Sunday, 8 October 2023

10 Different Types of Readers---What Type Are You?


"10 Different Types of Readers"
What Type Are You?
(author unknown)
While it’s already known that we all enjoy books and reading in different ways, we did our research and tried to identify all the different kinds of readers. Here is the sequel to the most popular types of readers we were able to identify. What kind of reader are you?
1. The Digital Reader
Like with anything, the exact opposite of the physical book loyalist does exist. The digital reader has a completely different approach to reading than the aforementioned type.
You won’t be able to find a single paper book in a digital reader’s house and that is because they embrace technology to the fullest. They will own e-readers, e-books, audiobooks, and pretty much anything else that isn’t a physical book.
2. The Fiction Fanatic
On the other end of the scale, we find those readers who want their books to take them to different universes and see their reading as an escape from reality. They appreciate an author’s imagination and like to recreate in their minds the worlds they read about.
Whether it’s science fiction, fantasy, heroic fantasy or adventure fiction, the fiction fanatic will devour it as long as the story is interesting enough.
3. The Young Adults Lover
Most adults nowadays lead hectic and often overwhelming lives. For some, the greatest escape is reading books that are destined for young adults. These easier books, which were written with young adults or teenagers in mind often have quite interesting stories and the YA lover will never care that she is 10 years older than the target age for that particular book.
4. The Emotional Reader
Whether it’s appreciation for a good love story, a sense of accomplishment whenever the hero in a book manages to achieve his goals or the overwhelming sadness of a tragic event from a drama novel, the emotional reader will resonate and will feel everything with a higher intensity than the average reader would.
5. The Fad Reader
Riding the wave of hype created around a book is something the fad reader thrives on. This kind of reader will read anything and everything other people read, simply because she wants to be a part of the hype.
There are a number of books that succeed through popular magnetism more than literary quality and they have the fad readers to thank for their success.
6. The College Reader
While we don’t encourage this habit, the college reader had to be mentioned in our list simply because of the large number of people who end up being one.
We’ve all heard of people who simply stop reading the second they no longer have to. While they may have read all the books on their reading lists in college or school, that is where their reading journey has ended. Weirdly enough, they even seem to take some pride in that.
7. The Neurotic Reader
One of the most difficult types of readers, the neurotic reader has a rule for every aspect of reading and will not stray from the course under any circumstances.
Each neurotic reader has his own set of rules and whether it’s never leaving anyone touching their books, always reading the introduction, or other habits, they will enforce them forever.
8. The Writer-Reader
This kind of reader will take nothing at face value and will critique every aspect of a book he’s reading. She will put himself in the author’s shoes and will state his opinion to anyone who is willing to listen.
Whether it’s the way the book was written, how the story is presented, the way the characters were described or the book altogether, the writer-reader will always find something to critique.
9. The Note Taker
While for most of us, reading is a relaxing way of passing the time, others take it a lot more seriously and want more than just to enjoy a book as entertainment. These people are the ones who want to learn everything that can be learned from a book and will make the best of their time spent reading it, by writing down, annotating, and making notes of all the information they find interesting.
10. The Vacation Reader
Many people love reading on holidays. Seeing someone by the pool with a cocktail in one hand and a book in the other is not uncommon. The vacation reader only reads on holidays though. Unfortunately, during a two-week binge-reading session, they will never be able to read as much as they would if they were to read at least 20 minutes per day throughout the year.
If you identify as a vacation reader, we understand that life usually gets in the way of our love for reading.
So which one of these are you?

