Love one another - a battle plan for bridegrooms!

For Carry On Tuesday # 129 and Sunday Scribblings # 291

Having had three weddings, you would assume I've had enough experience to write a book on the subject. Wrong.  Possibly a book on how to get it wrong would be an easier task. Your wedding should be treated as a military operation and a battle-plan is essential. I  place before you now 12 rules of engagement that the groom should bear in mind based on personal experience and mishaps. There could have been 13, but that would have been asking for bad luck.

1. Turn up at the right venue. Sounds obvious, but it's an easy mistake to make especially if you've had a drink or twenty the night before. There's nothing worse than bowling up at the wrong wedding and attempting to steal someone else's bride.

2. Always remember what your bride looks like, particularly if you have been married several times before. Carry a photo to the ceremony just in case

3. Make sure your best man has the ring. Do not under any circumstances give it to him the night before, or he may use it to obtain credit at the tenth bar you stagger in to.

4. Very important this. Whatever you do, don't get a fit of the giggles during the vows. I suggest you avoid looking into your brides eyes during this part, especially during the bit about procreation.

5. The next obstacle is the reception. You are expected to stand in a line and make inane small talk with your guests. Thing is, who to kiss and who not to kiss. Clearly kissing old Uncle Albert is not a good idea, but the tedium of this ritual sometimes lulls you away into your private thoughts, and you can easily plant a smacker on an inappropriate cheek

6. Assuming everything has gone alright up to now, make a point of treating every guest as a long lost friend or relative even if you have no idea who they are. Try however not to enter into lengthy conversations. This is a minefield. Saying to someone that she doesn't look old enough to be your bride's grandmother only to discover she's actually her long lost sister, is not a good way to ingratiate yourself with her family.

7. This is also important. Avoid kissing the Matron of Honour on the lips, however friendly you were the night before. Could be a bit of a give-away.

8. Speech should be a doddle. They will laugh at anything you say. This is where you thank the bridesmaids, not in private later.

9. Then the first dance. Nightmare for anyone like me with two left feet but do your best not to tread on your beloved’s toes. It is also advisable to dance with your newly acquired mother in law. Be careful however where you place your hands. Don't want to give the impression that you have anything irregular in mind.

10. Don't have too much to drink. This is not the place for announcing home truths, it could cause problems, and a fist fight at a wedding is not a good start to your life of married bliss.

11. Almost over and you can relax until the time comes to carry her over the threshold. Try not to drop her, and under no circumstances suggest she joins Weight Watchers.

12. Enjoy the happiest day of your life and simply love one another!

I really don't believe in fairies

Written  for Short Story Slam week 13.

I'm used to seeing birds in trees. I often see squirrels in trees. I’ve seen monkeys in trees and bats in trees. But it’s not every day you come across a blue haired girl in a flimsy blue dress sitting in a tree reading Hello Magazine.

I couldn’t help but stare up at her. Then I realised I was seeing too much and quickly looked down again. Call me old fashioned, but my immediate thought was that she should have worn jeans and preserved her modesty.

‘Hello’ she chirped waving her magazine at me. ‘So I see’ I said’ glancing up. ‘ Not a publication I subscribe to myself but . . . . . .’

‘No silly!’ she interrupted. ‘I was saying hello to you; being friendly '

‘Oh, of course’ I said staring down at the grass, ‘that was indeed a silly thing to say. Err... may I ask? Why exactly are you sitting up there?’

I suddenly became aware of glittery particles  raining down on me, and from the corner of my eye I saw a magazine barrelling across the fields in the autumn breeze . I slowly raised my eyes until I saw the place she’d been sitting. There was nothing there .

OK, I’m a bloke so I don’t believe in fairies. Even if I did I wouldn’t admit it to you. I mean, if I’d had a beer or two, I could have put it down to alcoholic sensory enhancement. But I was on the way to the pub, not on my way back. And in any case I’m sure that fairies don’t read Hello Magazine . What am I saying?

Anyway, I didn’t mention it to my mates when I arrived at the pub. I put my sparkly shoulders down to an accident I’d had at the greetings card counter in the supermarket.

