Then he drew his wand, waved it in an intricate pattern and disappeared.
    "What did he do?" Lis whispered in amazement.
    "I'm not sure, but I think he teleported," Tage replied with a touch of awe in his voice.
    Susan thought back to Jon's lesson the previous week. "I think you're right, Tage," she said. "But he's not allowed to!"
    They squeezed through the hedges where they met an old tree and walked on towards the Unicorn Farm in deep thoughts. They almost walked into into Taavi nearing the Farm.
    "Look out, will you!" he said,a bit  astonished, "I did not notice you at all. Why have you cast the chameleon spell upon yourselves?"
    "Well," replied Tage, "we spotted David, the new guy on the blue team. He was standing looking suspicious up against a tree. Then we hid in the park by the old sugar plant opposite him, and then ..."
    "And then .?" Taavi urged.
    "Then he waved his wand in an intricate pattern and disappeared. I think he teleported. But he's not allowed to do that yet, is he?"
    "No, he is not. But it's not nice to spy on people either," Taavi told them softly. "I'll talk to Jon about it. It's his job, this teleportation thing. Now you'd better get to your classes, Heidi, Lis and Tage, I'll see you in a bit up in the biology room," he said with a smile and teleported away.
    "He didn't believe us!" Lis said.
    "No, but did you notice the movements?" Heidi asked. "That's exactly what David did!"
    "Well, then," said Tage, "you are quite clever, little sister."
    "We'd better hurry," said Lis. "I don't want to get into trouble, especially not with Mr. Kuusisaari."

They ran off for their lessons. But for the rest of that day their thoughts were not really on the lessons.

tirsdag den 16. november 2021

Tirsdagstæsk :: Vejret igen-igen

     Og så er jeg her søreme igen med dagens tredje indlæg, men jeg synes ikke, det kunne vente.

-- 💣 -- 💡 --

  Yes I know - three posts in one day is rather unususal for me, but all were relevant.
  MotherOwl ranting over the Weather prognosis, or rather their graphical looks. No  English translations except for captions under the pictures.

-- 🌥 --

      "En af dagens gode nyheder på DR's hjemmeside er, at DMI fra i dag er reklamefri, og at den i løbet af måneden vil blive bedre...."
     Ja, det skrev jeg tilbage i januar. Men der skulle gå mere end 11 måneder, før DMI gjorde alvor af forbedringern. Og det vil ikke være nogen underdrivelse at sige at Uglemor er skuffet.
     Her er eksempler på vejrmeldinger - alle eksempler fra DMI.dk.

Først et billede fra januar 2021 inden "forbedringerne" startede: 
Old looks of infographics. Before any "improvements".

Fra 15. januar - efter de forbedringer, der førte til at DMI mistede godt en fjerdedel af deres daglige besøgende:
The first "improvements" leading to a whooping loss of users (more than 25%)

Og så nu - efter endnu en omgang forbedringer:
And now, after more "improvements". I won't be back for this.

I januar skrev jeg videre:
... de der omkringfarende firkanter, der popper op og skygger for grafen, når jeg kommer til at føre musemarkøren hen over den. Det gør jeg, fordi, jeg følger grafen, for at finde tiden for regn eller ej. Dette skyldes så en anden mangel, nemlig inddelingen af døgnet med lodrette streger for mere end hvert døgn.
     Hvis vejrsymbolerne nu blev lidt større, så man ikke behøvede en lup, for at se om det var regn, slud eller sne, der var i vente, og de blev sat pænt op på en linje over graferne. Og hvis graferne så blev forsynet med flere både lodrette og vandrette inddelinger med større kontrast, ja så kunne jeg måske overveje at vende tilbage.
Har DMI så lyttet Nja - vejrsymbolerne er blevet større og sidder pænt på linje, men til gengæld er der færre af dem. Streger eller orienteringslinjer er der stadig ingen af, og hellern inge farveforskelle. De irriterende pop-up-firkanter er der også endnu, og de er blevet "træge", sådan at der ofte er to oven i hinanden, hvis man flytter musen lidt hurtigt.
     Lettere at orientere sig i? Nej. Kort sagt. Det er stadigvæk en ommer, DMI.

Tirsdagstæsk -- Tirsdagstips

Så har jeg oprettet to nye etiketter til min blog: Tirsdagstips og tirsdagstæsk.
Der er nogle indlæg fra dette efterår, der allerede har fået tildelt disse etiketter.
- Tirsdagstæsk er en ugentlig mulighed for at brokke mig over dette og hint, som jeg synes er tumpet.
- Tirsdagstips er små, smarte (synes jeg i hver fald) ideer og tips til at gøre et eller andet lettere for en selv.

