I'm a plusize 50 year old housewife from Llanelli Carmarthenshire South Wales,i am a novice writer with aspirations of becoming a well known writer of poetry and short stories,coffee break stroies to be exact,i like to say it as it is with no frills and crimped edges,my mother brought me up as a devout Christian alongside my 3 siblings,two bothers and a sister,growing up for a time by a fram which gave us a love of the outdoors,memories of riding on my neighbours horse Betsy overlooking the whole of Burry Port we liked tocall Lookout we had a middle class upbringing,my father a photographer in his spare time and a Garage Proprioter and my mother a small business woman selling second hand clothes in her shop in Pembrey she always used to say what a clothes horse i was as i was only 2 at the time but had racks of clothes to choose from,after battling with alcohol for severl years my fatherdied when i was just 12 years old leaving us his estate a house and land adjacent to it,children of the manor and spoilt for space we enjoyed picking from our fruit trees in our lawns and fields,my grandmother who owned a limosene company before she passed away 8 months before my father was a woman of substamce who loved to go to auctions and buy the picks of the day from under everyone elses nose,etiquette lessons from my bygone era wernt needed when i grew up as my grandmother maud was from the victorian era,then on the other side of mymaternal family my grandmother who was the lovechild of Josef Stalins son Benjamin who as research goes must have been illigitimate,after my great grandmother died after being shunned from the little village of Rhandermwyn in Llandovery her father Benjamin placed her in a convent to be brought up by nuns afterward he retured to rejoin the war effort,my grandmother then moved to South Hampton and she herself became a military nurse and became an SRN, at her time there she met my grandfather an army officer and they gor married,after having 3 children and one who sadly died at birth anmed Dewi the 3 chilkdren were brought up in Hendy Pontradulais West Glamorgan,my motherthe youngest of the three was a war child born in 1942,Colin my uncle then became a Royal Marine and served abroad,i often helped my grandmother to work at Industrial supply a rag factory cutting rags for industries in Wales for cleaning purposes,i grew up for the most part in Burry Port Carmarthenshire and attended an all girls school,making friends with girls i am still in contact with now thanks to facebook,my mother fraught wuth health problems has battled through 3 heart attacks and 3 bowel cancer scares,now 76 years old i pray every day that she reaches 80 and we'll see where we go from there,i got married to a man from the Bryn Llanelli part of a Catholic family the youngest of 9 siblings,a factory girl from the age of 16 i worked in Parsons Pickles , Swansea Components and Microloom L.T.D,amongst others,after getting married to Kevin at the age of 21,we settled down to family life as i had our first child in August of 1990 a son named Martin,then in 1991 i gave birth to our first daughter Kimberley,then in 1993 Rebecca came along our third child, and after 8 years Rhydian appeared our fourth and final child,struggling financially we worked hard to make ends meet byme working as a cleaner in Trostre works and Kevin working alongside me as a cleaner too, Llanelli being a black spot for jobs at that time we found ourselves living off the state for around 8 years,everyone blamed the unemployment on Thatchers Conservative rule, not being political myself i went deeply into the faith i had been brought up with and started to studythe scriptures,after 4 years studying with a lovely lady named Mabel one of Jehovahs Witnesses i got baptized in November of 1992 witnesses by my husband and two children by the poolside,protected by the congregation we found the struggle easier to bear,after Labour got into powere things were looking up,again not being a political person i put no hopes in the Governments as i was a concientious objector and still dont beleiev in taking part in the war effort unlike my previous family members some of which became Jehovahs Witnesses too,not wanting to talk about my bad experiences i will say just this , that in 2012 i was taken from my home by black -ops military Police and taken on a mission against my will and was gang raoed aboard a boat full of illegal black African immigrants,i got pregnant and gave birth to triplets 9 months later all insecret and kept quiet,the babies were taken away from me at birth,so now to summerize i am still living in Llwynhendy with my husband and two sons,my daughters having moved out to bring up their own familes,i have six beautiful grandchildren,i have a small business that i run from home jus eeking out a living my goal is to become a recognized writer of Coffee break stories and poetry,i'm entering this competition with the hope of winning the prize to spur me on

