The Toughest Boxer’s Secret.

Dan was only 11 when his professional diplomats family moved to the African capital.

It was going to be a six year shift and it took him only 3 days to love it there, just like his little sister Dora: their mum had signed them both up for boxing classes in the most dangerous neighbourhood of the city.

Dora and Dan had been listening behind the door to all their parent’s discussion about what afterschool activity their kids should do.

They didn’t want their kids to grow up inside a golden bubble- so they had finally agreed about the boxing.

Dan and Dora were of an age when school was wartime torture, playgrounds the climax and going back home at night where mum and dad were always entertaining guests a mild bore.

But Dan had a problem which he didn’t know would last him for years to come- he wetted his bed at nighttime.

His mum had discreetly introduced him to endless experts who failed to solve the problem.

” Studying is just a shortcut to life’s delicious desserts” was what the kid’s dad always told them, and this had made them tick, they were happy to finish their homework quick before boxing, just to come back home exhilarated and exhausted after the classes.

Dora didn’t mind Tutu the boxing teacher’s strictness, but Dan wished he could one day grow up and give him a punch in the belly til he wetted himself, for Tutu often made fun of him in front of all the class.

Winnie, the receptionist, loved to wear both Dan and Dora’s jewels while they were training, and always joked about not returning the jems, for they were not allowed to wear jewels while boxing.

The kids mum had instructed them to only use their boxing skills in a life emergency, and to help struggling little boxers to improve their skills, for they were good at it.

But up came the time where Dan started to fancy the girls. He was 13 and 2 years had flown, between the school and boxing routine, learning how to entertain VIPs and travelling around the world first class.

Dan was particularly interested in Lucie, the daughter of the French consular, who dropped by many times and slept over in Dora’s room.

So it was his 14 th birthday. His parents were at a cocktail and let him throw a party. For the first time he drunk beer and danced with Lucie, when she asked him to show her his medals collection in his bedroom.

He was proud. She asked if she could give him one as a souvenir from him, for soon her father would be destined elsewhere, and threw herself onto his bed.

” What is this, a towel under the sheets?”

Dan snatched the silver medal off her little hand and ran out to the boxing club, hurt, filled with shame and almost crying.

He was usually driven there by the chauffeur in their Mercedes, but this time he needed to breathe in and out all the entire spare oxygen that humanity could ever gasp.

Once he got to the club, he was even more struck by the fact the Winnie wasn’t there, he desperately needed to talk to her, let all the pain and shame out, even be cuddled, this young teenager who would grow up to be the craftiest businessman needed a cuddle from Winnie, the 17 year old young receptionist who loved to wear his grandmothers Cross while he was boxing.

Tutu the teacher told Dan to join the class, even if they were all over 21s, and that Winnie should be coming back at some point because she had forgotten her glasses over the desk.

Dan didn’t want to box, but what else could he do? He had already had one lesson that day and felt exhausted, and what was his surprise when he saw Lucie’s cousin there, aged 22, tanned, tattooed and giving him the eye?

” Where have you left my Lucie? Didn’t she give you your first kiss?”

Dan was now furious. Not a furious teenager, but a furious man, who was scorned at and ready to box with his jewels on.

There was a mini tournament, and when it was Dan’s turn to fight Fabien, that idiot, he was going to make a papier mache mask out of his face, even if he’d had to wet himself.

So the fight happened. It was not long, for Winnie had come back for her glasses and was looking through the window, at the class.

” Come out here, golden boy, you ain’t ought to fight these gangster wannabes. What’s the matter, you look furious?”

There was a silence. One of those silences where telepathy seems to occur. It lasted 5 seconds but something magic was born then and there between the two youngsters.

” Here’s a towel, got get a hot shower and we’re going for a walk “.

” No, I got no time to queue for a shower, I need to get home to watch over Dora, there’s many sharks at my home party, and I already missed the birthday cake “.

Winnie and Dan went out under the stars for what was going to be the most life changing conversation in his life.

They talked about everything, growing, moving counties all the time, how Winnie had to drop school to upbring her siblings, how the last war had left a scar forever.

