Tag: blogging

Just writing

Switching Reading Genres

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It’s a good idea to switch up your favourite reading genre every now and then, isn’t it?
Well… I think so.

Take me, for example —I enjoy fiction, mostly classics. But sometimes, I feel … not bored, but craving something different. It’s kind of like craving dessert after a heavy meal.

Over the last week, as I was reading one of Henry James’ books at a turtle’s pace, I decided to browse a book on home remedies. It turned out to be both interesting and funny.

It was interesting because the book offers simple, useful remedies that might make you think twice before rushing to see the doctor. And, it was funny because, sometimes, it includes folk remedies that are pure superstiton. Honestly, I don’t read it cover to cover… just pick some topics about common ailments.

One of the most interesting points these books both explain and emphasise is Hope. As I read, I can feel how their natural remedies reflect the idea that every illness has a remedy—the very thing I deeply believe in.

Here’s a quote about the exact point:

“For every ill beneath the sun
There is some remedy or none,
If there be one, resolve to find it;
If not, submit, and never mind it.”

Now, what do you do when you have a hiccup?
Here are two simple remedies:

“Think of your lover. If he loves you, you will not have it anymore.”

And in case he doesn’t, you can recite this old English verse:

“Hickup, snickup, stand up, straight up,
One drop, two drops—good for the hick-up.”

That last one gave my daughter and me hiccups as we burst into laughing when I told her about it!


With hope and peace,

Nahla


daily prompt

The Extinction of Mail Service

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Scour the news for an entirely uninteresting story. Consider how it connects to your life. Write about that.


This is the latest news on Pure and Simple Channel, which nobody seems to care a whit about. This is likely because the term “mail service” is no longer in use in today’s world.

Here’s the news; There’s a widespread complaint about mail service across the globe. It claims: “Since the postman left, there hasn’t been an honest message.

Have you heard this piece of news?

Well, it’s just come to my attention that the news was just a saying—or perhaps a quote. FYI, in case you decide to look it up.

Anyway, isn’t that saying or quote so true and insightful?

How is the postman doing in your place?

Well… in mine, the postman shows up once a week, if not longer, and delivers mostly ads, bills, and donation bags. Worse still, it seems no one looks forward to seeing him anymore. Oh, the poor man and the mail posts have become old-fashioned on the road to extinction.

Now, what do you think we’ve been missing since the postman left?

Perhaps the design of the stamp, the scent of the paper, the genuine affections in the words, the smile hidden behind those brief greetings, the longing in between the lines, the long details, the casual sentences, and the unique signature at the end.

In other words— when the postman left, the letter lost its pure and simple message.



With hope and peace,

Nahla

daily prompt

kindness and Blogging

nhpureandsimple

Write about a random act of kindness you’ve done for someone.


Honestly, the first thing that crossed my mind was Me blogging —in other words, how to be kind to myself as a blogger.

Need more explanation?

I’m like many other bloggers— I love using my voice in writing. I enjoy sharing my thoughts in my own style, and I like taking my time. So, whenever I feel disappointed or lazy or even stubborn about blogging, I try to be kind to myself.

Want to know how?

I pause— sometimes for hours, sometimes for days. During that short or long break, I gently remind myself that I write because I love it. My posts are just like little mental treasures I’ve discovered the day I started my WordPress journey.

And finally, usually with a smile, I say: if I don’t regret any of my writing, if I haven’t offended anyone, and if I’m not chasing anything but the joy of showing my talent—then why stop. That’s when I feel it’s time to fasten my seatbelt and take off—I’m on a writing mission again.

Perhaps it seems odd not to care too much about likes, shares, or subscribers. But that’s another way I practice to be kind to myself. It’s not that I don’t want my posts to be liked or shared — or gain more scubsribers. Is there any blogger who wouldn’t like that? Of course not.

It’s just me thinking that likes and shares would add more pressure. It’s like inviting people over and waiting for them to show up, wondering what if they don’t. So, I prefer to let readers knock, visit, or explore freely — no pressure, no high expectations. And, please don’t be offended if you feel differently because things depend on personal style and preference.

Just remember to be kind to yourself too, and if you love blogging— don’t stop.


With hope and peace,

Nahla







Just writing

The Noble Prince

nhpureandsimple

Have you ever passed by such a beautiful robin?

He was standing just like that— perched on the back of the rusty bench while my daughter and I were walking in the park. She saw him first and whispered to me, “Look, Mama, look at that robin.”


“Oh, so cute,” I whispered back, and we both froze on the spot— wondering whether to move closer or walk away.

We quietly moved closer, and—surprisingly— the noble prince remained on his throne. Whether it was humility or pride— he stayed silent, his tiny eyes seemed to watch us.

How I wished he would sing— something, anything. But he seemed to have no song. Still, we couldn’t blame him; it was such a grey, humid, and hot day.

At least we were honoured to capture a photo of the park’s noble prince.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

daily prompt

Meals Routine—Past and Present

nhpureandsimple

What traditions have you not kept that your parents had?


