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for Wordless Wednesday and boghops here there and everywhere!
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This year’s parade theme was The Movies!
Meanwhile in the park…
Some children were learning about CPR!
The funfair was still going strong!
24 hours later – what a difference a day makes! Now we just need some rain to bring the grass back to life.
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I love books, I’ve always got one on the go. A while ago John, a friend of mine asked me why I didn’t write one myself. It seemed a great idea at the time, but I’m finding it more difficult than I thought.
John’s an interesting person so unbeknown to him, he’s become my main character. I need to come up with something to spice the story up a bit, so I asked him if he had any ideas I could use.
He said he likes books in which the hero gets unexpectedly murdered towards the end.
I thought that was a great idea, however he might regret coming up with it – I forgot to tell him my book’s an autobiography!
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Thanks to Sadje for hosting What Do You See?
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Image credit; Ebahir@ Unsplash
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He’s a miserable sod. His current obsession conerns the dreadful goings on in the underworld.
He claims he heard screams, then followed the desolate voices until he came upon a spiral staircase littered with bones leading down into a pit which resembled a devil’s temple.
Oh, the tales of woe he weaves.
There is so much to celebrate in this world. Sparks of joy not the dakness of doom. Reality not fantasy! Fairies, unicorns, magic, choirs of angels, ice cream! I’m right, aren’t I?
Oh, I just heard screams. I’ll let him follow them! Coffee anyone?
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Thanks to Brenda for hosting The Sunday Whirl where this week’s 12 words are – screams desolate temples bone sparks pit voices follow underworld spiral weave current
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…in 55 carefully chosen words!
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“Here it is, my gastronomic conglomeration of mulifarious constituents amalgumated then pulsed to create a heterogeneous and gratifying regale designed to galvanise and titilate ones taste buds. The components and methodology are known only to me and my multitudinous anticedants. Savor and relish”.
It was, well, interesting. Less a hotpot, more a hodgepodge I’d say!
*or as we’d actually say in the UK, a hotchpotch!
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Thanks to Sammi Cox for hosting the Weekend Writing Prompt
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Len, landlord of The Baaamy Inn has been giving thought lately to all the amusing things that have happened there over the years, infact he’s bought himself a notebook so that he can write them down, he’s calling them his Baaamy Yaaarns, like the time he purchased some new darts; he got Bert to try them out and every time one hit the board it bounced back and landed on the floor – he’d forgotten to take the little rubber point protectors off.
Natalie over at the knitting circle was reminiscing about the time fellow knitwit Polly went to buy a drink unaware that a strand of wool on her cardigan had become trapped in the back of her wobbly chair, she went to bar with a trail of yarn unravelling behind her; she passed to the left of a loving couple that was standing drinking champagne, then started to come back passing them on their right before realising she’d forgotten to pick up a straw, she went around the couple to pick one up and when she arrived back at the table not only had her cardigan shrunk by a third the loving couple were bound together; the young man said “this is fate, we should tie the knot, wool you marry me?”, and she said “of course I wool!”
“I used to knit a bit”, said Babs, “I once tried knitting my grandson a jumper, I wasn’t sure of his size so I took a guess at it, anyway when I finished it I got him to try it on but he coudn’t because it was it was way to tight, he said ‘you can’t pull the wook over my eyes, Gran’, cheeky little devil!“
Arthur was talking about an idea he once had, “I thought I’d try inventing ready coloured yarn by adding something to the sheep’s grub like food colouring or paint, that way I’d have a flock of many colours; I wasn’t just determined I was dyed-in-the-wool about it, unfortunately it didn’t work out and it was the idea that dyed not the fleece”.
“I’m writing a mystery novel” said Colin, “or am I? – the Mexican’s favoutrite novel was Tequila Mockingbird – I’ve got a book about herbs, it’s a thyme-less yarn with some sage advice – Indian folk like naan fiction – a cat swallowed a ball of yarn and had mittens – the German shepherd was selling meat instead of wool but it went from baa to wurst – a really fast sheep is a Lamb-orghini – a young sheep wearing a swimming costume is a lamb bikini – next to my house a horse crossed with a sheep, now I have a new neigh-baaa – I was surrounded by sheep, it was a lambush – a nun found knitting habit forming – pirates knit with yarrrrrn – tired people knit with yawn – it takes three sheep to knit a sweater, I didn’t even know they could knit…..”