As a little girl, I used to have my cake and eat it, too. I was learning to play the piano, speak English and dance. A homely, diligent girl, thought my parents. Gotcha! – thought I and always joined my friends whenever they climbed trees or jumped over the kindergarten fence. I knew, or rather sensed, that once I found something exciting, I had to cling to it. I remember often coming home bruised and covered in mud, in jeans torn on the knees. One summer evening I recall especially vividly: a half-sleeping village, our dilapidated country house, grandmother reading a gossip newspaper, grandad in front of the TV watching Russian football team lose yet again and 7-year-old me, brushing burs from tangled hair and trying to mend a broken bicycle wheel. That day my older friends dared me to ride a bike to a neighboring town. There was no particular motive to it, except for seeking adventures for our never-resting bums. Still, a tiny daredevil inside me could not take my weak conscientious ‘no' for an answer, so I went. The trip cost me four hours, a crazy runaway from a rabid dog, a painful fall over the handlebar straight into the bur bushes and grandad's strict scolding. The following day, however, I was a local hero, to whom all the boys up to twelve (which was, well, cool) brought candy and ice cream. In hindsight, the satisfaction was worth the trouble. I always bet on black. I am eager to act recklessly without so much as a hint of a reward. At middle school, I caught a common disease called extreme romantic light-headedness. A straight-A student juggling various clubs, circles and class activities, I suddenly felt an insurmountable urge to skip classes and fall in love with some reckless and dangerous six-grader. At a celebration of yet another faceless accomplishment of our even more faceless school, I threw a crumpled piece of paper with ‘I love you' scribbled on it in my horrific handwriting in the middle of a crowd of boys. Why did I do this? No idea. I was neither rebellious nor stupid. Imagine my surprise when a couple of weeks later my classmate, an unfortunate catcher of the note, came forward and confessed to loving me back! That hit me like a truck, but like a pink one delivering flowers or Teddy bears. Unexpectedly, we got along quite well and went out for three years. He was my first romance and is my sweetest teenage memory. I always bet on black. I lack judgement and tend to rush headlong in whatever venture is up. When it comes to choosing our occupation, hardly ever are we devoid of doubt or reservation. That was exactly the case with me. Although passionately in love with my piano, I could not imagine giving up literature or physics. Apparently, it all got mixed up in my head or aliens fiddled with my brains, because somehow I decided to major in economics. Perhaps, I did not know what my vocation was, or maybe it was fate. I, however, would attribute it to Irony, all-pervasive goddess of bad decisions and embarrassing memories. Anyway, I needed to choose a university. Which one would a sane and sensible person opt for? Right, the one farthest from home, with worst dormitories, most expensive campus and rudest students. Oh, wait, my bad, that's just what I have chosen! Frankly, it is not as bad as it sounds, except for yes, it is. However, I have taken up my music practice again, met some amazingly creative and energetic people and undoubtedly toughened up for what life has in store. Moscow, where I live and study now, is supposed to be a city of prospects and possibilities, or so I am told. For one, I am ready to explore all of them and seize my chances. I always bet on black. I make spontaneous decisions without properly weighing all sides to the matter. When I met the love of my life, my initial reaction was fear and self-consciousness. He was older, smarter, funnier – cutting to the chase, out of my league. Between two options - settling for someone else or setting out on a journey of personal development - I chose neither and treated the situation as a challenge. My inner controversial self craved for acknowledgement of its existence, so I caved and made a move. By a happy coincidence, this man was keen on riddles and brainteasers, which helped him tolerate the nuisance of… well, me. This way, out of stubbornness and maybe just a pinch of sheer stupidity, I have found a companion in life and a mind as bizarre and curious as my own. I always bet on black. As Tennessee Williams put it, ‘Luck is believing that you are lucky'. To some extent it is true, and I am proud that the way I have navigated through life is mine, if not good or decent. I have always been keen on marking my own path, and I take joy in reminiscing of how I embarrassed myself or made stupid mistakes along the way. After all, it truly is marvelous that each turn we take on the road leads us to who we are. As for me, by far I have only learnt one thing for sure. I will always bet on black.