Five Silly Things.

The scribblers prompt this month was to reveal and describe five silly things I do or say. So here goes.

I make stuff up.

 I once held a conversation about my imaginary childhood in a place called Black Rock. This was accompanied by an Irish accent (very bad). After ten or twenty minutes I smiled nicely and made to leave. That was when the Irish couple I had been speaking to… waved goodbye and hoped I’d  call in when next visiting their home town of Black Rock. 

I am bonkers.
I secrete note pads and pencils about my person  (see my story glimpes of me  on my page “writing” )  pencil in my hair, paper in the top of a holdup stocking.

I can be dramatic.
I lay my hand backwards across my brow, fluttering my lashes as I swoon. Next I hold the pose for three seconds (i know you are doing this) in a breathy voice say “But… you do love mei (pause for effect) dhont yoou dharling”  and finally
batting my lashes I drape myself across the husbands lap. This is quite Edwardian in nature and makes said husband blush.

A quirky being am I.

I am an early riser that is my thing.  Singing is also a thing; one that most people prefer me not to do. I vocally reproduce the ‘Good morning’ song in the guise of Doris Day at the top of my ( not so crisp) voice, while dancing in a mock hoe – down fashion (at least once a month) to rouse “the husband” from prolonged slumber.

I admit to mischeif.

I frequently Pretend I am of the same origins as people trying to sell me things over the phone. I repeat exactly what they say in their own vernacular… until they put the phone down.

I am nothing if I’m not inventive.

I have been known to plop myself cross legged on the library floor in the children’s  corner and read aloud with voices and actions. This either has parents dragging children away with startled looks or gathers them in front of me; teddies clutched to chests thumbs in mouths… *whispers* and that’s just the parents…

P.s. I can count but Ellen style.

                            ~~~~~

We find ourselves living in our motorhome while we wait for keys to our freshly purchased home. Intermittent wifi and phone signal means my adventures in the blogosphere are few and far between. Stick with me please as I search cafe’s and supermarket carparks for a signal… As Arnie once said “I’ll be back.”

A Short Stream Of Consciousness.

Linda Hills stream of conciousness prompt please press 🔜 here 🔚  to read and join,  it Is fun #SOCS  No editing just pouring onto the page.


My Dad used to say “Nice things come in small parcels” he said it mostly to cheer me up…  Mum said “so does poison”  If as she often pointed out every family has their cross to bear, then it is possible I was it.

I am one of four girls who were all… a slighter build than me, they had dainty feet and were bor… fortunate with prettier eyes and full lashes and without double chins. All three had wavy or curling hair, they were popular, and taller than me, all three were in the top choice when teams were picked, and all three had tone, rythm and speed.

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Where,  I never grew into my large clumsy feet or had the ability to beautifully sing and dance. My bum was always big in this … whatever this happened to be. My singing voice… well least said and all that.  I swear someone put my eyes on upside down and stole my midriff… seriously, how is it that I have a standard leg length, a six foot arm span *holds head* “really” and am four foot eleven and a half. I was the girl that the netball captain dreaded having to take, the sister that the vicar told “god had better things than the choir on his mind when he made me” ! Promptly giving the collection plate over ( my then new job). And just in case you think like a butterfly I morphed into my wonderful self… No!

Singing is my passion and I could still win X factor the voice and be a singing sensation, but no one other than me hears the way my ears do… I still have straight as a poker hair, bigger feet,  shorter body, upside down eyes,  two chins, weigh more than them, I hide from the ball, miss with a bat and in comparison my bum is still big in that.

In case you think I feel sorry for myself NO! You see I am unique, I am an anomaly. I can laugh at myself, make others happy, I am kind and generous.  If I don’t compare myself to my sisters, I am average weight and fitness with a standard sized foot. My siblings are smaller (not shorter) and lighter than the norm. They are…  they, and I am me, a friendly, happy, quirky woman who writes. My husband, who by the way insists my differences drew him to me, loves this bonkers loon and wouldn’t alter a bit of me.. except maybe my  penchant for singing and being bouncy as I wake.

 

There I kept it short and shared pieces of me.

Do you fit neatly into your family have you grown into your space? I am dying to hear.

Ham!

Linda’s prompt for #Socs  is  Ham!  To join in or read some

fantastic responses click 🔜here🔙


I once laughed til I cried

over a song about ‘spam’.

Was surprised when  given a book

Called ‘Green eggs and ham’.
I was thrilled when  cooked

Chips,  beans and ham,

for the first time,

by a visiting man. *wink wink*.
You never know what form

memories will take,

or how we inadvertently

nudge them awake.
A smell of lavender

Reminds me of Gran,

reading the rhymes… you guessed it

From green eggs and ham.

The taste of pig does it for me

It rumbles my stomach

until i fill it with tea….

Anyone for a sandwich?

A whimsical ditty … My husband listened (as they do) and said “You do know you’re weird… dont you”?

Comments welcomed and responded to promtly.

