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 |   The simplicity of my day to day. |
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This is where I write my thoughts, feelings and my daily trials, tribulations and happy things
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Prompt from
Prompt: Beret. Berets always remind me of my childhood in England. Now that’s a very long time ago and at school we had to wear a beret as part of the uniform. Navy blue it was. When I was seven years old I joined the Brownies. That was a group for girls who were too young to join the Girl Guides. Along with my brown dress, brown leather belt, the beret was also brown as you may have guessed. You would suspect I would never wear such a thing ever again by choice but I am the owner of two berets. One black and one Maroon. I wear them each day in winter and always get comments about how Parisienne I look. Chez Chic. Now my thoughts have turned to France, I must make mention of my recent visit to see the theatre production of the musical Moulin Rouge at the Crown Theatre in Perth. It was a fabulous evening, we had amazing seats three rows back from the stage. It was as if I was in the sleazy part of Paris, Montmartre, at the time of Toulouse Le Trec and the night life, the street artists, painters and dancing girls. I was inspired to write my latest short story ‘Burning Issue’ if you want to check it out in my Portfolio. It’s set in Montmartre at the time of the World Fair in 1890. |
Words 395
P20. Will the AI "ChatBots" replace most writers because it can "write" anything asked (essays, stories, bios, etc.)? As a writer, do you feel threatened? Can what it writes be trusted (truth or garbage)? This topic has prompted many discussions with people who either have never even heard of them, or with people who have very strong views. At my writing group which I attend weekly, I suggested maybe the AI Chatbots are not all bad. One of the members could see no possible use for them. When I dared to suggest it could be useful for generating ideas for a story or a column she got very irate. I admit to asking, chatgpt, to write me a letter of complaint to my local shire council about the installation of a very bright ,illuminated, information sign in our local park. The information I supplied was the name of the shire council, the complaint and the place of the sign, naming the park. To say I was impressed would be an understatement. The letter pointed out all the issues and was grammatically correct. It definitely sounded as if it had been composed by a human being. I had tried it out as a trial, simply for my own understanding, but I thought to myself, why bother spending half an hour composing a letter when this will more than suffice. I must admit it worries me for sites such as WdC. Take poetry for example. How can we differentiate poems written originally by a member and one generated by a bot? Perhaps in future I may have cause to doubt the origins of some of the contest entries. Short stories and novels are different. It would be almost impossible for a bot to write in the style of a writer and I believe would be spotted as being generated by AI. But some universities are accepting the use of AI bots. Their rationale is that they are here to stay and to use them for better rather than worse. After all in an exam it wouldn’t be allowed so the students would still have to have the knowledge of the subject being taught. It’s a tricky one to get used to but as all technology we will find ourselves asking an AI bot to do mundane tasks, giving us more time to utilise in a productive way. |
| https://www.writing.com/main/redirect?htime=1676557817&hkey=4cff69be4655b2c1177f... There is a place, the Ruby Slipper, A café far away from here. It’s not a place where there’s a stripper, Of that you have no cause to fear. No matter what the time of day There’ll be a welcome here. The coffee’s hot. The food at this café Is tasty, different. You can even buy a souvenir. One wonders if the Slipper Ruby Has members from the Ozzy Wizard. Like Tonto or the Tin Man from the movie, Blown there by a windy blizzard. Or maybe it is just a diner Serving breakfast lunch and dinner. Simply that, nothing finer But to me it looks like such a winner. |
| https://www.writing.com/main/redirect?htime=1676471837&hkey=b0b141b8d908e503fccc... This photograph really appealed to my sense of the ridiculous. I too see faces in the most mundane objects. This particular photo of a seemingly simple broken branch could be a clawed hand or an animal with its mouth full of some unfortunate prey. I used to love lying on the grass staring up at the clouds. They’re forever changing and no sooner has a shape of some animal or object is discerned it morphs into something completely different. It makes me wonder why I don’t look up at the sky more often. Perhaps it’s because if I lay down in a field these days someone would likely think I’d had a heart attack and begin CPR! There is a dead tree I pass each day and I always imagine it’s the statue of a headless St Venus de Milo! I suppose it must be the brain’s attempt to give sense to an object not immediately recognisable.  |
