Tommy the Pony (paragraphs)

In between other things. I am trying to write a book. I have called it a hobby as not to put myself under pressure, as – what will be, will be. Just reading through what I’ve put so far. I am not qualified in English. I didn’t go to school much. But I caught up with education later in life when I realised there was so much I wanted to learn. However, English eluded me. I write with ‘only’ my imagination. Which is better than not bothering at all (I hope.)

But anyway, here’s a few little paragraphs from the book, which made me smile. (Please over-look the poor grammar.) I will be getting help with it.

Tommy The Pony. 

pony

Tommy would jump up people as the dogs did, usually knocking them from their feet and he’d often chase terrified children around the local park as he ran freely at high speed. (Pat didn’t believe in discipline.) Before long, the entire neighbourhood were petrified of Tommy. That was apart from Pat, Debbie and myself. We thought he was amazing. Claude (Debbie’s father) and her sisters detested him. And Tommy knew it. So, they got mounted on a regular basis as he bit into them when they contested. But as Pat rightly said, “he’s only play fighting. If you stop struggling he’ll be fine.”

People would often knock the humongous front door complaining about the animals but Pat would loyally tell them to “just go away.” Her home being a sanctuary for anyone or anything that wanted to be around. And I was one of them. I loved it there.

Debbie would frequently say that when she had her own place, she’d never have animals as she was sick of constantly being covered in pet hairs. (Unlike me, who wasn’t allowed pets, they weren’t a novelty to Debs – she didn’t know life without them.)

As a very small child she shared the back garden with a horse named ‘Moose.’ I suppose it’s fair to say that Pat preferred animals to her own children. I always thought it odd but not anymore. I can see the allure.

Ironically enough Debbie now lives in Canada at the foot of The Rocky Mountains, has four children, a very loyal and ‘now’ submissive husband (former hardened punk rocker) and an animal sanctuary with an array of rare breeds.

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(picture not my own. Borrowed from Pinterest. Thought it was dead sweet.)

Your biscuits – sporadic counterpart plus #video

Yeah! Why we’re on the topic of fork bending {hail Uri Geller,} you ought to know (or at least acknowledge) I ain’t no sporadic, nymph type elemental just cos I left my geranium leaf gum boots next to the auditorium last year. It was – and I repeat, IT WAS categorically, a one off.

Now – let’s mend this ornate tree stump of a table, before it goes wrong. I won’t be mounting anything for as long as this again – it’s beyond a situation when you can sincerely admit to a stash of ginger-nut biscuits beneath the fourth from the right floor-board, below the red spotted herbaceous tree like thing – that, grows fairly well, on the top floor, next to the attic – in the house over the road. (The invisible one, but I assure you, it’s there.) So, for now, let’s dance, I come alive with Mozart. Met him once. He smelt of snuff and horses, interesting bloke though. When I go back we may do brunch. Sigh … promises, promises. Now, where were we?

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The Hysterically Small Minded

 

If they cannot speak directly but are able to spread gossip to those who ‘also’ do not know you. If their intention is that of ill purpose for no evidential reason – walk on. You have outgrown those circles. It’s meant to be – now you’re free. New doors will open. The better you shine the more resentful they may become. For they know not of ‘real’ love in their objectives. Trickery and meddlesome agenda, burns them alive, as you walk with crisp, vibrant air – a great companion – in sync with your freedom.

You’ve come a long way – keep going. Don’t look back. You’re not missing much. Find new adventures now with those who will embrace your passion on your vibrant journey. Think big, leave the small minded who want you to fall to the level for which they’re trapped. It’s not about populous but more so being your true authentic self, with pride and courage. To avoid the empty noise, back stabbing, poison words and bitter thoughts. You’re better than that and your light revolts them. They can’t smile with grace nor enjoy the peace of silence in their own small minds. It’s a mere illusion. You’re greater now. So whilst the chickens hysterically cluck in a dark back yard,  grace the sky with your wings, for they’re not going far – but, you are! Look up at the universe, it’s all yours – worth more than a dirty coop of stagnant intent. Fly high for your life starts today and as you soar you will collide with an increasing circle of the like-minded. All different – all free – just like you.

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