WordPress Daily Prompt: Undo 2

If you could un-invent something, what would it be? Discuss why, potential repercussions, or a possible alternative.

Somewhere in this labyrinth of prompts I find the main title *Daily Prompt” and underneath there is a text “Sometimes, you sit down to blog but your words and photos get stuck — prompts give them a push. We publish a new one every morning.” For us disciples in the middle of Europe read “every afternoon” instead of “every morning” due to the time lapse between our ex english colony over the pond. If you read this carefully bloggers you can see what good service we receive. We no longer need to sit in front of a blank screen on our computer wondering what to write. No, of course not. Regularly every morning or afternoon, as the case may be,  you will receive a new prompt. How lovely, the boring days of not knowing what to write have gone as the golden blog sinks slowly in the West. We are saved, the solution to our blogless days has been resolved, thanks to ….. We all know who, or do we?

Unfortunately a gremlin has sneaked into the works. Our daily happiness blog has been sabotaged. Many suspicions have been uttered, but the culprit has not yet been found. Someone perhaps “had a dream” and unfortunately it was a repetitive dream. On 21st February 2013 I wrote my views on the subject of Undo. I spent a happy hour telling everyone about it from my point of view. It was fun, not a bad prompt and my brain resembled a citrus fruit squeezed of its juices by a fruit press after the final result. I wrote my prompt and collapsed in an exhausted heap next to the computer. OK, I might be overdoing it a bit, but this gives no-one the opportunity to squeeze my brain again. Two years later I have two years more of dead brain cells. As we all know, brain cells do not replenish themselves and that goes for all with no exceptions in the cyber world.

So here I am again wondering what to write because when I undo something two years ago, I do not find something new to undo. I could write about the incompetence of the world politicians, some war-making states etc. etc. but I will not. I am not here on a political platform, have no wish to engage in such arguments and so I am blogless again. I was tempted to warm up one of my gifted blogs written a few years ago, in the hope that it would not be ignored the second time around for a Pulitzer Prize. However, if it was again ignored, I would be disappointed and would throw my computer out of the window. This being a fairly new Apple computer, it would be an expensive way to end my misery. 

If someone in our blogless world reads these words we might even go back to the good old days where we daily received a new prompt, where the small grey cells of our brains were fed with ammunition to conquer the blogging world. I rest my case and trust that my 50 Shades of blogging will return one day with new and fresh ideas. And no, I am not going to suggest a prompt, it is not my job, I am not paid for it (or am I? - which may change my mind if it would be worth while) and so I can only hope. 

Not wanting to leave you with a negative feeling. I have a photo of my latest orchid triumph. It was one of the remaining special orchids from Valentine’s Day in the local supermarket, cut down to half price. I fell in love with the price at once. I was looking at them with longing in my orchid eyes when they arrived in the shop, but I found forty Swiss Francs quite expensive. I paid only 14.95 Swiss Francs today and there were even some unopened buds on this prize example. I dedicate this orchid to all the blogless bloggers in this wide Wordless universe of dead prompts.

Click here for more

WordPress Daily Prompt: Cupid's Arrow 2

Write an ode to someone or something you love. Bonus points for poetry

Cupid shot an arrow

It was two years ago

I wrote about it then

To tell my tale of wow

I do not feel like writing

an ode to anyone

I have just been in the garden

Cutting trees, it was not fun

Mr. Swiss was helping, 

he was also not so keen

We chopped away at branches

I felt so very mean

’Twas then I saw a flower

It was blossoming so well

A crocus had survived

so yellow and so swell

Cupid did his best

to compensate for pain

My back was hurting and my feet

But a crocus was a gain

The ground was wet and soggy

There still was snow around

It was cold and mucky

but I was safe and sound

Because the work was done

I sat and drank some tea

and then I turned my aching neck

An what was it I did see

Last week there was a bargain

Mr. Swiss went to the store

He brought home a lovely orchid

For me and him and more

My pain it went, all misery gone

An orchid smiled at me

I forgot the trials of writing a blog

And drank my cup of tea

Click here for more

WordPress Daily Prompt: Witness Protection

When you do something scary or stressful — bungee jumping, public speaking, etc. — do you prefer to be surrounded by friends or by strangers? Why?

