Thursday, August 27, 2015


It's time to say farewell to Sunday Scribblings 2. My sincere thanks go to Magical Mystery Teacher for hosting the site. I leave you with a poem and a vignette.

Goodbye my love

Don’t speak
Words will only steal the moment
Your breath
the beating of your heart
says more than words could say

Be still
as my eyes feast on your beauty
Your satin skin
tinted by the sinking sun
is how I will remember you

Watch not
as I melt into the night
All I ask
is for a place in your heart
as you will have in mine.

Let me read it to you - SINGLE click on arrow

Farewell not goodbye

Suddenly the lights of Paris seem less bright. The laughter of moments ago no more. Eyes that sparkled now dampen ashen cheeks.

She leans from the gaping window and clutches his hand. Although close, they feel a million miles apart, separated by the cold steel of the cruel carriage door.

With a menacing roar, the train begins to inch its way down the platform. Slowly at first as if to prolong the agony of these final heart-wrenching moments.

He chokes on his emotion, she sobs and gasps as she tries to speak. But she cannot speak. He runs beside her, holding on to her for as long as he can. Then the path beneath his feet ends. The monster heads out into the night taking away his very reason for living.

Now he stands alone. The platform deserted. Alone with his thoughts. He hears her voice whispering in the chill of the midnight breeze. ‘Goodbye my love’ she said.

He stares out into the darkness as tears of rain begin falling from the sky.

'Adieu mon amour’ he cries ‘Adieu, pas au revoir’

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

A Chinese banquet

It's Wordless Wednesday time again

Fancy some Chinese food?

I took these pictures in a street food market in Beijing last year. Everything from sheep's testicles to starfish, maggots to scorpions!

Click to enlarge if you dare!

Sunday, August 23, 2015


To read my contribution to this weeks Sunday's Whirligig, scroll down or click HERE

Sour grapes!

The given words at The Sunday Whirl are chiseled puzzle dumb foreign wine superior lucid hollow stain winner feckless and luminous. I’ve chiseled out a story using all but one!

“Try this” said George. “Made from my own grapes”

Leonard the landlord of the Buxom Belle studied the cloudy contents of the wine glass with a puzzled expression on his face.

“Far superior to that foreign stuff”

Leonard swirled the luminous liquid round and round.

“Remember 1976 when my home brewed beer was the winner of the best ale award at the village fair?  Well, I’m entering my wine this year”

“As I recall, it was hollow victory” said Leonard “Cost you a fortune to make and it was the only entry apart from Solomon’s, and he cheated”

”Yea, the feckless fool used some from a can!” shouted Walter as he spun around on his bar stool.

Leonard gingerly raised the glass to his lips. Just as he was about to sip it, Fred banged on the bar top. “Service” he yelled. Leonard visibly jumped and sent a slug of Georges wine straight down the front of his pristine white shirt leaving a blood-red stain in its wake. The normally lucid landlord was momentarily struck dumb.

“Fred” George shouted. “Look what you made him do! That wine’s priceless. What a waste!”

After an evening of sampling to mixed reviews, George decided to rethink his plan to set up his own wine business.

The Friday gathering

The given words at this week's Sunday's Whirligig are reach, farming, sprout, dung, enters, corn, comes, mole, rise, seed, flows, and  vine

In the warmth of the crackling log fire, the local farmers were enjoying their Friday gossip gathering at the Buxom Belle public house where more than just the beer flows.

In comes Colin the crop farmer, king of the corny joke.

“Evenin’ Colin” said Walter. “Evenin’ Colin” said Fred. “Oh, it’s you” groaned Solomon as Colin plonked himself down in an  old leather armchair.

“Did I tell you the one about....?” Colin's joke was mercifully curtailed as the old oak door creaked and George enters.

“Evenin’ George” said Colin. “Evenin’ George” said Walter. “Evenin’ George” said Fred. “Before you park yer ass mister, mine's a pint” slobbered Solomon, greedily splashing the remains of his ale down his throat.

George is a modern farmer. He’s started growing vines in his top field. The others think it’s a bit poncey and never tire of telling him so, but he refuses to rise to their mocking.

