Author: nhpureandsimple

My name is Nahla. I am a wife and mother of three children. I have been living in the UK for so many years. My first degree is in English Language. I also earned two Master’s degrees; one in Religious Studies and one in Creative Writing. I started blogging because I love reading and writing; both are more than hobbies for me. I read to learn, to understand, and to improve myself. I write to tell stories, to express my views, and to share my thoughts. I hope you enjoy my blog, and thank you for visiting.
daily prompt, Just writing

The Election: Always the Most Famous Live Performance

nhpureandsimple

What was the last live performance you saw?

I feel I’m blessed that I hadn’t participated in any of those live theoretical performances.

They’re too long, too show off, and too full of drama.

Long story short, the performance always begins with wonderful promises from ’powerful’ candidates; promises about health, income, education, facilities, etc.

After a long series of debates and interviews, one of the prominent candidates wins.

Let’s pretend the winner was your hero, your big hope for better life.

Day after day, you keep watching the screen, following the news. Then the first blow arrives, and many more follow, as your hero’s itinerary begins to change. Why? You wonder thinking perhaps they forget. Or do they pretend to forget all of those rosy promises?

Not only that, soon you realise that once your hero has won, you are no longer involved, no longer part of any decisions. 

’Haven’t you already voted so I can decide for you? 

Then rest assured, everything is for own sake.’ Your hero shows up again, wearing one of those polished political grins.

Change or no change, you sigh and turn off the screen.

You return to see for your home, your studies, your work; your real world, the one that waits for your actions without any rosy promises. 

And if you didn’t vote, you thank the Lord that you saved your precious voice with full dignity. 

With live –performance thoughts,

Nahla

Just writing

The Royal Table

nhpureandsimple

Actually I’m not sure this was a royal table, but let’s say it once belonged to a Hungarian noble, a piece of his past that somehow moved to another’s person’s villa.

Why do you think that might be?

Because the owner of the villa had gone bankrupt, and his villa turned into a museum. Some treasured Hungarian pieces were moved there, including the table.

Thanks to one of the museum staff, I knew about this story.

Hopefully, I got it right.

As for other information, my daughter and I had to rely on our own brains to put bits and pieces together, since everything was in German.

And you may know by now that my German is just like my Italian- two languages I never once considered learning. No idea why.

So back to the royal table. Isn’t it beautiful?

As in most museums, visitors aren’t allowed to touch any of pieces, but they can take photos.

How I wished I could pull up a chair and enjoy a nice cup of tea there.

But since that wasn’t allowed, I simply imagined it.

Those old china cups and plates, a traditional cake with natural flavours and simple ingredients. 

I wouldn’t have minded wearing one of those dresses on display either. They were long, elegant, and even had a hair cover. It would have been fun.

I couldn’t imagine other guests in the scene, though.

It would have been so embarrassing as they would all be speaking German, and I’d be sitting there with nothing but a completely useless smile.

It was an enjoyable visit.

And what made it even more enjoyable was the experience of communicating with people who don’t understand your language just as much you don’t understand theirs.

But we laughed together, and somehow managed to sort the whole visit perfectly. 

Perhaps one day I will try to learn some German.

Just…maybe.

With short-break holiday thoughts,

Nahla

Just writing

A Plat For Two

nhpureandsimple

Imagine the portions you eat at home and the ones you eat out.

No comparison.

Not because the food you eat at home is less,

but because what you eat at home can be plenty, and for far less expenses.

You actually pay far too much at restaurants.

Of course, the food may taste nicer and look fantastic. 

And yes, you feel relieved and relaxed,

for you don’t have the burden of preparing, cooking and cleaning.

Still, your mind can’t help doing the math.

Everything has a double price hidden behind the smile and warm welcome of the catering staff.

On one of those few precious warm April days, we went to for lunch outside.

Everything looked nice and clean, and the location of the restaurant was really nice.

My daughter ordered pizza, which I believe was a good, money wise choice.

My husband and I were craving fish.

