blended thoughts

In the novel what I am wrote (you’ll want to read it cos I’m so good at Englishing) the characters visit an indoor skydiving centre. I won’t bore you with the plot (you’ll have to read it to experience the boredom properly) but it has offered me some alternative ways of looking at things and I thought, “Why should I be the only one to suffer?” So here are those thoughts…

The skydiving centre is based around a huge fan in the floor that generates winds that can push a human up in the air above it. It simulates the air resistance experienced when free range skydiving but without the need for a parachute and reducing the risk of a very hard landing.

The indoor skydiving is in a complex in Milton Keynes that also includes a snowdome (indoor ski slope). One of my characters muses that if they mixed them up they could create the world’s biggest snowglobe. Thanks to AI you don’t have to imagine that too hard…

Personally I found that rather amusing, but (slight ick alert) then my imagination started running away with me. One of my characters in the book is pretending to be reluctant to have a go at the indoor skydiving and suggests that if the protective grill at the bottom that keeps humans and fan separate were to break then in effect what they will have is a blender for humans – a large container with fast spinning blades at the bottom.

And then (snigger), his wife tells him he’s such a smoothie!

Guffaw!

As you will (I hope) have gathered by now I rather enjoy playing with words. It’s the core of what I am doing during my sabbatical leave: reading poetry, writing poetry, writing my novel and writing bloggages like this.

Next week I am going on a poetry-writing retreat, which I am looking forward to immensely, but also have an element of trepidation as well. The people leading the retreat are professionals. I have bought a book of poems by the chap who’s leading the poetry writing part of the retreat and he’s very good, and there’s little old me with my doggerel.

However, like paintings, poetry is creative expression from the brain of a beholder and creator. I could write it and never release it into the wild and it still would be poetry. I hope to be able to share some of what I write next week on this bloggage, so you have been warned. If you are brave you can see some of my pomes in the fun and funny stuff section of this site. And to set the scene, here’s one I prepared earlier (with apologies to Mr Wordsworth):

I wondered lonely in a crowd
why poets think they’re allowed
to mess with words as if they’re owed
artistic licence for writing odes.

Be blessed, be a blessing