Keith's Ramblings

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Here we are again at The Baaamy Inn where, on the farmers table, a thermos flask surounded by tankards of ale is attracting interest; “I popped into the milking parlour to see how Ditzy Daisy was getting on”, said Ted, “and she gave it to me; she said it was supposed to keep hot things hot and cold things cold, well, she said she’d filled it with steaming coffee then dropped in a scoop of ice cream, but later when she opened it, it hadn’t worked – I left her to her udder-tugging, I’ll have a go at at explaining where she went wrong tomorrow!”

Babs had been to visit her mother in her old folks home, “a bloke was standing up making them laugh, he said ‘twelve’, and they laughed, he said ‘fifteen’ and they laughed, I was interested to know why it was funny; apparently he only knows a few jokes and they all know them too, so instead of repeating them at length each time, he’s given each one a number; well, I was asked to sing a song, they like my dulcet tones, and when I finished I thought I’d amuse myself by saying ‘twenty-one’ – they nearly fell out of their chairs with laughter, some probably wet themselves – I asked why it was funny and a guy said, ‘because we’ve not heard that one before’!”  

“I went to funeral”, said George, “old Johnnie, he was always the life and soul of the party, a serial prankster, he would have hated seeing his friends and family all dressed in black looking glum, I remember him once saying he’d like to open an undertakers for people who wanted fun funerals, after all, the word funeral starts with f-u-n – he’d have a brightly coloured hearse that played tunes like an ice cream van, pallbearers dresses as ghosts and hilarious liturgies – he’d even scatter un-popped popcorn in the coffins to make cremations more interesting!” 

Over at the knitting circle, eavesdropper Polly was talking about her friend Fiona, “she was married to a banker, when he died she married an actor, unfortunately he died too then she married  priest; she says that if he dies she’ll marry an undertaker, they must be well off because it’s the only dying business that keeps going – Suzie at the next table leapt to her feet and started to sing – “one for the money, two for the show, three to get ready  then go go go!”

“I used to be a banker”, said Colin, “but I lost interest – Irish bankers are successful because their capital is always Dublin – the banker stayed single because he was a loner – I asked my banker to check my balance and she pushed me – I gave a speech about savings but it didn’t get much interest –  I’m going to retire tomorrow and live off my savings, what I’ll do on day two I haven’t a clue – I’m not attending my mate’s funeral, why should I, he’s not coming to mine –  funeral directors start their day with a mourning coffee – people are always dying to get their attention – I asked one how many bodies were buried in the cemetary and he said ‘all of them’ – being a mortician is gross but selling fruit and vegetables is grocer – I found a new interest in playing backwards origami, I’ll let you know how it unfolds – I’m giving away a puppet if anyone’s interested, no strings attached – the World Health Organisation has your best interests in mind, WHO knew ……..!”

Landlord Len is not that computer literate, but now and again he tries to be creative, infact he’s just composed, printed and scattered about some leaflets advertising a Spelling Contest, but so far there’s been little interest and he was wondering why – ‘it’s probably because they’re not keen on smelling compost’, his dearly departed Maggie whispered in his ear’ – “oh no, that wretched auto-correct’s been playing games with me again”, he muttered!

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Thanks to Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge for hosting Six Sentence Stories where our given word is Interest.

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I knew I should have gone with you. Get some holiday clothes I said, and just look what you got.

When I said buy a colourful shirt I didn’t mean a Hawaiian one. What do you mean h-why not? Because I want you to blend in, not stand out, and as for those t-shirts, they’re so tight your man-boobs look bigger than my boobs.

When I said get some swimming trunks I meant baggy ones not skin tight budgie-smugglers, and just look at that hat. A baseball cap with that written on it is offensive! 

What’s this? Oh no…

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Click Froggie to visit the squares!

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Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers

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PHOTO PROMPT © Lori Wilson

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Before I leave, the picture of the beach on which Froggie is standing is one of several I took yesterday afternoon. A busy beach is not something we expect to see here on a weekday in May! Here are a couple more –

Click to enlarge

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For Wordlesss Wednesday and bloghops various.

