A few thoughts …

for the Ragtag Daily Prompt where Christine has come up with the word, Promises.

Today I’m breaking my self-imposed 200 word limit promise and using an edited version of a 300 word piece I posted on my blog back in 2007.



When I was a baby I was confirmed into the church. I didn’t know what was going on of course. Apparently some old bloke wearing a frock and a dog collar tried to drown me, but I later discovered that this was normal practice. Three people known as Godparents promised to ‘provide me with the resources, opportunities and encouragement to follow Jesus’ whilst dripping molten wax all over me. Can’t remember who they were though.

When I went to big school I made several promises. I promised not to smoke, promised not to swear and promised to work hard. Mmmm! And I was even told that I actually had promise. Yea?

When I got my first girlfriend I promised not to go out with other girls. Fat chance! They usually promised to be faithful to me too and I stupidly believed them. Fool.

Then I got married. The ultimate promise. I’m pretty sure I promised to love honour and obey. By the way, Apaches promise to ‘look for what is right between us, not what is wrong’. And Eskimos promise to let their feet run and dance, presumably to avoid getting cold tootsies! At my friend’s wedding he said ‘I promise not to watch the next Netflix episode without you’! Anyway, I spouted out the wedding one several times but I’m not so sure it always included the obey bit. Come to think of it, the other bits proved a little difficult too.

Since then promises have come thick and fast. Ones I have made and ones I’ve received. Some have been kept, others have not.

Trouble is so many promises are worthless. I should know!


*The other day I saw a photo of a priest at a christening using a kid’s water pistol in order to stick to the social distancing rules!


Forty-three words …

for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt where the given word is Lucid and the limit, 43 words.



Lucinda Longbottom was not the most lucid lecturer at Littlebutte Learning centre.  Her love of alliteration meant her lessons lacked intelligibility: her meaningless meanderings left many muddleheaded and mystified.

She was dismissed.

Luckily she landed a likeable livelihood as a lexicographer in London. 


Today’s short story ….

for Friday Fictioneers



It was just what he’d been looking for. 

‘Interested young man?’ 

‘Possibly’ he said, ‘I’ll give you ten for it’. 

‘Haha very funny’ said the old fella walking away.

‘I’m serious’ he said. ‘How about twelve?’

The gent turned around. ‘No way’ he said ‘it’s magnificent’.

‘Fifteen?’ the young chap asked.

‘It’s fast, it’s agile, it glides…’

‘…but it’s getting on a bit’.

‘Yea, but they don’t make ‘em like this any more’.


‘Okay, eighteen thousand pounds it is’ sighed the ol’ boy looking forlornly at his boat.

‘I meant eighteen pounds! Eighteen grand for a sit-up-and-beg bicycle? You must think I’m stupid!’



Thanks to Rochelle for hosting and to CEAyr for the picture.

Click on the Froggies to join in the fun!

A few words …

for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt where today’s given word is Asinine and the limit, 74 words.



Bend knees, address ball, hit left, mind bunker. ‘Fore’ someone shouts. I can’t even manage one!  I’ve lost countless balls, and they are bloody expensive.

As for that asinine pigeon, it shouldn’t have flown so close as I swung the bat or stick whatever it’s called. My mate covered in feathers did look funny though!

Forget two to eighteen.  I’m off to the nineteenth for a beer. Dominoes and solitaire in future.  Proper sport.

A conversation …

for Friday Fictioneers





Hello Bob.

Hello Mike.

Quite a storm last night.

Yea, gotta sweep up this seaweed. 

Want a hand?

Cheers, Mike.

Loads of mussels here Bob.

I know, there were some fish too, but the gulls grabbed ‘em.

They do that. 

There was a mermaid sitting over there earlier.


Mmm. Said her name was Meryl or Myrtle or something.

That would have been Myrtle, was she okay?

Yea, asked if we were serving coffee.

Whatcha say?

Well, I said no. We don’t open the caff till eight.

What time was it?

Quarter to, so she swam off.

That looks better Bob.

Yea, thanks, Mike.

See ya.



Thanks to Rochelle for hosting and to Sandra Crook for the photo.

Click Fromaid to join in the fun!

A little silliness …

for Ragtag Daily Prompt where today’s word is Moving and it comes to us courtesy of Christine.

*Public Health Warning. Do not read if you are consuming foodstuffs.


Mind over matter. I won’t be sick, I won’t be sick, I wo – wooo – be siiiick!

Just hold the rail. That’s right. Oh, the rail’s moving – ooooh – no it’s not it’s me-ee-ee moving. Stand still. That’s right. 

We’re going – uuup – dowwn – uuupp – uuuppp – and dowwwn!

Hold tight. Nearly there, nearly there.

Ooo – ooo – oooo – ahhh!  

That’s better, not rolling soooo much nowwwww! 

We’re there at last.

Phew. I made it. All ashore!

Oh no – wooo – bluuuuh –