This is Me...
Daydreaming makes up some of my fondest memories; one that is most vivid is sat on a long car journey. Looking out of the window, I'm too young to remember where we were, was going, or coming back from. It was dusk, that I am certain of. The sky-streaked pink, amber and red revealed fine weather the following day. Summer was in its infancy, daylight stretched long, and the twinkle of stars was brief. Amongst the kaleidoscope of colour, clouds caught my attention. Captivated, I saw mountains and fairy tale castles, vast oceans and endless open road. It was a glorious site, and quickly consumed all the banal.
Once upon a time in Hanover, Germany a baby was born. It was January, and there was a metre of snow on the ground. In the day the temperature rarely went above minus ten, and at night often dipped to minus twenty. The baby's family lived in a flat on a British army barracks. When the mother's water broke, she was taken to hospital by ambulance, with a plough on the front. My name is Theresa, and I am that baby: a reader, writer wanderer, cook, accidental homing pigeon and storyteller.
From an early age, my life was rich with stories. To me, the powerful tool of imagination ranking higher than reality: entertaining, offering comfort and providing wisdom. My family home was filled with books, which I hastily devoured, often beneath the duvet by torchlight. Dad told tales of Jim Ladd the boy sailor, a flying bed and many more. In the bath, we witnessed a water powered cliff railway in operation. The kitchen was a place to improvise a crater riddled moon landing using flour, Lego, marbles and string. My expanding forage for stories, was neatly recorded in notebooks and upon sheets of coloured sugar paper.
Around this time, I became convinced I was a real princess. In 'The Princess and the Pea' by Hans Christian Anderson, the Queen wanted her son the prince to only marry a real princess, but there were to many spurious women, trying to capture her son's heart. One night, during a raging storm, a bedraggled woman knocked at the palace door seeking shelter, claiming to be a real princess. The Queen obliged, but was unconvinced the woman was a real princess, so decided to do a test. Upon a bed she placed twenty mattresses and twenty eiderdown quilts, and then placed a pea beneath them all. The bed was so high, the woman had to climb a ladder to get in. The next morning at breakfast, the Queen enquired how her guest slept. The woman, not wanting to offend her host, but unable to lie, replied "terribly I'm afraid, there was a lump in my bed, which kept me awake all night". The Queen, now satisfied her guest was a real princess, could not contain her joy. Later that year the Prince and the Princess were married, and as is proper, lived happily ever after. So why? You ask, did I believe I was a real princess. The answer is simple, because I could feel the buttons on my mattress through the sheet.
I went on to marry (and divorce) twice, have two children and grandchildren, worked many jobs, lived in various locations across the UK, and like a homing pigeon always returned to Derby, in the East Midlands. I have collaborated in a published collection of short stories and poetry called Write Here Write Now, written content for numerous websites and blogs, participated and hosted book clubs, writing, and storytelling workshops. In 2009 I gained a Diploma in Professional Proofreading. And in 2015 I graduated from the University of Derby, with a BA Hons in Creative and Professional Writing (2.1), achieving the Writing East Midlands Mentoring Award. I am focused on opening a storytelling caffe, and flooding the globe with stories.
I am Theresa: Reader, Writer, Wanderer, Storyteller and...
Virtual Coffee
Virtual Coffee
Please buy a virtual coffee, supporting my quest to keep storytelling alive. In return, you will receive a traditional tale, to enjoy with your online brew.
Your continued support is greatly appreciated.
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Virtual Coffee and Cake
Why not have cake with your coffee? Your continued support is greatly appreciated.