‘Hello’ whispered a voice in my ear. I automatically looked up at the lamp shade expecting to find a fairy sitting there! ’Not a publication I subscribe to myself ’ I muttered before I could stop myself. My friends gave me a selection of bemused looks. Just then I felt a tap on my shoulder from a rolled magazine . I turned around and there stood a blue haired girl in a flimsy blue dress ‘Your secret’s safe with me’ she giggled. I looked at my friends but they just carried on chatting as if there was no one else there . I glanced back over my shoulder and she’d gone . I ordered a quadruple scotch.

Meditation at the birthplace of Buddha

It's Wordless Wednesday


I took these in Nepal back in April

The night that changed his life!

Written for Carry On Tuesday # 128, 'sitting alone listening to the silence'

Another Saturday night and he was leaning on the bar of a nearly empty pub, staring into a beer glass counting the bubbles as they burst, one by one by one. Once again Tecno Geek was sitting alone listening to the silence. Then a girl sidled up the bar with two empty glasses attempting to catch the eye of the barmaid. ‘Don’t I know you?’ she asked Tecno. ‘I‘m Sell, Sell Fone from Mobile World; you were in our shop the other day’. He looked at her for a second or two then her face rang a bell. ‘That’s right’ he said. ‘I was fed up with my Blackberry letting me down so you sold me an Apple . Now that’s giving me the pip too – I feel like wrapping them in pastry and baking them in a pie.

‘I might have just what you need’ said Sell as she fished in her bag. She pulled out a card and gave it to Tecno. This guy does the latest thing in the communication biz. It’s called MolarFon. Go see him’. And with that she tottered off with her freshly recharged glasses.

The next day Tecno was standing at the top of a flight of steps in front of a grand door. On it was a sparkling metal plate bearing the legend ‘Doctor Cawlan Receve, Registered Fontist’. He pushed open the door and ventured inside.

Minutes later Tecno was laying back in a chair, mouth wide open, with all kinds of gleaming instruments of torture around him. This won’t hurt said Doctor Cawlan as he started frantically prodding, poking and drilling in Tecno’s mouth. Suddenly he stopped and the chair sprung into an upright position. The good Doctor grabbed Tecno’s right hand and proceeded to stab the ends of his thumb and fingers with little needles.

He was then ejected from the chair and taken to a sofa where the grinning Doctor handed him a book of instructions and a sizeable bill. He then reversed away and went back into his surgery.

Suddenly a ringing sound appeared in Tecno’s head and he could feel one of his teeth vibrating. ‘What do I do now?’ muttered Tecno as he leafed through his manual. Got it! ‘To take a call press thumb on tip of index finger’ it said. The voice of Doctor Receive filled his head. ‘Welcome to the world of MolarFon’ he said. ‘Please settle my account before you leave’ and with that he rang off.

Now Tecno Geek is the envy of all that meet him. He’s the centre of attention. He only has to press his thumb to his middle finger, utter a contacts name and he’s connected. To text, he presses his thumb on his third finger then speaks his message! Wonderful. He’s still got a bit of toothache but that’s small price to pay for being at the forefront of toothology.

He called Sell Fone the other day to thank her. He was eating a particularly spicy Indian meal at the time and Sell was suddenly overcome by the smell of curry.  And when his Mother called he felt sure he could taste the revolting sweet tea she was drinking. But as he says, it’s new so there are bound to be a few teething problems!

The earth is flat!

During the run up to Keith's Ramblings 5th anniversary, I'm picking a piece from the archives each day. Apparently  I wrote this one on January 2nd 2008 although I have to admit I have absolutely no recollection of doing so! Maybe the New Year celebrations were going on a bit!


I love alternative theories! I remain to be convinced that man landed on the moon. I am pretty sure it wasn’t the Titanic that sank, rather its sister ship the RMS Olympic. And Santa is an anagram of Satan, so is he really the jolly chap we all think he is or the devil in disguise?How about this one. The Earth is a flat disc, not a sphere! Don’t laugh! It’s possible. It has a diameter of 24,0h0 miles with a 150 foot wall of ice around the edge and the ‘north’ pole at the centre!


It gets better. The sun and moon are also discs, 32 miles in diameter and only 3000 miles above us. The stars are 100 miles above them.


As for gravity, this is brought about as a result of the Earth accelerating upwards. This also explains global warming as we are gradually getting closer and closer to the sun which itself is moving upwards, but at a slightly slower pace than us. The oceans' tides? Simple. The Earth tips from side to side causing the water to slosh to one side then the other.


