Ann's story covered the second world war where Joe spent most of it as a prisoner of war before returning to his family. Rosemary told of all the effort to arrange her mothers beans to find out later it was bind weed. Pat gave an account of being raided while taking a shower. Brian told us of the time when Spaniards raided our coast line kidnapping and killing but not burning down village pubs that supplied them with drink. Sheila all about the pleasure of gardening. John's tale about the bad lad Billy and his horrible fate. Sue cleaning up for the arrival of the creative writing group. Joan Read about a sister named April because she was born on first of that month. Joan all about the delights of gardening.
Two winners this month Sally and yours truly.
Sally's story
Curled around, plenty of scope here I thought but that was two weeks ago when things were different. Since then I had an eye test and the Optician told me my cataracts had
worsened and a nerve from behind my ear was the cause of pain down my jaw and face.
Next day I awoke with a bruised and swollen right eye. I was unable to wear glasses
because they were the cause of the pain.
I looked out of the window and saw this thing on the concrete outside, it was a dirty white
colour and it looked like something a dog had deposited. I cannot cope with that right now and I hoped that one of my sons would visit me later and remove it
Meantime I had to telephone the singers and let them know that one of the songs that we
would be singing in August for the U3A, was going to be on TV later today.
I rang about three singers, no problem. Then the next two the answer phones politely
asked me to leave a message. As it was Sunday morning I knew the next two singers
would be in Church. So I tried the next number and a young man answered and by this time I was struggling with eye strain and I had forgotten who it was that I called.
So I said “Could you please tell me who I am speaking to?” He replied. “Who do you wish to speak to?” There was a long pause and I said,” I don’t know“. There was silence. “Is there someone there that sings?” I said timidly. “Oh do you want Bernard? Dad someone for you” he called.
Oh! We did laugh about it.
I looked out at ‘the thing’ again, this time it looked like a thick stick without the bark curled around it, perhaps a dog had got fed up carrying it and dropped it.. So I got on with my French homework.
When I read out my French homework to the class I was quite pleased with it. I answered any relative questions and I was relieved when it was over. Then one of my friends who adores her cat talked about his lovely little habits and then it came too question time. I asked her if her cat had been muted instead of neutered so consequently I had silenced him instead of asking if he had had the snip. The French teacher was delighted with this malapropism and asked if she could use it. My day was in ruins.
I went home feeling dejected, and looked out of the window at ‘the thing’ and it had changed dramatically. I was keeping a friend up to date with ‘the thing’ so I rang her and said “It looks like an animal foetus I can see three bent legs an ear and two brown eyes. The skin is shredding from it in little patches.”
Just then a knock came to the door and the warden came in to have a chat. So I told her
about ‘the thing’ on the step and as she went out to look at it. I offered her a bag as protection for her hand. “What is it?” I asked. “A rather large piece of grubby tissue“ she replied as she picked it up. “How long have you been worried about that?
Sure enough where it was twisted and dirty in places it did look as if it had legs and two eyes. It is not my fault I am getting old.
My Story
Curled Around
Liz's finger curled around her wedding ring and gently moved it up and down as she studied the flour spotted recipe book open at a menu for making little frosty iced cakes. "Butter, for greasing 1 quantity Easy apple fruit cake, uncooked, 2 tbsp apricot jam 500g pack natural marzipan 500g pack ready-to-roll white icing 16 fresh cranberries, bunch rosemary , broken into small fronds". "What did that mean, never mind all will become clear" she thought., "50g caster sugar 1 egg white 50g icing sugar approx 1m gold ribbon".. She had all the ingredients. Just then a groan came from the lounge followed by another even louder groan of despair. Liz dusted her hands and went into the other room. Her husband John was lying on the sofa where he had plonked himself down after a terrible night of discomfort. He certainly looked unwell and his face pinched from the pain and his colour a tinge of yellow. "I've called for an ambulance" he said dropping the phone onto the floor. Liz picked it up and put it on the sideboard. "What did the doctor say" Liz said. John cursed aloud "I said I called for an ambulance I didn't speak to the doctor."
"I don't expect they will be long then" Liz said and went back into the kitchen tomorrow the grandchildren were coming around for tea. That was Lucy and Miranda and her mother Lilian so she would need a lot of cakes. "Heat oven to 180C/fan 160C/gas 4.Done that now what next Butter eight 150ml ramekins and line the bottoms with circles of non-stick baking paper. Divide the cake mix between the ramekins, transfer to a baking sheet and slide into the oven. Bake for 30 mins until springy and dark golden brown". A loud knocking on the front door interrupted her work. "Who could that be?", she thought. "Let them in Liz" John moaned, " I can't get up."
Liz made her way to the front door brushing her hair back as she went giving her a rather dusty appearance.. The two burly ambulance men moved swiftly in carrying a collapsible stretcher. "Where is he? "In there on the settee." Liz left them and returned to the kitchen.
"Melt the jam with 1 tbsp water and brush over the top of the cakes. Lightly knead the marzipan and shape eight golf ball-sized pieces." Liz was not familiar with this recipe and it was hard concentrating especially with the interruptions.
One of the men called out for her to come to the lounge where they were about to take John who was now almost comatose out to the ambulance. "Are you coming with him" they asked. "No I can't I have cakes to cook the grandchildren are coming for tea tomorrow." Both paramedics looked at each other and one said "OK Mrs we'll be off then. I expect you'll see him later then." "Oh yes I'll come later tell him I'll bring some of the cakes ."
She closed the door after them and returned to the kitchen her fingers absently plucked at her wedding ring she glanced at the offending object and then smiling she pulled it off her finger and placed it on the drainer. It was such a relief.
Next month "Tried to explain" 30th April
Monday, 26 March 2012
Monday, 27 February 2012
27th February
At John's today all 10 of us, 9 with stories and one with a joke as he could not think of a story even though he had a whole month to do it. Still it was a good joke if I can remember it.
A husband thought his wife didn't care much for him, when he suffered a heart attack she wrote off for an ambulance.
Nil points in a French accent.
Sue being last month's winner started the ball rolling with memories of horrific bloodshed and ambulances during the war. Joan Read a second start for Christopher. John fresh back from far distant lands recounted a story about Arabs and black gold. Ann's story involved a fallen tree. Sheila a boy who felt proud when he let an ambulance go by.
