Big Ass Belle: piano music

He played the piano for Ronnie as he had done for years. Music to remind him of his love, music to speak of his loss when he had no words to do so. It was love and anguish and heartbreak and regret that kept his fingers moving over those keys night and day for weeks and weeks. When it finally stopped, it stopped for good.

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Our judges said:
“A beautiful and moving sonata of grief, loss, remembrance and love. I can’t do it justice.”
“It conjured up for me the image in Rear Window of the lonely pianist on the top floor - I love that film!”
“The overwhelming presence of loss pervades the piece, enough to make your chest tighten in sympathetic sorrow.”

The next Post Of The Week will be announced on Sunday evening.

Please note that nominations for next week cannot be accepted until then.

1. Big Ass Belle: piano music

He played the piano for Ronnie as he had done for years. Music to remind him of his love, music to speak of his loss when he had no words to do so. It was love and anguish and heartbreak and regret that kept his fingers moving over those keys night and day for weeks and weeks. When it finally stopped, it stopped for good

2. The Church of Me: Wisdom. Rebirth from Streatham to Hampton Court, Sunday 8 April 2007

I had to come here – we were going to visit last August, but due to lack of time we never quite managed it on that occasion – to exorcise what had gone before, in my continuing fight to banish the ghosts so that I – we – can go places without my feeling scared of them. After all, the last time I saw these towers I had come here to die.

3. Guyana: Parent-Child

I close me eyes, remember something my mother did say…it ain’t matter how old she get, how old she children get, they gon always be she children. When she first tell me that I was a teen and it make me vex.

Now I wonder if I would be that way if I had children and they grow up.

4. I am livid: Indignant

“Are we going for a curry later Brillo?” I asked hopefully.

“I’m not sure, it depends on how indignant I am.”

“No Brillo you feckless muppet, indignant is nothing like ‘hungry’. And you would generally not describe yourself as being ‘indignant’ anyway.”

“Oh. Right.”

5. Little Red Boat: Challenge Anna (the thirtieth birthday countdown): Challenge One

“Maybe £30 is too much. Maybe I should just put three quid on, maybe?”
“But that’s not the point. It has to be enough to HURT”
“Well, it DOES bloody hurt.”

6. Real E Fun: What’s In A Name?

I was sorry for Daniel. And yet, it made me glad to live here, in a place where lambing comes before tarmac; where the pace of life is slow; where people can set their own priorities, and don’t always have to be ruled by their paid work. It seems somehow more real, more authentic, than the big metropolis where I used to live. I know cities suit some people, but they don’t suit me.

7. Reluctant Nomad: Father and son stuff: cool or uncool?

‘What’s that, Mommy’, C, the daughter, piped up one day when she saw what we were doing.

‘Oh, nothing, darling, it’s a cigar. Everyone wants to see what it tastes like.’

‘Can I try?’

‘No, darling, you’re too young.’

If you have a post you want to nominate, please leave a link in the comments below.

The deadline for nominations is Friday April 20th.

Boob Pencil: 21 Reasons Why a Miscarriage is Bit Rubbish:

People are either too sympathetic or not sympathetic enough. I don’t want people to act like nothing’s happened, but I don’t want them fawning all over me either. Sorry folks, you’re best avoiding me for a bit. I don’t have an Etiquette Guide for this one, and I’ll change my mind from one moment to the next.

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Our judges said:

“it stuck out for me as being surprising and challenging and just the sort of thing that I come to blogs for, because it’s not talked about in other places”

and

“so frank, so honest writing.”

The next Post Of The Week will be announced on Sunday evening.

Please note that nominations for next week cannot be accepted until then.

1. Boob Pencil: 21 Reasons Why a Miscarriage is Bit Rubbish

People are either too sympathetic or not sympathetic enough. I don’t want people to act like nothing’s happened, but I don’t want them fawning all over me either. Sorry folks, you’re best avoiding me for a bit. I don’t have an Etiquette Guide for this one, and I’ll change my mind from one moment to the next.

2. Don’t Call Me Joe: I Just Don’t Tell ‘Em Like He Did

That night, under cover of darkness, Dad, Dad’s mate Bill and I (I had lost the Pennine intonation from my accent at university and it was join in or forever be dubbed the ‘Southern Fairy’) bundled the body into a sack, placed it in a wheelbarrow and made for the small river at the back of the potato field.

3. MegFowler.com: liveblogging scrabble (OR… how to be a complete dork on the Internet)

Catherine is dominating much more than she needs to at this point. She’s like Tiger Woods. She doesn’t even feel the need to pretend we’re on her level. Nike just knocked at the door and offered her an endorsement deal.

Soon?

Air Catherine.

My latest word is “lint.” This is also 80% of the contents of my brain, the other 20% being some combination of coffee beans and neurons.

4. TRL: The Rob Log: The Age of Hyper-Sensitivity

… ‘finding outrage’ seems to be a cottage industry these days, and personal umbrage seems to be the default response. I can’t and won’t quibble over what you feel; I only offer these words of caution as my two cents, because — to borrow from Gilbert — when every issue becomes an outrage, then no issue is truly outrageous.

5. Speedysnail: Labour Days

If you’ve visited the house of a pregnant woman you may have seen a big colourful rubber ball rolling around the living room, about a metre across. Sitting on these helps to stretch the pelvis and push the baby down onto the cervix, accelerating contractions. At one pre-natal class a midwife asked Jane if she had one of these balls.

“No,” replied Jane, “but I do have a spacehopper.”

Cue look of horror as midwife pictures Jane’s fetus bouncing off her uterine walls as she boings across a field.

6. Unreliable Witness: Warning: may contain nuts

Some targets, however, are too obvious to resist. Indeed, some targets positively beg and shout for attention. “Pick me! Pick me! Fulminate wildly about ME!” they squeal, whilst jumping up and down and waving their arms in the air. And I give in and haul them out of the team line-up for a sound ticking-off, because I am only human, after all.