On 30th May each year Tenerife, together with the other six Canary Islands of Gran Canaria, Fuerteventura, Lanzarote, La Palma, La Gomera and El Hierro, celebrates Canaries Day - the anniversary of the inauguration of the first Canary Islands Parliament in 1983.

Everywhere you go you will see people dressed in the traditional costumes and hear the local music. Schools celebrate the day before, and Parque de la Reina is no exception. Here are some photos I took of the school parade on Friday morning.

A local band

I was given one of these buns baked by the school.


Nothing is more refreshing than a slice of watermelon

One of my early morning walk friends with her, granddaughter and great-granddaughter 

AND - if you want to buy an apartment in Parque de la Reina, mine is FOR SALE
Click on APARTMENT at the top of my blog to see the photographs.


SCRAP- and a 100 word story

A couple of years ago a fence was erected round the undeveloped building land in our area.

Already the fence has been breached, in some places by dog-walkers who resent being dispossessed, in others by the youngsters who occupied the rough ground years before the construction comany acquired it. They're doing no harm by walking their dogs or simply by sitting outside on sheets of cardboard enjoying the warm nights of Tenerife.
What surprises me is that the fence is bent back but still there.People are so desperate for cash that most of the metal was stolen for scrap before the fence went up - electric cables were stripped for the copper, the aluminium lamp shades have all gone, and every drain cover is missing.
The holes have been filled with rocks to avoid accidents.

AND NOW - a 100 word story about scrap, written for Friday Fictioneers and prompted by this photograph posted by Rochelle on her blog. https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/

Santosh held the wire in the glowing heart of the fire – there was no shortage of fires here – and then fixed it precisely in place before leaning over to kiss Jacinta.
“What have you made?” she asked, “It’s monstrous.”
“I call it Tip Boss.”
Santosh stared at other groups huddled round other fires for mutual protection. Taking a deep breath of the stink that passed for air on the tip, he stroked Jacinta’s belly and promised her, “Our son will not live here – I will sell my art.”

A year later ‘Tip Boss’ was the centre-piece in Santosh’s own gallery.


I HEAR THUNDER - a 100 word story

After a fortnight away in England visiting family we have decided to drop the price of our apartment. I have therefore spent the last few days re-advertising it. If you like the idea of owning an apartment in Tenerife, the details are on the APARTMENT page of this blog.

Now I can concentrate on writing again, here is my contribution to FRIDAY FICTIONEERS prompted by a photograph on Rochelle's blog   https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/


After months of hiding in cellars, trembling at each explosion and venturing out only when driven by hunger, Shira crept away through the ruins.

Carrying her daughter among broken timbers and glass shards, she dodged from shadow to shadow until they were in the fields.

Even in the ditches they dropped flat every time a bomb fell, but when they reached the hills the sounds of war were mercifully distant.

Sheltered beneath a tree, they slept until woken by a crash directly overhead. The child screamed, but Shira said soothingly, “Hush - it is only thunder. See, here comes the rain.”


BLUEBELLS and a 100 word story

I have spent the past two weeks in England visiting family. I won't bore you with the details except to say that roughly 60 people attended my granddaughter's christening, and about two-thirds of those were related to the baby!

Spring in England is glorious, and especially so in Sussex and the South Downs. One lovely morning I went with my two daughters, their husbands and the baby to admire the bluebells around Ditchling Pond, and this photograph prompted my first 100 word story of the month.

 They peered over the rail, trying to locate the source of the sound.
“I told you to tiptoe across,” Mandy scolded, “Now you’ve woken it up.”
“Nonsense - that was only a frog.” Alan raised a chauvinistic eyebrow at Jon and they stamped their feet defiantly.
“Stop it!” Debs pleaded, “I’ve just got her to sleep,” but it was too late. As Millie began to whimper, Debs wheeled the buggy away towards the bluebell field. Mandy treated the lads to a withering glance and followed her sister.
“Women’s hormones,” Jon scoffed, just as a huge hairy hand grabbed his ankle.