Pat was seeing fairies in a river clinging for their lives from rising flood water and a large dog's mouth. Joan gave us brief history of ambulances.
Sometimes I think I'll win this month as my story seemed so good to me and then get no votes today when I wasn't impressed and almost started another story I win outright.
Next month 26th March and the story is about "curled around"
The ambulance
Jim hated flies, he killed them with a well aimed blows of a rolled newspaper if he didn't have a fly spray handy or his fly swatter. Never did know why he was so fixated and nor did he know. The first time I met him was when sitting in the college food hall I felt a blow on my back I turned in surprise to find a red faced over weight youngster swatting a fly that had flown near my neck. He did apologise for hitting me so I forgave him and asked why was he worried about one fly. One fly is too many he said still determined to finish off the now downed flyer. Whack he hit once again and gave me a triumphant grin. He introduced himself I told him my name was Dave and we hit it off right away. He had the same interests as myself mostly into sport and despite his seemingly over weight appearance he was good at most sports although football was his main one.
He seemed normal enough in most things except for his intolerance of flies. I met his family later on when we went to his house, a large mansion compared to my own home. His parents who were both accountants were very up tight and the house was spotless even when I unexpectedly went with Jim so perhaps that is why he had this quirk in his personality.
It wasn't the last time he caused chaos chasing a fly. We went together to a bowling alley once for an afternoon's entertainment and that turned out different to what we expected. We met up with some other lads from the college, not ones I would normally keep company, they were to say somewhat quick to take offence and as we were beating them it looked as though things might turn rough. Jim by then had worked up a sweat and became a target for a persistent house fly turning Jim from being laid back to a volcano of action as he swiped and swatted like an angry desperate twirling dervish. The meanest of the other players took umbrage and pushed Jim over and that led to a real brawl as I joined in. It was quite good fun until the manager and two burly stewards ushered us out of the premises with the instructions never to set foot in there again.
Today I was outside Jim's house I came over to see him as he hadn't gone to school and I heard that he was sick. I was in time to see an ambulance with the doors open parked in the driveway. Just then the ambulance attendants brought out a very sick Jim on a stretcher followed by both parents who looked desperately worried
What happened to Jimmy I asked is he going to be all right.
His mother gave a hurried explanation, she explained her son had gone down with a fever two days ago and it had got worse during the day and the para medic had confirmed that his fever was caused by a septic bite from a horsefly.
A husband thought his wife didn't care much for him, when he suffered a heart attack she wrote off for an ambulance.
Nil points in a French accent.
Sue being last month's winner started the ball rolling with memories of horrific bloodshed and ambulances during the war. Joan Read a second start for Christopher. John fresh back from far distant lands recounted a story about Arabs and black gold. Ann's story involved a fallen tree. Sheila a boy who felt proud when he let an ambulance go by.
Pat was seeing fairies in a river clinging for their lives from rising flood water and a large dog's mouth. Joan gave us brief history of ambulances.
Sometimes I think I'll win this month as my story seemed so good to me and then get no votes today when I wasn't impressed and almost started another story I win outright.
Next month 26th March and the story is about "curled around"
The ambulance
Jim hated flies, he killed them with a well aimed blows of a rolled newspaper if he didn't have a fly spray handy or his fly swatter. Never did know why he was so fixated and nor did he know. The first time I met him was when sitting in the college food hall I felt a blow on my back I turned in surprise to find a red faced over weight youngster swatting a fly that had flown near my neck. He did apologise for hitting me so I forgave him and asked why was he worried about one fly. One fly is too many he said still determined to finish off the now downed flyer. Whack he hit once again and gave me a triumphant grin. He introduced himself I told him my name was Dave and we hit it off right away. He had the same interests as myself mostly into sport and despite his seemingly over weight appearance he was good at most sports although football was his main one.
He seemed normal enough in most things except for his intolerance of flies. I met his family later on when we went to his house, a large mansion compared to my own home. His parents who were both accountants were very up tight and the house was spotless even when I unexpectedly went with Jim so perhaps that is why he had this quirk in his personality.
It wasn't the last time he caused chaos chasing a fly. We went together to a bowling alley once for an afternoon's entertainment and that turned out different to what we expected. We met up with some other lads from the college, not ones I would normally keep company, they were to say somewhat quick to take offence and as we were beating them it looked as though things might turn rough. Jim by then had worked up a sweat and became a target for a persistent house fly turning Jim from being laid back to a volcano of action as he swiped and swatted like an angry desperate twirling dervish. The meanest of the other players took umbrage and pushed Jim over and that led to a real brawl as I joined in. It was quite good fun until the manager and two burly stewards ushered us out of the premises with the instructions never to set foot in there again.
Today I was outside Jim's house I came over to see him as he hadn't gone to school and I heard that he was sick. I was in time to see an ambulance with the doors open parked in the driveway. Just then the ambulance attendants brought out a very sick Jim on a stretcher followed by both parents who looked desperately worried
What happened to Jimmy I asked is he going to be all right.
His mother gave a hurried explanation, she explained her son had gone down with a fever two days ago and it had got worse during the day and the para medic had confirmed that his fever was caused by a septic bite from a horsefly.
Monday, 23 January 2012
23rd January 2012
Full house eleven in all and many different stories but four votes for Sue made that the best story.
John started with a story of Abdul coming to the UK and serving us ready meals as an alien. This was prompted by the recent story of the main Chinese restaurant in Lyndhurst found to be employing five aliens and being fined.
Joan Read related the confusing instruction with computers, My story was about an Eureka moment. Joan, a tale told about the end of war as experienced in the country. Rosemary a sad story of a girl's father committing murder - that wasn't as it seemed. Brian his early adventures as a merchant seaman. Ann a life time story and the retirement present of the reunion of his brother. Sally continued with the childhood sweethearts and their forbidden romance. Pat recounted the story of a girl going missing in a foreign country. Sheila about her early experience of starting work and how older workers ignored her. Sue's story is here:
‘YOU GET THAT …’
“You get that, you loser? I’ll be back for the cash at closing time, so you’d better tell your old man to have it ready.” With these threatening words, he turned and thrust his way out of the shop, kicking over one of the displays of tins as he went, leaving them scattered over the floor.