I’m told that sunrise and sunset come about as a result of the planetary bodies above us revolving and moving in and out, although I’m not sure I quite understand that one!


Now I didn’t invent all this stuff myself! There is a Flat Earth Society which puts up very convincing arguments for this theory. And I like it!


I was thinking that a new business could be started up which offers the ultimate bungee jump from the edge of the earth! And instead of rock-climbing a whole new dangerous sport could start by crossing the earth from underneath using giant suckers!


Anyway, I have to sign off now or I’ll be late for my appointment with my counsellor!

Farmer Bill's big back yard

Keith's Ramblings will soon be reaching its 5th Anniversary. Over the next few days I'll be publishing a few of my favourite posts. This one fits almost perfectly with the Sunday Scribblings prompt, My Back Yard. It was first published here in April 2008

In Farmer Bill's big back yard

Pigs grunt
Cows moo
Frogs croak
Doves coo

Sheep baa
Birds sing
Bees buzz
Wasps sting

Ducks quack
Cocks crow
Mice squeak
Winds blow

Branches wave
Streams run
Clouds float
In the sun

Swans glide
Fishes dart
Ponies canter
Bulls fart

Kanye West on stage!

It's Wordless Wednesday! 

Grateful

Keith's Ramblings is fast approaching its 5th Anniversary. I've been going back over many hundreds of posts and reading things I don't even remember writing! I've picked out a few that have attracted favourable comments and I'm going to be reprinting several of them over the next few days. This story entitled Grateful appeared in November 2008

There were not many people at Gerald’s funeral. A couple of neighbours, three or four folk from his church and his health visitor. He had lived alone for years and although everyone around tried to do what they could for him, he never showed any gratitude.

There was however one person at the chapel whom nobody had seen before. Tall, expensively suited and with a skin the colour of polished mahogany. His gentle smile lit up the miserable grey walls and softened the leaden sky which peered mockingly through the chapel windows.

*

Thirty or so years ago, Gerald had been a manager at a gold mine in Africa. There, the local men toiled and laboured taking home a meagre wage, day in day out, year after miserable year. One evening after Gerald had finished his shift he was wandering back to his hut when he witnessed the appalling sight of a man raping a local girl. Had she not been wearing a bright yellow coloured garment he might never have noticed her. He was however too late to prevent the ghastly crime, and the guilt he felt for not being there minutes earlier haunted him for many a long month.

As a result the girl had conceived and in the following spring gave birth to a healthy baby boy. So moved was Gerald that he made a promise to see that the mother and child were supported both physically and financially for as long as he lived. Months later he returned to England and never saw them again. His attempts to contact the girl and her baby were unfruitful, but still he ensured that the financial help he had promised continued even though he realised that the aid he was sending could well be falling into the wrong hands.

*

A couple of weeks ago Gerald was lying in a hospital bed. He had few visitors and those that did sit at his bedside never felt that he was in any way grateful for their visits. Then one afternoon a handsome young man strode up to his bedside. He was tall, expensively suited and had skin the colour of polished mahogany. His smile lit up the gloomy hospital ward and softened the leaden sky which peered through the windows. Gerald knew at once who the young man was, but was too weak to utter a single word.

‘My name is Gerald too’ said the visitor. ‘My Mother and I owe you a debt we can never repay. You have given us everything, for which we will be forever grateful. Yet I ask for one thing more. I simply ask that I be permitted to call you Father. Gerald’s feeble smile was all the confirmation the young man required.

*

At the graveside the gathered few scattered soil on Gerald’s coffin as it was lowered into the ground. The young man cast in a piece of bright yellow fabric. ‘Rest in peace Father’ he said.

.

The show must go on

Keith's Rambling is fast approaching its 5th Anniversary. I've been going back over many hundreds of posts and reading things I don't even remember writing! I've picked out a few that have attracted favourable comments and I'm going to be reprinting several of them over the next few days. This weeks prompt at Carry On Tuesday is 'The show must go on' and I've dug out a short piece I wrote in 2009 on that very subject.

The show was to start in just ten minutes time. The audience had been filing in and taking their seats for the last twenty minutes or so. There was a contented buzz filling the auditorium and the crackling sound of bags of sweets being opened. Not long to go and you could feel the excitement!

