But any idea what sort of a hawk has taken a shine to this garden perch? The kindness of strangers can be deeply moving. Printer ink is a huge business — how disappointing so many global companies producing ink do not seem to offer a green recycling system which means millions of empty cartridges have to go to landfill. Surely this is something worth investigation.
Pity the NotW is no more! Source: Facebook Friend. RBW were delighted to be invited to talk about creative writing to patients and staff at Katharine House Hospice. The idea for the visit originated from the patients themselves who had started up their own Newsletter. The afternoon featured the work of RBW and how to structure a creative writing workshop. Few would disagree that as a positive therapy creative writing has a lot going for it.
Items discussed were daily observations, random words, assignments, card character games, and most important of all simply providing the opportunity for self-expression. Most important messages to put across included For those interested in memory as reminiscence therapy RBW was happy to share techniques honed over many years of experience. Little Red Rhyming Hood. She lived beside a forest black, Her father was a lumberjack.
Her granny, who was old and grey, Lived in a town some miles away. Poor gran had recently been illNot serious, a mere chill. One afternoon, Red Rhyming Hood Set out alone, to cross the wood, A wicker basket on her arm, Filled with produce from the farm. Gran looked forward to her caller, Not knowing what would soon befall her. Just then, Red Rhyming Hood walked in, And came across to kiss his chin.
But when she saw him, she turned white. Come tell me. Have you lost your tongue? Red Rhyming Hood is quite astounded! And meanwhile, in a forest glade, Red Rhyming Hood had been delayed. She quite forgot about the dangers Of holding discourses with strangers, And crafty wolf, he smiled so sweetly Red Rhyming Hood was fooled completely. Her house is just beyond that hill. Wolf waved his paw and said good day Red Rhyming Hood went on her way. He pushed the door, it opened wide And stealthily he crept inside Where gran was sitting up in bed, A frilly nightcap on her head.
The wolf must act without delay, Or else the child will get away. Her father in the woods nearby, Was felling trees and heard her cry. He started off without delay, To learn the cause of the affray. When wolfy saw the axe, he fled. So gran and child were reunited, And both of them were quite delighted. The wolf became a vegetarian,Never eating child again. The final straw came when I was drawing the curtains behind her as she sat patiently waiting for a long overdue visit to the hospital.
My enthusiasm in flinging the curtains open led to her demise. By that I mean it sounded deliberate. It is said that we suppress uncomfortable memories and perhaps that is why I could never say just how she came to lose her eyes inside her head and just when her big toe dropped off. I know that if you want her to look at you when you are speaking you first need to peer inside the eye sockets and shake her, quite gently really, until they twist round on their wire trolley and fix you with their blank stare. And if you want to stop her snagging her best pink frock that came one Christmas when she had been very good you have to keep it tucked up away from her leprous feet.
She came to stay soon after that baby brother who kept Mother busy all those years ago. She was just there, in a grubby pair of hand knitted knickers and a flannel vest. She still does. We stood together at the bedroom window that day when Father went. That was when I gave her a new name. She could not be Baby Doll now. Now she was Big Girl. And what a big girl she was in those days. She was always ready to listen to my news after school.
She told me I was a clever girl and she always wanted seconds when we had my favourite pudding. Every time my friends came to tea she hid in her room and when she heard them laughing at me she waited until they left and then she threw herself on the floor in floods of tears. One day when I picked her up again one of her eyes kept on and on looking into my eyes, even though she knew it was rude to stare. After that we played on our own with me being the nurse, gently bathing her and bandaging her, sometimes all over. She liked it and she begged not to be left on her own.
And that was when she started sitting in the window. From there she could watch me as I came through the gate from work. Her bright red smile with two top teeth flashed me a warm welcome, although she seemed at first reluctant to say what had been amusing her. And now she waits in bits and now she has nothing to say. Daily Mirror. The destination of words that die out is indeed a conundrum. If you were, you will be familiar with the repository of etymological remains that was Call My Bluff. Lest there be a laggard or two amongst us, let me quash all confusion by offering an unusually testing game by way of illustration.
I never took you for much of a dresser. The dasher chooses a word and writes the definition supplied on a piece of paper which is mixed up with definitions composed by the other players. Those guessing the correct meaning gain points and move their tokens around the board. Whoever reaches the end square first is the winner. In the event of a tie, the players arm wrestle to win the game. It is against my free-hold To drink such balder-dash. At sick parade you are confronted by three squaddies, each complaining of memory loss. Issue Page 8.
