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- Denis Giles
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Many, many decades ago, while riding my motorbike as a teenager, I crashed into a car and was badly injured. At least the blood all over made others feel I was terribly hurt and the ones in the car, who were actually mechanics and were testing the brakes of the car they had just repaired, took me to the nearest hospital.
The lady doctor took one look at me, and cried out, “We can’t do anything!”
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- Denis Giles
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In the good old days when kings sat in their castles and sent their men into battle, quite often, guards from his fort watchtowers would shout, “Lone horseman riding to the fort!” And soon, they would identify him through his banner as one of their own, coming from the battlefield and let him in, where tired and exhausted he would be led directly to the king.
“We have lost the battle your majesty!” he would blurt out and quite often in his rage, the king would in a fit of temper draw his sword to kill the man.
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- Denis Giles
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I wrote this as I sat at a home for the aged and someone I'd come to meet over there hadn't turned up so I had a little time, and I pulled my iPad out and started to write.
‘As I look up I see the most serious activity going on; a number of old ladies from the same home are involved in cutting vegetables. I think it is a voluntary job, but the commitment, the concentration I see is admirable. Each vegetable is meticulously cut. Not for them the pleasures of conversation, not for them chatting on a mobile, they are enjoying their work and more than ever I think, enjoying the fact they are still useful!
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- Denis Giles
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His name was Kumar and he was my best friend in school. A little fellow, compared to me, who was lean and lanky, he was short and squat.
Kumar was a fighter, he could knock out any guy in class, and most kept away from his tough hands. But one sport he wasn’t good at was high jump.
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- Denis Giles
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Many years ago God gave my wife and me a wonderful anniversary gift. Our younger daughter had been selected for the Miss University contest. She was only sixteen, the youngest among a group of eighteen, nineteen and twenty one year olds. There had been two thousand applicants, narrowed down to two hundred, and now eighteen stood on stage, with TV cameras and spotlight on them. “Tell us about yourselves,” said one of the judges into the mike, and I watched as the beautiful models walked down the ramp then turned to the MC, and said their bit.