I dag er det på sin plads med en gang tæsk: Valgplakater, der bukker sammen i vinden:

-- 💣 -- 💡 --

  I made two new tags for my blog today: Tirsdagstips (Tuesdays Tips) and Tirsdagstæsk (Tuesday Thumping). These labels have been added to some older posts as well.
Tirsdagstæsk (Tuesday Thumping) is s possibility to agonize over something I find stupid.
Tirsdagstips (Tuesdays Tips) is a possibility to post small tips and tricks making life easier.
  I do not promise to alternate between them, I do not promise to bring any of them each Tuesday ... let's see what happens.

Today is election day. Time for a thumping of election posters that cannot stand up to the winds in Denmark:

Til hamingju með dag íslenskrar tungu

  Dagur íslenskrar tungu er íslenskur hátíðardagur, 16. nóvember.
  Haustið 1995 lagði menntamálaráðherra til að einn dagur ár hvert yrði tileinkaður íslensku og átak gert í varðveislu hennar. Fæðingardagur Jónasar Hallgrímssonar var valinn til minningar um framlag hans til íslenskunnar.
(Kilde: is.wikipedia.com)

-- Þ þ - á - í - Ð ð --

     Nej, Uglemor er ikke blevet skør og taler i tunger, men islandsk, der jo er magiens sprog på Enhjørningegården, har altid haft en stor plads i hendes hjerte. Og i dag, Jónas Hallgrímssons fødselsdag, er valgt til islandsk sprogdag.
     Så håber jeg bare, at min overskrift og tekst er korrekt islandsk. Rettelser modtages med tak!

-- Þ þ - á - í - Ð ð --

  No, Uglemor hasn't gone crazy and speaks in tongues, but Icelandic, the language of magic at the Unicorn Farm, has always had a big place in her heart. And today, Jónas Hallgrímsson's birthday, has been chosen as Icelandic Language Day.
  Now I just hope that my Icelandic is correct. Any and all corrections are thankfully accepted.

mandag den 15. november 2021

Poetry Monday :: Cleaning my Refrigerator

If you want to read some better  poetry,  Diane - who has taken over the hosting of  this challenge - and Mimi of Messymimi's Meanderings - who also supplies us with topics - are writing wonderful, funny, thought-provoking, ingenious and honestly well written verse. Go and read.

  Karen of Baking in a Tornado has joined us in this crazy pursuit, and promises us at least a poem a month - may  we hope for more! I think this theme should entice her to participate.
  SpikesBestMate often publishes a nice verse in the comments.

  Jenny at Procrastinating Donkey who has been a faithful participant, is slowly returning to blogging after her husband's passing from this world. Let's continue to send warm thoughts, good energy, and lots of prayers her way. And dare we hope that she will join Poetry Monday again.

❆❆❆

I had announced a blog-break, but my brain seems to disagree. This morning I woke half an hour or so before the alarm went off, and the topic for today: Clean Out Your Refrigerator ran around inside my brain. I reminisced about the fridges of my life, and suddenly, all by itself, some lines formed in my brain. Here's a bit of the nostalgia and all of the lines:

❆❆❆

When I was a little one, refrigerators were cleaned every Monday. Well at that time it was not even a refrigerator, but an ice-box. And Monday was the day for the iceman to come around with the ice. Thus Monday was clean out and scrub the icebox-day, yummy as any left over ice-cream had to be eaten up.
  Then the fridge arrived, a chubby, friendly looking type. It was a bit overambitious, as I suppose all fridges were back then, so a weekly cleaning and removal of accumulated ice was still in place. It was faster than scrubbing the ice-box, and with the invention of (or mum's discovery of) those blue ice-thingies, put in the small freezer with the ice cube tray, we did not get to eat all the ice-cream Sunday evening.
  Fast forward 30 years. Now my fridge is self-defrosting, but alas not self cleaning.

When I'm cleaning my fridge, I don't know what I'll find.
A kid's experiment, forgotten, left behind.
A mouldy old cheese or a chocolate bar
Parts from a bike or was it our car?
Feathers and stones or a live butterfly,
Delicious jam or an old apple pie?
One thing I never found -- it is actually odd --
Is spiders and cobwebs, for which I than God.