Gerry stared, mesmerised, at the rolling tins. What was he to do – they didn’t have the money Ginger had demanded for so-called protection? He wasn’t too bothered about Ginger, but he knew he was only collecting for the Big Man – and he was scared to death of him. He’d seen what he’d done to his Dad when he’d tried to stand up to him. Dad now sported a scar down one side of his face, pulling his eye down at the corner, and walked with a permanent limp. He wasn’t much good in the shop since then, either, so here Gerry was, in the front line, so to speak.
The more he thought what he should do, picturing his Mum and Dad in their flat above the shop, trying to make ends meet, the angrier he became. As he served his regular customers, speaking cheerfully to them and wishing them a “Good day”, he seethed inside until, during a lull at dinner time, he let out an explosive breath and used a swear word his mother would have blanched at, then spun about, put the closed sign on the door and lifted the receiver of the phone at the back of the shop. He’d cook their goose, he would!
He dialled the Big Man’s number and when he answered, put on his most intimidating voice and, after saying who he was, continued, “If you want to do a deal, you’d better come down here yourself. I’ll only deal with the organ grinder, not his pet monkey!” It’ll be in your best interests and’ll be the turning point in your life, I can assure you.”
Much to Gerry’s amazement, the Big Man agreed and a time was set, just before Ginger was due to return.
Gerry set about laying the groundwork for this momentous meeting, meticulously rehearsing what he would say and do. He hadn’t much time and the shop remained closed while he made his preparations. Eventually, all was ready to his satisfaction and he reopened the shop, everything returning to its normal routine.
As closing time approached, Gerry saw a large black car draw up and a burly man levered himself out. He had on a long camel coat and a black homburg hat. He sported a black moustache and puffed on a huge cigar as he strolled towards the shop door. One hand was thrust into his coat pocket, which bulged ominously. Fortunately there were no customers, so Gerry rushed to the door, flipped the sign to ‘closed’ once more and ushered the Big Man in, closing the door behind him.
Then Gerry proceeded to bow and scrape his way backwards to the counter and the till, stuttering and stammering as he went. The Big Man just said, “Don’t mess with me or you’ll be sorry. What was your wonderful plan for making me more money, then, punk? Come on, give me the money first, then we’ll see whether you’re just as much a loser as your old man.”
Gerry saw, out of the corner of his eye, that Ginger was now approaching the shop door, so he stuttered and pointed, edging round the counter once more, to open the door. He then closed and locked it, returning again to the back of the shop and opening the till which gave its customary “ping”.
This was the signal everyone had been waiting for. The door into the back room flew open and three men charged out, two of them police officers, truncheons at the ready, and the third in plain clothes. The latter shouted, “Okay boys, grab them,” to his men, then addressed the Big Man.
“We’ve been trying to catch you for the past three years.” He waved a small recording machine at him as he said, “Now we’ve got the proof we need and I think you’ll be behind bars for a pretty long stretch. We can shut your whole operation down now and leave the local shopkeepers to make an honest living without your so-called protection.” The Big Man and his accomplice, looking angry, disbelieving, then crestfallen by turns, were handcuffed and led away by the two policemen, as Gerry held open the door for them, starting to shake as the full implications of what he had done and what might have happened sank in.
Turning to Gerry, Detective Green thrust out his hand. “Well done young man; we’d never have done it without your help. Everyone else was too scared to take any positive steps to end this protection racket. You’ve shown them how it’s done. You were very brave, young man. I’m glad you were helping your Dad out during the holidays. Good luck with your 11+ next term!
John started with a story of Abdul coming to the UK and serving us ready meals as an alien. This was prompted by the recent story of the main Chinese restaurant in Lyndhurst found to be employing five aliens and being fined.
Joan Read related the confusing instruction with computers, My story was about an Eureka moment. Joan, a tale told about the end of war as experienced in the country. Rosemary a sad story of a girl's father committing murder - that wasn't as it seemed. Brian his early adventures as a merchant seaman. Ann a life time story and the retirement present of the reunion of his brother. Sally continued with the childhood sweethearts and their forbidden romance. Pat recounted the story of a girl going missing in a foreign country. Sheila about her early experience of starting work and how older workers ignored her. Sue's story is here:
‘YOU GET THAT …’
“You get that, you loser? I’ll be back for the cash at closing time, so you’d better tell your old man to have it ready.” With these threatening words, he turned and thrust his way out of the shop, kicking over one of the displays of tins as he went, leaving them scattered over the floor.
Gerry stared, mesmerised, at the rolling tins. What was he to do – they didn’t have the money Ginger had demanded for so-called protection? He wasn’t too bothered about Ginger, but he knew he was only collecting for the Big Man – and he was scared to death of him. He’d seen what he’d done to his Dad when he’d tried to stand up to him. Dad now sported a scar down one side of his face, pulling his eye down at the corner, and walked with a permanent limp. He wasn’t much good in the shop since then, either, so here Gerry was, in the front line, so to speak.
The more he thought what he should do, picturing his Mum and Dad in their flat above the shop, trying to make ends meet, the angrier he became. As he served his regular customers, speaking cheerfully to them and wishing them a “Good day”, he seethed inside until, during a lull at dinner time, he let out an explosive breath and used a swear word his mother would have blanched at, then spun about, put the closed sign on the door and lifted the receiver of the phone at the back of the shop. He’d cook their goose, he would!
He dialled the Big Man’s number and when he answered, put on his most intimidating voice and, after saying who he was, continued, “If you want to do a deal, you’d better come down here yourself. I’ll only deal with the organ grinder, not his pet monkey!” It’ll be in your best interests and’ll be the turning point in your life, I can assure you.”
Much to Gerry’s amazement, the Big Man agreed and a time was set, just before Ginger was due to return.
Gerry set about laying the groundwork for this momentous meeting, meticulously rehearsing what he would say and do. He hadn’t much time and the shop remained closed while he made his preparations. Eventually, all was ready to his satisfaction and he reopened the shop, everything returning to its normal routine.