The plat we both liked offered a variety of fish; prawns, cod, salmon, oysters, smocked sardine, along with vegetables in a cream sauce and some bread.

Isn’t it mouthwatering?

I suggested that we can share the plat.

My husband agreed, though doubted it would enough and thought it might be a good idea to have a side or two.

I insisted it would be fine since I’m not much of an eater.

My husband nodded, but added two sides anyways, just in case 

I surrendered.

Our order arrived with a divine aroma and a fantastic presentation.

But then the real fun began.

The  plat turned out to be a big bowl, full of creamy sauce that looked like a wide white sea with tiny, different kinds of fish. 

I grabbed my fork and imagined it was my fishing rod. It was easy to catch those tiny swimming portions, really easy.

They tasted yummy, but in a blink our Bismillah and Alhamdulilaah ( our food blessings) were done, and every tiny piece had disappeared.

If it weren’t for the two sides and the leftovers from my daughter’s pizza, we would have been starving.

It’s funny to share a plat, but only if you’ve ordered plenty of sides.

Otherwise, you’re better off saving your money and eating at home.

With sharing-a-plat thoughts,

Nahla

Just writing

May They Not Cut Any More Trees

nhpureandsimple

Sometimes you just ask for a solution to a problem, but instead of fixing it, they cut it down.

That’s exactly what happened to two trees in our garden.

The story began when the road workers explained how the trees were affecting some of the wires on the posts along the road. 

Well… I haven’t grown any trees myself.

I wish I had. Isn’t it such a wonderful deed.

Of course it is.

When we moved into our new house, there were these lovely but enormous trees. 

I really loved them, and I did my best to trim their long branches.

Anyway, the workers recently came to fix the problem.

I expected they would cut the long branches, or worse all of them, not the entire creature.

They cut down two big trees. 

It was a rainy April day, really rainy, and windy too.

It felt as if the other trees and perhaps the birds as well, were crying after the loss of their friends.

Now the wires are safe.

The light posts are clear.

But the old tree spots look different without the trees.

It feels as if a big secret eye is hanging between the surrounding trees.

Thankfully, the nearby tree is leaning towards that empty space, as if trying to cover the secret eye.

And there’s another small one growing just a step or two away, which will soon block the whole eye.

If you cut down something, perhaps because it’s dangerous, toxic,or simply inconvenient, there will always be other better possibilities.

Some wounds can heal themselves and overcome any emptiness, any secret eye.

May they not cut anymore trees in May.

Oh my… is it already the first of May?

Actually I think we’ve had enough of April this year. 

It overstayed its visit.

With garden and trees thoughts, 

Nahla

Just writing

It Took The Evil Eye Away

nhpureandsimple

In my culture, when something breaks, burns, or gets damaged in any way, people usually say, “Thank God, it took the evil eye away.”

Funny how my grandfather, many years ago, used to laugh and say “Doesn’t this evil eye go anywhere else? It had almost broken all of the cups.”

Actually, I follow the tradition.

I never wept over spilled milk or a broken cup. 

I repeat the same phrase and feel relieved. 

I thank God that the damage was in things that can be replaced, not any one of us. 

What disturb me and what I make a fuss about is the mess. That’s when I start yelling at everyone around me to be careful, to watch out, and definitely to be safe. 

By the way, I didn’t break anything today, but I did have some funny, slightly annoying moments.

So… instead of making a nice, fresh orange juice, the machine grew grumpy and violent. It started shaking as if it were going to explode, splashing juice everywhere including me. Of course, I unplugged it, but then I hit the cup, and a river of juice came flooding across the counter. 

After cleaning the mess, I went to have some fresh water before heading out. But for some reason, the glass didn’t feel comfortable on the mat and decided to lay down for a bit. Then, again, another river flooded the table, and headed straight towards both my phone and iPad. No way, I gasped, snatching my precious devices just before the flood reached them.