Dan didn’t even realise he was opening up about his bed wetting problem, when Winnie spontaneously said ” yes, my uncle used to have that, after he had swallowed a fish bone and heard his mother shout hysterically ” he’s dead, he’s dead”.

At that moment the young soul had a very vivid memory about getting locked up in an airline toilet cabinet and the Pilot shouting ” open the door or we’ll throw you out of the window” when he was only 4 years old.

This was the main cause of his bedwetting and he was now cured, forever.

He kissed Winnie goodbye, she let him kiss her then said, rather shyly

” I’m married but I liked the kiss. Dont tell anyone! Sleep well, Golden boy. Oh! And you may now train to become a part time junior boxing teacher, Tutu has been considering this over the past month!”

She hugged him tight and walked away briskly.

When Dan got back home the party was almost over, there were fast cars and very old cars too waiting to collect the naughty guests, and he found on his desk a note from Lucie

” Happy Birthday. I won’t say anything about the towel. I’ll runaway from home tomorrow at midnight to see you, with my chauffeur’s help. Good night boxer.”

The End

Happiness…? My Definition.

Me and jesusito…

A lady on a plane once told me Hapiness doesn’t exist, its just moments….

Geology lovers like myself…

Some say its making new friends!!!

The American Dream is sill alive…

But I say happiness is letting a child be a child,

Just as my mummy always does, and my daddy too,

My naughty baby book written decades ago…

Never swear and never give up your dreams….


The End.

Enjoy your summer, and remember, your next best friend might just be a few yards from you… right now…!


Now That’s the end of the story…. tomorrow or after after tomorrow more…..!!!

Sorry, its not the end yet… 44 was the year I refreshed my German with gern vergnugen…. Happy 45 to myself!!

Thanks to all the Angellas and Angelitos in the World….. And Beyond…. To Be Continued…..

Born Ginger …… Always a Ginger… We bring Good Luck according to popular belief….


Sweet rockabybabies to all mothers…Good Night!

The End for now…..

sandra xxx.

Thanks for all you explosively kind wishes!!! and I wish I could reply to each and everyone of you… Good Morning!!!

Stylish Persuasion

The smell of cheap cigarettes on Suna’s hair every Friday evening had become the main conversation topic during her parent’s spare time.

Excelling at work was the only thing that kept them together.

– ” I told you we should have let her go to hairdressing school.”

– “I’ll think of something”, said the dad, with an idea in his head already.

Gloria was greatly relieved, even if sometimes his ideas were not so good.

– “Suna! Where are you? We’re going to dump the rubbish.  Will you lend us a hand?”

– “Oh no, I just sprayed some perfume!”

– “Come on Suna, you smell more like an ashtray from the spa’s staff room…

She blushed and hurried to tie her trainers.

– “Did you get your grades?”

– ” No idea yet.”

– ” argh! You gave me the heaviest, stinkest bag!”

– “It’s the last one you carry.”

She turned pale.

– ” We’ve heard you’ve been doing your friends’ hair in exchange for cigarettes. …Very peculiar. .. Is this true?”

– ” Yep!”

– Well We’ve got two pieces of news for you. First, you have just dumped a carton of cigarettes a client brought me.

– er… what? Cigarettes?

– Yes, cigarettes. You can search through the rubbish for them. Your mum’s got a new perfume for you.

– Why did you do that? She sniffed her wrists, staring at the garbage heasitantly.

He gave her a couple of minutes to think. She stayed still.

– “Second!”

– ” What? ”

– ” Second piece of news,  and it’s good news- you just dumped your schoolpass, because …. you have been admitted at that cool hairdressing college you wanted to go to… beside the fact we ticked the “smokers” box when choosing a room….

– “Dad, mum! Is this true? ” A tear flew from her dark eyes.

– “As true as your cigarette scent.”

Uneasily she said “Thanks”, and had a quick glance at the garbage.

Gloria pulled a bag from the car and handed it to Suna.

– ” Perfume, cigarettes! I don’t want the Cigarettes! Let me dump them in the rubbish!”

– ” Ha, ha, ha Suna, with your old fashioned trading skills you can get a free treatment day at the Spa for that carton!

– ” No spa for me. I’ll give them to Annie for having messed up her braids last week…

– “You messed them up?