“What did the grape say when George trod on it?” asked Colin.

“Err” said Walter.”Umm” said Fred.  “Go on then George, tell us if you must” Solomon said wearily as he gazed at the ancient beams above his balding head.

“Nuffing” yelled Colin “It just let out a little wine! Haha...haha... haha!”

“Ere” muttered Fred from behind his cupped hand as he leaned forward. “I saw that brazen hussy Martha Whittaker coming outa’ back alley first thing s’mornin’. Proper shady she looked”

"Baa, you are talking a load of dung ya’ silly ole codger" shouted Brenda the barmaid from the other end of the room.
“Oh no, I see’d it with me own two eyes” he shouted back.

“You’ve only got one eye Fred, ‘tother one’s glass!” mocked Leonard the landlord.

Walter laughed. Colin laughed. Solomon reached for his tankard and fiddled nervously with the hair spouting from the mole on his cheek.
“Be that as it may, I know what I saw and it looks a bit 'spicious ta’ me” insisted Fred.

Is that the alley that leads to Solomon’s cottage?” asked prissy Pricilla who was sitting two tables away with her cronies from the knitting circle.

Everybody in the bar turned towards Solomon.

~ ~ ~

And so it went on, for it was just another Friday night at the Buxom Belle.

Saturday, August 22, 2015

Forbidden fruit

This week's word at Sunday Scribblings 2 is mistake. This was surely the first mistake ever made!

It was the end of a perfect summer’s day. They wandered hand in hand around the enchanted garden only stopping now and then to look into each other’s eyes and embrace.

Serenaded by songbirds, wrapped in the warmth of the setting sun, intoxicated by the feelings they had for each other. Everything about them was swathed in a mist of emotion.

He picked a fragrant bloom and placed it in her hair, held a buttercup beneath her chin, and collected daisies to make a chain to hang around her neck.

She plucked a blushing apple from a stooping bough and they each took a bite.

Never again were they seen in the garden.

Sunday, August 16, 2015


For my Sunday's Whirligig short story STROLL DOWN or click HERE!

Enter in all who dare!

At this week's Sunday Whirl, we are required to 'generate' a story or poem using the following words; generate, feast, laugh, escape, veins, way, sack, broke, ghost, empty, engine and torn

‘Fancy a laugh?’ shouted Mike above the noise of crowded funfair. ‘Look’ he said pointing between the roller coaster and the shooting range.

‘If you think you’re getting me in there you’ no...stop!

‘Come on Molly, this way!’ he yelled as he dragged her towards the ghost train.

She managed to escape from his grasp and made a dash for the burger van preferring a greasy feast to a plunge into the underworld.

Cowardy custard!’ he yelled as he handed over a fiver. ‘I’m in Car 22 - see you if I make it through!’ 

He clambered in, and with a jerk and a groan from the engine it made its way into the  unknown.

Armed with a double special with cheese and extra sauce she wandered across to the ghost train looking forward to seeing Mike’s ashen face and throbbing veins when he emerged. She waited a few minutes, but there was no sign of him. In fact, there was no sign of any other cars exiting either.

An anxious looking ghost in a torn sack-cloth robe staggered from the tunnel.

‘What’s happened Mister Ghost?’ Molly asked.

‘Something terrible Miss’ he replied.

‘So where’s my boyfriend?’ she enquired beginning to feel a little concerned.

Just at that moment Car 22 lurched from the tunnel. It was empty. The ghost pulled it clear; Molly stared, mouth gaping. ‘What have you and your ghastly ghoulies done with him?’  she squeaked.

A tap on her shoulder made her jump. She spun round, dropped her burger and saw a grinning Mike standing there.

He got the biggest fright of the afternoon when he saw her terrified expression and the tomato sauce dribbling from her open mouth!

‘Mike, I thought...I thought... I thought you were...’

‘No Molly’ he chuckled when he'd recovered. ‘It broke down and I walked out! Anyway, fancy a ride in a teacup or are you afraid we’ll drown?’