As closing time approached, Gerry saw a large black car draw up and a burly man levered himself out. He had on a long camel coat and a black homburg hat. He sported a black moustache and puffed on a huge cigar as he strolled towards the shop door. One hand was thrust into his coat pocket, which bulged ominously. Fortunately there were no customers, so Gerry rushed to the door, flipped the sign to ‘closed’ once more and ushered the Big Man in, closing the door behind him.
Then Gerry proceeded to bow and scrape his way backwards to the counter and the till, stuttering and stammering as he went. The Big Man just said, “Don’t mess with me or you’ll be sorry. What was your wonderful plan for making me more money, then, punk? Come on, give me the money first, then we’ll see whether you’re just as much a loser as your old man.”
Gerry saw, out of the corner of his eye, that Ginger was now approaching the shop door, so he stuttered and pointed, edging round the counter once more, to open the door. He then closed and locked it, returning again to the back of the shop and opening the till which gave its customary “ping”.
This was the signal everyone had been waiting for. The door into the back room flew open and three men charged out, two of them police officers, truncheons at the ready, and the third in plain clothes. The latter shouted, “Okay boys, grab them,” to his men, then addressed the Big Man.
“We’ve been trying to catch you for the past three years.” He waved a small recording machine at him as he said, “Now we’ve got the proof we need and I think you’ll be behind bars for a pretty long stretch. We can shut your whole operation down now and leave the local shopkeepers to make an honest living without your so-called protection.” The Big Man and his accomplice, looking angry, disbelieving, then crestfallen by turns, were handcuffed and led away by the two policemen, as Gerry held open the door for them, starting to shake as the full implications of what he had done and what might have happened sank in.
Turning to Gerry, Detective Green thrust out his hand. “Well done young man; we’d never have done it without your help. Everyone else was too scared to take any positive steps to end this protection racket. You’ve shown them how it’s done. You were very brave, young man. I’m glad you were helping your Dad out during the holidays. Good luck with your 11+ next term!
Monday, 28 November 2011
28th November
At Jack & Joan's today on a frosty morning. A pleasant get together with everybody in seemingly a good mood or was it me because my story was voted the best?
I started the ball rolling by reading Sally's out as she was unable to make it due to getting a seasonal cold. The story was reflection of times gone by when the local priest held the village community in fear with tales of sinning and its punishment. Brian then told of more vicars with the dilemma of what to do when the confession is of murder. Perhaps you will tell us in January how he solved it?
Rosemary told us about the joys of a school reunion with an annoying successful pupil dismissing all other achievements with a disdainful "How interesting".
Ann read out a story about a cheap caravan holiday that was just that cheap and nasty but gave amusement in later years by the laughter at the funny side.
Joan Read solved giving Christmas presents by giving to Oxfam. John told of a pushy mother who ended up by being a victim of matricide.
Sheila took us on seaside holiday with ice creams and play for the OAPs. Sue's was a romantic tale about meeting an old school fiend and finding out how they now liked each other. Pat left us in the air about what happened to the money left in the tree.
Joan E told of the renovation of a derelict cottage for community use
Here is my masterpiece, well it did make them laugh.
The Rest
Writing can be a dangerous pastime for some authors with too much imagination. I was warned many years ago of this and I have to tell you it is true. I'm just glad I do not write satanic novels. I began the following story as I normally do with little thought about how it will end.
I wrote.
John Smith smiled as he looked out of the window of his semidetached 1930's house at the sight of the postman making his way briskly up the street towards him. Stopping at the neighbours house first with a bundle of letters. John went to the front door and waited but he was disappointed, just the gas bill and an advert for generating your own free electricity for 25 years came through the door flap. "It didn't come Jean," he called out to his wife who was working in the kitchen. "Never mind love," she called, "it will, you just have to have patience." John was not the man to have patience though and felt depressed at not receiving the expected package from Amazon. "You should have paid for first class delivery then you would have got it yesterday." "Yes I know," John mumbled, "but we can't throw away money like that, as he looked down at the threadbare carpet."
"I don't know why you wanted it really" she said, "there so many other things we want, to spend a £100 on books is a bit daft." "I'm not" he protested "it will save me money with a Kindle book Reader I can download hundreds of books, many for nothing. It will save me money over a year or so." Jean was not impressed. "If you bought me a knitting machine I could save even more by knitting jumpers for everybody. The girls get through so many where they keep growing."
"Yes but the machines cost hundreds and anyway you can buy pullovers, woollen things cheaper in Primemark's a lot cheaper than you can knit any."
"It's not the same though" Jean replied drying her hands from having washed all the morning breakfast things. Both of the girls had already left for school, the Crampton school for girls at the end of the road. Jean didn't mind really, John loved all electronic gadgets and as he rarely spent money on himself an occasional outlay that kept him happy was fine by her.
It was November and John a fireman had worked extra shifts during the last week and now had two days off to make up He enjoyed the break from work.
That was as far as I got with the story, still with no clear idea of the plot when something staggering happened . In my mind the scene became real Jean and John were together in the hall both looking at me as if they knew I was creating them and they were waiting for me to continue to give them life. I stared at them and I could hear their tiny voices shouting what do we do now? Even Benji the terrier awoke from his basket in the kitchen to join in with shrill barking towards me. It's big eyes imploring my attention.
I can't remember anymore some say I smashed the typewriter and tore out the page. That is all I can tell you for now, you will have to wait for the rest as the nurse has come with the pink pills.
I started the ball rolling by reading Sally's out as she was unable to make it due to getting a seasonal cold. The story was reflection of times gone by when the local priest held the village community in fear with tales of sinning and its punishment. Brian then told of more vicars with the dilemma of what to do when the confession is of murder. Perhaps you will tell us in January how he solved it?
Rosemary told us about the joys of a school reunion with an annoying successful pupil dismissing all other achievements with a disdainful "How interesting".
Ann read out a story about a cheap caravan holiday that was just that cheap and nasty but gave amusement in later years by the laughter at the funny side.
Joan Read solved giving Christmas presents by giving to Oxfam. John told of a pushy mother who ended up by being a victim of matricide.
Sheila took us on seaside holiday with ice creams and play for the OAPs. Sue's was a romantic tale about meeting an old school fiend and finding out how they now liked each other. Pat left us in the air about what happened to the money left in the tree.
