tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post7495292932775827338..comments2023-12-06T00:48:23.734-08:00Comments on Daily Writing Practice: Thursday February 20th, 2014Marchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952331166517430843noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-59641944338296973882014-02-24T10:49:53.058-08:002014-02-24T10:49:53.058-08:00Greg - yeah, that was a remarkable comeback. And t...Greg - yeah, that was a remarkable comeback. And to think the Americans hit the post while the Canadian net was empty - an inch to the right and it would have been game over.<br /><br />I thought you'd might appreciate a few words from Captain Bottoms :D<br /><br />Love the description of the rain at the start of yours.<br /><br />Oh dear, Mildred is about to have a bit of a riot on her hands, it would seem!Marchttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14952331166517430843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-61005786591654377572014-02-21T01:20:02.281-08:002014-02-21T01:20:02.281-08:00Now that's what you call edge-of-the-seat acti...Now that's what you call edge-of-the-seat action! Clearly your women's hockey team never, ever give up, and they make it count too. Well done!<br />I hope the men's hockey is even more exciting for you now!<br />Ah, the Pink Daffodil. I had a sneaking suspicion as the dialogue progressed that I might know what the name of the ship was going to be. It's nice to get a little bit of prologue about how it came to happen. You have me wondering what happened to the poetry-writing first mate now :)<br /><br /><b>The launch</b><br />"I must say, I'm really excited that so many people have turned out for this today!" The rain hammered from a slate-grey sky, hitting the ground so hard that it was visibly bouncing back up again and denting umbrellas. There was a steady wind from the east that was driving the rain under the umbrellas for everyone on the edge of the crowd, causing them to huddle as tightly together as they could without intruding on each other's personal space too much. The exception was the front row, the tramps and homeless folk who'd been queueing since the previous evening; no-one was huddling with them, and they looked more miserable than usual.<br />"Get on with it," came a rough, surly voice from the front-row. Mildred Bottom, sister of the famous sea-captain and daughter of the famous botanist Arthur Bottom (he of the blushing daffodil fame) shuddered delicately, glad that the stage protected her from the dreadful weather.<br />"Well, thank-you all for coming to the launch today of my new--"<br />"What?" That surly voice was the strongest that rose from the hubbub of the crowd. Mildred paused, and brushed her mousey-brown fringe from her eyes and peered out. There was a lot of noise from the audience.<br />"Er, the launch today of m--" she said again, but the audience drowned her out once more.<br />"What about our bloody lunch?" came the voice from the crowd. "It was on all the posters! We're here for the lunch!"<br />"Launch," said Mildred firmly, but not firmly enough. "It was supposed to say launch!"Greghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08503319830584828982noreply@blogger.com