| https://www.writing.com/main/redirect?htime=1676209620&hkey=5f8762f7f20ab16743b1... This image reminds me of a park across the road from where I live. It’s aptly called Sculpture Park. There are many arty types of seating, such as the one in the photograph. None are made for the seater’s comfort, but are mainly conversation pieces. One is shaped like a woman and her hand as the seat. It’s called Mother’s love for some reason. The one piece I do like in the park is a group of statues. The whole is supposed to depict a group of middle aged tourists. There are three portly, short men and two women. They stand about three or four feet tall, dressed in shorts and brightly coloured shirts, sun glasses, caps and hats. I used to take my granddaughter to this park when she was two years old and she always enjoyed the statues. She is thirty six years old now and her children climb on ‘The Tourists,’ shoulders and have their photographs taken. Art, whether useful, beautiful or as the seat in the photo is, brutal, it certainly makes us stop and think and comment. |
| https://www.writing.com/main/redirect?htime=1676088227&hkey=69e6605b77e807d9dc60... This image took me straight back to a vacation in Vietnam. The wet markets there are a sight to behold. My husband and I watched in amazement at the assortment of strange fish, crabs, and other types of sea food, and as both vendors and the customers bartered, aiming for a price which seems fair and equitable to everyone. I took many photos that day of ancient women crouched next to their wares and I wish I could find the photograph I’m thinking of. It was of a vat of eels crammed in together, their tiny eyes and mouths just above the water, seemingly the poor creatures were gasping for air. There are so many stories we remind ourselves of when we reminisce about the trip. One in particular stands out in my memory and somehow the event has taken on a bit of a family catch cry. My husband is a vegetarian and he approached a street vendor who was selling baguettes from her stall. The French connection is quite strong and baguettes are sold everywhere. This particular vendor was a very old lady and when John asked her for a baguette without meat, just some salad and tomato she simply refused to sell him one. The words, “No meat, no baguette,” is often repeated in our home when someone is getting a bit picky with meals. 😂 |
| https://www.writing.com/main/redirect?htime=1675952742&hkey=a33828960c8d328edcc4... This image of a bird in the long grass is titled ‘maybe I’m lost’. The advantage a bird has, and the reason he would never find himself lost, is his ability to fly. He’d simply take flight and get his unique bird’s eye view to establish his whereabouts. I used to have a fear of getting lost. I think it stemmed from the absolute terror as a child when you realise you can’t see your mother. I remember that feeling once when I was on a beach. I was surrounded by hundreds of happy faces, but none that I recognised. My heart raced in my six year old body as I searched for a familiar face. People stopped my panicked run and asked me, “Are you lost little girl? Where’s your mummy?” I think that’s why I always stop for a minute and take my bearings when I go to a strange place. Maybe it’s the shopping mall which has multiple entries. I always take notice of which is the closest store as I enter the mall. As for losing my car, I’ve done it so many times when I’ve not noted which part of the car park, or which floor in a multiple story car park. Even though it’s been seventy years since that little girl was lost on that crowded beach, the feeling is still with me at times. I’ve been convinced my car has been stolen many times, only to find it after searching for an extended time. Funnily enough in a foreign country I don’t fear being lost. I think that’s because everywhere is new, different, and I’m a tourist. I know that as long as I’ve remembered the name of my hotel I can always get a taxi back. This once happened to a friend of mine when a group of us were camping in the sand dunes. She got lost in the dark. We had put a portable toilet tent a few hundred yards away from the tents. In the night she told her husband she was going to go to the toilet and to leave a light on. He was half asleep and thought she was back and turned off the hurricane lamp. The poor girl got totally disoriented in the dark and lost her bearings. She was wandering around in the pitch blackness searching for the camp site. It wasn’t until someone in the group heard her shouting for help that she was rescued. Her husband was never ever really forgiven. |