- - - - -

Next Mondays topic: Your favorite record (or) best stereo or record player ever.

søndag den 14. november 2021

Sunday Selection :: Grey ::

     På denne tid af året er verden grå. Himlen er overskyet, skyerne er grå, solen stiger ikke højt på himlen, selv når der ingen skyer er. Mit humør er gråt, og at det nisse-tingel-tangel, der er i butikkerne hjælper ikke på det, tværtimod.
     For præcis et år siden tog jeg dette billede af et nyopført hus i Holte. Vejrhanen fascinerede mig. Det er nemlig ikke en hane, men en gås. Jeg har ikke på nogen måse manipuleret billede, der er taget ved halv tolvtiden - så gråt er det bare i november.

-- 👵 --

At this time of year, the world is grey. The sky is cloudy, the clouds are grey, the sun does not rise high in the sky even when there are no clouds. My mood is gray, and the elf-and-santa-knickknacks in the shops doesn't help any, on the contrary.

Exactly one year ago I took this picture of a newly built house in Holte. The weathercock fascinated me. Because it's not a rooster, but a goose. I have not in any way manipulated the picture, which was taken at 11.30 am - it is just this grey in November.


torsdag den 11. november 2021

Words for Wednesday -- November 10

All of November Margaret Adamson and friends are supplying us with prompts and let's enjoy, for it's their last time due to health issues.
  What we do to them is up to us, poem, story, shopping list, ignore ... the grand idea is to make us write. 
  Go to Elephant's Child's place to find the prompts, read some good stories, and be inspired to write your own.
  This is a challenge, where the old saying "The more the merrier" holds true, therefore: Please, remember to go back, read other peoples' stories there or follow their links back. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction.

  As I warned in my Pausefish-post, I cannot stop writing. Well I had decided to stop, but I read the prompts when EC posted them Tuesday evening my time. Today I went shopping, walking a longish distance to a remote shop, when the prompts and my troubles with laundry not drying in the dismal Autumn weather met inside my brain and I "wrote" this in my head. And then I could just as well put it on paper (screen?) to share with you.
  We're back in time, Susan's childhood, the 1970es, the Spring/early summer before she discovers Unicorn Farm. If I ever write my book, this could very well become the opening chapter of the book.

And today's prompts are

An arm and a leg
     and
Barking up the wrong tree.