I was born and raised in Cairo, Egypt, following a traditional meals routine. I still remember the mouthwatering flavours, the warm gatherings, and the funny moments. But, I no longer follow that routine—not because I don’t want or because I can’t. It’s simply because it just slipped out of my days as the years went on and on.

So, back then in Egypt, we used to have three meals a day: breakfast, dinner, and supper. But, of course, there were lots of snacks and desserts in between. Not to mention the roasted peanuts and pumpkin seeds during those long summer nights—whether out in the balcony or inside as we gathered around the television.

Our breakfast and supper were usually light and simple: tea, milk, and a cheese or jam sandwich made with fresh bread straight from the bakery.

Breakfast usually started early, around six or seven in the morning, since everything else began early too. We’d eat in a hurry so we wouldn’t be late for school, university, or work. Then, we had another full breakfast around ten during the mid-morning recess. Supper was usually by eight or nine at night.

Dinner was the main meal with traditional Egyptian dishes. We always had it by half past three when the whole family was home—father back from work and children from school. Back then, my family never dined out or ordered in. But of course, we did have dinners with relatives and friends — especially during the holidays.

When I moved with my husband to the UK, that traditional routine changed, not immediately, but gradually. So, instead of the two breakfasts, we have just one. Then we were introduced to lunch at noon, followed by the late afternoon dinner that kicked out supper from our routine. Still, we remained faithful to having snacks and desserts in between.

Now, food is another story in my break from the traditional meal routine— please understand that was entirely unintentional. It began with cornflakes and toast, which (thanks to my children) became part and parcel of our daily life, just as essential as water and air. Praise the Lord, they no longer crave any.

I love cooking and baking—and, of course, I love Egyptian food. But… though our dinners are usually home –made, we dine out every now and then. Besides, our traditional food is not one hundred percent traditional. Perhaps because the food and flavours are not the same. But, that’s also because I’ve started creating new meals, following my own simple recipes.

Thank God, my food, in most cases, turns out delicious, and my family devours it all.

When it comes to food, there’s some sort of flexibility to change your traditional routine.

Am I right?

I think I am.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

daily prompt

Dinosaurs: Bring Back or Send Over

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If you could bring back one dinosaur, which one would it be?

I don’t know why, but I’ve never been interested in dinosaurs—perhaps because of their scientific names, with their long, complicated spellings and pronunciations, which could give one nightmares.


Thank God they went extinct millions of years ago, for we literally have such an abundance in human clothing across the world.

Don’t you believe me?

But of course you should.

Haven’t you heard of the most  advanced cloned versions of dinosaurs?

The Powersaurs, Moneysaurs, Scienceosaus, Mediasaurs, Idiotosaurs, and others from the Humanosaur family. Actually, the Justosaur is also part of the family, but unfortunately, it seems quite powerless and alienated.

See, it doesn’t make much sense to bring a dinosaur back. But… maybe a sample of the cloned version could travel back in a time adventure set millions of years ago. Back then, they might learn the truth—the scientific lesson they seemed to have missed at school: dinosaurs and humans didn’t co-exist.

Now, which is better: to bring one back or send one over?



With hope and peace,

Nahla

memories

July 1999—More shocks

nhpureandsimple

As it’s the holiday season, I’ve found it a bit hard to write like usual. Are you having the same challenge?

Anyway,  I remembered that I had planned to complete my last post—so here it is, finally! Today, I’m writing it, crumpling  all my other first shocks from Jully 1999 into this one.

Have you read my previous post? I hope you have, but don’t worry if you haven’t. It was just about some funny memories — which you might not find funny at all.

So, the second shock was the rain—not just normal rain. No. It was torrential downpours that welcomed us on our first night in the UK.

Imagine leaving the blue sky in Cairo with its boiling 40°C heat, only to land in semi-sunny weather—and just before going to bed, hearing the symphony of heavy showers outside. There, in that dark night, fat drops of rain started smashing against the windows of our room. That night, I thought it would never stop.

Being a bit imaginative, I exaggerated and turned the typical English weather into an unexpected phenomenon— with yellow warning alerts. I wove scary tales about myself walking through a hurricane with a useless umbrella. My tales seeped into my dreams and turned them into nightmares. That night, sleep was hard to find or even to invite. I wept buckets all night.

The next morning, the sun shone and reigned over the sky, proud to have melted all the puffy grey clouds from the face of the earth. The day was so warm that I wondered whether the heavy showers from last night had been just a dream.

Can you guess what my third shock was?

It was the quiet nights.

Since there was no availability in student accommodation, we ended up renting a flat in a good area that was a bit expensive but so quiet. Not that there were no humans around. Of course, there were! But the thing is, they rarely crossed your path.

When night fell, life seemed to pause.
No open shops.
No family outings.
No dogs barking in streets.
No fighting cats.
No neighbours yelling out of balconies.
No children chasing each other on the road.
Nothing but quiet, dark roads stretching out into the night.

And then, one night, out of that dead quietness, our doorbell rang at midnight. Our friends were too far away to pay us a visit. And midnight visits? That was impossible.