– “It’s a long story.”

– “In one sentence?”

– ” My boyfriend got her a few designer samples!… She smelt her hands again… ”

-” Does she smoke?”

– “Like a barbecue! but never infront of guys…. Gosh I’m gonna miss her… ” She smiled and asked her mum- “do you mind if I also give her the perfume?”

– “Excellent! We’re proud of you now! Now go upstairs to pack your stuff… you’re starting school on Monday!

– “Great… but one little thing- can you change my room for a non smokers one?”

Her parents kissed each other.

The End.

dedicated to Gloria, my Gloria from south London, Marcia, my Gloria from central london, and I can’t remember… . oh, LARA, my…..

to all children  of God.

thanks, geezazzz….

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The Feathered Drone


Alex remained indifferent to the plague all the village was worried about, for he was the village fool…

Errands for you, and you! fix my car, polish Mr Quito’s shoes in three minutes…. only, and only, for a bunch of coloured feathers.

And everybody was fond of him, we could even say proud of him. But why he loved the feathers – people kept on asking each other. There were always jokes going on about Alex’ s feathers, and he didn’t really like that- but nevermind! He always got beautiful ones from friends returning from holidays or business trips.

One morning the fool heard a knock on the door. He was asked to dispose of his feather collection, as a precaution to take against the enigmatic plague going around.

His flatmate Manu managed to agree to give the feathers, only if these would be returned once the disease would receed.

Manu kept checking on him all day, in case he would be upset without his feathers. But on his way back home, he was absorbed by the colourful decorations on his friends’ garden trees, and statues…

– “Isn’t all this festive? Alex has been charging everyone with old curtains… instead of feathers!” For the first time in a month, people were cracking jokes again, distracted at last from the same topic.

A couple of weeks later many folks were happily helping him make his creations, and some ladies even asked them to do their garden doors up.

The sick started to take tiny walks out- just to admire the colourful, crazy new attire their old town was showing.

When the subject was raised at the village neighbourhood meeting, all agreed that, even if Alex had asked for permission prior to putting up the funny decorations, the artwork would be removed after the summer.

In need of nonsense, the people were getting more ideas just to stay away from the taboo subject- from taking the cattle on a stroll to wearing flower diadems- anything to show they were not afraid.

* * *

Mario’s car wouldn’t start after a long day training at the doctor’s surgery, so he called the strong Alex to help push it back home. Once by the porch, he told the fool

– “Make sure you wash and dry all that sweat off before you go to sleep!”

– “No need.”

– “What?”

– “No need.” Mario looked at him, and Alex explained,

– “If I keep the sweat then I will grow feathers!”

The car engine started as a comical sychnonicity of events, for the idea this silly comment had sparked in Mario’s scientific mind made him rush back to the surgery lab, to stay and work on it for the following weeks.

The decorations in town started getting exaggerated and lost their novelty charm. With the plague, they added to the confusion. So down they came.

The fool thought he wanted his feathers back: he walked to the surgery hoping to find Mario, besides there being rumours he wasn’t in town.

Mario was on the phone speaking some foreign, very weird language. Saying something about a “formula“. When he saw Alex, he smiled and rushed inside to get the box of feathers.

– “Aye! My feathers!”

– “We got something even better. Wait here five minutes.”

– “A drone! A drone!” People were clapping. More drones followed. Maybe these were bringing vaccines!

– “I’m going to sleep in my bed now- please Alex, don’t say anything.”

– “I won’t.”

– “Oh, I wanted to ask you…. well, I was slightly curious…. why do you collect feathers?”

Alex put his head down and turned sad.

– The feathers…. my feathers… well, it’s just that maybe one day I’ll get invited to one of those really funny dressing up parties…. so I’m saving up all the feathers for my costume!”

The End.

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The Budgie Who Fell In Love with my Enemy.

dalton-touchberry-yWfdhaqSAEo-unsplashYou loved to be cat called, Selena, and this time I was going to do this in a way you never heard before.

Since you moved in upstairs, three months back, my Budgie had stopped singing every morning because of your loud Moby playing, because you jumped around the living room like a drunk tapdancer. My budgie was even singing Moby kind tones after a while, which I found unpleasant.

