Keith's Ramblings

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It’s St Georges’ Day today, the patron saint of England, and this morning Landlord Len proudly put up his flag outside The Baaamy Inn; he was telling the farmers that a chap from the council appeared and said there was a limit on the height of flagpoles and asked how tall it was; “I had no idea” said Len “so I  asked Gardener Gary who was levelling some flagstones if he could help, Gary pulled out the pole, laid it on the ground and measured it – the council bloke said, ‘I need to know its height, not its length’!”

The door burst open and in came three girls, hopping, skipping, jumping and  waving little flags in the air, they asked barmaid Brenda for a large pitcher of Pink Gin cocktail and when she asked what they were celebrating Girl One said they’d ‘just completed a jigsaw in record time’, Girl Two said ‘in just 45 minutes’ and Girl Three said ‘it says two to four years on the box’, then they sat down, nattering, laughing and clinking glasses; Polly from the knitting circle said,  ‘we’ll have to knit ourselves some earmuffs if they become regulars!”

Once again Ted had been playing golf that afternoon, his eyesight isn’t great and just lately he’s had difficulty focusing on the flag he’s supposed to be aiming for, “my elder brother Bill still sees well”, he said, “and I asked him if he’d come along  and help me out, well, I tee’d up, took a hefty swipe but I couldn’t see where the ball went, so I asked Bill if he saw it and he said ‘of course, I’ve got perfect eyesight’, when I asked him where it was he said ‘erm, sorry, I can’t remember’ “. 

Bert’s been having breeding problems, for many years his faithful bull Bollock has fathered many a calf and has always been very keen when required to do his duty, however, just lately he’s been less than enthusiastic and instead of galloping across the field when called he just stands there for a while; “my son suggested I try doing what matadors do and wave a red rag at the bull, I don’t have a red rag but I do have a red flag, the one I use to stop traffic when my herd crosses the road, so I tried waving that but it made no difference, I guess I’ll have to put him out to grass and find a randy young bullock to replace him!” – Suzie at the next table leapt to her feet and started singing, ‘reddy or not, here I come’, and the girls One, Two and Three joined in – you should have heard the din!

Joker Colin pointed to them and said “if you keep making that much noise Len will baaa you”, and then his weekly punfest commenced, “the kid who jumped from the school flagpole was suspended – I took a flag waving test and passed with flying colours – flags are erotic because when the wind blows they pole dance – I don’t know much about Switzerland but it’s flag’s a big plus – the flag outside their embassy vanished, they’re nonplussed – golfers love donuts, always a hole-in-one – they eat sand wedges too – bulls wear bells because their horns don’t work – a bull with one horn is a mooonicorn – the cow said to the bull ‘I’m not in the mooood’ –  the cute bull fighter was matadorable – if a bull charges you, pay him…….” 

Landlord Len had been quiet all evening, not in a bad way but a contented way which several of the regulars found surprising given the racket the three girls had been making – actually, they were the reason he’d sat there with a smile on his face, for it reminded him of where and when he first met his dearly departed Maggie all those years ago – ‘I saw you across a crowded room’ he muttered, ‘singing away with your mates, and we locked eyes’ – ‘and I threw away the key’ , whispered Maggie in his ear.

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Thanks to Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge for hosting Six Sentence Stories where today’s prompt word is Flag.

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A new home, a new garden. What a mess, it was completely overgrown. 

After a couple of weeks of hard labour it began to take shape. There was just one corner to go.

It was there I found them, all kinds of curiosities buried deep beneath the surface. Ancient keys, sculpted roses and more. 

My delight was shortlived, for to my horror I came across some remains. Ribs, a spine, then a skull buried in a makeshift grave. 

Should I tell anyone what I’d discovered? No, I’d let them rest in peace. Whosoever left them must have loved their cat.

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Prod Froggie to visit the squares.

Many thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers.

PHOTO PROMPT © Lily

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For Wordless Wednesday and bloghops various

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Part two of our walk around the park!

 

Click pics to enlarge and improve!

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Just look at the mess. You cherubs will be the death of me – or someone else if they trip on those toys you’ve abandoned everywhere. I mean, dying once is unfortunate enough, but falling down the steps and doing it again is simply not fair.

They’ve made it all the way along the path to eternity and through the narrow gate only to stumble on the stairway to heaven which you’ve littered with Bangel Dolls and springy things.

