Fifty-nine words

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt where the given word is Portmanteau (a large suitcase or a blending of words) and the limit, 59 words.

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I was in the departure lounge, pulling and pushing my enormous case in the direction of …

Stop! Fifty-nine words won’t be nearly enough. However, if I was to use portmanteaus I’d have the equivalent of a hundred and eighteen words, maybe even more! It’s a challenge, but here goes!

Twas inth delounge, plushing mortmanteau indrection … 

Dammit, I’m outa words!

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A short story

for Six Sentence Stories where the given word is Method.

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The recipe looks simple enough, I’ll give it a go.

Ingredients :-  all I need is a bit of this, a spoon of that, a splodge of this and a load of something with a long name I can’t pronounce.

Method :-  looks straightforward, it says mix this and that with that and this, stir it, beat it, chuck it in a mixer on high speed, pour it out, bung it in a hot oven and wait a while.

Serving suggestion :-  it tells me to turn it out, put it on that, sprinkle some of this, cut into bits and enjoy!

The only section the recipe doesn’t have is one about cleaning up, so I’ll have to come up with my own.

Equipment :-  step ladder, hose, bucket, mop, scraper, cloths, a bin in which to tip that disgusting thing I made … oh, and a hot shower and clean clothes!

 

Thanks to GirlieOnTheEdge for hosting.

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A slice of silliness …

for Friday Fictioneers.

Here we call them lifts, in other countries, elevators. I’m going with the former! 

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I hoped to be a pilot but my dream never took off, so instead I became a lift operator in a posh hotel. It has its up and downs but I enjoy it. 

It’s lovely when ladies come aboard smelling of expensive perfume but awful when men break wind, it’s wrong on so many levels.

Yesterday a lady entered displaying an enticing cleavage. ‘Please press one’ she said. I stifled a giggle!

I’m told ghosts use lifts to raise their spirits. Ooo-errr!

Today I’ve travelled 15.4 miles, the doors have opened and closed 342 times, and I’ve carried 271 passengers! 

‘Going down’.

 

liz-young-lightsThanks to Rochelle for hosting and to Liz Young for the picture.

 

Click Froggie to join in the fun.

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A short story …

for Sadje’s What do you See prompt which I’m having a go at for the first time!

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ROSEY LARGE BWPLast Friday several of us met for our weekly get together at the Welcome Inn.  We were chatting away when my friend Rosey suddenly launched into her latest rhyme at the top of her voice!

‘We think we know the ones we love, I thought I knew my cat. Until the day she left for me, a dead mouse on my mat!’

When the groaning and chuckling died down we all started chatting about our own literary efforts.

Suddenly, we realised that Rosey was slowly and softly reciting a poem.

We fell silent.

‘Summer sunshine rides the breeze

as sunrays weave their way through trees.

A dappled carpet paints the ground

with shades of gold and green and brown.

 

But clouds of grey begin to…’

 

She suddenly stopped, looked down at the table and started fiddling with a beer mat. I’m sure I saw a tear.

‘That’s lovely Rosey, carry on’, said Paul.

‘No’, she whispered.

‘Oh, go on’.

No’.

Her doleful expression told us it was time to lift the mood.

 

‘I need to write an essay for my boss’, chirped Helen, ‘a sort of report, and I thought that I ought…’

With that Rosey started giggling.  ‘Hey, you’re a poet and you didn’t know it!’

The Rosey we know and love was back!

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There are lots more stories about My Friend Rosey HERE!

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Image credit; James Wheeler @ Unsplash

Ninety seven words

for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt where the given word is Ramshackle and the limit, 97 words. 

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Farmer Fred had a barn. 

It was somewhat ramshackle, goodness  knows how it remained standing. Wonkey roof,  broken beams, leaning walls. Farmhand Frank dreaded going in, especially when it was windy. You should have heard it creak! Even the animals looked sheepish when they were dragged towards it. 

He had this sprightly ram called Sam. Sam the lambing machine! Bend over anywhere near him and you’d get your butt butted.

One day Fred shackled the ram to the barn. Sam spotted a dishy ewe and excitedly lunged in her direction.

Farmer Fred used to have a barn.

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A short story

For Six Sentence Stories where the given word is Island.

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Our parents didn’t know, we daren’t tell them but doing foolish things is part of growing up, isn’t it?

A fast-flowing river ran past our village with a little island downstream, and often Verity and I would hold hands, leap into the water and battle with the current to swim to it. 

She made us a little flag which we planted in the middle thereby claiming it for ourselves, and on balmy summer afternoons we’d lay on our backs, hand in hand in a herbose clearing and hear nothing but the rushing water and birdsong. 

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I didn’t want to do it that day, the river was a tumbling torrent but I allowed her to persuade me;  come on she said, the last thing she ever said.

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Several years later I returned and the flag was still there, but my eyes were drawn to something in a tree fluttering in the breeze, and I realised it was a shirt, one of Verity’s shirts. 

I plucked it from the branch, pressed it to my face and it smelled sweetly of herbs, the herbs on which we used to lay; I’ve not been back again.

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Thanks to GirlieOnTheEdge for hosting.

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A wet one …

for Friday Fictioneers.

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“Hire your paddleboard here folks!”

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Why don’t you have a go Bob?

I’m not sure Sally.

Paddleboarding’s fun.

Yea, unless you fall off!

You won’t! 

Mmmm, not sure.

It’s like skateboarding but on water.

I’ve never skateboarded.

Then it’s like skiing. 

But I can’t ski.

Alright, imagine you’re on an escalator in the underground station.

I sometimes use those!

Well, there you go!

How do I use the paddle?

Oh, for goodness sake Bob! Pretend you are sweeping the floor with a broom!

Okay Sally, I’ll do it.

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ImageNameHere“Come in number nine”.

“That’s not number nine”.

“Oh no … come in number six!”

 

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Thanks to Rochelle for from-krista-strutzhosting and to Krista Strutz for the picture.

Click Froggie to join in the fun!

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Some snaps …

for Wordless Wednesday and others!

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William-the-Conqueror-2-964d113Corfe Castle was built by William the Conqueror almost 1,000 years ago. Since then it’s seen its fair share of battles, mysteries and plots. It’s been a treasury, military garrison, royal residence and family home.

Generations of the Bankes family lived there until it was partially destroyed by an Act of Parliament in the 1700’s. Deep holes were packed with gunpowder to bring the towers and ramparts crashing down, resulting in the yawning gaps and crazy angles we see today!

The Bankes’ then built themselves a house, Kingston Lacy which is where I took you last week!

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Click on pics to enlarge.

First, find somewhere to park!

And here we go!

It’s quite steep …

Yet more steps …

That’s a bit wonky …

We’ve made it to the top …

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I wonder what’s through here …

That’s the village down there …

There goes a steam train …

Mind your heard …

And it’s time to go down again …

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Now, where did I leave the car?

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