February

Ten of us today and four stories each received two votes. 

Next month "I didn't even"

Jennies
More Than Two by Jenny Day

I have only recently owned up to my sister, Joyce, although why she seemed to be surprised I don't know. How could she not know it was me who wrote all the numbers on the toilet wall and for which she got the blame; after all, there weren't more than two of us children! I suppose I must have been about five and she was seven.

We lived in a Victorian house owned by a local bakery.  What should have been the front room was the baker's shop.  Outside, at the rear of the house, was a toilet for  the use of the shop lady.  At the end of the war some loos were quite grim and this one was no exception.  It had a wooden boxed seat and whitewashed walls,   absolutely ideal for writing on when you're five years old and just learning your alphabet and numbers!  My sister was always regarded as more clever than me, so credit for the writing was unfortunately given to her!  I don't remember the punishment; I'm sure it would have been Mum shouting at her.  Mum didn't smack us - just shouted, and that was enough - I hated it when Mum shouted.  Funny thing is, when I had my own children, the roles were reversed and she hated me doing the shouting!

I loved living in that house; it had so much character.  The front door was on the  side and when you stepped in there was barely enough room to get round the door. The stairs went straight up in front of you, so we always used the back door, which was still on the side.  We entered via the scullery and then into the kitchen.  This room was our living room-cum-dining room.

A large black range went through from the scullery into the kitchen, providing both heating and cooking.  In the corner of the scullery, next to the range, was a concrete copper heated from beneath by wood or coal.  In time, the kitchen range was replaced by an open fire and the scullery gained a gas stove.

Because of the design of the house being on the side, you would ascend the main staircase and, once at the top, either turn right up three steps and go along a dark, eerie passage to a small bathroom and the back bedroom, or turn left and left again, up three stairs to a small landing with a large room over the shop on the right or, on the left, a bedroom over the kitchen.  The banisters were beautiful and large, and perfect for "riding".

I remember using this front room as a sitting room and, although it was very big, it was cosy, with a fire in there.  It overlooked the shop front which was always busy, especially mornings, so there was lots to watch.  Once my sister and I grew older, we had our own rooms and Mum and Dad had the front room converted into their bedroom. 

The entrance to the property had a double green gate with a heavy metal latch, fronting a long gravel path wide enough for a motor vehicle, which led to the rear of the property and a huge galvanised garage, which may have originally been a barn.

We always knew when we had visitors because of the footsteps on the gravel and, as Joyce and I grew older, it was very difficult to sneak in late at night undetected!  My goodness, that telltale sideway seemed so long - bit like my story!

Pat's

MORE THAN TWO

Can we do more than one thing at a time successfully? I think we can. Here are a few examples...

Watching TV whilst knitting.

Walking and talking.

Riding a bicycle and texting, yes, we've all seen them.

Driving a large lorry whilst reading a map, spotted from my seat on a coach...not a good idea.

How about reading an absorbing book and eating chocolates?Heaven.

Crying and laughing, we all experience that at some point.

Then there’s ironing and listening to the radio.

Watching TV while sleeping, does that count?

Juggling triplets, that’s three things,

Being on a diet and cheating.

Going on holiday with the family and thinking all the time about your lover.

Catching the eye of a shoplifter, then freezing.

Smiling politicians who shake your hand while ripping you off.

I could go on, but...

How about cooking, drinking sherry and watching TV, now that’s more than two!

Brian's

MORE THAN TWO.

Daisies on the lawn. Only one or two but they were there. A Periwinkle, no it can't be. But down in the shade almost on the ground that little blue flower. The garden was beginning to wake up.

The man next door ( we called him Mr. Dumper.) used his as a dumping ground for all sorts of things. There were old pieces of timber , bits of old cars, beds, mattress , huge piles of old newspapers and cardboard, paints pots, and there was even an old large heavy lawn roller. Why he had that, heaven knows. For there was not a blade of grass in his garden, but lots of tall dead weeds,

In one corner were three old rusting 45 gallon oil barrels. Some of the oil had started to leak all over the ground, and seeping into the garden of the young couple next door to him, a Mr & Mrs Don Shrive, they have a little girl about six months old. In nice warm days they would put the baby pram in the garden.

One day about a week ago. I heard raised voices out the back, being inquisitive, I went out to see what was going on. There was Old Mr. Dumper and Don having a right shouting match about the oil seeping in to his garden.

“ You silly old man, yelled Don “ you had better fix this, you are a menace to the neighbourhood, if you don't do it soon, I will report this to the council” with that Don went off.

A few days later, Don knocked on my door, and said he has had enough, as the weather was going to get warmer, the flies would get worse than they are now.

Also they could not put the pram out, as he found the the rats were getting bolder. He has reported the matter to the council, and they will sent someone out to have a look.

Two days later, the man from the council came to see Mr Dumper, he knocked on his front door about seven times, with no luck. He then tried to open the side gate ,again no luck. I know that it has two bolts on the inside

The council man said he name was John Blades, from the department of health. Asked me if he could come into my garden and look over the fence to Mr. Dumper's garden, which he did. Then he took a series of photo's .

“My God, I haven’t seen one as bad as this, it must have been going on for years.

It will take a day or two to get an court order to get into the property.”

With that he left, and put a notice on Mr Dumper's door.

It was three days later, four men from the council arrived with a large and smaller pick up trucks. Before they started work the foreman asked if he could have a look over our fence so he could get an idea of what was involved and where to start.

“ Bloody Hell, I think we our going to need MORE THAN TWO trucks,

At the bottom of the old man’s garden the rubbish was over FIVE FEET high,

As the men started to dig in to the pile, the smell was so bad they stopped, to put mask on their faces, All at once one of the men dropped his fork he was using and shouted, “Jesus Christ, Boss come and have a look at this”

There at his feet was a human skull and a arm bone.

SO DO YOU KNOW WHAT IS IN YOUR NEIGHBOURS GARDEN?

Joan Read's 
Click to enlarge.