Wednesday, 14 December 2016


“Study hard, or you won’t get a good job,” threatened his teachers.
“Behave, or you won’t get any Xmas presents,” nagged his mother.
But Sambo didn’t care about an ordinary job. He couldn’t give tuppence about pleasing Santa, Nick, or Father Christmas. Sinterklaas was the one that he aimed to impress.

His plan worked beautifully. Sambo was kidnapped on Christmas Eve, never to be seen again. Now he lives in Northern Scandinavia, works one day a year, and lives it up from January to November with the other naughty boys. With their darkened skin, their own mothers wouldn’t recognize them.

Friday, 9 December 2016

The Scream

Edward liked to munch on sweets. He wished he lived near Willy Wonka's factory, but in his part of the world there were fjords.

It's cold in Norway, especially in winter. And so when Edward set off to the local dairy to buy himself a cone he wasn't worried that it would melt.

They had a new flavor in the shop — a kind of mixed berry sludge. But when he sank in his teeth he discovered he had a painful cavity. 

Edward painted a picture of the experience. He called it: I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice-cream.

Sunday, 20 November 2016


100 word blog. 

I googled that phrase and discovered something new. The 4th hit led directly to the 100 Word Stories Podcast

The person who maintains it has written these daily since 2005! And he records it as a podcast too. 

Additionally, he invites others to write their own 100-word story on a topic.

Now then, that there is an invitation to play. So why not try something new? I thought about it but, idiot that I am, I missed out on that week's challenge.

However, I managed to get my act together for next week and wrote about Paint.


In an alternate universe, Vincent gets to speak with Kee. He presents his case eloquently—the man knows four languages for heaven’s sake! She becomes mesmerized by his vision to become the world’s greatest painter. Doesn’t notice the candle burning low.

Years later, Paul visits the couple from Arles.

“You still on your own in that ugly yellow house?” Vincent asks him.

Paul hangs his head, embarrassed. Glances at Kee in the kitchen. “How did you do it, mon amie? How’d you keep your hand above the flame long enough to convince her?”

Van Gogh winks and whispers, “Fire-resistant paint!”

Labrador Primate

Labrador Primate is the title of this blog—from from Stuart Brown’s Play: How it Shapes the Brain, Opens the Imagination, and Invigorates the Soul

According to Stuart, we are the Labradors of the primate world. It's all to do with neoteny—the term used to refer to how an animal’s juvenile period may stretch into adulthood. Humans are the world champions of that, apparently. 

Modern man has largely forgotten how to play. That’s a problem of which society is largely unaware. Well, since I consider myself the gold medalist of playful endeavor, I’ve made it my mission to change that.