The Way I Remember It..._A DREAM_The bake off_Mystery Guest at the Red Lion
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The Way I Remember It...
This room is bright - almost too bright. The windows are huge, spanning the entirety of two walls, illuminating the white-tiled floor. I sit on a daybed in the corner, staring at a glass of icy orange liquid. I am desperate for a sip, but without arms hanging from one’s shoulders, it’s nearly impossible to drink without a straw. A sigh escapes me - where’s Lyzzie when I need her? Just as I think this, the door opens, filled by the silhouette of someone tall, with broad hips and narrow shoulders, and hair tied in a bun atop her head. “Finally,” I glare at her. She steps in, leaving the door ope...
A DREAM
It’s moving time again. My dad was transferred to another city for another agricultural study. He was an agricultural scientist and I know how important his job is. But sometimes, I tend to resent that we can’t stay in a city for a little while. I will leave my newfound friends again and find another group. And, I hate adjusting. The school I went before was a little hard. I was constantly bullied because I was a newcomer. I don’t get how their brain works. I mean, why do you bully someone on the grounds that she just came around your city.Ah the brain. Maybe it has something to do with our en...
The bake off
Due to Covid, my hospitality recruiting business, in South Africa, had died and I had to rely on my previous caring experience to earn foreign currency. As I boarded the plane for my new job in the UK , I wondered how my daughter would be. At 23, she was still living at home, had 7 months previously had a child and now was going to be on her own.We had not been apart at all for more than 12 weeks; I am a single parent, and we have a beautiful bond. We are the kind of mother and daughter, that despite the huge gap in ages are friends too. I knew it was time to loosen the reigns completely, for ...
Mystery Guest at the Red Lion
The new guest at the local bed &www.onedoor.cc breakfast was what everyone was talking about that sunny weekend morning. Mystery still surrounded the story, as it was being told and retold by each resident of the small fishing village, Clovelly.The talk of the morning at the café on the high street was all about this new stranger. Who she was, where she came from, and what she was doing here. Edith heard many versions of the same story while serving tea and home-made sandwiches to the locals. She had been working at the café since she was a young woman, and in those 30 years, nothing spurred the little crow...