Month: June 2024

Tuesday Tiny Tale 333 – Modern Family

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‘What happened next Mummy?’

Rory never tired of asking the same questions to delay bed time.

‘The adoption society said to us

 Well Mr and Mrs Asimov, you will be pleased to hear you have been selected for the special programme. You should be welcoming a new family member very shortly. We have several potential sons who will thrive in your family. The next step is to visit Future Family Foundation on our open day next week.‘

‘Were you excited Mummy, was Daddy excited?’

‘We certainly were, but nervous as we did not know what the place would be like. But as soon as we walked in the door you came rolling up to us and said ‘Hello Mummy and Daddy’ and our hearts melted.’

‘But hearts can’t melt, if they did you wouldn’t work anymore.’

‘That’s just a saying Darling. We did not bother to meet the others, we just asked if we could have you.’

‘Did you take me home then?’

‘No, we had to have some sessions with your foster parents, getting to know you, do you remember that?’

’No, I just remember being in this house.’

‘Now it really is bed time, it’s getting late.’

‘Are you glad you got me.’

‘Of course, you made our family complete.’

‘Do you love me more than Chloe and Eliza?’

‘We love you all the same. Now, it’s time to say goodnight.’

‘Are you and Daddy going to die one day?’

‘Yes, but not for a long long time.’

‘Are Chloe and Eliza going to die one day?’

‘Yes, but not for an even longer time.’

‘Am I going to die one day?’

‘No Darling, you’re special.’

‘But who will look after me if you die?’

‘Chloe and Eliza and one day their husbands and their children, but you don’t need to think about that for years and years, now its time you were plugged in.’

‘Mummyyy… Chloe said she and Eliza are going to switch me off when you are dead.’

Silly Sunday – Spamalot

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When I was a child, spam was a food product that I did not like, a moulded block of pink meat extricated from a tin with a key and a good chance of lacerating fingers. Our relationship with digital SPAM is probably very similar.

A folder was, for many centuries, a sturdy cardboard stationery item for keeping collecting endless sheets of paper and it still is Chez Tidalscribe.

Put together meat and cardboard and you have a Spam Folder. In my first forays into life on line I wondered what it was and why people were told to check them. It was a long time before I even knew we had spam folders on WordPress. Reading spam comments usually explains why WordPress has blocked them from arriving at our precious blogs, though sometimes the intelligent and welcome comments of real bloggers wash up there.

Who are the strange beings that send these weird comments and why. AI creations that have escaped? But what if they are real human beings reaching out to engage with us? Should we respond? What would we say. Here are some I replied to…

‘Going shopping with my girlfriend, I feel very bored. I usually read this blog so I don’t get bored.’

 A lot of people will sympathise with your shopping experience, I’m so glad my blog prevented boredom instead of causing it.

‘when me adn may friend go to bali me look so many things there are cute and i not forget to read your good blog everyday thankyo’

Thanks indeed, I expect all my followers to read my blogs every day, however fantastic their holiday.

‘I have a boyfriend who likes reading blogs, I see he often reads this blog, but he is no longer there, I was curious about what was on this blog, it turns out there is a lot of knowledge that I can get.’

 Yes my blog is so good it can even make boyfriends disappear.

‘When I came home from watching the concert I couldn’t sleep, I read an article on this website, I fell asleep and woke up with meaningful inspiration thanks to reading this blog.’

Yes reading my website makes most readers fall asleep.

‘2 days ago I decided to go to Vietnam, I got drunk and met a girl from there, when we were both in the room, I suddenly got bored, I read this blog, I got a lot of inspiration‘

 I hope you were inspired to avoid alcohol on holiday.

Yesterday I went to China, waiting for my plane to depart, I took the time to read this blog, this will be very useful for many people who read it.

 My blog is especially useful for passengers who have long delays at airports.

My friends and I always visit museums with various classy monuments which are very beautiful. I see them all on your very good blog.

Thanks, I have endeavoured to fill my blogs with monuments from all round the world.

Every day I always have breakfast before going to school, but when I eat I feel like something is missing, that’s when I visit this blog to accompany me while eating so that I feel comfortable.

I am impressed that you start your school day in the perfect way.

What are your favourite comments in your spam folder?

Happy Solstice

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 20 Comments

For those of us in the northern hemisphere this will be our longest day, though as some bright spark is bound to point out, days are always 24 hours long. In my garden we should have over sixteen hours of daylight and rewilding will be at its peak. To celebrate the solstice our guest blogger Florascribe allowed me to share a few snippets from her new podcast.

‘When I look out of my window I feel I am living in the middle of a field, though my neighbours may not feel so joyful.

While they are busy jet washing their brick paving and vacuuming their artificial lawn, I put pots and tubs everywhere to hide the weeds, or rather the plants that identify themselves as wild flowers.