Joan E told of the renovation of a derelict cottage for community use
Here is my masterpiece, well it did make them laugh.
The Rest
Writing can be a dangerous pastime for some authors with too much imagination. I was warned many years ago of this and I have to tell you it is true. I'm just glad I do not write satanic novels. I began the following story as I normally do with little thought about how it will end.
I wrote.
John Smith smiled as he looked out of the window of his semidetached 1930's house at the sight of the postman making his way briskly up the street towards him. Stopping at the neighbours house first with a bundle of letters. John went to the front door and waited but he was disappointed, just the gas bill and an advert for generating your own free electricity for 25 years came through the door flap. "It didn't come Jean," he called out to his wife who was working in the kitchen. "Never mind love," she called, "it will, you just have to have patience." John was not the man to have patience though and felt depressed at not receiving the expected package from Amazon. "You should have paid for first class delivery then you would have got it yesterday." "Yes I know," John mumbled, "but we can't throw away money like that, as he looked down at the threadbare carpet."
"I don't know why you wanted it really" she said, "there so many other things we want, to spend a £100 on books is a bit daft." "I'm not" he protested "it will save me money with a Kindle book Reader I can download hundreds of books, many for nothing. It will save me money over a year or so." Jean was not impressed. "If you bought me a knitting machine I could save even more by knitting jumpers for everybody. The girls get through so many where they keep growing."
"Yes but the machines cost hundreds and anyway you can buy pullovers, woollen things cheaper in Primemark's a lot cheaper than you can knit any."
"It's not the same though" Jean replied drying her hands from having washed all the morning breakfast things. Both of the girls had already left for school, the Crampton school for girls at the end of the road. Jean didn't mind really, John loved all electronic gadgets and as he rarely spent money on himself an occasional outlay that kept him happy was fine by her.
It was November and John a fireman had worked extra shifts during the last week and now had two days off to make up He enjoyed the break from work.
That was as far as I got with the story, still with no clear idea of the plot when something staggering happened . In my mind the scene became real Jean and John were together in the hall both looking at me as if they knew I was creating them and they were waiting for me to continue to give them life. I stared at them and I could hear their tiny voices shouting what do we do now? Even Benji the terrier awoke from his basket in the kitchen to join in with shrill barking towards me. It's big eyes imploring my attention.
I can't remember anymore some say I smashed the typewriter and tore out the page. That is all I can tell you for now, you will have to wait for the rest as the nurse has come with the pink pills.
Monday, 24 October 2011
24th October
Two guests today Carol and Ann who are the second Creative Writing Group. They came to see how we did it not sure if they were impressed with our little attempt to produce works of literature. Pat was voted the best and her story appears at the end of this writeup.
John's offering was a girl choosing to be a model rather than train as a doctor. Sheila about inventions. Joan R recounted a chilly tale of murder and a physic who dreamed about it. Brian an historical story about the Saracens. Mine was about the madness of power seeking. Joan E about the detail of care needed to prepare an animal for a County Show. Rosemarie of bones left in the garden might incriminate. Ann B a Guy Fawkes dressed in old clothes. Carol a Christmas blessing of a turkey. Ann's tale was a major story about a scheming wife who killed off her two husbands.
The Body
They watched her -with sideways glances as she withdrew her ancient plastic needles with large wooden knobs from her battered bag.
It was the beginning of winter, and Mrs. Biscuit had decided to join the a knitting group. Now, these ladies had been knitting for many years, almost professionals.
Mrs. Biscuit had not taken up her needles in many a year. She bustled in, hair flying, coat flapping and sat down. "Mrs. Biscuit" one of the ladies asked "why, as your name is Charlotte, are you called Choc "? She gave her a blank stare, the others giggled. There was no answer, so she didn't.
The tattered pattern was barely legible. Cast on 6sts, increase each row until you have 26sts. Right...cast off, cast on, cast off again, it was most peculiar. After an hour she cast off the final stitches and spread the unruly shapeless piece on the table. It rather resembled an octopus. No comments from the "professionals ". Match the markings the pattern commanded and stitch carefully together. Begin stuffing evenly. This she did and spread it on the table, this time it resembled a worm and there were stifled snickers all around, "and this is? " someone asked. Why, its the body she replied.
The next week they all gathered at the appointed place. The needles flashed and many items were produced, the object being an early Christmas sale for their chosen
charity.
Choc Biscuit plodded onward. She now had the body, 2 feet, 2 wings 1 beak, 2 eyes and a bonnet. The cape had yet to be completed. It was a beautiful shade of pink and she idly thought about knitting a jumper when this was all behind her. Finally, the feet were attached to the body and the other odd shapes were stitched in their appointed spots. It was finished! She proudly stood it on the table and immediately it fell forward on its beak, pushing it sideways with the larger eye staring upwards. There were chuckles all around. Oh no, it refuses to stand up. What's to be done?
" Weights ", her husband said later. Old curtain weights were duly stitched somewhere we won't mention, on went the fringed cape, hey presto, all was well.
It was the day of the sale and heaps of beautifully knitted items were displayed on a table. Choc's Jemima Puddleduck was proudly standing up right in front. Although the beak was off kilter and it had a lop sided grin, it wasn't bad.
Then, in walked a lady she hadn't seen before and took the most perfectly executed
Jemima Puddleduck from her bag, and stood it next to Chocs. How could she?
The crowds of shoppers entered as soon as the doors opened. A little red headed girl with braces on her teeth cried "Mummy, Mummy " I want that one, and took hold of Choc's Jemima around the neck. "Look" she cried " its not beautiful like all the others, its just like me ".
John's offering was a girl choosing to be a model rather than train as a doctor. Sheila about inventions. Joan R recounted a chilly tale of murder and a physic who dreamed about it. Brian an historical story about the Saracens. Mine was about the madness of power seeking. Joan E about the detail of care needed to prepare an animal for a County Show. Rosemarie of bones left in the garden might incriminate. Ann B a Guy Fawkes dressed in old clothes. Carol a Christmas blessing of a turkey. Ann's tale was a major story about a scheming wife who killed off her two husbands.