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BEYOND THE STARS


"BEYOND THE STARS"
(author unknown)

In a small town, there lived a curious girl named Lily. Lily loved to look up at the night sky and wonder about the stars. She often wondered if there were magical worlds beyond them.
One clear night, as Lily gazed at the twinkling stars, she saw something extraordinary. A shooting star streaked across the sky, leaving a trail of shimmering light. Lily's eyes widened with amazement. She closed her eyes tightly and made a wish, just like the stories said.
The next morning, Lily woke up with a tingling feeling of excitement. She felt like something special was going to happen. She rushed outside, hoping to find a clue from the shooting star.
As she walked through the meadow, Lily noticed a peculiar glimmer near a cluster of tall, ancient trees. She approached cautiously and discovered a small, golden key lying in the grass. It was unlike any key she had ever seen, and it felt warm to the touch.
Lily's heart raced with anticipation. Could this key unlock a secret door to a magical world beyond the stars? She decided to find out. With the key in her hand, she set off towards the woods, her imagination running wild.
Deeper into the forest, Lily stumbled upon an old, ivy-covered door. It looked like it hadn't been opened in a very long time. Lily's hands trembled as she inserted the golden key into the rusty lock. With a creak, the door swung open, revealing a passage that seemed to lead into the heart of the ancient trees.
Bravery filled Lily's heart as she stepped through the doorway. To her astonishment, she found herself in a breath-taking garden illuminated by the soft glow of starlight. Flowers of every colour and shape bloomed in magnificent arrangements. Birds with iridescent feathers sang melodious tunes from the treetops.
Lily couldn't believe her eyes. She had truly stepped into a magical world beyond the stars. She explored the garden, marvelling at its wonders. She met friendly creatures and danced with fireflies that lit up the night.
As dawn approached, a gentle voice echoed through the garden, telling Lily it was time to return home. With a heavy heart, she walked back through the ancient trees and closed the door behind her, leaving the magical world behind.
From that day on, Lily knew that there was more to the world than met the eye. She carried the memory of the magical garden and the golden key in her heart. And whenever she looked up at the night sky, she knew that beyond the stars, there were endless possibilities waiting to be discovered by those with curious hearts.

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Saturday, 7 October 2023

I'M FINE by Becky Hemsley


"I'M FINE"
(by Becky Hemsley)

Today I said “I’m fine”, not once
But five times altogether
When people asked “how are you?”
Then made small talk of the weather
And so I hid behind my mask
The one I’d worn a while
I set in place my bravest face
And dressed it with a smile
And that was how the day went
All “I’m fine” and talk of rain
Until somebody asked me how I was
Then asked again
They asked if I was truly fine
And I said I was not
And they said they were sorry
That they couldn’t do a lot
But then they sat beside me
Whilst I spoke the truth at last
They listened and they held me
As the tears slipped through my mask
And where before, I’d felt I should
Maintain this brave façade,
I realised there was much to gain
By letting down my guard
See, though my load was still the same
It now was not as heavy
‘Cause sitting and offloading it
Had helped a bit already
Today they asked “how are you?”
And I told them I was fine
‘Til someone saw behind the mask
And asked me one more time
And though they may have felt
That there was little they could do
They’ll never know how much it meant
To tell someone the truth
*******
Becky Hemsley 2022
Artwork by the very talented @togamin22 (via Instagram)
“I’m fine” is from my second collection:

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IN SEARCH OF DAISY by Kate Thomson