  Susan, her sister Linda and some of the children from the neighbourhood were playing in Susan's garden. Strictly spoken it was not Susan's garden, like the back yard and the semi-detached house it belonged to her mum and dad, but to the children it was Susan an Linda's garden.
  "Oh!" Linda said, "I'll give an arm and a leg for some privacy. I hate that old crone watching us from the laundering place!"
  "Yes," Fatma added, "ever since they remodelled the laundry hand-in room she's been sitting there at the window, looking at us every day. I'm sure she tells my mum and dad that I'm having way too much fun playing in your garden!"
  Fatma's mum and dad worked in the laundry place Her mum in the ironing room and her dad was a lorry driver, bringing out the laundry.
  "Couldn't we go to your garden, Henry?" Linda asked. "Then Madam Stare can't see us. Your fence is much taller than ours."
  Henry lived with his younger brother, Jack and mum, dad and Grandma in the other half of the semi-detached house. Susan's bed stood up against the partitioning wall, and many were the evenings she had been lulled to sleep by Henry's Grandmother practising on the piano. She played in a dance studio.
  "No," he answered, "the small pears are just forming on our tree, and the beans are sprouting. Mum will pull off my ears if I let this wild horde in to play."
  It was no use asking Fatma, she lived in a small apartment over the laundry with mum, dad, two older and two younger brothers. And at Jens' place vegetables were growing in the gardens as well. Susan and Linda's garden normally was an oasis for the children, grass and no plants to watch out for, only two wonderful old lilacs you could climb in and hide behind, a lot of tulips and other flowers in spring. And then the lamp post. It was a real, old lamp post, from somewhere Susan's mother had lived. It was so fun to run and run around it with the fingers tracing the carved lines until you got all dizzy and had to sit or fell down. When Linda was a baby and Susan a bit older, there had been a bed of roses around the lamp post, but Linda and often Susan too, fell into the roses when running around the lamp post. Mum and dad had been over itred of of comforting crying girls with scratched arms and legs and pulling out thorns of loudly screaming girls too. The roses were moved to the fence bordering Henry and Jack's garden, where you could not tumble into them.  
  Now Fatma's youngest brother was circling the lamp post, his chubby, brown fingers following the swirls, then clutching the pole until he fell. He cried and Fatma put him on his legs again whereupon he once again tumbled. All the children laughed at him, and he said something they did not understand. Fatma translated: "He says it's not fun. The world is wobbling!" The other children laughed again, but now with a sympathetic note to their laughter. Madam Stare poked her head closer to the window and stared myopically out at them. She was the book keeper in the laundry place, keeping a ledger over who handed in what laundry, if they had paid or not, and if they came to fetch it or wanted it brought out. She had much spare time and kept a stern eye on the children.
  "Why don't we go into Susan's kitchen and have a sammich while we think!" That was the always hungry Lucy, she lived in the mission house back to back with Susan's house. One of the attractions of Susan's house, apart from the garden with no vegetables, was that Mum always had a loaf of bread and a jar of jam for hungry children, the sole condition was: Clean up the crumbs!.
  "She's often barking up the wrong tree, too" Henry said. "She can only see what we're doing, not hear what we say."
  "Yes," his brother Jack added, "and then granny scolds us for being evil to Fatma's small brothers, when we only try to play and not fall over them. That's unfair. If only she could not see us!"
  "Laundry!" Lucy said with her mouth full of bread and jam. She chewed and swallowed: "If we hang big laundry, like sheets and blankets over that fence in your front garden, then she cannot see us."
  "Brainwave!" Linda said, and the other agreed.
  The fence to the road was made of tall poles with an iron mesh in between, absolutely not stare-proof. All the children went into the cellar, where Linda and Susan handed out sheets, duvet covers, blankets and clothes pegs to everybody. Soon the garden was protected from Madam Stare's busy eyes and the children had a lovely afternoon all for themselves.
  But in the evening, when the other children had left for their homes and mum and dad had returned home, Susan and Linda got a solid scolding from Mum. They were not any more going to hang laundry on  their fence, they were not going to trying to hinder the woman in the laundry from looking at them.
  "But, Mum, she's not looking, she's staring!" Linda said. "It's not polite to stare you always say, and she tells on Fatma to her parents, and then her dad belts her for being evil to her smallest brother. He's cute, but he's really a pain in the behind to be around."
  "Susan, do you agree?" Mum asked sternly.
  "Mostly, yes, Abdel is rather terrible, we have all learned how to say 'move over' and 'No!' in Arabic to make him behave. and Madam Stare is such a nosey parker! And Fatma always have to look after him and Mohammad, it's not fair!"
  "Life is not fair, Susan. And you are not allowed to hang laundry on the fence ever again, but you can bring Fatma and her terrible twos in the back yard when you're alone. You can play there too, as long as you all say 'Get off!' or 'No!' in your best Arabic if Abdel starts tampering with anything there."
  "Thanks, Mum." Susan said "I knew you would understand, you always tell us about when you were small and gathrered firewood or went fishing or swimming or punting in the creek with your siblings, and no grown ups watching! Those were the days, I bet!"
  "Oh Susan!" Mum said shaking her head.

mandag den 8. november 2021

No Poetry Monday :: Pausefisk :: Updated

We've had a crazy busy weekend No poetry forthcoming. Also puns for me is a spur of the moment thing. I can't command them
💭💣
I migth take a small blogging break as I feel I'm behind everywhere, but I'll be back, as I can't stop writing.
  Here's a crazy photo from a crazy week.

In Denmark, long ago in TV, when there was a break we had Pausefisk - You can guess - Pause fish!
Here are some Pausefisk from back then: Go a bit in, about a minute, I obviously cannot make it start where I want to.


onsdag den 3. november 2021

Words for Wednesday -- November 3

All of November - and for the first time today - Margaret Adamson and friends are supplying us with prompts and let's enjoy, for it's their last time due to health issues.
  What we do to them is up to us, poem, story, shopping list, ignore ... the grand idea is to make us write. 
  Go to Elephant's Child's place to find the prompts, read some good stories, and be inspired to write your own.
  This is a challenge, where the old saying "The more the merrier" holds true, therefore: Please, remember to go back, read other peoples' stories there or follow their links back. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction.

And today's prompts are
:
Beechmast (I had to look this one up - I did not know the English word, but obviously the thing 😉)
Investigating
Muffler
Sensible
Penetrate
Fox
     And/or
Ferrule (although I knew the word, I did not find a place for it in the story)
Miserable
Odd
Soaking
Bedstead
Contrary

Susan is at home in Elsinore in the Autumn. Real life story.