After a busy night, Landlord Len was upstairs in his armchair, his notebook on his lap, he opened it saw a yarn about a very special Valentine’s Day event they once carried out – but he didn’t recall writing it; then he realised it was in his dearly departed Maggie’s handwriting; he looked up and smiled, and when he looked down again it had disappeared, ‘I just wanted to remind you‘, he heard Maggie say.
Thanks to Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge for hosting Six Sentence Stories where this week’s given word is Yarn
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We loved sitting under this tree watching the sunset. Remember that conversation we had? ‘How’s work, how’s your mum, what did you have for lunch, I need a haircut… will you marry me?’ Your face! You giggled and said ‘no!’ Then looked me in the eye and said ‘of course’!”
Then your sun set. Why? I blamed myself, your family, your doctor, God even. How dare he? I was so angry. But it was nobody’s fault. These things happen. To some. To you.
That was ages ago. The tree’s still here, weather-worn like me. But something’s missing. You are missing.
You.
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Prod Froggie to visit the squares
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers
PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook
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For Wordless Wednesday, and bloghops here there and everywhere!
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Welcome to Bexhill-on-Sea’s biggest event of the year!
Click pics to enlarge
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On with your dancing shoes!
And then the sun went down!
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The evening ending with a bang!
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Time to go home!
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That was Friday. Saturday was Carnival with its wonderful procession through the streets of the town – and the park took on a completely different look. I’ll show what happened in next week’s Wordless Wedneday!
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There are seven benches in the park, four here and three around the corner. I’ve given them all names, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, you get the drift. Each day whilst on my walk I sit for a while on the appropriately named one. Today it was….Monday!
Imagine my surprise last Friday when I found the benches had been repainted! They each had a sign saying Wet Paint on them. Where was I going to sit?
My disappointment was short lived when I discovered Friday was the only bench without a warning sign, the Saint of Seats must have been smiling down at me!
Or perhaps not. Just as I plonked myself down I noticed the warning sign blowing along the track. I was sitting on wet brown paint and to make matters worse I was wearing my best cream linen trousers.
I always try to see the positive side in every unfortunate situation, so I told myself that the three brown stripes on my rear may actually look quite good, designer style even!
I caught the bus home, and when I stood to get off, I noticed that I’d deposited three sticky brown stripes on the seat. Someone boarded the said bus and sat in my vacated seat unaware that her white skirt was about to become very fashionable indeed!
I’ll sit on Tuesday tomorrow morning!
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Thanks to Sadje for hosting What Do You See?
Image credit; Shan Ali @ Pexels
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Berny Berry, the undertaker, was late meeting his friends at the pub, “sorry guys”, he said, “I had a coffin fit.”
“Oh dear” said Bob, “are you over it now?”
“Not a coughing fit, a coffin fit. One of my staff members told me Minnie Small’s husband had departed”, he said making the sign of the cross, “so I dropped by their room at the rest home to discuss her options. There she was draped in a black dress with a hood.
Thing is, Lofty Godfrey was six foot seven tall there are not many off-the-shelf coffins available that he’d fit in comfortably. I also had to inform her there was very little space left at the burial ground and suggested she might consider having him buried on some land somewhere in the wild”.
“How did it go?”, asked Jack.
“Not well”, said Berny, “I asked what his last words to her were and she said they were ‘goodbye Minnie’, turns out he hadn’t shuffled off this mortal coil, he’d left her, split up, moved away with some brazen hussy”.
“That was a waste of time then”, said Olive.
“Not entirely, she let me finish the remains of his bottle of whisky before I left!”
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Thanks to Brenda for hosting The Sunday Whirl where this week’s given words are – wild cross left staff last split burial grind space land room hood
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A satin dress, sparkly leggings, silver shoes and gossamer wings. She waves her wand. There are spells to perform and joy to bring!
Years later Felicia is ‘something in the city’. People arrive with dreams, she grants their wishes. Her stardust, money; her fairyland, a bank.
In quiet moments, still she flits from flower to flower playing ring-a-ring-a-roses with butterflies.
Beyond her office window something sparkles. Felicia smiles as stardust floats in the sky.
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Thanks to Sammi Cox for hosting the Weekend Writing Prompt
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