Don’t procrastinate. Don’t procrastinate. Go ahead! Was what I had to repeat to my clients who sought for counselling everyday. Why wasn’t I doing that myself?

That day I grabbed a saucepan so you would hear me behind the door, and to my surprise, you said

“Hey, neighbour! You’ve run out of salt? There’s some in the kitchen, to the left, help yourself!”

As sweet and fresh as you sounded, I was not going to be charmed .

– We haven’t run out of salt, but of patience!

You stopped the music and took a sip from a shiny bottle.

– Take a seat.

– You noisy Pretty Woman are annoying us with those Moby beats in the mornings!

– I’ve been told so.

– Is that all you can say, I’ve been told so? wait until I issue you with a pet shrink’s bill and then you won’t even be able to afford a handkerchief to cover your muscles….!

– Take it easy, girl. What kind of music do you guys like?

I didn’t know what to say, I was so angry.

– Then why don’t you and the little budgie come join me every morning for my fitness routine?

This was the minute I thought I had lost my voice: me, exercising daily, and for free? Wasn’t this exactly what I recommended my clients to get on with?

A flash went through my head. I couldn’t barely go up a flight of stairs without going out of breathe, and all my online dating ended up with the phrase “I’ll be in touch”.

You drank the rest of the shiny bottle of whatever it was and said,

I’ll see you and the budgie, tomorrow 6 AM, and you don’t need to bring the saucepan with you….

I heard my budgie singing high downstairs as you pinched my behind. Couldn’t help laughing, but, inside, I still held a grudge over you. Even today!

*          *          *

The rest of the day was a clumsy one, as I couldn’t figure out whether I was more intrigued by yourself and our new friendship, or by the body transformation.

The fact is our first workout day was a giggling one as you kept on asking my budgie to sing this or that song and my budgie kept nodding as I had never noticed before.

I got cat called for the first time in fifteen years on my way to work: ” betty boo is late to work, wish I had a car to give her a lift!”

Cucumber smoothies after the workout, budgie dancing to copy us and policing questions like ” how did you acheive this look, tell me?” were just a few of the many joys you, my neighbour Pretty Woman Selina, brought into my life. Not to mention the naughty pizzas we gobbled every Sunday evening…. while scrolling down through the dating website.

Brenda, my neighbour on the right, and Nancy, the block’s cleaner, very soon joined in.

Then one day, as the pizza delivery was absurdly late, you broke into tears and told me your story.

A promising career as a dance/fitness monitor at a tropical island hotel spa had been wrecked by the jealous director’s wife, who caught him reviewing the souvenir class footages.

She had pressed charges against you for a sprained ankle and so you lost your license unfairly. But as we spoke and you mentioned the name of the couple, he happened to be one of my clients, and recently divorced!

We didn’t make contact through my premises, but you found him on that hilarious dating site. His ex wife was poorly, and luckily, Brenda talked you through forgiving her and lending her a helping hand.

What could be nicer than a new baby budgie couple to cheer her up and join our morning fun?

Not only friendship ties were becoming the norm around these budgies, but the once jealous avenger mended her mistakes, she built a new fresh friendship with her ex.

We fit five ladies are opening a bird sanctuary in the empty space behind the block garage- and a fitness lounge just beside!

The Sunday pizzas are still our naughty secret so please keep your mouth shut…. oh, and remember: budgies don’t like to hold a grudge, and they don’t like techno!

The End.

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Image by Dalton Touchberry from Unsplash.

Why we can’t help Blossoming

IMG_3202To you, the womb, the daisy and the pie

To them, the grooms, the lazy and the wild

A storm can bring oh such exotic seeds

Ugly froggies to kiss and a  very funny sneeze

Whatever you do wherever you are

The trace you leave around is glittery like stars…..

And it belongs to you! No matter what others believe

So keep doing your thing you ghost, sailor or sheep.

The End

To my lovely followers I apologise for the writing gap- yet gasping to hear from you all! Hope you are well and please don’t forget your very wecome personal comments.

Drawing by the author in felts and pastels.

C U SOON!!! Xxxxxx

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