Then suddenly the lights went down, ten minutes early! The orchestra which had been playing a little light music suddenly stopped and frantically set about finding the music for the overture. There was a rustling of sheet music as the conductor raised his baton, then most of the musicians started playing.

Thirty seconds into the overture, the curtains swept aside, a hush came over the audience.One by one the musicians stopped playing and the spotlights flickered into life.

The stage was bare! At least it was until a little man sauntered on from stage left!

There, blinking in the middle of the empty set stood Ron the stage manager in his paint splattered dungarees with a hammer in one hand and a screwdriver in the other! The only sound from the auditorium was the thud of seats popping up as people stood to allow the latecomers to shuffle their way to their seats in the middle of the rows!

Ron looked left, looked right, looked up, and then down. Being a true professional he decided that as the curtains had opened, the show must go on. He shrugged,and the crowd started laughing. Ron laughed back and the crowd laughed even more! Then he produced a spanner from his tool belt and started his back-stage party trick – juggling with his tools! The crowd loved it!

Ron had always fancied the idea of being a stand up comic. Perhaps this was fate. Perhaps this moment was meant to be. Dare he? Well, nothing else seemed to be happening so he started telling jokes!

‘Two cannibals are eating a clown. One says to the other, "Does this taste funny to you?” Laughter! ‘I went to buy some camouflage trousers the other day but I couldn't find any’. More laughter!

It didn’t last long. The curtains flew closed leaving Ron half in and half out of the set. The audience roared for more, but that was it for Ron’s first public performance. A couple of minutes later the show that the audience came to see got under way.

But it wasn’t Ron’s last performance! Nowadays he appears in open mike sessions in pubs and clubs all around the area. He still wears his dungarees, juggles tools and tells corny jokes!

‘A recent survey was conducted to discover why men get out of bed in the night. Five percent said it was to bet a glass of water, twelve percent said it was to go to the bathroom and eighty three percent said it was to go home!’

Nice one Ron!

Here there and everywhere

Gemma’s phone rang. She could hear it but she couldn’t see it. She rummaged through her bag desperate to get hold of it before it cut off.

 She pressed the button. ‘Hi’ she shouted, ‘Is that you?’

 ‘At last’ said the voice at the other end. ‘Where on earth are you?’

 ‘I’m still here’ said Gemma.

 ‘Haven’t you found it yet?’ said the voice sounding a little impatient.

 ‘No’ said Gemma, ‘I’ve looked everywhere’


‘But I'm sure it’s there’ said the voice ‘you must keep looking because I need it here, if you don’t find it then everything I've dreamt of and worked for will disappear’

Thirty minutes passed and Carly was pacing the room. ‘So near but so far’ she whispered to herself. ‘Please please find it’. She jumped as her phone sprang into life. 


‘I’ve found it!’ shrieked the voice on the other end. ‘Fantastic’ shouted Carly, ‘get it here as quickly as you can’.

The door swung open and in ran Gemma. Carly was hopping from foot to foot with delight. ‘At last you are here said. ‘If I rush I’ll just get to that interview in time. I so need that job and there’s no way I could sit there without my lipstick on’.


Written for Sunday Scribblings

Peace at last!

Written for Short Story Slam 12

Peace at last! I thought he’d never fall asleep. Listen; bliss. All I can hear is the ticking of the clock, and the rustling of autumn leaves in the world beyond his cosy little room. ‘Yes’ I said to her, ‘you go out and enjoy yourself this evening; you deserve it and it’s time for our first attempt at father-son bonding’. Little did I realise what I’d let myself in for.

I need to start clearing up the bombsite that used to be our lounge. I had no idea how loose the curtain track had become and I had no idea how tight his grip was on the fabric when I tried carrying him away from the window. I’m never going to have time to get out the ladder and my tools and reattach the rail before she gets home . I know I said I’d feed him, after all, how difficult could it be? I’m sure it wasn’t my fault the first jar of baby food exploded in the microwave, it must have been faulty. Then to demonstrate how tasty the Heinz cauliflower and broccoli cheese was, I let him watch me eat a little myself. Mistake . When I got back from throwing up in the bathroom he was tucking into the cat litter, and for some reason he found it tastier than the gloopy slime in the little jar. He was probably right . The kitchen looks like a disaster area and if she sees all that baby food splattered across the ceiling she’ll be furious. Actually, pale green looks quite good, I’ll bear that in mind when we redecorate .

