Keith's Ramblings

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“You stink Arthur, what have you been up to?” asked Colin, “I’ve been muck spreading” he replied, “getting the fields ready for this year’s crop”; “hopefully it’ll be a wet summer,” said Ted, ”cos you know what they say – no rain, no grain!”

“How’s your Gran, Ted?” asked Suzie, “she’s okay, instead of lying about her age she brags about it nowadays”; “I was in church with mine on Sunday and she whispered ‘I’ve just let out a silent fart, what should I do?’, so I said ‘get a new battery for your hearing aid!”

“Blimey, they’ve grown”, said Ted, staring inappropriately at Suzies bulging boobies; “I thought you’d be impressed” she replied, “but actually it’s because I’m wearing my new figure-enhancing tit-sling!”

“What’s with the grin, Colin?” asked Babs, “I just remember a joke,” he said, “what did the bra say to the hat? …you go on a head while I give these two a lift!”; “OY, I’ll have no vulgarity in my pub!” yelled Landlord Len.

“Seen the green?” asked Arthur, “there’s a big tent there, what’s that for?”, “they’re holding a Spring flower show”, replied Colin, “my good lady’s taking part, you should see her tulips”; “just wait til you see mine next week”, said Suzie “I’m having lip augmint…augmont…fillers done” – Suzie was somewhat puzzled by the plethora of groans and grunts her announcement received, so she decided against mentioning the bottom-boosting knickers she was thinking of purchasing!

“If I was able to grant you a wish, what would it be?” asked Arthur; “to buy me a pint”, said Ted, “a G&T”, said Babs, “a scotch”, said Colin, “a Singapore Sling”, said Suzie … Arthur wished he hadn’t asked! 

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Thanks to Denise for hosting Six Sentence Stories This week’s word is Grain … to which I’ve added grown, gran, grin, green, groans, grunts and grant!

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers.

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“As if from nowhere, leaves appear; small, delicate, yet bright and cheerful. As they mature they begin to offer protection to those beneath and within. When the days grow shorter a comforting glow embraces them before they fall to the ground, their work done. Just like life, just like us”.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if you dyed your grey hair orange and had your wrinkles spray tanned to give yourself an autumnal look! Now stop prattling on, and get me a cup of tea”.

“Ah, tea leaves, proof that there’s life after death”.

“I said…”

“Yes dear, milk and sugar?”

 

Click a Froggie to see what others have come up with!

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PHOTO PROMPT © Lisa Fox

For Wordless Wednesday and bloghops various!

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I’ve visited quite a few stately homes over the past few years. Here are just a few of them!

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Kingston Lacey, Wimborne Minster, Dorset.

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Nymans, Handcross, West Sussex..

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Uppark,  South Harting,  West Sussex.

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Sissinghurst Castle, Kent, home of author Vita Sackville-West.

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Chartwell, Westerham, Kent. Home of Winston Churchill.

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Hinton Abner, Bramdean, Hampshire. 

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Nostell Priory, Nostell, West Yorkshire.

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Riddlestone Hall,  Keighley, West Yorkshire.

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Biddulph Grange, near Stoke-on-Trent, Staffordshire.

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Kedleston Hall,  Kedleston, Derbyshire.

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Sudbury Hall, Sudbury, Derbyshire.

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Stourhead, Warminster, Wiltshire.

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Petworth House, Petworth, West Sussex.

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Montisfort Abbey, Romsey, Hampshire.

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Batemans, Burwash, East Sussex. Home of Rudyard Kipling. 

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Finally, a very special house which featured in the world’s longest-running TV sitcom. If you are outside the UK you are probably unaware of it, but for us lot its the home of Nora Batty in Last of the Summer Wine!

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I dare you to ring the doorbell!

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Here’s Linky!

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For eight hundred and thirty-seven years, four months, two weeks, six days, five hours and forty-eight minutes I’ve been standing here.

How do I know? Because I’ve nothing better to do than count every boring moment.

I didn’t always look this decrepit. I was a beautiful young thing back in the day. But as Venus di Milo’s boobs were polished and David’s bits and pieces preened, I was left to suffer the ravages of time.

In my prime, I was constantly admired. Artists drew pictures of me. When the camera was invented people started taking photographs. Today some statues take part in selfies. I don’t. Who’d want one with me?

People say very unpleasant things about the condition I’m in. I think very unpleasant things about them in return. Some of them look worn out themselves. The difference is, that whilst they won’t be around much longer, I’ll still be here! A few more bits will drop off no doubt, but I don’t have a lot of use for them anyway.

Sorry if I’ve been ranting on a bit but it’s nice to have someone to communicate with after standing here for eight hundred and thirty-seven years, four months, two weeks, six days, five hours and … let me see … fifty-two minutes

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Thanks to Sadje for hosting What Do You See?

Image credit; Marianna Smiley @ Unsplash “Thrive” by Danial Pooper a sculpture in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.

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‘Stand tight’, hollered boatman Gideon. Hercules, his trusty horse tugged on the rope with all his might, stretching it, then, standing four square waited for the barge to start moving. ‘Forward’ ordered Gideon as he slung the beast’s lead over his shoulder. Once again their daily journey along the canal was under way.

