A hundred words …

for Friday Fictioneers



One rule for them, another for us, I’m fed up with them.


The government.

     Oy, you know the rules, no politics in the pub!

Sorry. What did Adam say on December the twenty-fourth? It’s Christmas, Eve!

     Hey, we do not discuss religion here.

Sorry. Cold outside tonight.

     Oh, don’t go on and on about the weather.

Sorry. Did you hear about the bloke that got caught short running to the loo?

     Ay, no toilet humour.

Sorry. I’d offer you a drink, but that would probably be wrong too.

     I thought you’d never ask.

What?  I thought you didn’t tolerate sarcasm!




lisa-fox-outhouseThanks to Rochelle for hosting and to Lisa Fox for the photo.


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A short story

for Sadje’s What Do You See? picture prompt.




She used to love reading books; romances, adventures, mysteries, she read them all.

Over time she found it more difficult to make out the words on the page, and eventually, she had to accept the fact that her days of reading were over.


“What’s that?” she asked her grandson, Freddie.

“A laptop, Nan” he replied. Her confused expression suggested that she hadn’t a clue what a laptop was, but it didn’t take Freddie long to tell her all about it. 

“Why have you brought it with you?” she asked.

“So I can read you a story!” he replied.


Freddie now takes his laptop to his Nan’s every Thursday after school.

“Are you sitting comfortably?” he asks. “Then I’ll begin”.



0When I was a small child, every afternoon I’d listen to a programme on the BBC Home Service called Listen With Mother.

“Are you sitting comfortably?” the nice person on the radio would ask. “Then I’ll begin”.

And yes, that’s me!




If you’d like to hear a clip from a broadcast, just click the link below!




 Prompt image credit; Sasint @ Pixabay

Fifty-two words

for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt where the given word is Mudlark and the limit, just 52 words. As soon as I saw it I thought of something I wrote many years ago, so here’s a 52-word précis of my somewhat longer yarn!




Gloria’s obsessed with cleanliness, says I’m dirty, reckons I’d make a great mudlark! 

“Wash your hands, off with those muddy shoes, you’ve got a dirty laugh and a filthy mind.” 

She complains the garden’s dirty. What? It’s made of dirt! 

I’m insisting one song’s played at her funeral. Mud, mud, glorious mud!



Want to hear it sung properly?

The Hippopotamus Song (Mud, Mud, Glorious Mud)



A quick half-dozen …

for Six Sentence Stories where the given word is Lost.





With just twenty-five minutes to go until my job interview, I double-checked the address on the letter then set off, but five minutes later I was lost.

I asked a passing priest for help and he said “when you reach St Peter’s church, turn left and it’s on your right”, so I crossed myself, trotted off and five minutes later I was lost again.

I spotted a chap on a bench swigging a can of beer and asked him for directions and he slurred “walk to the Dog and Duck, turn right and it’s there” but five minutes later … you’ve guessed!

I stopped a little old lady, and she squeaked “see that retirement home, well turn left there, go left, then left again” and five minutes later I was back where I’d met her!

Surprisingly, after another five minutes, I found the office and got the job, so on the way back I donated to an old folks charity, said a prayer of thanks in the church, dropped into the pub for a celebratory drink and twenty-five minutes later stepped outside, tripped, and fell flat on my face.

“Can you direct me to the emergency department?” I asked a bloke hobbling by on crutches.




A hundred words …

for Friday Fictioneers



‘Two hundred and twenty-four!’ bellows a beaming Bertram.

‘No, you beat me by ten’ drones down-in-the-mouth Domonic. ‘I demand a recount!’

‘Losers!’ taunts triumphant Trixie. ‘Two hundred and …’ she drum-rolls the table with her hands  ‘… thirty-four!’

It‘s the three workmates’ weekly tradition.  At the end of Friday’s shift, they meet at the Park Inn to compare their results and the least successful pay for the winner’s drinks.

‘Trixie again!’ laughs landlord Lenny. ‘You should consider swapping streets!’

So remember, next time you park your car illegally you could be helping one of the traffic wardens to avoid splashing their cash!


PinClipart.com_beer-clipart-black-and_455091 (1)


*I do believe they are known as Parking Enforcement Officers across the pond! 


roger-bultot-city-streetThanks to Rochelle for hosting and to Roger Bultot for the picture.


Click Froggie to join in the fun!0

Snaps …

for Wordless Wednesday and others.



Today we’ll wander across marshland,  once the seabed, to Pevensey Castle. In the 4th century it was one of the strongest of the Roman sea-forts, and today, two-thirds of it’s towering walls still stand.

It’s also famously the landing place of William the Conqueror’s army in 1066 long before the sea retreated.








Thank’s for joining me!.

Feel free to add your link below

A conversation …

for Sadje’s What Do You See? prompt.




What’s that?

A picture.

I can see that but what are you doing with it?

I bought it.


‘Cos I like it.


Because it reminds me of our wedding.


Because of that church.


There, beside the lake.


And there was a house in the water.


A wooden house.


And that’s why it reminds me of our wedding.

Sweetheart, we were married in a registry office beside a stagnant pond with a collapsing duck house rotting in the mud.

Well yes, but it’s a nice picture, isn’t it

Mmmm …


Actually, it reminds me of a fishing trip I went on.


Because of those trees.


Well, there was a tree on the bank.


And it was cloudy …



A smidge of minstrelsy …

for Friday Fictioneers

This rhyme of mine from 2009 has been waiting in line for a very long time to break free and shine and this prompt seemed just fine!  




November days, brief spells of sun,

evenings afront a fire of logs.

Chilly nights of sparkling frost,

misty dawns and frozen bogs.


Shimmering shafts of sunlight,

shoot through naked trees.

Grass once green now golden, 

sways in a bitter breeze.


Holly bushes blush with berries,

ivy clambers up stone walls.

Dormant plants and sleeping flowers,

rest ‘til new year’s springtime calls.


Heading south beneath grey clouds,

a perfect vee of geese.

On distant hills a flock of sheep,

wrapped in woolly fleece.


Winter beckons

Spring can wait

Now’s the time to hibernate.


It originally had another verse half way down but it would have carried the poem over the 100 word limit. This is what it would have been –

A squirrel scurries ‘cross a track,

a rabbit sits and stares.

A pigeon sways upon a branch,

a red fox stands and glares.

Sorry I can’t share it with you – ooops, I just have!


dales-woodpileThanks to Rochelle for hosting and to Dale for the picture.

Click Froggie to join in the fun.