Destiny(part 1)

Someone relatively new to me and by all accounts new to blogging. The eternal problem of learning to let go and learning to accept responsibility.

Be Yourself Forever ❤

The voice of the engine echoed in my ears, sitting in the car my heart started to beat faster as we were coming closer to…my new home. I wonder what it could be like to stay with a mother. ‘Ok there?’My father said with a smile. ‘Ya’I said politely but I wasn’t ready for it after my mom died I was left alone with my dad ,he was like a mother and father to me. His affection and love was there to guide me always. ‘We are here’ the driver said stopping the car with a jolt . Stepping out I lost on balance making me fall right on the ground. I closed my eyes tightly but felt a hand around me .’ Careful there , you could get hurt’ a soft voice spoke whispering in my ear . I looked up to find a tall handsome blue eyed guy…

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Goodreads Giveaway

There were 1096 entrants for the single autographed copy of The Desolate Garden.

The winner was drawn today by Goodreads. He is a Mr Fillion, and comes from Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. I have posted the signed novel to him today.

My thanks to all who entered particularly any who saw it advertised on my blog.

Daniel Kemp

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Australia Versus England

I doubt there has been a rivalry in sport harder fought or more anticipated than anything between England and Australia, but that “friendship” was sorely tested in one series of cricket known as……The Bodyline Series when actual WAR was considered possible!

This is a memorable account of that and other Test Matches between the two sporting nations by Pauline Conolly.

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London In Black & White


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A night in the storm

Hurricane Irma!

Rebekah Lyn's Kitchen

Hurricane Irma was my first hurricane completely on my own. When it was predicted to come up the east coast, I considered going to stay with some cousins on the west coast, or even getting a hotel in Orlando. When the track changed, sending the eye of the storm up the west coast instead, I decided to stay home.

I could have gone and spent the night with some friends a few miles away. Maybe I should have or maybe God wanted me home alone. I learned a lesson about pride when my power went out at 8pm. One of the reasons I hadn’t wanted to stay with my friends was that my power had been so reliable during Hurricane Matthew last year.

Mia trying to open the door with her mind. Hurricane bunker provisions

I learned a lot about drawing close to God too. After tornado warnings that were…

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An accident

Incarcerated shadows

An accident.
Flash fiction
By AJ O’Brien.

She was a total stranger to George,
but she lay in his arms.
The car hit her two minutes ago
as George walked home.
He rushed over and knelt beside her,
not knowing what to do.

“I’ve phoned an ambulance ” said a voice
from the gathering crowd.

“There’s an ambulance on the way. Okay.
Just hold on.” whispered George.

Her empty eyes looked up.

“What’s, what’s your name?”

“George. What’s yours?”

“Sally. I don’t. I don’t feel any pain.
Is that good, good or bad George?”

“I don’t know Sally. The ambulance will
be here real soon. Oh God. Please don’t die.”

Sally closed her eyes.
Blood began to trickle from her left ear.

“George? George? Where are you?”

“I’m here Sally. I’m here.”

“Tell me something nice George. Something happy.”
Sally whispered, her eyes still closed.

“Oh. Okay. I know. It’s…

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Drowning In The City Or Dancing In The Sea?

I went to the city with the stinking cars
With the office blocks tall and their windows of bars
I walked through the bustle in the putrid air
My mind was gone my soul was bare.

Where a smile was once now only pain could be seen
Grey was the colour concreted over the green
Eyes bore down, a frown on every face
Ghosts of yesterday were gone without trace

Fight your way onwards fight your way down
Wear not your thorns but polish your crown
Ask me now where I’d rather be
Drowning in the city or dancing in the sea?

© 2017, Danny Kemp All rights reserved.

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War Years In London 1939–1945



I was born in 1949 and I can remember playing on bombsites in what must have been the middle to late 50’s

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If love played the game as played by fools

Then life could be lived outside any rules

That governs the heart as it learns to give

A love so pure that it’s a joy to live.


But life is lived on a higher string

That no love can twist or suddenly bring,

To the rationality of the pain and tears

As the heart is bled by loveless spears.


© 2017 Danny Kemp

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A Sad Tale Of Toes… previously published in 2014

A Sad Tale Of Toes

His feet were warm, having been spread out in front of the hot radiator whilst he worked at his desk. Hers, on the other hand, were cold. Freezing cold!

She had not worn slippers to protect her feet, preferring to simply tuck them under herself, sitting in a leather armchair watching the TV. Foolhardy with no consideration. Now they were about to strike!

After stretching his stiff legs against the crisp chill of the freshly laundered bed sheets, he lay on his left shoulder, his right foot slightly upon his left, keeping the warmth within his body as much as he could. Her right foot led the attack.

It was a strategy he was accustomed to, but he was not aware of just how cold her feet were. The big toe was first into the fray, surreptitiously sliding against the underside of his overhanging right heel. The next move was not her usual method of attack. She had recently read an account of one of Nelson’s attacks on the French fleet. Nelson’s innovative move had surprised them, now it was about to succeed in bed! Or was it?

Both feet attacked simultaneously.

Raising her leg she placed her knee heavily against his kidney, causing her right foot to slide further up his pyjama clad leg, as her left foot slipped between both his feet. He could take no more……..

“Why dear love do you do make such a move,

When you have only to choose

My advances of thrills and bliss

Bestowed on your body but without the risk 

Of freezing my ardour before it does start

By allowing your cold to attack my heart?”

He was Russian. A man of many poetic words, few making sense. 

She was Italian and the opposite, being verbose in the extreme. Only this time he never heard most of her words as she mounted the most ferocious physical attack he had ever been involved in.

She rolled on top of him, pinning him uncomfortably against the bed.

“Ardour you say? You obviously don’t mean harder,

As you couldn’t care less if you tried!

You keep your warmth to yourself as if your skin’s been fried.

I’m sick of you with your selfish ways, and inconsiderate behaviour too.

You’re just about to be hit on the head, with this heel attached to my shoe!”


She pounded away, never stopping for breath, nor ceasing to curtail her blows.

She sneezed in excitement, but even that, didn’t stop her to blow her own nose.

By now she was away. Her body now warmed, even sweat appearing on her brow.

It was now that he flipped, no more could he take. He swore this solemn vow!

“I promise my love that from this day forth no more are my feet my own.

I admit my faults. ‘Tis true that my love for you I have not always shown.

I will warm you through, be kind to you, by sharing my bodily heat.

Now please my love, be gentle with me, go lay on top of my feet.”


This tale of toes is not over, it never ended that night as if a sweet dream.

As his feet lost their heat, it finally ended in a terrible, piercing scream.

Her love had departed along with his heat, but that was not all that he lost.

He now saves money, by paying less, than his regular pedicure did cost!

Do take seriously all your wife’s woes,

Or else you too might lose some toes!

© 2014, Danny Kemp All rights reserved

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