The Body
They watched her -with sideways glances as she withdrew her ancient plastic needles with large wooden knobs from her battered bag.
It was the beginning of winter, and Mrs. Biscuit had decided to join the a knitting group. Now, these ladies had been knitting for many years, almost professionals.
Mrs. Biscuit had not taken up her needles in many a year. She bustled in, hair flying, coat flapping and sat down. "Mrs. Biscuit" one of the ladies asked "why, as your name is Charlotte, are you called Choc "? She gave her a blank stare, the others giggled. There was no answer, so she didn't.
The tattered pattern was barely legible. Cast on 6sts, increase each row until you have 26sts. Right...cast off, cast on, cast off again, it was most peculiar. After an hour she cast off the final stitches and spread the unruly shapeless piece on the table. It rather resembled an octopus. No comments from the "professionals ". Match the markings the pattern commanded and stitch carefully together. Begin stuffing evenly. This she did and spread it on the table, this time it resembled a worm and there were stifled snickers all around, "and this is? " someone asked. Why, its the body she replied.
The next week they all gathered at the appointed place. The needles flashed and many items were produced, the object being an early Christmas sale for their chosen
charity.
Choc Biscuit plodded onward. She now had the body, 2 feet, 2 wings 1 beak, 2 eyes and a bonnet. The cape had yet to be completed. It was a beautiful shade of pink and she idly thought about knitting a jumper when this was all behind her. Finally, the feet were attached to the body and the other odd shapes were stitched in their appointed spots. It was finished! She proudly stood it on the table and immediately it fell forward on its beak, pushing it sideways with the larger eye staring upwards. There were chuckles all around. Oh no, it refuses to stand up. What's to be done?
" Weights ", her husband said later. Old curtain weights were duly stitched somewhere we won't mention, on went the fringed cape, hey presto, all was well.
It was the day of the sale and heaps of beautifully knitted items were displayed on a table. Choc's Jemima Puddleduck was proudly standing up right in front. Although the beak was off kilter and it had a lop sided grin, it wasn't bad.
Then, in walked a lady she hadn't seen before and took the most perfectly executed
Jemima Puddleduck from her bag, and stood it next to Chocs. How could she?
The crowds of shoppers entered as soon as the doors opened. A little red headed girl with braces on her teeth cried "Mummy, Mummy " I want that one, and took hold of Choc's Jemima around the neck. "Look" she cried " its not beautiful like all the others, its just like me ".
Monday, 19 September 2011
19th September
Full attendance today at John and Sheila's with diverse stories. Brian told of the deafening sound of the space shuttle leaving planet Earth. Joan Read's heroine saved by a spirit stag who blocked the way and saved her life. Sue wrote poetry and it was very good about the one. Sheila a story about the trouble writing one. Rosemary recounted a tale of a guide dog and its replacement. Ann told of all the fairies working in the garden. Sally wrote about a Boys Own story of adventure in the desert. I wrote about a tycoon who had it all and was about to lose it. Joan loss of the father and joining the U3A. Pat with creepy crawlies.
John won this week with.
THE ONE.
THE ONLY WAY TO DESCRIBE HER WAS "THE ONE"
SHE WAS VERY MUCH THE SPOILT ONLY CHILD OF JACK AND HIS WIFE LIL, AND THEY SHOWERED THEIR LOVE AND AFFECTION UPON LITTLE PRIMROSE IN ANY WAY THEY COULD. SHE WAS GIVEN THE BEST OF EVERYTHING, NOTHING WAS TOO MUCH FOR THEIR LITTLE DARLING. AS SHE WAS GROWING UP PRIMROSE WAS BLISSFULLY UNAWARE OF THE MANY PITFALLS SHE WAS GOING TO ENCOUNTER, FOR THE SIMPLE REASON THAT MUMMY AND DADDY KEPT HER COCOONED, IN HER OWN LITTLE WORLD. OF COURSE SHE DID HAVE CONTACT WITH OTHER CHILDREN OF HER OWN AGE WHEN SHE STARTED SCHOOL, BUT IT WAS AVERY TOUGH REALISATION FOR HER TO KNOW THAT WHAT SHE WANTED WAS NOT NECESSARILY GOING TO BE ABLE TO ACHIEVE ALL THE TIME. IT MADE FOR A VERY TOUGH AND RUDE AWAKENING FOR THIS YOUNG LADY WHO HAD AND INDEED GOT HER OWN WAY MOST OF THE TIME. THERE WERE TRIPS TO THE SCHOOL BY LIL, WHO WAS MOST INDIGNANT THAT HER ONE AND ONLY LITTLE DARLING WAS NOT HAVING THINGS ALL HER OWN WAY. SHE LET THE STAFF KNOW THAT THEY HAD TO PROTECT AND CARE FOR THE PRECOCIOUS PRIMROSE AT ALL TIMES. NEEDLESS TO SAY LIL BECAME A FAIRLY REGULAR THORN IN THE SIDES OF THE SCHOOL WHO LOST ALL THEIR RESPECT FOR THIS ARROGANT DEMANDING PARENT, AND UNFORTUNATELY COLOURED THEIR FEELINGS FOR THE CHILD, WHO LIVED UP TO THE REPUTATION SHE AQUIRED, WITH A REGULAR SHOW OF PETULENCE, THAT BECAME UNACCEPTABLE. THE HEAD DECIDED THAT PRIMROSE WAS NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO CARRY IN THIS TOTALLY UNACCEPTABLE WAY ANY LONGER, AND CALLED IN THE PARENTS FOR THE INEVITABLE SHOWDOWN. BE REMOVED FROM THE SCHOOL. WITH THIS MUMMY AND DADDY TOOK LEAVE OF THEIR SENSES AND WHAT WAS A VITRIOLIC WAR OF WORDS, SUDDENLY TURNED INTO A PHYSICAL CONFRONTATION, WITH JACK AND LIL ATTACKING THE HEAD, AND TOTALLY TAKING LEAVE OF THEIR SENSES.
THE POLICE WERE CALLED AND THE PARENTS ENDED UP AT THE POLICE STATION, WHERE THEY WERE BOTH CHARGED WITH ASSAULTING THE HEAD.