He came from Lancashire! A long-distance camel driver and yak trainer he was. Yes, Al. Nobody believes THAT now-a-days. I am being in your hometown today and am thinking of a visit making. I have a career for your son, my beloved niece in mind. Thank you. Good bye. Later that day Al returned from the office to find his Mum in a pother. You never did explain what happened to him. Now is the time to tell me the whole story, GIVE! He was running a high risk, long distance, camel train to Hull. As the stuff was likely to explode in a thunderstorm, they had to go via Manchester to keep to the low ground.
The other lads on the run told me they made it without loss, but when they got to Hull, there was a problem at the border crossing.
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The last they saw of him was going into a pub for a drink, they think he was shanghaied and ended up working on a Caribbean Cruise Liner. Well apart from a Christmas card last year. Posted from Aberdeen. There was a pop and the Genie of the Lamp appeared. Obviously, this must have disoriented him as he then proceeded, through a curiously narrow door, which closed and locked behind him, to descend into the cellar.
Finding himself in an unenviable situation, and with a medical problem on his hands that required an urgent solution, he did his best to relieve the pressure. Unfortunately, the way he chose to do so, whilst admirable in most circumstances, caused a chemical reaction that destroyed the building in an explosion. Closing date 30 November Now in its 15th year, one of the major annual international competitions for short stories, microfiction, single poems, poetry collections, essays and articles; offers cash prizes as well as publication for the prize-winning writers in The Collection, special edition of The New Writer magazine each July.
Also, we can supply this year's printed entry forms on request to writers' groups and organizations and individuals in the UK — just let us know, no SAE required. National Short Story Week : 7th to 11th November There are only two weeks to go until this year's National Short Story Week but we already have some great treats for short story fans. One of the UK's most experienced and well known broadcasters, Sue Cook, has brought her radio programme The Write Lines online for three exclusive shows to tie in with this year's National Short Story Week.
This double CD has more than 2 hours of stories and all proceed go to educational charity The Helena Kennedy Foundation. Best wishes National Short Story Week email press release. Listen to Radio Wildfire at www. In this edition AND there's Gary Longden's Listings, the only regular spoken rundown of what's on in the spoken word community in the Midlands and beyond - check it out you might just be featured!
The Loop will play online continuously for the next month, except during our live broadcast on Monday 7th November starting at 8. Random Words Exercise: sewing, spade, cuticle, stupid, succession, recycling, Albert, voluntary, medieval, Canada. Hello and welcome to the Debut Dagger Competition. Those of you who have done the maths, will realise that this year the competition is only open to entries for thirteen weeks, rather than the usual fourteen. The reason is quite simple; entries increased yet again in and we need the extra time to get through all the entries before the shortlist announcement at Crimefest in May.
In we had nearly seven hundred entries from twenty six countries. Once again there was an impressive mix of the psychological, supernatural, quirky, historical and action adventure. The overall winner was South African writer Michele Rowe with What Hidden Lies; the story of the hunt for the killer of an alleged sex offender on the spectacular Cape Town coast.
The Awards were presented at the Harrogate Literary Festival in July and we were pleased that some of the short-listed authors attended the Event. Unfortunately a combination of visa problems and bronchitis prevented Michele from joining us, but you can find a video message from her on the CWA website. At the time of writing, I know some of the short-listed authors have been approached by agents and Michele has been signed to a prestigious London literary agency.
Now for the good news on some of the short-listed authors. In fact, they like it so much, it features on the cover of their autumn brochure. In beautiful, crumbling Old Havana, Canadian detective Mike Ellis hopes the sun and sand will help save his troubled marriage. He has only seventy-two hours to secure an indictment and prevent a vicious killer from leaving the island.
But Ramirez also has his own troubles to worry about. As he races against time, the dead haunt his every step We also heard from two other short-listed authors over the summer. The Debut Dagger is now open for business on our website: www. For more information about the competition, visit www. Missy Charlotta grew bored with the doll she was holding and dangled it by its hair.
Treat her nice. Such things were not for delicate ears. Missy Charlotta was a true Waterford right enough. But hard pretty. She was too picky. And arrogant. She forgot that prettiness fades with the years. Wu: I miss the old days when people just shot, stabbed and strangled each other.
