It was her first one. Mum’s first car of her very own. A yellow Mini with a Black roof and bonnet stripes. In the brightest yellow that she could find. Yes it was loud and it resembled all of the things she wanted to be. Racy, Daring, Fun and it reminded of her of a bee, which she loved, because it was bright yellow and black.
It would take her to places she had never been before where the only limit was the fuel she could put in the tank. She would pack her bag and drive to her parents, once the caring for them was over for the weekend, she would return to her family. Racing the fast cars along the forest roads with a smile stretched out across her face. She felt alive behind the wheel, with a spirit of adventure, just for that short time.
It gave her the freedom she had so long craved. Freedom from the day to day, whatever the weather. The other motorists smiled as she passed them by. Her happiness beaming like a beacon across her face. She loved that car, for all it represented to her and they had no idea.
The Daily Post – Yellow
It was his favourite of all the cars that they had owned together. They had enjoyed many Saab’s over the years but this one remained in his memories and had a lace in his heart. Of all of them this one was his smile factor.
A bright yellow Saab 900 convertible. It was not the original shape vehicle, but the newer model on a 1998 registration. A 2.3 petrol engine with an Automatic gearbox and as it changed through it’s gears it flew with a whisper quiet engine. They loved it. It took them all over the country on many trips away, exploring together in the sunshine. Even in huge rainstorms you couldn’t help but smile. It made you feel like you were a small child that had found the biggest puddle in your favourite wellies. A car which made you feel totally safe. It’s big comfortable black leather interior always looked smart and turned heads approvingly down whichever street we drove.
They took it to Belgium and France on holiday, on day trips. Visited family and felt sure in the knowledge that they were perfectly safe exploring new things together. Those were happy times when they were younger and more carefree.
When he decided to get her new car some time later, he gave it up included into the deal. He regretted it, not for weeks but for years but did not say so for she would have wanted him to keep it.
Although they had many other Saab’s of the same model it was never quite the same. Later when the truth emerged that it was his favourite they looked for another to recapture the times gone by, to create new memories and to drive through France again exploring new things together. They haven’t managed to get another one yet, always somehow missing out when they see one, but she has not given up hope of fulfilling that particular wish just yet.
The Daily Post – Yellow
Icelandic Poppies and Black Bamboo from my Garden.
After years of chucking poppy seeds about the garden in the vain hope that they would take, suddenly a plethora of them appeared. It took years of nothing growing there. Now they last from Spring until late Autumn in this sun trap and bring a burst of colour and happiness to the garden, whatever the weather.
On the 19th of March, Women all of the world donned their yellow Tutus and marched to raise awareness for this condition. I didn’t wear one myself, or march on this occasion but I fondly recall my own yellow tutu and it takes me right back.
I think I was about 8 years old when I was given my beloved yellow Tutu, my mother had made it. She had made one for me, in turquoise blue with a yellow tutu skirt and I adored it, she also made one for my cousin in her favourite colour, pink. I felt absolutely beautiful in it and it was totally inspiring. At the time I had aspirations of becoming a dancer. I’d even been practicing my ballet steps. I had pink ballet shoes and pink ballet tights, which had been given to me as presents by well wishing neighbours and friends of the family.
But, My clever Mum had made me a tutu and I was over the moon! My cousin and I skipped upstairs and put on our Tutu’s and had our photographs taken, by our grandparents proceeding to dance around the living room. Just little girls playing but a dream was in my head and at that moment it was reality and I was truly happy. I was going to be a dancer, at the time I was sure. I wanted to share the photograph of that day, of two little girls in their ballet costumes at a Christmas family party, but it has been mislaid in the numerous moves, so we will have to content ourselves with sharing the moment.
But I digress, the significance now it seems of a yellow tutu is to unite the ladies of Endometriosis throughout the world. Not content with mere yellow ribbons, we have stepped it up a gear and decided to make a bolder statement, so if you have seen ladies walking along in their yellow Tutu‘s this month, or unusually wearing yellow, this may just be the reason for it.