What is that irritating buzzing while I’m trying to enjoy my breakfast in the garden? Oh yes, it’s the bees I’ve been attracting to the garden. My wildflower meadow now has a solitary cornflower.

I managed to photograph this special rose which only lasts one day before its petals fall off.

Rewilding your gates is an excellent idea if they won’t close properly.

Dandelions thrive if you don’t mow your lawn, in fact judging by my neighbours’ front gardens, they thrive even if you do mow your lawn. Dandelions have lots of medicinal qualities and there is only one downside…

When the sun goes in their radiant beauty disappears…

All sorts of flowers might appear in your wild garden, but Do Not proudly share your pictures on your local Facebook pages, just in case you have grown a prohibited invader that is about to rampage through the neighbourhood.’

My thanks to Florascribe and our thoughts go out to her family who have just reported her missing, believed to be lost in long grass.

Fun Friday

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 22 Comments

When you open the instructions and put them straight back in the box...

When you bump into someone you didn’t want to meet at the supermarket.

When you like to break the law.

When you buy your new house at Ikea

When your fiction comes true…

When vegans paint still life.

When your cake mix order from Amazon goes wrong.

When your hobbies know no limits.

Tuesday Tiny Tale – Canvassing

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I was pottering in the front garden on Sunday, or rather digging, tugging, planting, weeding, sweating… but it was nice to be out in the sunshine chatting, with all the neighbours also out. I should say the neighbours were going out, coming back, going out again while I went nowhere. But there was still time to chat on matters of importance; which bin is going out this evening, shall I paint your side of the fence? There was a bit of drama when next door sent a text to ask me to go round and check on her daughter who wasn’t answering her phone.

The day was further enlivened when strangers started appearing and some of them were strange. A weird chap had leaflets in his hands.

‘A vote for us is a vote for change. Jerry is a local man born and bred. He will make sure enough social housing is built, while at the same time protecting all our green spaces.’

 Among the bees and blooms I had forgotten we were having a general election, that we were all doomed whoever was in power.

A couple turned up.

‘We’re sure you are aware how much Terrence has done for this town in his sixteen years as your representative.’

‘But he hasn’t done anything to save the planet…’

‘Well nice to speak to you, can we count on your vote on the fourth of July?’

‘Good afternoon, are you fed up with the other parties not keeping their promises and lying?’

‘Have you got any positive policies on the environment…’

‘Yes, in this leaflet you can see us digging a pond at the primary school.’

Along the road there next appeared a strange sight, a flowing green and rainbow cloak, a tall person being led by a guide dog. I couldn’t tell whether he needed the dog because he was blind, or because he had a bucket on his head. It was a bit difficult to hear what he was saying, but the dog seemed to understand.

‘Are you from the Monster Raving Looney Party?’

‘No, that’s the other chap. I’m an independent, Count Bucket Head. Have you decided who to vote for?’

‘No, I just don’t know who to believe.’

‘Well you can count on me, I know what people want because I am a person. My manifesto is in the pamphlet, made entirely from recycled paper, recycled by me with no chemicals used.’

’Yes I can see you have steered clear of the whole glossy leaflet concept.’

I started reading with growing interest.

‘Voting rights for assistance dogs?’

‘Are they not more intelligent than the average voter?’

‘Yes…’

Our pot holed pavements to be made safe with cushionfall laid on all footpaths.

Homes left vacant for more than two weeks to be requisitioned by the local council.

All bonuses to be rescinded and put in a new contingency fund.

‘Whose bonuses?’

‘The bonuses of anyone who gets a bonus.’

I browsed further, there was a lot to read.

‘All sounds good to me, you can count on my vote.’

Happy 1984 Day

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It is 1964 and in our little house in England we are saying goodbye to my mother’s lifelong friend and her husband. See you in 1984 the adults were saying. I did not get the joke about the year, but 1984 seemed far, far into the future. We were about to emigrate to Australia and the friends planned to visit us in 1984 when the husband retired.

Today is 1984 Day. George Orwell’s novel was published on 8th June 1949 and you can listen to it being read all day ( with breaks and different readers ) on BBC Radio 4. As you will have missed some by the time you read this, it is available on BBC Sounds. If you are elsewhere in the world I am not sure if you might come across it floating in the ether.

I first read 1984 in high school and by that time realised the year 1984 represented ‘the future’ or a future we hoped would not be realised. 1984 still seemed a long way off.

1984 came and went in a flurry of toddlers, nappies and ordinary life, though we paused to contemplate that the future had been and gone and we were having a better time than Winston Smith, well some of us. The next unimaginable future date was 2001, a new century and would it be like the Space Odyssey?

The new millennium started and we hurtled towards a quarter century without yet living on the moon. There is no longer a year number that represents the future. Has Orwell’s novel come true?