WHEN THE CASE CAME TO COURT, IT CREATED LURID HEADLINES AND NOT A LITTLE SENSATION. THERE IT WAS FOR ALL TO SEE. " LOCAL VICAR AND HIS WIFE CHARGED WITH ASSAULTING SCHOOL HEAD" IT SAID. WHAT SHAME FOR THE LOCAL DIOCESE.
NOT ONLY WERE THEY BOTH CONVICTED, BUT JACK NOW AWAITED A CONFROTATION WITH HIS BISHOP, AND AN UNCERTAIN FUTURE AS A MEMBER OF THE CLOTH. LITTLE PRIMROSE WOULD NOT REALISE FOR MANY YEARS HOW HER BEHAVIOR AND HER PARENTS STUPIDITY, HAD BEEN SO CATASTROPHIC FOR THEM ALL
John won this week with.
THE ONE.
THE ONLY WAY TO DESCRIBE HER WAS "THE ONE"
SHE WAS VERY MUCH THE SPOILT ONLY CHILD OF JACK AND HIS WIFE LIL, AND THEY SHOWERED THEIR LOVE AND AFFECTION UPON LITTLE PRIMROSE IN ANY WAY THEY COULD. SHE WAS GIVEN THE BEST OF EVERYTHING, NOTHING WAS TOO MUCH FOR THEIR LITTLE DARLING. AS SHE WAS GROWING UP PRIMROSE WAS BLISSFULLY UNAWARE OF THE MANY PITFALLS SHE WAS GOING TO ENCOUNTER, FOR THE SIMPLE REASON THAT MUMMY AND DADDY KEPT HER COCOONED, IN HER OWN LITTLE WORLD. OF COURSE SHE DID HAVE CONTACT WITH OTHER CHILDREN OF HER OWN AGE WHEN SHE STARTED SCHOOL, BUT IT WAS AVERY TOUGH REALISATION FOR HER TO KNOW THAT WHAT SHE WANTED WAS NOT NECESSARILY GOING TO BE ABLE TO ACHIEVE ALL THE TIME. IT MADE FOR A VERY TOUGH AND RUDE AWAKENING FOR THIS YOUNG LADY WHO HAD AND INDEED GOT HER OWN WAY MOST OF THE TIME. THERE WERE TRIPS TO THE SCHOOL BY LIL, WHO WAS MOST INDIGNANT THAT HER ONE AND ONLY LITTLE DARLING WAS NOT HAVING THINGS ALL HER OWN WAY. SHE LET THE STAFF KNOW THAT THEY HAD TO PROTECT AND CARE FOR THE PRECOCIOUS PRIMROSE AT ALL TIMES. NEEDLESS TO SAY LIL BECAME A FAIRLY REGULAR THORN IN THE SIDES OF THE SCHOOL WHO LOST ALL THEIR RESPECT FOR THIS ARROGANT DEMANDING PARENT, AND UNFORTUNATELY COLOURED THEIR FEELINGS FOR THE CHILD, WHO LIVED UP TO THE REPUTATION SHE AQUIRED, WITH A REGULAR SHOW OF PETULENCE, THAT BECAME UNACCEPTABLE. THE HEAD DECIDED THAT PRIMROSE WAS NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO CARRY IN THIS TOTALLY UNACCEPTABLE WAY ANY LONGER, AND CALLED IN THE PARENTS FOR THE INEVITABLE SHOWDOWN. BE REMOVED FROM THE SCHOOL. WITH THIS MUMMY AND DADDY TOOK LEAVE OF THEIR SENSES AND WHAT WAS A VITRIOLIC WAR OF WORDS, SUDDENLY TURNED INTO A PHYSICAL CONFRONTATION, WITH JACK AND LIL ATTACKING THE HEAD, AND TOTALLY TAKING LEAVE OF THEIR SENSES.
THE POLICE WERE CALLED AND THE PARENTS ENDED UP AT THE POLICE STATION, WHERE THEY WERE BOTH CHARGED WITH ASSAULTING THE HEAD.
WHEN THE CASE CAME TO COURT, IT CREATED LURID HEADLINES AND NOT A LITTLE SENSATION. THERE IT WAS FOR ALL TO SEE. " LOCAL VICAR AND HIS WIFE CHARGED WITH ASSAULTING SCHOOL HEAD" IT SAID. WHAT SHAME FOR THE LOCAL DIOCESE.
NOT ONLY WERE THEY BOTH CONVICTED, BUT JACK NOW AWAITED A CONFROTATION WITH HIS BISHOP, AND AN UNCERTAIN FUTURE AS A MEMBER OF THE CLOTH. LITTLE PRIMROSE WOULD NOT REALISE FOR MANY YEARS HOW HER BEHAVIOR AND HER PARENTS STUPIDITY, HAD BEEN SO CATASTROPHIC FOR THEM ALL
Monday, 15 August 2011
15th August
Chez Nous oops not French today but creative writing at Cadnam. Varied stories again and hard to chose the winner but Ann gained most votes.
Rosemary told of a sister's early death, Joan E a short bio of a woman who raised a family and loved animals. Brian told us about what is known about Gypsies. Pat an 85yr old going to China. John hating music lessons kills tutor, Sheila dreaming of skates. Sue Good old Bill looking after girls. Joan R cockney slang. My effort was about the young Elizabeth who became E.II
Next month "the one"
Young Elizabeth
As she finished dressing, Betty thought how lucky it was that the weather was once again dry and warm. She enjoyed her trips to the shops and the chance to meet and speak to someone. Living as she did in a small terraced house in the city, she was in the centre of a hive of activity, but everyone was in such a rush, they hadn't the time to stop and talk. However, the friendly shop assistants at the small corner shop at the end of the road would always find the time for a little chat. If the weather was really nice, she would often walk down to the town centre to sit in the park and watch life pass by and sometimes someone would come and sit down on the bench and strike up a conversation. These were really good days. It was a different story though when it was wet and cold. Time seemed to almost stand still. Alone at home with just the radio and the television for company she often found herself talking to the presenters, but found little benefit from these non productive conversations. As there was very little cleaning and tidying to do, the housework was usually done in no time at all. Then the time seemed to drag interminably. Sometimes she would tidy a drawer or cupboard that was perfectly tidy, just for something to do. If the phone rang her spirits rose, thinking it was someone calling her for a chat, but more often than not it was someone with a foreign accent that she could hardly understand who soon rang off when she tried to strike up a conversation with them. She often watched the children's programmes, as they were colourful and cheerful. The evenings were the worst time though, especially when she drew the curtains and shut the world outside. She would worry about what would happen if she should fall and hurt herself. Would anyone miss her? She had a son, who only lived about ten miles away, but he and his wife were always busy and her grandson never had been very close to her. She used to phone them up each week to ask how they were and invite them over, but they always found an excuse for not coming and in the end she stopped phoning. Since then she had the odd occasional call just checking she was still in the land of the living. Today however, she had been to the park after her visit to the shop and had spent a lovely morning chatting to various people. When she arrived back home, she decided to spend some time in her little back garden. She enjoyed pottering about in it and tending to the flowers and shrubs. It was the one thing she had always enjoyed and she continued to indulge herself. As she deadheaded the roses, she heard a little voice and looked up. She saw a young girl peering over the fence. "What are you doing lady?"
