The moment I saw this boater floating in an Oxford waterway, I had an image of how it came to be bobbing there. I suspect you can envisage it too: the inept holidaymaker or undergraduate attempting to steer a punt, the near collision with another vessel, or that sharp and historic corner, the flailing that enabled them to regain their balance and retain their dignity, but lose their hat…
But I challenge you to take your story somewhere else. Confound expectations and dream up an entirely unique and breathtaking series of events that ended with this particular hat languishing in the River Cherwell.
If you write or create something prompted by this, please send an email to judydarley(at)iCloud.com to let me know. With your permission, I’ll publish it on SkyLightRain.com.
I have a fascination with the borders of things, when one thing is on the brink of becoming another. Child to adult, land to sea, safe to unsafe, sane to insane, living to dead…
September seems to be the perfect time to pack a bag and venture out to see a bit of the world. The weather is often beautiful and golden, the crowds diminished and costs a little lower.
As the fields fill with combine harvesters, reaping all that was sown so many months ago, consider performing your own, writerly version of a harvest and see what it might yield.
Today’s #WritingPrompt is inspired by my dad. It amazes me how art can help to sustain us in the most challenging of circumstance. I myself write prose poetry and poems to manage the emotional strain of visiting my dad in his care home. He’s afflicted with Alzheimer’s Disease and Semantic Dementia which has made language particularly elusive.
This artwork is currently in situ at
This piece of metal is part of a disused mechanism that stands on the cliff edge of Dorset’s Jurassic coast. The shore here is littered with relics from history, and pre-history, rife with potential plot lines.
If you’ve visited Bristol, you may be aware that certain sign-posts have been added too with helpful advice. This one seems like it could be a warning against heading to Temple Meads Station and actually leaving the city. On the other hand, there’s something enticing about following a sign that invites you to go too far!
I encountered this herd of cows, chickens and other beasts on a random table-top recently, and was briefly dazzled by a wave of nostalgia. Did you play with these as a child? Did you watch someone smaller play with these? Did you imagine being really small and strolling among them?
What better way to declare your undying love than with a gigantic bit of street art that spells out your honourable intentions for all to see?