Then I went out, happy with the sun, the blue sky, and the steps I was taking until the wind decided to make another mess. Not with rain, but by blowing pollen everywhere. 

I came back with a headache, itchy eyes, and a blocked nose.

Could it be another evil eye?

No, it is the spring evil.

Let me introduce the most unwelcome visitor: Mr. Spring Hay Fever. 

Wasn’t it just a wonderful day! 

With windy spring thoughts,

Nahla

Just writing

A Story Inside a Non-Fiction Book

nhpureandsimple

So… here I’m again, repeating the same story that started at the beginning of this year.

It’s about my determination to read more non-fiction than fiction.

So far, I’ve been reading non-fiction about different topics and I’m really enjoying them.

It wasn’t until a few days ago that I started reading  Of Men and Plants by Maurice Messegue. From its very beginning, the book turned out to be the story of the author himself, who was apparently a very famous herbalist.

I’ve really enjoyed every part of his story so far.

But… have you ever tried to put into practice some of the knowledge you read about?

Well… I tried, but of course not as a herbalist.

What happened is that I started looking around at different plants, not just the familiar ones I know and use regularly. 

To my surprise, I discovered there’s rosemary in my garden, but there are other plants that look totally unfamiliar.

I used Google search, and it gives some information but with a few warnings, as if I am going to eat them. 

I’m really thinking about asking my neighbours.

Wouldn’t that be a good idea.

Anyway, ever since I started reading about herbs, my instagram feed has been full of herbalists and herbs. 

Can it be a coincidence?

Or did everyone become suddenly interested in herbs.

Sometimes, I feel as if I am not just looking at  the herbs, but I’m almost smelling them.

Could this actually happen in the future?

Please no.

There’s already enough madness on social media.

But in the reels, nothing seems toxic or dangerous. Even the dandelion, that cute little yellow flower, I’ve been known for years as a weed, turns out to be nutritious and full of health benefits.

Sometimes, I wonder why they never taught us about different herbs at school.

At least then no one would mistake a dandelion for a useless weed.

I think I’m going to post more about this book.

With dandelion thoughts,

Nahla

Just writing

Why the Crow Is so Mean.

nhpureandsimple

Yes, I saw it — that crow who seemed not only overfed, but also a tyrant, a bully, and certainly greedy.

Everything happened as I was getting the clean laundry out in the sun, for we haven’t seen her much since the beginning of spring.

But she kept this promise.

Do you know about this promise.

Here’s my recent post, in case you’re curious.

https://pure-and-simple.co.uk/2026/04/17/its-a-sunny-day/

Anyway, a few seconds before the crow landed on the tree, a pigeon had just came back to her nest in a same tree. 

Of course, I didn’t see her nest but I saw her slip into the branches and disappear, which makes perfect sense if she has a nest hidden there.

She was cute, looked happy and lively in the sunny day. 

Just as I turned back to go into the house,

I heard the sudden flapping of wings and then that familiar, unpleasant sound of the crow.

I turned around and looked up, 

and there was the pigeon flying away from her tyrant, whose claws gripped the highest branch as if he meant to dominate the whole landscape.

Surprisingly another pigeon came to the rescue, not to fight with the bully. 

Pigeons aren’t cowards, thought.

They simply prioritise their safety and peace of mind.

So, it seems the second pigeon was checking on the nest before flying to support her friend on the other tree. 

Then both pigeons flew away with the same quick rhythm and lightness under the blue sky.

The crow was still up there on the tree, 

interest in nothing but the disturbance of peace of other creatures.

Soon, another senior crow, or perhaps one of those gigantic seagulls will chase him to the ground, I thought as I turned to go into the house wondering why crows are so mean. 

How I wish I could have taken a photo of that scene.

But I was more interested in watching it.

With peace against mean thoughts,

Nahla

(The pigeon in the photo is not the heroine.)

Just writing

It’s a Sunny Day

nhpureandsimple

Yes, finally the sun is gracing us with some light and warmth.

Still, the wind insists on extending its visit, bringing along its strong-gust companion.