Now let’s get this place cleared up before the Boss sees it.

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* No, that wasn’t me in the audio! I’m no good at angelic voices so got Suno to create  an AI version for me!

Thanks to Sadje for hosting What Do You See?/

Image Credit; Sebastian Knoll @ Unsplash

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“The key to number eight”, said the realtor, “sorry, I can’t accompany you”. He appeared anxious.

I unlocked the weatherworn door and tumbled inside. It was gloomy, smelled rancid. Wallpaper hung from the walls, a chandeleir swayed to-and-fro. A clock tick-tocked. I drew a curtain, it fell to the floor. Before me, a child. His eyes burned into mine, I stepped back stumbled and fell.

My phone rang. I was in my armchair. Surely, I’d been dreaming.

“Realtor here, I have your umbrella, you left it at number eight”.

 

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Thanks to Sammi Cox for hosting the Weekend Writing Prompt

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It was another evening at The Baaamy Inn and Arthur was shuffling his way from the bar to the farmer’s table with a pint in one hand and a wodge of money in the other, “you won the lottery, Arthur?”, quipped Babs, “no, Len just paid me what he owes me”, he replied – he’s been supplying the pub with produce from his poultry farm for years, first eggs then chicken, or first chicken then eggs, whatever!

“I’ve got a great big new cock”, he said, “stop grinning, Babs, I’m being serious…the other chickens love my new cockerel, he likes nothing more than to jump onto the roof of his coop and sing to them the way cockadoodles do, they all shuffle forward and bob their little heads up and down, it’s like a crazy hen party – he really rules the roost! 

“That reminds me”, said Suzie at the next table, “there was a karaoke session at the church hall the other night so I thought it might be fun to go along; I assumed we’d be singing hymns so I popped into the church and nicked a hymn book (Dick the Vic who was sitting in the corner writing a sermon looked up and frowned at her) but I was wrong, we were singing proper songs – Poppy Perkins was there, she has the voice of an angel and she sang Bat out of Hell, Undertaker Digger Hole sang Another One Bites the Dust and I performed the Harlem Shuffle, dance moves and all – yeah yeah yeah do the harlem shuffle….”

Ted was giving a pack of playing cards a shuffle, “my grandson taught me a magic trick”, he said, “this will amaze you”; he walked over to the knitting circle and asked Natalie to choose any card and place it face down on the table, then over to Dick the Vic, then barmaid Brenda and finally Bert, “now all raise your cards and it will display my date of birth…go…that’s 5-4-7-6!” – “May the fourth 1976, you’re not fifty”, said Arthur “- “oh, no, wrong way round, 6-7-4-5!” 

It was joker Colin’s turn to steal the show – “I ran a dating agency for chickens but I struggled to make hens meet – I dreamt about dancing chickens, it was poultry in motion – what type of poultry dances the best? twerkey – there’s a chicken that writes detective sories, Eggatha Christie – my wife refuses to go to Karaoke with me, I have to duet alone – I heard several Tom Jones’ songs at the karaoke the other night, it’s not unusual – the Beatles judged a singing contest, they were Hey-Judeicators – we say Amen not Awomen because we sing hymns not hers – the Magician that lost his magic is Ian – I have a phobia of playing cards but I’m dealing with it – the magic tractor turned into a field – there’s a sad magician called Boo Hoo Dini –  the Spanish magician said ‘uno, dos’, then disappeared without a tres…..” 

It’s the time of year when Landlord Len adds some Spring Specials to the Baaamy menu including his prawn cocktail which has one secret ingredient – everyone knows what it is, but they haven’t the heart to let on – and there’s Arthur’s stuffed chicken breasts, aka, birdy boobies, and best of all, dearly departed Maggie’s mint chocolate cheesecake – cook Chrissie came upon the recipe when clearing out a drawer, so this year it’s returning again in all it’s glory; “what do you think Maggie?” muttered Len, ‘it’s sweet’’, she whispered in his ear.

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Thanks to Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge for hosting Six Sentence Stories where this weeks prompt word is Shuffle.

 

Last Saturday, I invited one daughter and two nieces to try out The Baaamy Inn Spring Specials.

We sat around one of Shepherdess Bab’s fields!

 

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What a cheek! Okay, I’ve put on some weight of late, but to prod me in the tummy then tell me to diet wasn’t on. I don’t prod her bulbous you-know-whats and tell her they need reducing.