"I'm cutting off the dead flowers so some new ones can grow. Your name
is Libby isn't it?"
"How did you know that?"
"I heard your mummy calling you the other day".
"My mummy is very sad today. My daddy is in the army and he has gone to
Afghanistan. I don't know when he is coming back".
"Would you like a bunch of flowers for your mummy to cheer her up?"
"Oh yes please. What's your name lady?"
"I'm called Betty Maggs".
Betty picked a bunch of flowers and handed them over to Libby and
finished her deadheading before going back indoors.
The following day there was a knock at the door and when she answered it she found Libby and her mum standing there. Betty invited them in and was presented with a small tin.
"Libby and I were doing some baking today and thought you might like a few small cakes for your tea. It was very kind of you to send over those flowers. They really cheered me up"
They stayed and had some tea and biscuits and Betty enjoyed the company so much. She was quite sad when they said they must go, but ventured to suggest that maybe they would like to come to tea again soon. The friendship grew and Libby and her mum adopted Betty as their surrogate grandma and mum. Betty would baby sit for Libby when her mum had to work late and they would spend many hours readings stories, playing games or just talking about times when Betty was a young girl. Libby was quite surprised when she discovered that she and Betty were actually both called Elizabeth and delighted in calling them the Young and Old Elizabeths. Now thanks to Young Elizabeth, the hidden disease Betty had been suffering from for many years, loneliness, was now well on the way to being cured.
Rosemary told of a sister's early death, Joan E a short bio of a woman who raised a family and loved animals. Brian told us about what is known about Gypsies. Pat an 85yr old going to China. John hating music lessons kills tutor, Sheila dreaming of skates. Sue Good old Bill looking after girls. Joan R cockney slang. My effort was about the young Elizabeth who became E.II
Next month "the one"
Young Elizabeth
As she finished dressing, Betty thought how lucky it was that the weather was once again dry and warm. She enjoyed her trips to the shops and the chance to meet and speak to someone. Living as she did in a small terraced house in the city, she was in the centre of a hive of activity, but everyone was in such a rush, they hadn't the time to stop and talk. However, the friendly shop assistants at the small corner shop at the end of the road would always find the time for a little chat. If the weather was really nice, she would often walk down to the town centre to sit in the park and watch life pass by and sometimes someone would come and sit down on the bench and strike up a conversation. These were really good days. It was a different story though when it was wet and cold. Time seemed to almost stand still. Alone at home with just the radio and the television for company she often found herself talking to the presenters, but found little benefit from these non productive conversations. As there was very little cleaning and tidying to do, the housework was usually done in no time at all. Then the time seemed to drag interminably. Sometimes she would tidy a drawer or cupboard that was perfectly tidy, just for something to do. If the phone rang her spirits rose, thinking it was someone calling her for a chat, but more often than not it was someone with a foreign accent that she could hardly understand who soon rang off when she tried to strike up a conversation with them. She often watched the children's programmes, as they were colourful and cheerful. The evenings were the worst time though, especially when she drew the curtains and shut the world outside. She would worry about what would happen if she should fall and hurt herself. Would anyone miss her? She had a son, who only lived about ten miles away, but he and his wife were always busy and her grandson never had been very close to her. She used to phone them up each week to ask how they were and invite them over, but they always found an excuse for not coming and in the end she stopped phoning. Since then she had the odd occasional call just checking she was still in the land of the living. Today however, she had been to the park after her visit to the shop and had spent a lovely morning chatting to various people. When she arrived back home, she decided to spend some time in her little back garden. She enjoyed pottering about in it and tending to the flowers and shrubs. It was the one thing she had always enjoyed and she continued to indulge herself. As she deadheaded the roses, she heard a little voice and looked up. She saw a young girl peering over the fence. "What are you doing lady?"
"I'm cutting off the dead flowers so some new ones can grow. Your name
is Libby isn't it?"
"How did you know that?"
"I heard your mummy calling you the other day".
"My mummy is very sad today. My daddy is in the army and he has gone to
Afghanistan. I don't know when he is coming back".
"Would you like a bunch of flowers for your mummy to cheer her up?"
"Oh yes please. What's your name lady?"
"I'm called Betty Maggs".
Betty picked a bunch of flowers and handed them over to Libby and
finished her deadheading before going back indoors.
The following day there was a knock at the door and when she answered it she found Libby and her mum standing there. Betty invited them in and was presented with a small tin.
"Libby and I were doing some baking today and thought you might like a few small cakes for your tea. It was very kind of you to send over those flowers. They really cheered me up"
They stayed and had some tea and biscuits and Betty enjoyed the company so much. She was quite sad when they said they must go, but ventured to suggest that maybe they would like to come to tea again soon. The friendship grew and Libby and her mum adopted Betty as their surrogate grandma and mum. Betty would baby sit for Libby when her mum had to work late and they would spend many hours readings stories, playing games or just talking about times when Betty was a young girl. Libby was quite surprised when she discovered that she and Betty were actually both called Elizabeth and delighted in calling them the Young and Old Elizabeths. Now thanks to Young Elizabeth, the hidden disease Betty had been suffering from for many years, loneliness, was now well on the way to being cured.
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