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Acoustically speaking.

“A badly timed Trump” a prompt from Sacha to be complete in 52 words . Press here to join in the fun.

It was a sombre occasion, you could see your breath leave your mouth. The pews all waxed and lillies beautifully bookended the pulpit. A vicar as old as the church itself went up the steps, releasing a loud trump which riccochet off the walls. He  sniffed.loudly as the funeral march began.

In England it is another word for flatulence! I do believe it has the same meaning globally *wink wink*

Have you held back a titter, stiffled a smirk or guffawed in the wrong moment? Tell me in the comments I can’t wait to reply. 

A Present that made them smile.

I traipsed along the high street looking for  something cool,

Wanting to find the perfect thing the exception to the rule.

Searching for a talking point the item that would hold pride of place,

After fourteen shops I was sure to be losing face.

 

Tired from a six hour journey and legs that no longer wanted to walk.

I dialled my daughters number…   for a probing talk.

We beat around the bushes side swiped at my subtle plan

Then she asked me what I wanted “just say it if you can”.

 

Reluctantly I asked what the heck could I buy?

She said “a hat, you silly” I thought that I would cry.

Armed with an idea for the item I marched on once again,

On cobbled surfaces that would floor many weakened men.

 

A mother on a mission to deliver the perfect style,

It had to be special … after trying all this while.

I returned to my husband to update him on the task

He pretended he understood but his face was a blank mask!

 

It’s Christmas eve at three O’clock the sky is turning dark

My feet are burning and There’s one shop left across the park.

So I returned to the old town to the shop where I first began,

Where I asked for the hat, from a very puzzled man.

 

You see he told me quietly as his lip took on a twitch,

He wouldn’t disappoint me, pulling at his sleeve he broke a stitch.

But it isn’t a fashion statement, a cool item that is hot,

But a tea cosy that is worn upon a plump teapot.

 

“I know ” I shouted wildly, but it is all that you have got

That would look special on her head and not a pot.

So Christmas went with a giggle as my tale took a life of it’s  own,

Even two weeks later she is still laughing down the phone.

 

She stitched up the spout hole and the handle space too

And sent me a picture NOT! to show to you.

Her cosy is real cosy, her smile is more than just a smile

As she dons her new hat and wears it with panache and style.

 

 

This silly ditty is a true story! And the cosy was purchased from http://www.whitestuff.com/ … shh! We won’t let on that I posted her photo… will we? 

    

Have you ever given a better talking point at Christmas?  Do let me know  what it was and how it was received. I will get back quick smart with a response. Happy 2017. X

A Favorite Christmas Decoration.

My idea for this came from here go check out her blog and handsome decoration.
Lindsey left a question on a post yesterday, asking “what is your favourite Christmas decoration and why”.

I thought about the Xmas pud my daughter made at four and the Santa boot my eldest made some thirty years or more ago. The snowflake, it was from my youngest son all white and sparkly made when five; I remember them well, their memories are the ones I treasure with a motherly equality and a sadness when each year I find them gone. The jointed Father Christmas who has pride of place stands two foot tall, he was my own first decoration. My daughter thought I’d like him as I had left so much behind; the beginning of a new life new Christmases to come.

But my own favourite, the one chosen by me… the me I am now, the one I purchased and placed here that is my best.  An angel in a red coat with sparkles on her wooden wings dark neat painted hair with a gold halo and a heart shaped cross body bag. I purchased her at a pop-up shop; a locally crafted display of all things Christmas. My visit was a surprise as I didn’t know it was there… it just popped up. She silently called me, at one point I do believe she winked; that part could be put down to artistic licence *sniff* but none the less drawn we were. At first, I stood her alone in the picture window facing the outside world, when I re-entered the room I turned her facing us. I have had her ten days now and we are getting the measure of each other, up to now she has been the only Christmas adornment to our home but today I will decorate the tree. And my scarlet angel will find her place as I have mine.

After Christmas, I may swap her heart shaped bag for a muff and make a fluffy headband to hide her halo but the wings elude me, maybe a classy fabric draped like a wrap to gently secrete them out of sight. I could put her betwixt my books in a bookcase to watch over us when Christmas has gone. I am not sure why I have become so attached to my scarlet angel but there it is; I am naming her as my favourite Christmas decoration.
What is yours? And why? Leave me a comment or just let me know what you think… And Merry Christmas.

MicroFictionchallenge#26

Jane Dougherty challenges writers and poets amongst us with another visual prompt press 🔜 here 🔙 to join in The artist to thank for the loan of this picture is John Bauer.

Lady Godiva, wife of Leofric, Earl of Mercia is a well-known tale across the land, but the lesser known second cousin once thrice removed of that noble Lady was Stanley Kingsbury, after hearing of the famous ride it gave the down at heel blaggard an idea.

