The “Bees Knees” page will be a good one to gaze at during the long winter months.
Sally shares memories of training at Schooner Inn.
I was twenty-two and in early 1975 we were completing a six month management training course for Schooner Inns based in Gravesend.. We worked six days a week from 9.00 in the morning until 3.00pm. And then 5.00pm until we had cleared up after closing usually around midnight to 1.00am.
We were given a day off mid-week which usually meant washing our uniforms in the rented house we shared with the Assistant manager and if we were lucky a visit to the cinema. To be honest I was totally wiped out but it was a very good training for running a busy catering business. I have often smiled when people tell me that they are retiring to run a pub or restaurant…
There was not much time for leisure but during the few hours we were closed to the public, we would use the loudspeaker system to play radio throughout…
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Hello, guys! Just want to share my last trip in the Philippines before I left for the United States. 🙂
Roadtrip Dates: April 9-11, 2015
You’ve probably heard of The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. It’s a young-adult book series written by Ann Brashares which were also turned into movies. It’s about four bestfriends and a pair of pants that miraculously fit them all. When they have to be apart from each other, these pants were passed from one to another and that somehow connected them.
I have my own sisterhood, too. And just like the four main characters from the series, we were also different in some ways but when we’re together, it’s like we have our own world. After high school, we started to be “apart” going to different colleges and now that we are already completely “adults” and in different professions, we hardly have time to be physically together.
Before I share some of the photos I took from our roadtrip, let me introduce you to my sisters…
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Let’s take a trip to Italy. Our tour guide is Johanna Massey.
History commemorated through haiku by Denis.
nothing can move this
oldest bridge in the land
at peace in autumn
The Richmond Bridge at Richmond just outside Hobart Tasmania Australia is the oldest constructed bridge in the country. A legacy of convict labour this bridge and many other beautiful early nineteenth century Georgian architectural beauties are beautiful reminders of a brutal colonial history.
This is my contribution to Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge. Check this fantastic blog out at this Ping back Link https://ronovanwrites.wordpress.com/2015/08/31/ronovanwrites-weekly-haiku-poetry-prompt-challenge-60-bridge-move/
Janice’s story in prose and poem.
When illness arrives,
Mountains move to reveal bridge
To meaningful life.
When illness arrives mountains move to reveal bridge.
Mountains move to reveal bridge to meaningful life.
I can happily say that I have been cancer-free since 2009 when my thyroid was removed. The before and after experiences have influenced me to value the present moment and quality of life more, and to spend less time doing things I don’t find meaningful. While perhaps spiritual mountainsdidn’t move for me as suggested in the haiku, some people do experience this level of enlightenment when faced with a major health concern. So, the poem is rooted in both my personal experience and my awareness of what has gone on for others.
To read more haiku using the prompt words “Bridge” and “Move”, use thislinkto visit RonovanWrites. Ronovan offers an opening haiku and explains how to participate; links…
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BWSBL shares with us her history of haiku. Congratulations on your success.
You know that old adage, time flies when you’re having fun? Looks like there is definitely some truth to that statement. Well, time flies by anyway so why not do something you enjoy. At least you’ll have something to look forward to on a daily (or weekly) basis. I can hardly believe a year has passed since I stumbled upon RonovanWrites and his Weekly Haiku Prompt Challenge.
While on Twitter, I started noticing all these little poems people were posting. They were so wordy and full of meaning in only 140 characters. Each had a different hashtag but as days went on I’d notice the same hashtags pop up on different poems. I thought maybe it was a certain theme or topic but I just couldn’t figure out the link. Finally, I asked one of the women I met through my blog, who I noticed was a participant in this poetry, what it was…
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