  Wading through the beechmast Susan enjoyed the crunching sound. She spied an unusually plump beecnut and bent to retrieve it. She peeled the triangular shining shells off the interior nut and popped it into her mouth,. The bitter-sweet, tangy taste of the nut filled her mouth. It was enjoyable, but she knew better than to eat a lot of them. She had done so the previous year, as a result getting a grandfather tummy-ache and felt miserable for days after. This year she would be more sensible. She re-wound her muffler, as the wind penetrated to her skin. She loved these windy, crisp autumn days in the woods.
  A squirrel ran up the tree, startling her. She heard footsteps form afar and froze behind her bush. Her eyes went to and fro, investigating the source of the sound. The footsteps were odd, soft, padding. She almost laughed with relief; it was not a human being, but a fox! Somewhere Susan had read that soaking the beechmast would leech the bitter taste, making them more stomach and palate friendly. She wanted to try and gathered a small bagful of the triangular nuts.
  After the bike home she threw her outer clothing on the bedstead and went into the kitchen. She peeled all the nuts at the small, cosy table and put them in a bowl. After a rinse, she poured almost boiling water over them and left them to soak. Contrary to her normal haphazard ways Susan did not forget to strain and soak the nuts two more time and the result was delicious, less bitterness and more taste. But she still got a stomach-ache.

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Apart from being the always wonderful Words for Wednesday-day today is also the first Wednesday and hence the Insecure Writers' Support Group day. Today they pose a simple question:
What's harder to do, coming up with your book title or writing the blurb?

  For me the title of the book is an easy find, it always shows up while I'm writing. For some books it was even been the first thing I ever knew about it.
  Writing blurbs on the other hand ... entice the reader, but do not reveal too much, and without sounding totally inane or like a plagiarism of someone else. That's hard!

tirsdag den 2. november 2021

Tirsdagstæsk :: Digitaliseringsidioti! - Updated in English

I dag fik jeg besked fra banken i min indbakke:

Jaså, tænkte jeg, det er sikkert noget om MitID eller rentestigninger eller sådan noget. Men man må jo hellere logge på og læse det. Altså frem med NemID, log ind og se:

Jaså - det link kunne altså ikke være i et e-brev? Digitaliseringsidioti eller noget?
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Idiotic digitalisation at its apex. I get an email telling me to log onto a secure mail in my online banking - needing codes and double secuity, very troublesome - only to be asked to fill in a survey via the link in blue.
Why couldn't they just put that link in the email?

mandag den 1. november 2021

Poetry Monday :: New Lease

Maybe all the drawing and painting during October (InkTober) has addled my brain.
Here are the two last October drawings: Trick and Treat from Simple Daily Drawing & Slither and Risk from InkTober:

Trick!
Treat!























But it's not Drawing Monday! It's Poetry Monday!

If you want to read some better  poetry,  Diane - who has taken over the hosting of  this challenge - and Mimi of Messymimi's Meanderings - who also supplies us with topics - are writing wonderful, funny, thought-provoking, ingenious and honestly well written verse. Go and read.

  Karen of Baking in a Tornado has joined us in this crazy pursuit, and promises us at least a poem a month - may  we hope for more! I think this theme should entice her to participate.
  SpikesBestMate often publishes a nice verse in the comments.

  Jenny at Procrastinating Donkey who has been a faithful participant, is slowly returning to blogging after her husband's passing from this world. Let's continue to send warm thoughts, good energy, and lots of prayers her way. And dare we hope that she will join Poetry Monday again.

 New Lease was the prompt we were given. What to do? I think there was an option to treat the prompt with ignore and just write. At least that's what I did.


I am Jack of all trades and a master of none
It is as it should be, I have all the fun.
A master must work hard to keep his position
And never relax due to the opposition.
And just to excel, he must stay in his rut
While I play while I work and can follow my gut.
I can paint, sculpt, and draw and get praise for progress,
While critics will measure his works with his bests
So after all now everything's been said and done
I'll take jack of all trades to a master of one!

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Next Mondays topic: Puns

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Coming up:
Clean Out Your Refrigerator (November 15)
Your favorite record (or) best stereo or record player ever (November 22)
Chia Pets (November 29)
Hanukkah/Holidays (December 6)
Ice Cream (December 13)
Music (December 20)
Fruitcake (December 27)
Sleep (January 3)