Watching the Sunrise

I’ve reblogged this on

Electric Press


As the sun rose and the darkness faded the sky took on a burnished amber hue.

Birds started to welcome the dawn with the melody of their chorus.

I breathed in the sharp crispness of the morning air and looked up, a few wispy clouds hung motionless in the stratosphere.

It was such a fresh, bright morning, I predictably recalled the hymn ‘Morning has broken’; in this instance, my mind heard it being sung by Cat Stevens. I half-consciously found myself humming along, (out of tune of course.)

This was soon followed by the voice of Bob Marley and ‘Three little birds’. I smiled inwardly as I realised both of these hqdefaultvoices were inside my head and I wondered why on earth we become so full of angst when someone admits to hearing voices in their own minds, or indeed fearful if they inhabit our own?

This morning…

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Ken Dodd, Comedian 1927 – 2018

Today, it’s a year since Ken Dodd died. So I thought I would share my post about when I met him again.

The Magic of Stories

by Karen J Mossman

Screen Shot 2018-03-12 at 09.54.35Today, we lost wacky comedian Ken Dodd and I thought I would share a personal memory of him.

In late seventies, early eighties, Ken Dodd came to the Police Club at Hough End in Manchester.

He did his act, which had everyone in stitches. His jokes were always clean and so funny. At the time I didn’t think anything of it, but as time has gone on realises how unusual that was. Too many comedians need crudeness to make themselves more amusing.

As with many comedians, you don’t get up during their act to visit the ladies – as I quickly discovered.  I tried to sneak out unnoticed and he made some comment. On my returned everyone applauded. Later when he asked someone to come up on stage, he chose me. I didn’t want to but was cajoled.

He was an odd looking man, especially with…

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