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What happened here? Wu: None of the above. Angelina: Damn. Hank: Do you think we should bring the Captain here? Nick: No. Monroe : You're the monster under the bed! You're a scary story we tell our kids! Be good or a Grimm will come and cut your head off Tropes E-H. Early Installment Weirdness : In the first couple of episodes Nick was a master of the Sherlock Scan , instantly and accurately profiling whomever he came across. Also, just being in sniffing distance of another blutbad is almost enough to send Monroe into a frenzy in the pilot.
This weakness is never mentioned again. However, his behavior could have been chalked up to being in the direct light of a full moon. The "never go out in a full moon" weakness has been maintained throughout the series. The pilot indicates that the reason Nick is finally coming into his abilities is that his Aunt Marie is dying and some Grimm essence is being passed down from her to him.
The premiere of Season Two establishes that male Grimms simply start seeing Wesen at a later age than female ones. When asked in an interview around this time if Monroe could turn into a wolf, the showrunners responded "if he got angry enough". Wesen are never again shown to be able to turn fully into animals.
The first and second episodes of the series also involved Nick having strange dreams, ala Buffy. These dreams are never addressed later in the series. Enhance Button : Somewhat averted in "The Bottle Imp," where the police are able to zoom in on a security camera's footage of a man's car in order to get the license plate number, but both it and the man's daughter who they spot in the car, are noticeably blurry. The first three seasons had the quotes displayed against nature scenery.
Monroe : I can't be around that guy — I almost bought him a drink! Reginald : You promise you won't hurt my family! Edgar Waltz : Of course not! You kept your end of the bargain. I wouldn't dream of torturing your family. Monroe: Oh Nick, dude, you don't wanna be seeing this. Because God knows you've killed plenty of them. That's what you Grimms do , isn't it? Monroe: I've never been much of a status quo guy. And next time, we'll be ready for them.
Monroe: Oh, this is usually the part in the movie where the sidekick gets it! Tropes I-N. When the help arrives in the form of Monroe, the guy asks what a Fuchsbau could do against him. Adalind seems to have had an Idiot Ball superglued to her person as of Season Three, and she's still stuck to it in Season Four.
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After having been told by Juliette multiple times that she enjoys being a hexenbiest and after she goes right over the moral event horizon by burning Aunt Marie's trailer, Nick, and the rest of the crew still hand her the potion that will suppress her hexenbiest tendencies and expect her to willingly drink it in the episode "You Don't Know Jack". Note: this is an almost impossible to make potion requiring parts from a dead hexenbiest Adalind's mother in this case and it is also the last of the potion they have.
In between knocking the gang around, having Nick aim his gun at Monroe and presumably firing, Juliette throws the potion on the floor, breaking it. Full court idiot ball on this one. I Have This Friend Subverted when it turns out he really did have a friend, who's much worse off than he is with the uncontrollable hair growth they're both suffering. By Season 4, he now averts this and enjoys being a Grimm. And he is angered by his being Brought Down To Normal.
Rosalee tells Juliette that denial and self-loathing are not uncommon among wesen coming to terms with who they are. She implies that it fueled her drug addiction and illegal activities in the past. She even calls the trope nearly by name: Rosalee You have no idea how badly you just want to be normal. Hank: The beekeeper just buzzed me. That's right. I went there. Sergeant Wu: Looks like they're gonna have to face the music. You went there? Sergeant Wu: Somebody had to. Nick: He's a Wesen.
Renard: Isn't everyone these days? Juliette : Want to tell me who M is and why she loves you? I'm assuming it's a she. Juliette: I'm not impressed. Tropes O-S. Obligatory Joke : In "Danse Macabre" while examining the body of a high school orchestra conductor: Sgt. Wu : Looks like they'll have to face the music. Nick : Next time, send your best.
Victim: woges Villain: You're worth a lot. Monroe: How much is a Blutbad worth? Rosalee: What about a Fuchsbau? Nick: What about a Grimm? Cue tag team attack by Monroe and Nick. Juliette: Is that all you got? Riken: You may be a Grimm again, but you're not gonna be able to arrest all of us. Nick: You're right. Some of you will be stupid. Edward Waltz : You may think I'm a monster but what I am is necessary.
No society can survive without order. Free thought is not free - there is no such thing as revolutio - the oppressed always become the oppressors and the cycle repeats itself over and over. The only way to win is to stay out of the cycle. Nick: "My mother. Tropes T-Z. Taken for Granite : Apparently, powerful Zauberbiests are able to turn someone to stone by touching them.
Every street name is preceded by one of these sector names i. Therefore, it's important to not only say the name of the street, but also the sector where it exists. In Grimm , names of streets are given without their corresponding sectors.