Sunday, 31 August 2008
Saturday, 30 August 2008
A Postcrossing story for Trevor, Michelle and Landon in USA
It was the time of transferring.
My Grandfather weak, gasping held me tight and said “when you survive, tell the truth as it was, don’t make villains out of misguided men.”
The truth told but now words of then burning; my children will find only happy memories after my death.
Friday, 29 August 2008
Thursday, 28 August 2008
If you’re anything like me, one of your favourite reasons to read is for the story. Not for the character development and interaction. Not because of the descriptive, emotive powers of the writer. Not because of deep, literary meaning hidden beneath layers of metaphor. (Even though those are all good things.) No … it’s because you want to know what happens next?
Or, um, is it just me?
Husband on being asked do you like plots before the first coffee of the day.
Do one-legged ducks swim in circles?
But do you LIKE plots in a story?
Isn’t it’s cold at the North Pole?
I am ASKING about plots.
Is the Pope Catholic?
Listen. It’s about plots,
Is water wet?
Yes but plots..
**For those that went Err? Click and learn...Etheree poetical form
Wednesday, 27 August 2008
The Queen did stamp and howleth.
Her meal was fowleth.
For heads roll if Anger hung
so Fools tried a song.
But Wise and Crafty thought on
and sent out for Swan.
Nutmeg, ginger, cloves, allspice:
Roast Swan paradise!
Now Wise or Fool dance and clown
as Crafty steals Crown.
Sunday, 24 August 2008
Saturday, 23 August 2008
Peanut Butter Cups
“Look, get the candles flickering, the music low, and crack open the wine and serve her:
Sardines sur le pain grillé
Bifteck avec des salades
Tasses de beurre d'arachide”
“You know I can barely open a tin”.
“Mike, even you can do:
Sardines on toast
Steak with Salad
Friday, 22 August 2008
The peanut butter sandwich on soft white bread cut into the shape of a soccer ball flew into the air hitting the branches of roadside larches still in Ieaf despite the cold autumn snap; falling the slices, divided, peanut sides face up, flopping down on the boy’s now still body.
Thursday, 21 August 2008
Your problem child is you trying to hold him with a plain diet, all gruel and grits. Any man with fire going flicker on that. You want him looking for what else is cooking?
Oh no Mama
Hush, just get yourself chocolate and chilli and he’ll stick around for seconds.
Wednesday, 20 August 2008
Tuesday, 19 August 2008
PeppermintWe need a decision. So its no to A taste of French cheeses. 'I only stuck up for English Cheddar.'
'Yes, thanks, Marge'
'And, to Tom’s suggestion of Plymouth matches 1890-1939.'
'I could do it with slides'.
'We aired that Tom. So we are left with The Fun of Peppermint?'
Monday, 18 August 2008
The Blue Lobster
My informant at the curiously named The Blue Lobster told me that when the Irish street-sellers quarrel “they’ll kick like devils, and scratch, and bite, like women or cats, instead of using their fists”. He wished “all the drunkards were teetotallers, if it were only to be rid of them.”
Sunday, 17 August 2008
A Postcrossing story for Helvi in Finland
It had been one hell of a day what with kids throwing up, parents getting all weepy and the first day prep talk from the Principal. Mary cracked open a bottle, thinking tomorrow will be worse.
Losing it, she screamed, “Mummy, I’ve done school, its boring, lets do something else
Saturday, 16 August 2008
Friday, 15 August 2008
Thursday, 14 August 2008
So it’s down to Babs or Lorraine.
Oh, God what a choice, Lorraine makes a drama out of opening a tea bag. When she isn’t crying enough to bury an abandonment of orphans, she up for the most irritating-and-inappropriate-loud-laugh Oscar.
Well, at least she is fun, Babs is…is just Arctic.
Wednesday, 13 August 2008
Tuesday, 12 August 2008
-->story for Vesna in Croatia
Marie's pitch was opera perfect. Her high C cracked Champagne flutes.
One lover begged her to star in Madam Butterfly at La Scala whist another wanted her covered only with red roses to sing in his bed
Marie being a modern sort of girl, took up rock and roll instead
Monday, 11 August 2008
We will know our final destiny when the last human sits shivering under the dead black sky.
Stop, I must object to this monstrous portrayal of a one-road time. We have known for centuries that this is false science; time is a spiral of birth, sustenance and destruction.
Sunday, 10 August 2008
I am Death, the reaper of souls.
So here, at last and look at you a bag of bones; the slut's too busy to feed you or give me grandchildren. Thank God, I am here now.
Er...Death dude any chance of dropping me off somewhere, anywhere.
MORRIS, COME BACK
Saturday, 9 August 2008
For me it was my son’s birthday. We had agreed mackerel line fishing off the north Cornwall coast. Instead, I went off binge drinking and woke up in a field. Back home seeing his silent face made me take the pledge and I have been temperate for 10 years now.
Friday, 8 August 2008
Thursday, 7 August 2008
Wednesday, 6 August 2008
Tuesday, 5 August 2008
I remember why
Behind on the hill, the house burned with no company kept warm. A bloodstained youth struggled to drag an older man by the rope that bound them both at a single wrist. Hearing his plea for mercy, the Boy turned, stared and then walked on saying, “I remember why not”.
Monday, 4 August 2008
I remember when
Peggy glared, I ain’t getting circled that’s for cubes.
Cut the gas, don’t have a cow, I was only asking if we were jacketville.
She leant across and breathed, baby, you’re cool, you want to back seat bingo?
As they left, the waitress, muttered, I remember when kids spoke proper.