"IN SEARCH OF DAISY" (by Kate Thomson)
With the exception of a fortnight in Clapton, Daisy Woodard rarely left her Isle of Dogs home. Yet she lived a life ripe with adventure. The softly spoken lady with a laugh as dirty as a drain was machine-gunned, blown-up and bombed. She also helped one of the world’s greatest adventurers scale Mount Everest – and all without leaving the East End.
For more than nine decades, her home was the Isle of Dogs, with its ancient cobbled streets, wharves and warehouses that served the thriving docks. No part of the East End has changed more in the last generation than the Isle of Dogs, and planners have laid waste to Daisy’s childhood neighbourhood. Now, it’s no longer majestic ocean-going vessels that tower over her streets, but the glinting glass skyscrapers of the finance industry.
Fortunately for me, memories of the narrow, sooty streets and vibrant communities recreated in Call the Midwife remained pin-sharp in Daisy’s mind. A few years back, I went to visit her in her warm and neat flat, where we were surrounded by models of elephants, which she loved so much (“Why do people hunt them?’ she questioned), her beloved word-searches and old sepia photos.
‘This is my mum, Sophia Jane,’ she told me with a smile of pure love, holding up a black-and-white photo of a handsome woman with a shock of thick black wavy hair and a look that says: ‘Bring it on!’ to the world.
‘Mum was a grafter, she started work at 6am in a factory in Surrey Quays, but always made sure I came home from school to a plate of my favourite liver and bacon. Scrupulously clean, when she wasn’t working or cooking, she was down the bathhouse scrubbing sheets. You’d never find her yakking on street corners, but whenever we passed a group of women talking on the street, she’d lean down and whisper: “Always leave ‘em laughing, Dais,” before making a wisecrack that would have ’em doubled over.’
It was her mother’s ability to bring laughter that enabled only child Daisy to find fun in the darkest of hours. ‘When war broke out, I said to Mum: “I ain’t going nowhere.” Fortunately, she agreed, and I remember waving goodbye to all my pals as they disappeared from the street on the back of a flatbed lorry off to be evacuated. ‘I was laughing and waving – little did I know what lay ahead.’
Overnight, the crowded cobbled streets, usually covered in great packs of kids playing Hi-Jimmy Knacker, marbles and hopscotch, emptied, as if a wartime Pied Piper had swept through the neighbourhood. ‘I was lonely,’ Daisy admitted, ‘but I had the strong instinct that, as long as I was by my mother’s side, I’d be all right.’ Daisy got a rude awakening when the phoney war came to an end. ‘I was playing at the end of my street when I saw a plane flying low over our neighbourhood, so low I swore I saw the pilot’s face,’ she recalled. ‘He was smiling, so I assumed it was one of ours. I’m waving madly up at him when, all of a sudden, a hail of bullets starts pinging around my feet, cracking off the cobbles.’
Daisy ran for her life up Newark Street, skinny white legs pumping ten to the dozen, and threw herself in her mother’s open doorway. ‘Thank God most of the women left their doors open in the summer to let cool air up the passage,’ Daisy told me.
Her mettle was to be tested further at the outbreak of the Blitz on what came to be known as ‘Black Saturday’, September 7th, 1940. The industrial docks were the target of the Luftwaffe, who dropped thousands of incendiary bombs out of a seamless blue sky. By nightfall, they returned, and this time, they had the fires from the mighty conflagrations to guide them along the distinctive loop of the Isle of Dogs.
‘We only had a street shelter, and the noise was tremendous in there. It stunk and was packed. I felt so claustrophobic and I remember yelling: “I’ve got to get out!”’ Daisy told me. She ran to the arches in Mudchute, with her mother in hot pursuit. ‘It felt like the whole world was on fire,’ she remembered. ‘The noise wasn’t much better in there – they had three anti-aircraft guns posted on the arches, guns I nicknamed ‘Big Bertha, Big Aida and Big Welly’, but I felt safe when they fired back.’
During the first few weeks of the Blitz, the authorities showed a grievous dereliction of care toward East Enders, packing them into miserable and squalid shelters, and shutting safe deep-level shelters like the Tubes off to civilians.
That was until ordinary, working Londoners fought for their right to safety. By the time Daisy turned 13, the Undergrounds were equipped to shelter thousands, but she and her mother still preferred to sleep in bunk beds under the arches at Mudchute. ‘On my 13th birthday, I woke up in my bunk bed and says to my mum: “I wonder what’s Hitler’s brought me for my birthday?” I got home to find a smoking pile of rubble where my house used to be.
