The Writing Wolf

Asking the Wrong Question Asking the wrong question. Have you ever asked yourself a question, only to realize that it was the wrong question? Maybe you were trying to solve a problem, but the question you asked led you down a rabbit hole of irrelevant information. Or maybe you were trying to make a decision, but the question you asked only confused you more. Whatever the case may be, asking the wrong question can be a costly mistake. It can waste your time, lead you down the wrong path, and ultimately prevent you from achieving your goals. So how can you avoid asking the wrong question? Here are a few tips: 1. Be clear about what you want to know. What is your goal? What information are you trying to find? Once you know what you want, you can start to formulate the right questions. 2. Avoid asking leading questions. Leading questions are those that suggest a particular answer. For example, asking "Don't you think that X is a good idea?" is a leading question, because it s

I grew up in the town of Walsall in the West Midland. St. Matthew’s Church has dominated the Walsall skyline since the 13th century. And it dominated the first 20 years of my life when I lived in Walsall.  I went to the church school, Blue Coat, attached to the church. And I read the lesson there at our leaving service. At school we learned the history of the church. And we spent time making sketches of it in art class. Sketching the wonderful stonework left me with a life long love of stone. The earliest surviving reference to the church was around 1220 as a grant by William Ruffus to the Abbey of St. Mary in Halesowen. The grant was confirmed by Henry III in 1258. The inner crypt, which dates from that time is the oldest man-made structure in the town. The church was originally dedicated to All Saints but in the 18th century it was rededicated to Saint Matthew. We had a day off from school on his day, after we had attended church, of course. It is the main parish church of the town a

North to Alaska is on TV again and once more there is the lovely Capucine. For me, when I was growing up, she the epitomized all that was French and all that one aspired to be in terms of looks and grace. Capucine was a Golden Globe-nominated French actress and fashion model best known for her role as Simone Clouseau in the 1963 comedy The Pink Panther and as Michelle "Angel" in North to Alaska. Born Germaine Lefebvre in Saint-Raphaël, in the South of France, Cpucine  soon exhibited an independent, non-conformist personality. She attended school in France and received a B.A. in foreign languages. At 17, while riding in a carriage in Paris, a commercial photographer noticed her. Her elegance and sophistication soon brought her to the attention of modeling agencies where she became a regular fashion model for such fashion houses as Givenchy. Capucine was great friends with Audrey Hepburn , the two having met while modelling in the 40s. They shared an apartment together

I fell in love with Edith Piaf a very long time ago. I was fourteen and crazy for all things French. At that time in our lives most of us fantasize about finding the great love. Girls did it when I was young and I hope they do it still. We try to imagine what it will be like.  Most of my ideas about love came from reading Françoise Sagan  ; "a charming little monster".  Then I discovered Piaf and love on a completely different level; love in the bones and soul as well in the heart and the flesh. Piaff's voice wreaks of pain, as my breath must have wreaked of the forbidden Gauloises Disque Bleu cigarettes. I can't remember how I came to own a recording of La Vie En Rose.  But I can remember the days leading up to my 15th birthday very well.  In the twilight, not wanting to switch the light on to spoil the mood and dreaming to the sound of her voice singing this over and over again; "When he takes me in his arms and speaks softly to me, I see life in r

   In the darkness Drums are beating Telling of a ancient wrong Do you hear them Oh my Sister? Can you sing Old sorrow's song? Did your Mother Tell the story As you sat beside her hearth? Did your Father Tell your Brother As they trod the forest path? Song of sorrow Song of history Like a birthmark on the skin Only love can heal the wound now! Only love forgive the sin Love sung out By hearth, In forest Let the heart song Now begin

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MphBfoSUWrM] Amergin, Bard of the Milesians, lays claim to the Land of Ireland I am a stag: of seven tines, I am a flood: across a plain, I am a wind: on a deep lake, I am a tear: the Sun lets fall, I am a hawk: above the cliff, I am a thorn: beneath the nail, I am a wonder: among flowers, I am a wizard: who but I Sets the cool head aflame with smoke? I am a spear: that roars for blood, I am a salmon: in a pool, I am a lure: from paradise, I am a hill: where poets walk, I am a boar: ruthless and red, I am a breaker: threatening doom, I am a tide: that drags to death, I am an infant: who but I Peeps from the unhewn dolmen, arch? I am the womb: of every holt, I am the blaze: on every hill, I am the queen: of every hive, I am the shield: for every head, I am the tomb: of every hope. Song of Amergin translated by Robert Graves , from  The White Goddess , Faber and Faber Limited, 24 Russell Square London WC1. It appears here under the principle of Fai