Quoted (2)

“Only when at the summit do we realise how far we’ve travelled. And how far we’ve still to reach.”




The world is blue.

Although life can be defined by the colours in which we parade, the earth itself lies resplendent under an emerald green jacket. For most people, a copse of trees or lush meadow define the idyllic. But not all.
For some, those identifiable dreamers, blue is the colour they aspire to be it ultramarine sea or cerulean sky.

Blue will fold around us when the green dies away.
Blue will be there when needed until our dying day.

A rippling reassurance when troubled. A turbulent chastisement when persuasion fails. Our droplet of universe.

The world is blue.




It was not that I was exempt from fear. No, it was not this at all. Neither was it that fear had such a hold as to addle my mind, to disturb and disrupt. Not one bit. I had faced my fears and throttled them. Now, as I stood before the Devil, it was his turn to fear, for exempt from fear he’d find he was not. We would see whose eyes blinked first. I knew for sure, it would not be mine.

Just A Feeling

Just A Feeling

It’s just a feeling, a tingling in the toes. I pull them back and wriggle them around but the tingling remains. Very odd?
I decide to go for a walk marching around the neighbourhood like a demented crow all stiff-legged, feet pointing.
After a mile, I think my strange sensations gone. They haven’t. In a sneaky turn of events, the tingling has travelled up my shins, thighs and settled somewhere else. I wriggle like a bustling chicken. A woman crosses the road.
I walk faster now bordering on a run. If I can just shake it off. I stop dead. I’m turning into Taylor Swift! No, that can’t be right? Sprint.
I hurtle down the main street, turn into the alleyway that runs across the back of our terraces and in through the back gate. I’m knackered. The tingling has gone.
When I say gone, I am in fact lying in the hope it’s my brain carrying out a mentality check because I’m actually tingling all over. Every Richard atom is buzzing like an electrified fence, a hectic rush hour of life.
Life. That’s it. It’s just a feeling. A feeling that it’s good to be alive. I don’t want to run it off, to sprint away into the distance. I want to savour every second and tingle as long as I can.
Yes, it’s just a feeling. But I’m damn glad I’ve got it.


Through necessity is determination found

In direst need where once thought not

We circulate the impossible 

And attain that which was less than probable

What appeared beyond us now in reach

The horizon attainable

The dreams we sheltered like precious seeds

Brought to fruition through flesh and steel

When life said no, we said yes

Or so we allow ourselves to believe

For, in truth, it was merely necessity

And from this point forth shall be the ordinary

The Pencil

They labelled me an unnecessary expense, a price too far. I argued my case, fought my corner, but ultimately lost. Half a life gone, and all I had left was a well-bitten pencil.
I swore that day to rebuild. That pencil became my symbol, my Phoenix from the flames. I drew and planned, planned and drew until all that remained was a stub of blunt lead.
I took my plans to those who'd cast me aside, plonked them on the table and watched them drool. When the offer came, which I knew it would, I rolled up my papers and left without saying goodbye.
I own the building now. Those who caused my rebirth sharpen my pencils. They're grateful for the money. I'm grateful for the reminder.

A Short Post on the Human Spirit

Author's Note: Every word is true.

My wife, sister and I visited my ninety-five-year-old Nanna this week. No big deal, you might say. For us, it was.
We don't own a car, and my sister doesn't drive. So, we borrowed a family vehicle, collected my sister, who lives forty miles away, and then drove the same again to the York residential home where my Nanna lives. She has dementia, can't walk, and is in a secure ward, but we love her dearly.
Planning such a trip in our situation is never easy, so we never promise a visit in case we can't. Hence, our arrival was a surprise.
To cut a long story short and to get to the point, Nanna was shocked at us turning up but soon recovered her composure. We chatted non-stop about the past, memories and life in general. We had the same discussions about ten times each as she forgot them within five minutes. It didn't matter; she was happy.
When we eventually got up to leave, Nanna tried too. We begged her not to, so she sat again. However, as the three of us traipsed away, we heard a noise. Nanna had stood up, made it to the door, and was waving. She did so right up until we couldn't see her. A miracle!
We were so lucky to see this especially as a nurse was in the room opposite so we knew Nanna was safe.
People said she couldn't stand or walk, but she did.
If she only remembered our visit for a day it was worth it. Somehow, I expect she'll remember it much longer than that.
The human spirit is astonishing. We must never forget such things.

Thank you for reading