“I knew he wouldn’t forget me!” I called to Mum.’ Daisy’s sangfroid at being bombed out and left homeless masks what must have been an intensely frightening and challenging period. ‘My poor dad, he was so upset, when we got to Poplar Town Hall, he promptly collapsed and had a fit on the floor. He was a soldier in the First War. I think by that point, he’d just seen too much. A worker there took pity on us and slipped us the keys to a vacant property on the other side of the Island, saying: “I’ll probably get the sack for this.”’ Because of his generosity and common sense, Daisy and her parents saw out the rest of the war in ‘luxury’. ‘We went from two rooms to a whole house,’ she told me. ‘I felt ever so posh!’ At 14, Daisy started at Moltens sweet factory, ‘eating more than I earnt’, before she finally settled at rope works Hawkins & Tipson on the Island, staying there for 16 years. ‘I used to help make manila and sisal ropes.'
In 1953, Daisy got an unexpected summons. ‘I was told to report to the Dockland Settlement as a grateful customer wanted to meet me,’ she explained. Daisy’s foreman, a man named Wally, granted her permission to go on her 30-minute dinner break, provided she wasn’t late back. ‘I was ushered into a room and there was a tall man who introduced himself as Edmund. He shook my hand and I remember mine just disappearing in his. His hand was enormous.’
The huge hand belonged to none other than 6ft 2in adventurer Edmund Hillary, fresh from his record-breaking climb to the summit of Mount Everest in May 1953. The Queen had recently appointed him Knight Commander of the Order of the British Empire. To 26-year-old Daisy, he was ‘just a lovely fella who was interested in ropes’. ‘He thanked me for the rope I’d made, which he’d used on his expedition up Everest, and said it saved his life,’ Daisy recalled of her incredible meeting. ‘Nowadays, of course, you’d have press and people taking photos and all that, but back then it was a quick handshake and nice chat. At the back of my mind, I’m really panicking as I’m aware that my 30-minute dinner break was nearly up, and I didn’t want to get my wages docked. He was so grateful and gentle, I’d have loved to have stayed and chatted all day, but I had to hotfoot it back to work. So, I shook his giant hand again, and said: “Ta-ta!”’
Daisy’s brush with the great adventurer has never left her and she felt enormous pride in her role at helping make history. ‘Little old me,’ she chuckled, patting her armrest. With her outlook subtly shifted, Daisy turned her ambitions towards something a little more modest than scaling mountains. Instead, she resolved to work hard and save for her own camera. ‘I’d always been obsessed with photography and worked hard, eventually saving enough to buy a Leica Zeiss Ikon. Daisy’s trusty Leica went everywhere with her and she admitted she made herself ‘the factory pest’, even taking it on the work beanos down to the coast, where she would pop up announced when her workmates crouched behind a bush to spend a penny!
But it’s this glorious photo of Daisy, laughing with her workmate Dolly on a tea break, that led me to her door.
A friend of mine showed me the photo. I posted it on Facebook and within 30 minutes, up popped a message: ‘That’s my mum’s neighbour.’ (Thanks Julia) The world is not such a big place after all.
‘So, what were you two laughing at?’ I asked, when I visited her.
‘I’d been plaguing my foreman, Wally, shouting: “Whato Wally” in a silly voice, when he grabbed the camera off me and turned the tables, taking a snap of me,’ she smiled. Taken in an unguarded moment, this evocative photo shows Daisy and her mate Doll, at their best. Fun. Irreverent. Full of life. When I met her in her early 90s, she still was.
‘There’s barely a wrinkle on your face,' I marvelled. ‘That’s 'cause I’m sitting on ’em, love,’ she flashed back.
Daisy, along with so many other great east enders, has left us. She passed away last April and the world is a poorer place without her.
I treasure the memory of my visits with Daisy and the stories she told me. So much of her is soaked into my characters, her irreverence, resilience and humour.
When I said goodbye, I told her that it had been a privilege, listening to her story and the incredible events through, which she didn’t just survive, but thrived. ‘I don’t know about that,’ she shrugged. No matter what life throws at you, I always tried to make the best of things.’
I'm so happy I found you, Daisy. Kate x