My first movement in the morning, getting out of bed is scary and stressful: first of all because I do not know if my body will make it. I have to think about it. I take a deep breath, sit on the side of the bed and when I realise that everything is functioning more or less as usual, I stand up. My first success of the day and for that action I prefer not to be surrounded by friends or by strangers, just I, me and myself. I then walk to the kitchen for my breakfast and if that task is accomplished, then I know that all is well. If I meet Mr. Swiss in the kitchen, I know he has also made it.

The day continues and if everything runs its normal pattern, then I need no protection, I can do it all on my own. Generally it is the others that may need protection. I will be driving the car and I hope that all pedestrians see me coming and move on one side and that the other cars on the road keep at a safe distance, what could possibly go wrong.

This morning in the supermarket, the assistant serving me in the flower department was running a very high risk of being shouted at in a loud voice (me) and almost losing her job, but it was just a chain of unhappy events. I told Mr. Swiss to wait in the car as I had a few things to shop for the garden. He was not unhappy, he could make his way on his own to the car (loaded with shopping) without having to ensure that no accidents happened to me on the way.

I decided to buy some seeds for my herb garden, dill for the cucumbers and savoury for the beans, no big problem, and I have never read a report in the newspaper that this was a death defying experience. After I found my seeds I made another discovery. I have a small collection of orchids at home, but unfortunately there is only one flowering. The others have green leaves and are not yet ready to do me the favour entering for the Pulitzer prize for the best and most beautiful orchids. I know Pulitzer does not do flowers, but you never know, it would be a good idea.

I saw that the flower department had a special sort of orchid at a good price – see photo – which would be something completely different in my collection. I arrived at the desk and the young lady who was serving, was on the telephone. I know from my working experience, that this can happen and you cannot drop the telephone just to accommodate someone with two packets of seeds and an orchid (it was now two orchids as I found another bargain in full flower). She was still on the telephone, discussing some sort of garden shed and flipping through a catalogue, when two other customers arrived. Also golden oldies, so we were now three in the queue. I managed to catch the assistant’s eye, but she ignored me and continued with her conversation. She was now at the part where she was reciting a web site address. I decided this was positive, the customer on the phone could now talk to his computer and the conversation would be finalised. This was not the case and there was just silence from the assistant, still holding the telephone, whilst her customer was discovering the wonders of googling probably.

I then gave her another poisonous glare and it must have registered as she began to multi task. With the telephone in her hand she signalled that I should move the goods I want to buy next to the bar code special supermarket card reading machine and she began to type my articles. The people waiting behind me in the queue all seemed to breathe a sigh of relief in chorus and I began to pack my goods in the various plastic bags. The young lady was still on the telephone, but not my problem. She was now busy with the other waiting customers.

Then my iPhone began to ring I was confronted with a picture of Mr. Swiss on the phone. Another death defying action was required, so I pressed the button to take the call, but it was the wrong button and I lost him. I decided to put a brave face on the problem, and walked towards the parking place where I was confronted by a worried Mr. Swiss. I eventually arrived at the car and noticed a man dressed in an official type of dress, checking all the parking place numbers and writing little tickets, which he was distributing amongst the various cars. I was sitting in the car when he approached place No. 516 (that was our parking place). He had a mobile telephone and was reading the numbers out to an office somewhere in the vaults of the car park. We paid for an hour parking, but thanks to the young lady in the garden department, the hour was probably now ninety minutes. He cast me a glance, but walked on: another scary and stressful moment.

Eventually Mr. Swiss and I escaped with two orchids, two packets of seeds, a few bags filled with food and a lively conversation in the car revolving around the shop assistant and the near miss on the parking lot. The conclusion is that you do not need bungy jumps, or public speaking, daily life is full of risks without having an audience to clap.

Click here for more

WordPress Daily Prompt: Close Call

Tell us about a bullet you’re glad you dodged — when something awful almost happened, but didn’t.

Photographers, artists, poets: show us CLOSE.

I made a close call on one of my orchid flowers yesterday evening. I was quietly sitting in my comfy chair playing around with my iPad with one eye and then I heard it.

“Hey”

“Huh”

“Hey, it’s me look in my direction, just do not ignore me. Whip out that high fi special close up on your super DSLR camera and take a photo. I will only be around for a couple of months, if you take care of me, so trap the moment when you can. Wake up human, it’s me your new orchid, the flower in the middle of the others.”

My eyes followed the direction of the voice, a rather noble voice and there she was wide open and nodding. What to do. Of course, I followed instructions, arose from my comfy strelless chair and returned with camera in hand: the chance to take the photo of the year of a talking orchid.