But at least we can say we have a long, sunny day.

It seems the sun is pleased with our happiness.

It feels as though she’s smiling, spreading even more of her shining rays.

But I can hear her whispering that tomorrow she’ll be off on a mission.

Yes, she says she is going to push the wind and its companion as far as possible. 

East or west, she hasn’t decided yet.

Oh, she promises to come back soon to stay longer — a week or more.

Isn’t that great news.

I checked the weather forecast, and it’s all true.

She wasn’t lying.

She’s coming back on Sunday,

and will stay for one whole week,

and hopefully even more.

Time to get ready for a long, warm walk. 

With sunny-day thoughts,

Nahla

Just thinking

April and Still No Fiction

nhpureandsimple

The thing is, you start reading a book and find a reference to another.

So you make a note to check that book.

You like it, you read it, and the cycle goes on.

That’s how my readings began this year.

I’d set my mind on reading non-fiction from the first of January.

I thought things would change back to fiction soon,

but non-fiction is still the dominant one.

Right now, for example I read about herbs and alternative medicine.

Even though I skip many sections, mostly experiments and pure scientific parts, I still enjoy the rest.

It’s good to learn different things, even if your knowledge is only a tiny bit of the whole work.

And it’s definitely great if, from that morsel of understanding, you don’t stand tall and proud pretending you’ve become an expert. 

Anyway, in one of the books I finished recently, I came across this funny but meaningful quote: 

“Emotions are like parents …, annoying and cumbersome, pushy and old-fashioned, but probably doing things for our own good.”

And honestly, the quote doesn’t need any philosophical explanation. Right?

It was mainly an extract from a serious psychological idea.

Can you guess what it is from the quote?

Have you ever thought about “unwanted thoughts” ?

Those unwanted thoughts are part and parcel of our emotions

So, when you can’t face reality, they simply find enough room to settle into your mind.

But, these unwanted thoughts are like signals—

an alarm clock trying to catch your attention,

to wake you up,

to push you towards the challenge,

and even to change or fix things.

If you don’t cooperate with the signal, 

if you keep snoozing the alarm, 

those unwanted thoughts will turn into a kind of torture,

or a useless burden you carry for no reason.

The author’s idea, as I understand, is to treat unwanted thoughts as a kind of blessing—

a friend in need, 

or even like your parents.

They come mainly to wake you up,

to help you face reality.

If you don’t take the cue, they stay.

And that’s how they become a useless burden.

Get the idea?

Hopefully you do.

With alarming  thoughts,

Nahla

Philosophical musings

The Marionette and the Kite

nhpureandsimple

I wish I knew the names of the inventors of these two string-held toys: the marionette and the kite.

Do you?

Or even know the real story behind their inventions.

I know neither.

Perhaps a quick search online would reveal the full story.

But I’m not actually interested, not right now.

Actually… I don’t like marionettes.

But I really enjoy watching kites drift across in the sky.

Sometimes I wonder why.

If both work with a string.

If both have someone behind the scenes guiding the string with accuracy, talent, and lots of practice.

And, if both exist for fun and entertainment.

Why? 

But aren’t they are totally different?

The marionette is a puppet, 

and a puppet is a puppet.

It is confined to the stage,

manipulated by a hidden person,

for the two can never appear on the same stage.

It talks, sings, and dances.

It tells stories, and people laugh.

And its manipulator is always after the prize — the profit.

But the kite is different.

It is freedom in the open air.

It is quiet, with just a little flipping and flapping.

And, it is wonderfully flexible, soaring high and flying with the wind.

Its manipulator is not hidden.

Actually… they can’t be manipulators.

They always in the open — brave, steady, and smiling.

Their prize is the sight of freedom, strength, and courage.

Now, if you have two invitations: one for a marionette show and the other for a flying–kite show, which one will you choose?

I would definitely choose the flying-kites show.

And that’s why I like kites and don’t like marionettes.

With free-soaring thoughts,

Nahla