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ONLY ONE LIFE so live it


"ONLY ONE LIFE so live it"
(author unknown)

I'm sure many of us can relate to spending too much time and energy worrying about what others think of us.
The choices we make about who our friends are, what job we like to do, all aspects of our life constantly scrutinised by others.
But at the end of the day, the only opinions that truly matter are our own.
No matter how much gossip, judgment or criticism comes our way, it won't pay a single one of our expenses or add any real value to our lives, right?
So can we agree to stop seeking validation from others and start validating ourselves.
We don't need anyone's approval to follow our dreams, speak our truths and walk our own paths.
Our worth isn't defined by the opinions of strangers, friends or family - it comes from within.
This is our reminder to tune out the noise, lift our heads high and keep living according to our own rules. Our light shines brightest when we stop trying to dim it for others. Stay strong, and never let someone else's narrow view of you become your reality!
How much can you sacrifice to make someone else happy?
And if someone is unhappy or dissatisfied how unworthy do you feel?
How much does a look of pride or one of disgust intuitively lead you to feel a certain way?
This starts as children.
We are raised to pick up on these cues, especially as women.
And the more sensitive you are the more you pick up on.
No one has to say anything, a woman is born already "knowing" this is her duty, to make sure everyone else around her is happy, healthy, and satisfied.
It's not a bad thing to help others, but often we don't realize it is at the expense of our own health.
Remember, your true authentic self isn't tied to anyone else.
It doesn't make you a bad wife, mother, friend, etc to take care of yourself.
In fact, if you don't make yourself a priority, everything is going to fall apart sooner than later. Practice loving yourself today.
Put some effort into making yourself happy, healthy and satisfied, then that emanates outwards to your family.
You've only one life, get to living it my friends.

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Friday, 6 October 2023

The Chalice of Fate

"The Chalice of Fate"
(author unknown)
In a faraway village, nestled between tall mountains and lush forests, there was a tale whispered through generations. It spoke of a magical chalice hidden deep within the heart of an ancient temple. This chalice, so the legend said, held the power to reveal one's destiny.
Among the villagers, there lived a young girl named Lily. She was known for her kind heart and curious spirit. One bright morning, as the sun painted the sky in hues of gold, Lily set out on an adventure to find the fabled Chalice of Fate.
Through dense woods and over babbling brooks, Lily journeyed, her heart full of hope. She climbed steep hills and walked along winding paths, guided only by the stories passed down from her elders.
Finally, after days of travel, she arrived at the temple. Its ancient stones seemed to whisper secrets of times long past. Lily's heart beat like a drum as she entered, her footsteps echoing in the quiet halls.
In the heart of the temple, beneath a shaft of golden light, stood a pedestal. On it sat the chalice, a thing of beauty with ornate patterns etched into its surface. Lily approached it with a mixture of awe and reverence.
With trembling hands, she lifted the chalice. As she gazed into its depths, the liquid within shimmered, reflecting the hopes and dreams of those who sought their fate. Lily took a deep breath and took a sip.
In that moment, the world seemed to blur and shift. She saw glimpses of faces, places, and moments yet to come. There were smiles and tears, challenges and triumphs. Lily's heart swelled with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.
With a newfound clarity, Lily left the temple, her steps lighter than before. She carried the knowledge of her destiny with her, a beacon of light guiding her path.
Over the years, as seasons changed and time flowed, Lily embraced her fate. She faced challenges with courage, knowing that each twist and turn was a part of her journey. And through it all, she held onto the memory of that ancient temple and the magical chalice that had shown her the way.
And so, the tale of Lily and the Chalice of Fate became yet another story woven into the tapestry of the village's history. It was a reminder that sometimes, the greatest adventures and discoveries are found not in distant lands, but within the depths of our own hearts.