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It was the hottest May day since records began, so they thought it best to cancel the dog show and continue with horses only.

In no particular order, this is some of what I saw!

Click pics to enlarge!

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My nightmare is about to begin.

I stand motionless as a moving stairway carries me down, down, down.

A tunnel envelopes me. To my left and right, behind me and before, people stand in silence. Motionless like so many statues, seemingly unaware of others that surround them.

The stillness is disturbed by a sudden rush of wind. A distant rumble becomes a roar as a silver snake rattles to a halt before me. A row of menacing doors hiss open, like hungry gaping mouths. I watch as a surging mass makes its escape, buffeting me in its frantic bid for freedom.

‘Mind the gap’ commands  an echoing voice.

I am carried forward by a throng, seemingly eager to be swallowed up. We cram against each other like sardines in a can. A jerk. I grip a post. We sway as one, this way and that, that way and this. Nobody speaks.

We are deep underground. My body is here, but it yearns to be above in a bustling street where folk are going about their lives oblivious to what is happening beneath their feet.

‘We are now approaching Angel’, utters a langid voice.

‘Mind the gap’, it says.

I stand motionless as a moving stairway carries me up, up, up.

Free at last!

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Thanks to Sadje for hosting What Do You See?

Image credit; Douglas Schneiders @ Unsplash

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Once again it was time for the annual Produce Prizegiving Event, a celebration of all things home grown and edible! In the fluttering marquee Mrs Green’s gooseberries stood proudly alongside Molly’s marvellous marmalade. Freda’s fabulous fruit cake sat between Tom’s tower of tomatoes and Mr Cox’s ramrod cucumbers. Sally’s strawberry and cream fancies, Screams as she calls them, appeared scrumptious and Miss Penelope’s petit-poi looked like tiny green jewels. Beneath the benches were sacks of spuds and piles of parsnips.

However, self-centred Cedric Dobbs’ carrots were well past their best, his lettuce limp and his apples knocking on a bit. Whilst he he claimed his exhibits were the best in their class, it looked like his entries had lost to their rivals once again.

Sadly, the prize giving ceremony was spoilt by Cedric’s heckling. True to form, he complained when John James’ beetroots were judged the best and jeered when Mr Jackson’s jam was named the fruitiest.

“A curse on your cauliflowers and a blight on your beans” he yelled at the assembled crowd. There were sighs and groans all round.

Police Constable Potter who’d dropped by to ensure everything was fair and square, put down his glass of Mr Winstanley’s winning white wine and escorted Cedric out doors.

Master of Ceremonies Major Mason regained his composure and resumed. 

“Dear friends, it’s time to present this season’s top award, the coveted Silver Spade for the Village’s Finest Garden”.

The head judge handed him an envelope. The marquee fell still. A hush descended. 

“The award goes to…oh…erm….”

The Major fanned his face with the slip of paper.

“PC Potter, would you mind popping outside and bringing back Cedric Dobbs?”

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Thanks to Brenda for hosting The Sunday Whirl where this week’s given words are – sighs siren knocking still centered lost slip doors true screams beneath and curse. I used all but one!

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Thanks to Sammi Cox for hosting the Weekend Writing Prompt for the last nine years!

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Baaamy farmer Arthur was sporting a new pair of specs, “every time I drank a cuppa’ tea, ate soup or watched a saucy scene on the telly the old ones would steam up, so I went into town and got myself these; which reminds me I was on a train once and looking at some pictures of my missus on me phone, the guy sitting next to me was peering over my shoulder so I said ‘that’s my wife, beautiful isn’t she?’, and he said, ‘you should see my wife’ – I asked if she was beautiful too and he said ‘no, she’s an optician’, I thought that was quite a good joke – at least I hoped it was!”