“I am ready, smile” and there was no answer. I repeated my words.

“Forget it, I only do the talking routine once in my lifetime and now take the photo.”

I decided the orchid was talking sense and who is going to believe me that I took the photo of a talking orchid because it told me to.

Otherwise I seem to have come through life unscathed. My first encounter with near death was having my tonsils out when I was seven years old. Actually the doctor found I should have had them removed three years earlier and threatened my mum that she was not being fair to me, having the biggest infected tonsils in the neighbourhood. That was what mum always told me. The surgeons also removed my adenoids, which is some sort of accompanying organ to the main tonsils near the nose, just to be sure. They left my nose and throat where it was, although a small scalling down of my nose size would have been a good idea.

I seem to have come through childhood otherwise unscathed. There was an adventure on holiday once, near the sea where I decided to climb a cliff with a friend of mine. I was not really used to the wild side of country life, growing up in London, so I suddenly found myself hanging onto a plant on the cliffside and trying to get a hold with my feet. I was also looking down to judge the distance I would fall/slide if the plant decided to no longer be planted. I was lucky and somehow managed to pull myself up, or was it dad that came to a Bruce Willis similar rescue. Again I survived. It was the perfect scene for an adventure film, something like Die Hard, the sequel they never made.

Growing up in the East End of London also had its dangers, but you just get used to it. Jack the Ripper’s last murders of ladies of leisure took place in 1888 which was before my time. I would often walk along the Bethnal Green Road on my own after leaving the last underground train around midnight. It was not the days of having a car; it was the days of doing what you could afford. Saturday evenings were fun in the big city, at a palais de dance. Bethnal Green Road was probably an obstacle course for the innocent, but I grew up in the area and the odd strange people walking stumbling around after their visits to the local drinking dens pubs made no impression on me. I remember one gentleman who decided to punch through a glass window with his hand, but probably did not even notice it in his inebriated condition. I just moved on.

I think my mum was the happiest person on early Sunday morning hearing the click clack of my stiletto heels tapping along the street and the noise of my key in the door. She knew her little girl was at home again. She did not know what I had seen and experienced on my walk along the street at midnight, but why cause worry when not necessary.

So there we have it, no bullets to dodge, no risks taken, or I have probably forgotten them in the meanwhile. I now live in the land of bank gnomes, cheese and yodels. The only risk I could now take would be serious burns from a cheese fondue and I usually leave that part of the job to Mr. Swiss, dealing with igniting the burner. I would add that I do not ski or any other such life endangering sports. Mr. Swiss forbid it, knowing I am slightly accident prone.

Click here for more

My Orchid

You know those tropical plants that are actually parasites sort of. Not that they live on the tree that they inhabit, but it seems they find a fungus to feed on. I am not a bontanical expert, just read up a bit in Internet. It seems that modern civilisation, due to the world growing smaller, has discovered the orchid to the extent that you can buy them in almost every supermarket in various colours and flavours. So Mrs. Angloswiss decided to keep up with all the neighbours and people whose homes she visited where they had the customary orchid perched on the table, on the dresser, or just standing in the corner, waiting to be admired by all.

I bought my orchid in a weak moment in the local supermarket as they had a special offer. It was flowering, blossoming, and quite tall. After a month the flowers started to wilt, hang their heads despite my care with regular supplies of specially bought orchid fertiliser and regular water. I did not drown my plant as it seems once a week suffices.

Eventually my orchid was reduced to a corner on the patio in the shade where it was forgotten, shunned and no longer required. The flowers had gone and bare stalks do not impress when the locals come for a visit. That was until this week (about three months later).

“What is that on the orchid” Mr. Swiss asked. I almost answered “what ochid” as I had cast all memory of an orchid out of my mind, having discovered that my roses and buddleia were blossoming in the garden – I mean who wants an orchid.

I took a closer look at my orchid and this is what I discovered.




It seemed that a botanical miracle had taken place in a dismal corner of the patio. It was alive, showing a display of buds. This was about three days ago. The buds are still there, but I am sure they are thinking of opening. The plant has now been removed to the table on the patio and we are waiting for the great day when it flowers. It seems I was not the only one to find the development interesting. After a closer look I found this little chap perched on the top of the highest branch.

Watch this space for more developments: life is so exciting on my patio.