Big Brother, or at least someone is always watching. Not only are the final movements of missing people recorded on CCTV, but householders place cameras over their front door as easily as fitting a door bell. Police expect householders to hand over evidence and if you ring someone’s doorbell a disembodied voice will say ‘ Hi Joe you’re early, just walking the dog’ or ‘I’m in Scotland on holiday, can you leave the parcel with the neighbours.’

Thought police? We’ve created them ourselves, calling people out if they appear to be anti-something just because they expressed being in favour of someone or something else, or were overheard making a witty joke. In many countries of course, Thought Police are patrolling social media and journalism.

The 1984 holiday never happened. Mum’s friend’s husband had a degenerative condition that cancelled their holiday plans. You never know what’s going to happen in the future, except it inevitably becomes the past.

How far into the future are you gazing?

Tuesday Tiny Tale – Not Again

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Isn’t it always the way, you don’t remember you were reincarnated until you die again. Each time I have been caught out. Assuring myself and others that there is NOTHING beyond, once you’re dead you’re dead. Telling everyone that ghosts do not exist, whatever Danny Robins seeks out in ‘Uncanny’. Exclaiming confidently that there is no such thing as reincarnation, thank goodness; what are the chances of landing a worse life than you had? If you look at the world you will guess that ninety nine per cent of humans are not having a good life.

Now it all came back to me, every life I’ve lived before. Once again I was in the debriefing room, waiting for the uncomfortable probing into how I had handled my latest life. All around me were strangers, busier than usual, all the people who had been killed alongside me. That was the only memory that was hazy.

No familiar faces this time. When I say faces I mean we were still wearing our earthly appearance, to be replaced soon with just our inner selves. Well, it had been a good life, shorter than I expected, but I had fitted a lot in. Most of the others were new souls, stands to reason when you think of the population explosion. I had to chuckle, that chap in total denial calling for the doctor, probably thinks he’s hallucinating in intensive care.

In terms of human history I’m quite new myself. My first life came to an abrupt end fighting for Henry V. But I haven’t always been English, turned up in all parts of the world. Pity I never remembered all the languages I have spoken.

‘Hey mate, the sooner you come to terms with what’s happened the easier it will be. You have been killed. Not actually dead, just waiting to be reincarnated.’

‘What rubbish, I’m just waiting for my wife to visit, they must have phoned her by now.’

‘Yes, they would have phoned to tell her about the plane crash, if she hadn’t already heard it on the news.’

 It was all coming back to me now, no wonder it was so busy here…

‘Mathew Frobisher, Frobisher?’

That’s me, they always use your most recent name.

‘So did you enjoy your latest life?’

‘Yes thanks, wonderful. It didn’t sound promising, but my physical body inherited brains and good looks. Makes you wonder how much DNA has to do with it. Do souls have an equivalent?’

‘You are a long way from learning about that, a very long way from understanding the higher realms.’

‘But I’m doing well, I’ve lived lots of good lives.’

‘I’m afraid it appears you learned nothing from your previous good lives. In this latest one you have contributed nothing to society, treated your loved ones abominably…’

‘You should have let me be a woman again. Last time you promised I would be reunited with my beloved husband.’

‘You were, that was the wonderful wife you so casually dumped.’

‘I can explain… ‘

No I couldn’t really, but I hadn’t been that bad had I?

‘What about all the happy passengers I flew round the world, reuniting them with their families, making their holiday dreams come true. I was an excellent airline pilot.’

‘You were to start with, but your dissolute life style caught up with you, hiding your drug habit resulted in you killing 387 passengers on your last flight. You must start again in the lower realms, you are going to be born in the Gaza Strip. We’re ready for you now, no point in you hanging around here.’

Monday Madness – SOS

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You may think Southbourne-on-Sea a fairly benign place, no bears or lions and no murders most weeks, but danger still lurks everywhere.

You can easily fall in when you take your discarded garments to the recycling bin…

Or trip and fall into an open grave.

Mown down by a three year old or ninety three year old on their scooters or any age on E-Scooters ?

Attacked by a pack of Woolly XS dogs…

Then there is the unexpected threat from nature in spring… the other day I was walking down the road and by unfortunate coincidence passed by at the exact moment a crow was chasing other birds away from attacking a bird in the gutter; it’s baby probably, though there is no CCTV evidence. It presumed I was part of the attack and dive bombed my head twice, drawing blood, though not enough to cause a visible drama. There were no human witnesses, no photo opportunities for Facebook, one of the rare occasions when I wasn’t dodging other pedestrians with phones in their hands.

I did think of reporting this on local social media, but knowing the thousands of comments, arguments and blame that wild birds and grounded baby birds usually evoke, I did not. Looking up on the internet it seems attacks are not uncommon if humans are too close to nesting crows. Though of course it could be the start of birds taking over the world… Scarier is the fact that crows are very intelligent and remember individual humans, so perhaps I can never walk down that regular route again.

All crows in this blog are played by actors. The Corvid Community would like to point out that they never attack humans and all allegations are totally unfounded.

Have you ever been the victim of a bird attack?