Somewhere in the shadows ahead, a door squealed open and closed but of course, she couldn’t see anyone.

The lights suddenly sprang on, so bright she was temporarily blinded. She raised her hand to shield her eyes and felt a cold hand touch her shoulder…



When I was at boarding school between the ages of 11 – 18 I started to write a five-year diary. Every single night before I went to sleep I wrote about what had happened at school and during my holidays. In total, I wrote two 5 year diaries but didn’t finish the second one.

When I look back at my entries on events and my school days it brings back happy memories of my childhood. As far as memories are concerned I’ve never been good at remembering things. I was pretty hopeless at school work and in particular exams.

My parents never used to make me feel I was useless even though my grades were average and my sister was streets ahead of me. I have always told myself that you were either born with a photographic memory or not. Looking into my school diaries brought back the photo in my head of each event.

Halfway through my second five-year diary, I went on a shorthand and typing course which was to be my line of work. It wasn’t long before I was writing nightly in my diary in shorthand. The problem now is that I have also forgotten how to read shorthand. The odd word comes right out at me but there are two years of diary entries that I cannot read.

I was watching a program on the television and one of the contestants had written a diary every day for as long as he could remember. He said he not only entered his own news but also any news that was going on in the world and his grandchildren can now read his life story and stories of life during his years.

It made me think again about how much I used to enjoy writing my diary and thought I should give this a go again. My children are always asking questions about things which I cannot always remember about but I am sure if I ask my sister I can fill the gaps in my mind and make a note in my diary for next time.

My handwriting now is a spit of my Dads handwriting and isn’t brilliant at the best of times but I can still type at a reasonable speed, but there is something about a proper pen to write with that brings back lovely memories.

I’ve actually always enjoyed writing even though I didn’t get a GCSE in English and have written and self-published a few books. I wrote one for both my children when they reached 30. They were a memory book of their life from when they were born and some information on my life and their father’s life and it included over 250 photos of where they had been and what they had done in their first 30 years of life. They both treasure the books and would love me to do more writing on the family.

My mother-in-law also wrote her life story as a Physiotherapist during the war which she gave me before she died and asked me if I could get it published. It was 240 pages of writing without any paragraphs or chapters but I persevered and published it a couple of years ago to my children’s delight.

Memories are made for keeping but if your not the brightest button in the pack a lot of your memories just disappear. I hope this post will inspire others to give it a go and get their brain juices in action and enjoy writing a diary on their life.


A little old man had a little black dog, so small that he was called the ‘mouse’. The little black dog loved being very small as it meant he could get into certain places other dogs couldn’t…

Wendy was in the sulks, she was very cross because Daddy had taken Tommy out without her so she decided to play a trick on them both…

Ella-May sat very still, she was too frightened to move. She could hear footsteps getting closer and closer and then someone opened her door…

“Elizabeth, Elizabeth, where are you?” called Dad when he returned late that afternoon. ” Did Elizabeth not go with you ?” asked her mother fear drawing in her eyes. “I have not seen her since breakfast, and I thought you had taken her to school”, replied her Dad…

When Audrey was six years old she was very weak after being ill with glandular fever. The doctor said if she were to grow up strong that she must live at the seaside for a few months. So she was sent to stay with her Aunt by the seaside, but her Aunt had other plans for Audrey…

One sunny morning when Jane was coming back from the shops she saw a £1 coin on the floor. She picked it up – and then remembered something. Her Mum had always said that if you found anything that was not your own, then you should try and find out whose it was. So Jane went to see if anyone was nearby that may have dropped it…


There was once a funny little boy called Richard. He was a lovely boy, always ready to help out, but really he was a bit stupid. Everyone teased him. And that made Richard rather sad. He didn’t want to be just a ‘Joke’…






Start 2018 off with a happiness planner. This 100 day happiness planner from Liberty (£24.95) will soon make each day a positive experience, building introspection into your routine and increasing self-awareness. On top of the typical daily pages, this planner is packed with questions and guides that help you become a happier and more positive person.

The perfect way to inspire you to start writing be it poetry or stories the planner is designed to help you welcome more positivity, joy, and happiness into your life by applying the practices of positive thinking, mindfulness, gratitude, and self-development.

  • 181 pages; inside pocket; slipcase; gold-foil stamped hardcover
  • Inside the planner: yearly pages, weekly plans, weekly reflection, inspiration quotes, meal plans and lots more



National Awareness Days have added National Story Telling Week on January 28th – February 4th 2017, to their list of Awareness Days .

They say that ‘Over the past 24 years The Society For Storytelling has achieved much in its mission for the promotion of the oral tradition of storytelling, the very first way of communicating life experiences and the creative imagination.
2017 marks the 17th year of its Annual National Storytelling Week.
National Storytelling Week takes place in storytelling clubs, theatres, museums, schools, hospitals, spoken word venues, and care homes (where this event has been steadily growing each year!) Where the events take place, the web of stories will be spun with sufficient magic between the breathe of the teller and the ear of the listener.
National Storytelling Week is celebrated by all ages. Folk tales, fairy lore, figments, phantoms, dragons, serpents, storms at sea. A good teller will conjure intriguingly.
So as with every year this far we begin at the beginning. There was the storyteller….Once upon a time….

There will be many exciting events taking place in the run up to the BIG WEEK itself so please check it out. The Society for Storytelling can be contacted all year round, look to the venues and events as they begin to build to the big event itself.

Remember everyone has at least one story to tell. It exists in the very air around you – Your story is the one you know best and as it is only the beginning the stories you will tell began…Once upon as time.

National Storytelling Week 2017 will run from midnight on the morning of Saturday January 28th to midnight on the evening of Saturday February 4th 2017. Don’t forget too that the four day prior to and the four days after those dates, they are part are still part of the festival of storytelling too. They are equally important as they are its fringes or preferably its “Coat Tales” ‘.

You can also find out lots more from the National Storytelling website.




Diane had no idea where he had come from. But, whoever he was, he was charming.

He was short, stocky and handsome.

It was a friend who suggested she met him. She had been looking for a while.

She knew that once she met him, she would have to have him.

He was nothing like Jack though, this poodle was very well trained….


via Daily Prompt: Cling

From the way he was looking at me I knew, as clearly as if he’d said the words, that my son’s name was one of them. I could only cling onto a slight bit of hope in my heart that I was wrong.

Dam, dam, dam that war. I wanted to shout and scream but instead I began to cry, very hard still clinging on that they could be wrong.



Something terrible has happened. I can scarcely bring myself to write the words. I just can’t believe it. I mean who would have thought she would have gone ahead with it.

Her boobs were big enough anyway…….