“I was thinking about Tom the other day”, said Babs, “the guy that drove those steam trains, he’d come in here with black smudges on his face stinking of smoke and order a pint of the ‘black stuff’, as he called it, I remember the time he came back from the toilet and said, ‘Guinness is wonderful, it goes down black as ink and comes out in a stream of gold!’ “.

Having overheard something about smoke, knitter Pippa was telling her fellow knitwits about the other night when her husband offered to make them something nice for their wedding anniversary supper, “I was a little nervous because  last time he tried cooking he almost set the kitchen on fire, anyway, after he’d been gone a while I began smelling something that took me back; I went to the kitchen and I couldn’t see a thing – ‘’this salmon’s making a lot of steam’, he said, ‘it’s smoke’ I replied, then he said, ‘oh, erm, yes, erm, I was actually making us smoked salmon’ – we ended up getting some fish and chips delivered!”

As per usual, Ted had taken part in a round of golf earlier in the day – actually it was more of an almost-round, be never manages all eighteen holes, “my self-esteem went up a notch”, he said, “I managed to hit the ball off the tee with my second swipe, it usually takes me three of four goes, I even got a hole in one – unfortunately it wasn’t the hole on the green, it was the manhole some blokes were working on the other side of the fence, luckily they were wearing their hard hats at the time!”

“Guess who I bumped into when I went to get my glasses fixed?” asked Colin, “everybody – you should respect people who wear glasses, they paid to see you – I asked my dad if he’d seen my sunglasses, he said no and asked if I’d seen his dadglasses – I saw a steam train today, I was chuffed – I got run over by a steam roller, I should be offended but I’m actually flattened – behind every angry woman is a man who has no idea what he did wrong – if a woman pushes you down a manhole, sewer – my sock’s got a hole in it, it it hadn’t I couldn’t put it on my foot it – he’s such a bad cook he uses the fire alarm as a timer – the Asian cooking contest was a Thai – I cook spaghetti just to pasta time – the marble statue had low self esteem, it was taken for granite……!”

After everyone had left Landlord Len was making sure everything was spick and span before heading upstairs to bed and as he watched steam rising from a bowl of hot water, just for a moment he was with his dearly departed Maggie in spirit; their favourite song stared playing in the background – ‘steam a little steam of me’, Maggie whispered in his ear – “you’re mist”, he quipped, “missed too!”.

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Thanks to Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge for hosting Six Sentence Stories where this week’s given word is Steam

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Little Henrietta has a special talent. If she smiles at a spider it sits down beside her. If she grins at a snail it wiggles its tail!

Daddy was cooking sausages and stuff over a fire in a big tin box. There were grownups there talking, laughing and being silly.

It started getting darker. There was a flash and a rumbling noise. Daddy looked up and frowned.

Uncle Bob shook a pepperpot over his food and some of it missed. Henrietta sneezed! Suddenly the clouds disappeared and the sun came back.

She winked at a worm and the worm winked back!

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Click Froggietta to visit the squares!

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Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers

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PHOTO PROMPT © Lisa Fox

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For Wordless Wednesday and bloghops various.

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Ready, steady, GO!

Wait for me!

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🎶There’s a storm a’comin‘ 🎶

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Watch this space!

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I spend hours tending our garden. And what do you do? Nothing. You just sit there drinking coffee and watching me as I trim the lawn, cut the hedge and sweep the patio.

At least my plants appreciate me. I feed them, trim them, clear weeds out their way, and they thank me by blooming in every colour of the rainbow and more besides!

This morning I planted some campanulas in colourful clogs. I thought they’d like it, they looked really pretty. When I asked you what you thought, you just shrugged, grinned and said, ‘bootiful’. 

I went indoors to wash my hands, I was only gone for a minute or two and when I came back out they’d gone. Walked away, leaving nothing but footprints along the path.

And what did you do? Nothing. You should have seen them go. You may as well have had a bag placed over your head, something I’m very tempted to do sometimes.

Why are you laughing? What did you do? You…you…you…grrrr! 

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Thanks to Sadje for hosting What Do You See?

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