But, as usual I gave in. She’s so persuasive,

I’m to eat more fruit.

I’m to drink more juice. 

I’m to count calories.

I’m to dispose of anything overly calorific.

I’m to photograph my grub and WhatsApp the pictures to her.

Here goes. Healthy meal – snap – send – done. One outa’ five aint bad! 

Right, I’m off to the greasy spoon for a fry-up! Coming?

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Click Froggie to visit the squares.

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Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Fryday Friday Fictioneers!

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PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

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For Wordless Wednesday and  bloghops various!

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I crossed the road to the park yesterday. Suddenly there are flowers everywhere. Needless to say, I took a ridiculous amount of pictures with my phone! These are my favourites – I’m afraid there are quite a few, I just didn’t know which ones to delete. See you down below, if you make it that far!

Click pics once or twice to enlarge and improve.

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…and finally, some dandelions pretending to be roses!

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There were also lots of trees showing off their blossom! I’m saving those for next week.

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Not everybody sees her. I do. She’s over there. In that window, opposite mine. There.

When I look into her eyes, she gazes into mine. She reads my thoughts, knows my mood, understands me. Sometimes there is a hint of a smile, sometimes a sorrowful demeanour. Often she cheers me, encourages me. Helps me. She comforts me, sheds a tear with me. I think I cheer her too, I hope so.

Who she is, I know not. Why I can see her and others can’t is a mystery. I don’t imagine her. I don’t. We are soulmates. We are here for each other.

There she is again, in that window, opposite mine. There. 

Do you see her? No? 

I do.

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Thanks to Sadje for hosting What Do You See?

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It had been a busy Easter weekend at The Baaamy Inn, especially Saturday when Landlord Len laid on his annual events including the Beer Relay Race when three teams of three run around the pub, passing on a tankard of ale; this year it was the Knitwits, the Baaamy Staff and The Farmers that took part, the latter knew they didn’t stand a chance of coming in first so they just trotted around drinking a third of a pint each – as Arthur said, ‘it’s not the winning that counts, it’s the drinking part!’

As usual Suzie from the next table dressed up in her bunny  rabbit costume and watched over the children’s Easter egg hunt, they still talk about the time Len thought his dearly departed Maggie had hidden the chockie eggs and she thought he had, in the end each kid was given one – there  was also an egg and spoon race, joker Colin thought it would be funny to attach his egg with some sticky stuff, but it all went wrong when he stumbled and landed with egg on his face, literally!

The ladies of the knitting circle were reminiscing about the Easter Bonnet competition that Maggie used to hold , “I can still see you wearing those rabbit ears you knitted, Natilie”, said Polly, “and you Millie, your hat festooned with flowers, and as for farmer Bab’s over there, she once made one from straw that resembled a birds nest and she plonked a road-killed pheasant  on top – it must have been dead for ages because it stank the pub out!”

Ted thought he’d relay he story of what happened to him on Saturday, “for some reason I woke up at four in the morning, I noticed it was the fourth day of the fourth month, later when I went shopping a number four bus came past and after I’d visited four shops I had a coffee that cost four pounds and I thought to myself ‘perhaps four is today’s jucky number’ so decided to go to the bookies and bet four pounds on the fourth horse in the forth race”; “did you win?” asked Babs, “no, it came fourth”, he replied.

Colin could hardly wait to get going, “relay runners, you’ve got to hand it to them – the relay race was close, for a while it was touch and go – a barber won a race because he knew a short cut – two vampires had a race and finished neck to neck – the Easter bunny met a rabbit of his dreams and they lived hoppily ever after – one broke a leg, he was a hoppless romantic – a jockey broke a leg, I asked him how he was getting on – you make Easter easier by un-crossing the T and dotting it instead – the Easter Bunny joined the Olympics because he heard first place gets 24 carrots –  to race a horse or not to race a horse, that is equestrian – a guy had two race horses called One-one and Two-two, One-one won a race and 22112 – horse manure is excellent for strawberries, but I still prefer whipped cream……..!

Tomorrow, gardener Gary will be coming to get the outside area ready for summer and Len was writing a list of things he needed doing like planting petunias, giving the lawn it’s first trim and repainting the benches; as he did so he sensed his dearly departed Maggie was looking over his shoulder – ‘he needs to relay the paving slabs’, she whispered in his ear, ‘even I managed to trip up just now!

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