Like his father and his father before him, Gideon transported grain in the timeworn narrow-boat, Marion. In foul weather or fair, on rippling water or still, Gideon went about his work uncomplaining. Through locks, under bridges, along the muddy towpath.

Years passed by and the time came for Gideon to step back and rest his weary body. He never had a wife, a mistress even, so there was no son to pass Marion on to.

After mooring Marion for the last time, he carved his initials and the date on the cabin door. He stroked Hercules. ‘You done well ‘ole fella’ he whispered as his beloved horse was led away.

As Gideon sat on a bench outside The Duck and Swan Inn, tankard in hand, he watched the next generation of boatmen trudging by and reflected on his past. He had been contented but then he’d known nothing else.

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‘How old is she?’ asked a father, ushering his wife and excited kids onto the canal boat.

‘Marion? We are not entirely sure, but she was a working barge until July 1926’,  the captain said, pointing to the cabin door. ‘Make yourselves comfortable and enjoy your trip’.

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© Ayr/Gray

Thanks to Jenne Gray and C.E.Ayr for hosting The Unicorn Challenge

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Precise Pete lifts his glass, and looks closely at the pint mark to make sure he’s got the correct amount of beer, low betide the bar tender should it fall below, he has even been known to complain when it’s over-filled, he likes everything just right; this one is perfectly level with the line!

“I was thinking”, said Arthur setting off a customary group sigh, “we should form a cricket team, several other pubs have them, we could take on that pompous lot at The Sticky Wicket”; “but”, said Babs, “they’ve got that bloke Bailey, he plays for the county, it wouldn’t be a level playing field”.

“The other problem would be pub’s back garden” suggested Ted, “it’s certainly not level, it’s like swamp and the grass is at least a foot high”; “OY” yelled Landlord Len, “I’ll have you know I mowed it twice last year”.

Listening into the conversation was John from the US of A, he’s over here visiting Scott and Iris, his parents, “cricket’s not a man’s game, one guy throws a ball at some wooden sticks and another guy tries to bat it away while a load of others stand around doing nothing, sometimes for five days”, he said, “that about sums up the rules”.

“Wrong”, said Bill, “these are the rules – you have two sides in the field, one is in and one is out, each man that’s in the side that’s in goes out, and when he’s out, he comes in and the next man goes in until he’s out, then when they are all out, the side that’s out comes in and the side that’s been in goes out and tries to get those that came in, out, however you get men still out but not out, then after both sides have been out and in, including the not outs, the game is over, see?”.

“Why don’t we choose something more suited to us and The Baaarmy Inn”, said Suzie, like Wellie Wanging”; “brilliant idea”, said Colin, “I agree”, said Arthur, “me too”, said Ted, “what’s wellie wanging?” asked John, if he wasn’t confused enough already!

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Thanks to Denise for hosting Six Sentence Stories where this week’s word is Level.

…for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt!

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Too often, awkward moments make me shrink in my chair. I once asked someone when their baby was due. She wasn’t pregnant.

I had job interviews with two competing companies on the same day. At the first, I savagely criticised a product believing it to be their rival’s; in fact it was theirs.

I remember trying on a jacket in a clothes store. Unfortunately it wasn’t for sale, it belonged to someone who was also trying on jackets.

I sat on a friend’s inflatable chair once and it burst – it wasn’t just me that shrank!

There was the time……..

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Click Froggie to visit the squares!

 

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PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

For Wordless Wednesday and bloghops various.

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Last time I took you here, everything was frozen. What a difference a few weeks make! I went back this afternoon, and this is what I saw…

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Click pics to enlarge!

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Linky is waiting for you!

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It happens sometimes. Not often. When it does, the moon beckons me through a gap in the curtains. I leave the warmth of my bed, descend the stairs and stroll down the silent, dimly lit street.

I venture onto the beach. Pebbles crackle beneath my naked feet, but I feel nothing. I dip my toes in the sparkling water and gaze towards the horizon. 

I wait. 

One, two… on the count of three, she appears at my side. 

She takes my hand and leads me to our special place. Back to back we sit. Not a word passes our lips. No need. Minutes go by, hours sometimes, then I glance over my shoulder and she’s gone. I know not her name, neither she mine, I suppose.

I stroll home, pull tightly closed my curtains and slumber ’til dawn. Contented, satisfied. 

 

Thanks to Sadje for hosting her What Do You See? photo prompt.

 

Image credit; Kenrick Mills @ Unsplash

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It’s Sunday and as usual Mark is on his pilgrimage to the Golden Cross public house. He’s weary having endured another  difficult week, and the hill is steep, but the reward that awaits him will lessen the burden he bears.

‘Garlic bread and a glass of red, please Vic’, he says to the bar-tender. He always says that!

He eats his bread, sips the wine, and emits a satisfied sigh. A simple pleasure, but once again his soul is filled with joy!

‘That was heavenly Vic’ he says.

‘Bless you, Mark’, he replies.

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Thanks to Sammi for hosting the Weekend Writing Prompt. I thought it was about time I gave it another go!