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The Whispering Woods

"The Whispering Woods"
(author unknown)

Once upon a time in a quiet village, there was a special place called the Whispering Woods. These woods were not like any other. They were alive with secrets and stories.
Children often heard tales of the wise old trees that could talk. Some said they shared ancient wisdom, while others believed they told stories of days long gone. One sunny morning, a young girl named Lily decided to venture into the Whispering Woods to see if the stories were true.
As she stepped beneath the tall, green canopy, a gentle breeze seemed to greet her. The leaves rustled, and it felt as though the trees were saying, "Welcome, dear traveller."
Lily walked further, her steps gentle on the soft, mossy ground. She approached a wise old oak tree and, in a voice as soft as a summer breeze, she asked, "Can you really talk, dear tree?"
The oak tree, with its gnarled branches and ancient eyes, let out a deep, rumbling chuckle. "Indeed, I can, young one. But it is not with words like yours. We speak in the language of rustling leaves and creaking branches. To understand, you must listen with your heart."
Lily closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She listened with all her might. And then, it happened. She heard it – a soft, melodic hum, like a gentle lullaby. It seemed to carry with it the memories of countless seasons.
The tree began to share a tale of a time when the forest was young, and the creatures spoke freely with the trees. They danced in harmony, celebrating the beauty of nature.
As the day turned to dusk, more trees joined in, their voices blending like a choir. They spoke of friendship, love, and the enduring spirit of the woods. It was a magical symphony that echoed through the Whispering Woods.
When the story came to an end, Lily felt a deep sense of gratitude. She thanked the wise old oak and promised to visit again.
From that day on, Lily became a cherished friend of the Whispering Woods. She visited often, learning from the trees and sharing stories of her own. And so, the bond between the young girl and the ancient forest grew stronger, a testament to the enduring magic of the Whispering Woods.
And if you ever find yourself in a quiet village, and you hear tales of the Whispering Woods, remember that the stories may be true. For in the heart of those ancient trees, there lies a world of wisdom and wonder, waiting to be discovered by those who listen with their hearts.

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You actually believe in Mother?


"You actually believe in Mother?" (author unknown)

In a mother’s womb were two babies. One asked the other: “Do you believe in life after delivery?” The other replied, “Why, of course. There has to be something after delivery. Maybe we are here to prepare ourselves for what we will be later.”

“Nonsense,” said the first. “There is no life after delivery. What kind of life would that be?”

The second said, “I don’t know, but there will be more light than here. Maybe we will walk with our legs and eat from our mouths. Maybe we will have other senses that we can’t understand now.”

The first replied, “That is absurd. Walking is impossible. And eating with our mouths? Ridiculous! The umbilical cord supplies nutrition and everything we need. But the umbilical cord is so short. Life after delivery is to be logically excluded.”

The second insisted, “Well I think there is something and maybe it’s different than it is here. Maybe we won’t need this physical cord anymore.”
The first replied, “Nonsense. And moreover, if there is life, then why has no one ever come back from there? Delivery is the end of life, and in the after-delivery, there is nothing but darkness and silence and oblivion. It takes us nowhere.”
“Well, I don’t know,” said the second, “but certainly we will meet Mother and she will take care of us.”

The first replied “Mother? You actually believe in Mother? That’s laughable. If Mother exists then where is She now?”

The second said, “She is all around us. We are surrounded by her. We are of Her. It is in Her that we live. Without Her, this world would not and could not exist.”
Said the first: “Well I don’t see Her, so it is only logical that She doesn’t exist.”
To which the second replied, “Sometimes, when you’re in silence and you focus and listen, you can perceive Her presence, and you can hear Her loving voice, calling down from above.”

Maybe this was one of the best explanations of the concept of GOD.

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"A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS MARKET, NOT"

"A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS MARKET, NOT" (author unknown) Is there anything less festive than the Christmas markets? Thousands of piss...