Stanley had himself seven daughters and one beautiful dapple grey stallion. Stanley’s daughters were begotten via three sisters none of which he had been betrothed…  early that year they gifted him his daughters and fled to some say sunnier climes in the hope of finding husbands while unchattled by the presence of their loose morals. They together persuaded Stanley that once settled they would call for the girls as ladies maids and staff, that way they would live openly under the wing of their birthmothers but hidden from the smear of wrongdoing.

Meanwhile, Stanley poor as a church mouse decided to replicate Godiva’s ride with all his daughters on the one horse. He paraded the girls in hope of suitors,  through the streets far and wide they rode.  Alas, each time the townsfolk were alerted to the coming of an ungodly scoundrel and ordered to “keep within Doors and from their Windows, on pain of Death” Subsequently the girls were handed over to their grandmother and Stanley could be seen from the four corners of Mercia mounted on Pikes.

  • Any likeness to any living or dead person or persons is entirely coincidental.

Silence Please.

Charli at the carrot ranch has charged us with a challenge in 99 words no more or less write about something not allowed.  🔜 press here 🔙 to join in.

photos curtesy of pinterest.

She shushed me as the door slammed,

My arms full of books.

People peered above their specticles,

Gave me dirty looks..

She wagged a silent finger and 

pursed her lips tight.

When I slipped to the carpet

And toppled off the light.

My card was marked at the library door,

When a cough sent bubblegum

To skid across  the parquet floor.

Her sole was stuck fast 

As I staggered past.

just to round the debacle off

I snorted as I laughed.

Her teeth you couldn’t fail to miss

As the librarian delivered an Almighty hiss…

and pointed to the quote   

Yes! Sir. #soCs

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “yes” Use it as a word, use it in a word, extra points if you start and finish your post with it. Enjoy!


Yes! This is what climbed down in front of my face.  I was In the supermarket gathering items, reading label’s, trying to compute calories, sugar, fat, and really not taking much else on board when this happened. On yesterdays trip it was eyes peeled, trolley nicely filling up when . YES! A flipping “S” word, him up there👆dropped like James bond absailing into th O2.  Hairy legs wriggling from a sign, you know the ones (TEA and sanitary protection Here isle 4).

My arms froze in crucifixion position my eyes crossed, i leapt back and the Agave nectar spun out of my hand and slapped hard into the direction of a passer by. At that precise moment I was doing an impression of a first nation Indian warrior dancing on hot coals… voice an all. Meanwhile the recipient of the Agave had turned as it’s thin plastic container slapped his forehead, split and sent rivulets (all in slow motion) down his face and suede jacket. *Humpf* who wears suede to do the shopping anyway. I remember hearing a frantic tannoy announcement but couldn’t understand what was said, for some random screeching commotion that was going on. That was when I realised it was me. Some person was dragging me towards pet food and finally clamped a hand over my mouth. Yesterday was a not such a good day for shopping.

The ‘S’ word had long since gone scuttled away no doubt looking for Miss Muffet. Two girls were cleaning down the irate man in isle 4 ( he appeared to enjoy that bit) and I was escorted (manhandled by a chauvinistic security guard) out to the door to my car,

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minus my shopping and thoroughly traumatized. “You will go home and think yourself lucky that the gentleman in isle 4, does not… doo you for assault” said the security man close to my ear.”You have serious issues and I suggest mental ones.” How dare he I thought,  but meekly I unwound the window and said “Yes Sir I am going… yes”…
P.s. Just incase you didn’t notice “I hate the “S” word.I do Yes.

What don’t you like? That could get you to loose control? leave me a comment and I will get back as soon as I can.🙂

Having A Chin wag.

Prompt # 1905 the writing reader. The word of the week is chinwag  so here is my stab.

There they  were the two of em,  hanging over the garden fence arms folded, Florrie’s  were under her tiny breasts; maybe to push them up pretend like she had more. She were long, stringy almost, she wore a pinny and a cotton square covered her hair. What I could see of it err hair was yellow,  oh an them teeth… they  jiggled about as she spoke; me mam said it made er retch.  Mavis well she was different,  Gramps would say “like chalk and cheese those two” I loved Granddad he had lots of funny sayings.

‘Any owe, back on track where were I’ Oh yes Mavis short n’ stocky with fat knees, you’d see em when she cleaned the windus, ‘mam says tisn’t often…’ she’s got tight curls peekin from under her scarf, dirty grey colour from the coal fire i spect. Mavis as short as she is wide and wears a fancy wrap around pinny and wrinkled stockins. Her roundness comes from avin ten. yep ten kids, six were lads all gone and grown now. We lived in back t’ back houses and Monday Mornin if School was owt, I’d sit astride the cill wi a book the sun warms ya through glass and they think I’m readin. Really I am listenin, you’d be surprised what I ear; lookin down at the back them two over the fence  puttin t’ world to rites avin a good ole chin wag. Got ta go now Mam’s got me paa’s snappin ready, I’ll take it up the allotment to i’m, he’s busy afterall diggin us tea. Catch you another time tatty bye.