My husband was studying, and when he saw me standing before him, my eyes wide open, staring at him. He told me it was a drunk man who had mistaken our flat for his own and had probably found his by now. But then… we heard keys jingling and turning into our door lock.

‘He’s going to break into our flat,’ I gasped.
‘No, he’s going away soon,’ my husband said, just as the drunk man began signing and laughing.

Soon, he disappeared.

These first shocks turned into funny memories later on, and whenever it is July again, I remember those first days in England back in 1999.



With hope and peace,

Nahla

 

memories

July 1999 — First Adventure, First Shock

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It was in July 1999 when a young couple boarded a plane for the first time —full of hopes, dreams, and a touch of fears. That was me, accompanying my husband, flying to England for an academic adventure.

Those first few days after landing safe and sound on British soil were so dramatic and unexpectedly funny.

Our first shock was the heavy burden we had to handle once we left Heathrow Airport. It wasn’t homesickness— of course, we were emotional before, during, and after embarking on the journey. But, it was another kind of burden that pushed our emotional drama aside: our two heavy pieces of luggage. That was the worst action drama one might experience while travelling. Shocked, my husband and I stared at them, couldn’t believe how and when we packed these two big beasts, and managed to get them onto the flight.

Oh my… May God forgive our families for stuffing our suitcases as if we were flying to Antarctica. And, we just let them—how we could not? The most common and “sincerest” advice we had received from my husband’s colleagues abroad was to pack as much as we could because “life was incredibly expensive in the UK.” By the way, that was a bit of exaggeration.

But, there’s a funny bit after every shock, right?

From London, we travelled to Manchester, and after a short stay there, we headed to Birmingham. The train journeys across these parts of England were hilarious—mainly because of our two bulky companions.

It was a miracle not just to get our two pieces of luggage onto the train but to find enough space for them. Actually, the two bags, lying in a straight line, were like a massive crocodile that swallowed most of the space in the carriage. My husband did the whole job; pushing and lifting. I was blessed to be excused from taking part in that embarrassing show, for I had just discovered I was pregnant.

Looking around at the cute suitcases and backpacks, we couldn’t help but wonder: why on earth had we packed so much? I did my best not to laugh, but I couldn’t. It seemed that my pregnancy hormones were getting the best of me. Thank God they were pressing on my sunny side.

So, whenever my eyes fell on our luggage, I burst out laughing. My husband wished we could push them off the train. ‘Let’s pretend we forgot them somewhere,’ he whispered, and my tears rolled down my face from laughing.

To be continued…

With hope and peace,

Nahla










daily prompt

When to Bother Becomes Why Bother?

nhpureandsimple

What bothers you and why?


Ignoring—that’s one of the most bothering things.

Ignoring others, whether in preson or online, through physical interaction or unansewred messages and calls— that’s one of the most annoying experiences.

One can differentiate shyness from rudeness, right? And what I am talking about is rudeness—the art of ignoring others on purpose.

Years ago, when I was ignored, I would become upset, emotional, and even depressed. But things change— and we change too.

So, nowadays, when things happen, I whisper to myself, “Why bother?” But… I don’t actually say “why bother” nonchalantly. I mean … in the past, I would burst out crying at home. Now, I’ve made up my mind; if someone ignores me once, I will ignore them ten times. That’s not all.

Sometimes, I explode— out loud at home or within in my head. I will call that person every name my anger dictionary dictates, from every book I’ve read. Then I  breathe and repeat: “Why bother?”
(Please don’t reference me as a guide in similar cases.)

On the other hand, it happens when your mind, sometimes, plays back some unpleasant memories from the past—a misunderstanding, a loss, missed opportunities, unfulfilled dreams, a hurt, etc.

Other times, your mind recalls good memories that make you wonder how time flies and how much you wish you could relive them.

In the first case, I say, “Why bother”—let bygones be bygones.

In the second, I smile and pray that what’s coming will be much, much better.



With hope and peace,

Nahla

Just writing

The Heat Wave

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It has been scorching and dry for more than two weeks across the UK. We had been waiting for summer to grace us with its warmth once more— it does, with more than enough. But it seems that rain’s patience has worn thin. Rains have already started gathering mountains of grey clouds, ready to have full control over English weather again.

But that’s normal—I mean the summer’s heat wave and its rain-showers successor. What isn’t normal is the maddness wave that seems to be spreading like weeds all over the world. It seems to be having the worst influence on people’s mentality— from the most powerful to the common, the wealthiest to the poorest, the highly educated to basic learners.

Sometimes, one wonders whether the heatwave is behind the phenomenon of the maddness wave that’s been eating humans’ brains. Probably. But unfortunately, it seems that rains can not find their way to some people—just like Mr. Mad.

Have you ever heard the story of Mr. Mad?

Well, it’s a long fictional tale that began on one of those boiling days. It’s basically about a wealthy great- grandfather living on the top floor of a skyscraper somewhere in the world, who decided to take charge of the whole building—apartments and residents—from the hightest floors to the basement.

Well… I usually don’t give any spoilers in my reviews, but I will just say that Mr. Mad’s days bring the worst heat waves and know no rain at all.

With hope and peace,

Nahla