Post 1627. Sunday February 4
“Here comes Fred says Mavis to Doris. Sure enough, around the corner he comes, pushing his wheelbarrow. Squeak squeak squeak.
“Mornin’ ladies” he calls out as he carries on down the street. Squeak squeak squeak. “It’s ‘bout time you squirted some oil on that wheel!” says Mavis.
If anyone needs something delivered, collected or transported, Fred’s your man. You rarely see Fred without his barrow. He takes it shopping, he takes it to the pub and leaves in the car park. After his wedding, he carried his new bride from the church to their reception in it. It was decorated with flowers with Just Married painted on the side!
Everyone looks forward to seeing him and his barrow in the carnival procession as it squeaks along in time with the tiddly-om-pom-pom of the Salvation Army band. Last year it was a yacht, the year before a spitfire. This year? Goodness knows!
Squeak squeak squeak. “Here comes Fred” says Jack. “What’s that in his barrow?” asks George. “It looks like a bird cage with a parrot in it George,” says Jack.
“Mornin’ gents,” shouts Fred as he passes. Squeak squeak squeak goes the barrow. Squawk squawk squawk chirps the bird.
Word count 198
The photo prompt at this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction is provided by Dawn Miller.