Tag Archives: historical fiction

Which Book’s World Would Be The Absolute Worst To Live In?

That’s today’s writing prompt. I’m not sure if they have used the word “absolute” because they mean it, or just because they like using lots of words.

Green Woodpecker feeding on ants

The obvious answer is that I don’t know. I haven’t immersed myself in many worlds. Two favourites with other people are 1984 and The Hunger Games.  Yes, 1984 is depressing, but is it any worse than the worlds of Down and Out in Paris and London or The Road to Wigan Pier or Burmese Days. Orwell didn’t particularly like any of those worlds. Nor did the millions of real people trapped in them.

As for the Hunger Games, I’ve only seen one film so I’m not qualified to comment. I’ve seen even less of Game of Thrones, which also cropped up, but I tend to agree, from what I’ve heard of it, that the weather and sudden death don’t make it an ideal holiday destination.

Nobody seems to have mentioned Brave New World or Moby Dick. The former seems every bit as bad as 1984, possibly worse when you think your place in society is ordained from birth. And Moby Dick is set on a ship which, no doubt, has poor sanitary provision and heating and there are constant interjections about the natural history of whales. Cold, smelly, uncomfortable, wet and alternating between dull and terrifying.

Gingerbread Men

The world of Jane Austen, or the Bronte sisters wouldn’t be much better. It may have given us classic literature but Jane Austen would have lived to write more if she’d had better medical care and the Brontes, from all I read, would have done better if they had proper supply of clean drinking water.

That would probably be my answer – the worst world to live in would probably be any world that existed before 1945. Having said that, a world without nuclear weapons would probably be good too. – decisions, decisions . . .

 

Poppies made from plastic bottles

Another Day, Another . . .

Goldfinch at Screveton

Another day and another small advance. Things are looking up slowly – I am better today than I was yesterday (even though I am far from fixed) and I have had another poem accepted. It’s for a members’ anthology and the system is that if you submit five you automatically get one in. Submit three and you have to be selected by the editor. I always go for three as five seems a cheat and I will know any entry has been tested.

Moorhen on bird table

Obviously, as I become older and follow the family path to dementia, I will be glad of the other option to ensure seeing my name in print.

Julia left me ham sandwiches for lunch yesterday. I am being well looked after. However, I hadn’t been very hungry so I’d left the, For breakfast, after the fruit and cereal, she added cheese to the sandwich and we had cheese and ham toasted sandwiches as a sort of brunch. The catering really is very good at the moment, though I expect it to revert to self-catering next week as I continue to make small recoveries day by day.

Nuthatch at Rufford Abbey

I’m managing to keep up with the blog but anything creative seems to elude me – a combination of sleep deprivation and daytime TV is blunting my wits.

I’m thinking of two historical mystery novel series – Mistress Marple, an elderly spinster from the village of St Mary Mead and Poirot, a refugee from the Eighty Years War in the Spanish Netherlands, owner of a twirly moustache and a formidable set of “les cellules grises”.

Goldfinches – Dearne Valley

They will need a little work, including some name changes to avoid being sued into oblivion by the Estate of Agatha Christie (now Agatha christie Ltd). That’s the trouble with daytime TV – you fall asleep, wake up with a brilliant idea and find someone has already written it.

More birds. Tomorrow I will try ducks.