| https://www.writing.com/main/redirect?htime=1675691323&hkey=bf41df3e402d0d0f0fbd... This image of a stick at the mercy of the wind and tide reminds me of a childhood game. My brothers and I would drop sticks over a bridge and race to the other side to watch the progress. Some would get stuck in a whirlpool or on a rock whilst another would race to an invisible finishing line. The owner of the winning stick would be delighted and would declare victory. I wonder if children still play this simple game these days. Being cast adrift has so many meanings. There have been many times throughout my life when I have felt aimless, with no direction, much like those sticks twisting and twirling attempting to gain some sort of traction or control. When one loses health and vitality and at the mercy of doctors, medications and other medical professionals one can feel adrift, powerless. My health is compromised at the moment and the word adrift is as good as any to describe how I’m feeling. It’s similar to being on a boat which has lost all power and all on board are searching for land amongs miles of ocean, Sometimes a glimpse of land can be enough to give hope that all will be well. |
https://www.writing.com/main/redirect?htime=1675606117&hkey=864556b6d7124573476b... This image is unsettling to me. Why? I have no reason other than my distrust of cats. Unlike dogs cats are aloof, supercilious, independent creatures. I have been a cat owner in the past. I say ‘owner’ but that’s not really correct. Perhaps it’s the other way around. A cat may choose you to deliver life’s necessities. Even that statement isn’t correct. Cats can hunt for themselves. A cat will not starve without human input. I have lots of stories about the cats in my life. The first was when I was maybe aged seven or eight. Her name was Whisky. A wild sort of beast. She was a Persian with very long hair but refused to be groomed. I wrote to a newspaper’s animal expert and asked how I could remove the knots and tangles from her fur. Along with advice, I received praise for my handwriting. Our next cat came with us when my family moved house. She refused to stay and even though we’d moved about five miles she found her way home. After several rescues we gave up and she simply returned to our original home, which was a five acre property and went feral. It wasn’t until my husband and I were living in Australia after emigrating from our home in the UK and we had three children did we allow another feline into our lives. My daughter was about seven years old and she pestered enough to make me weaken my resolve to never have another cat. Her name was Lisa. A lovely name but she was never called it and was Pusscat until she died. She hated coming inside the house and sat on a post outside the kitchen window. That was the nearest she ever got to any of us. I did feed her but I think she preferred hunting her own food. She lived a very long time. All through my life I have had dogs. I’ve loved each one and they’ve loved me unconditionally. I have photos of all of them, memories of all the funny things they’ve done and the times they’ve shown their love toward the family. Yet I can’t say the same about the cats. I simply don’t believe they needed me. At the most it would be toleration. Cats get attached to places not people. |
| https://www.writing.com/main/redirect?htime=1675518794&hkey=77afbedabd3c8f66a3f0... Inscrutable. That’s the first thing that comes to mind when staring back at the face of what I imagine to be a huge silverback male gorilla. There are so many similarities between our species it’s almost scary. I’ve always been fascinated by gorillas, chimps and orangutans ever since I saw the movie ‘Gorillas in the Mist.’ The image of this gorilla staring into the camera caused me to pause and stare back into those eyes. What was he thinking? Would he deliberately hurt me for the pure pleasure of dong so? Or is he more intelligent than we may give him credit for? I believe that this creature, so strong and powerful wouldn’t deliberately destroy simply because he can. Unlike some members of our so called civilised society. It’s unfortunate when we compare them to animals because animals wouldn’t behave the way some human beings do. https://www.google.com.au/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=&ved=2ahUKEwjOz... There have been many cases where primates have behaved in ways which prove they think and act as humans do. I wonder is it fair we continue to enclose them in zoos as exhibits for us to observe, laugh at, sometime ridicule or tease? My thoughts are that there are so many amazing wildlife series, such as those produced by David Attenborough, where we can see animals behaving naturally in their own habitats, at least while those habitats still exist and mankind doesn’t continue to ignore the needs of other creature with which we share this world. |
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