 Tabby the cat is probably still hiding behind the sofa. Can’t say I blame her. At one stage I nearly joined her. He’s got a lovely little wind up toy cat, I like playing with it myself, but he seems to think that torturing Tabby is far more fun . Actually, whilst watching him it did occur to me that he has a natural aptitude for riding - one day he might even become a jockey. 


I’m not too good with things horticultural, but I’m hoping that if I poke the snapped-off part of her precious orchid back into the dirt in the flowerpot, it might re-grow its roots. After all, the wriggly worm he snapped in half in the garden earlier today managed to survive. It was funny actually ; both halves went off in different directions! I bet they won’t arrange a get-together in our garden! 

He looks so sweet and innocent lying there. I wonder if he’s dreaming? We are going to the coast tomorrow. What was it Winston Churchill said, something about fighting them on the beaches? He’s probably plotting something right now. I had no idea how hard looking after a child single-handedly could be ; I’m worn out. 

 It’s really comfortable here. I think I deserve a little rest before I start downstairs. I can hardly keep my eyes open. I’ll just er, er, mmmmmmmmmmm.

Prince plays Abu Dhabi

For Wordless Wednesday October 12 2011

The Call

The call came in the middle of the night. Her cell phones ring tone was turned off so it rattled its way across the table top then fell onto the rug with a thud. She cursed under her breath in case her husband had been woken by the noise. The previous night she had deliberately started a furious row with him and as she had planned, he stomped off to the spare room for the night.

          She hadn’t needed to answer it. There would only ever be one call made on this phone then she’d lose it as quickly as she’d got it. Without turning on the bedroom light she fumbled her way over to the window, opened the curtains the merest bit and strained her eyes to look out into the pitch black of the winter’s night. There was not a sound coming from the sheep in field opposite the cottage, and she hoped and prayed that they would not be disturbed by her leaving the house in the early hours of the morning. Had there been a moon she would at least be able to see where he was waiting. Then she spotted a tiny orange glow, the light from a cigarette. She hadn’t realised he smoked, he’d certainly not done so in her company so her strong feelings on the subject had never come up. Still, if he was a smoker it would a small price to pay. Sonya was besotted with him even though they had only met two or three times; love at first sight was something she’d never believed in until this week.

          She grabbed her small pre packed bag of essentials, eased open the bedroom door praying it wouldn’t creak then slowly and silently descended the narrow staircase.  Only two bolts and a door lock stood between her and her new life. The first one slid effortlessly aside. She held her breath as she twisted the key. Not a sound. Sensing freedom she bent down to release the bottom bolt, but it refused to budge. She pulled it a little harder. Nothing. Her heart began to beat a little faster; she was aware of moisture forming on her top lip.

          Suddenly it crashed open with a deafening bang and she caught the flesh of her finger between the bolt and its barrel. It was agonising; in the darkness she could feel blood trickling across her palm. She waited making not a sound, expecting to hear James wake up and leave the spare room to investigate. But remarkably, he didn’t.

           As she pulled open the heavy oak door it let out a disapproving groan, as if were trying to tell her something, but it wouldn’t have mattered if he had heard it, because within seconds she was running as fast as her shaking legs would carry her in the direction of the orange glow. She couldn’t understand why Sam wasn’t walking towards her. She glanced over her shoulder at the cottage and as she did so the light in the spare room flashed on. She stopped and turned, and for the first time in days she asked herself what on earth she thought she was doing. It was then she realised that the face watching her from the window was not her husband James. It was Sam. She turned to face the field and the light from the window was illuminating a figure smoking a cigarette and holding cell phone. He was smiling. Not a pleasant smile, more a menacing one. She had never seen James look like that before.

          James had been planning to leave Sonya for some time. He was a man of means and before they married he drew up a prenuptial agreement. It was unusual inasmuch as it stated that in the event of Sonya leaving him at her instigation, then she would be entitled to none of his estate. On the other hand, should he leave he would have to share everything he owned with her. He therefore had to find a way parting without it being his fault. Unbeknown to her he’d arranged at some considerable expense for her to bump into several eligible men over the past year or so. It was Sam that managed to work the magic. He’d persuaded her that once they were together she’d have no need for James’ money. But of course, she was never to see him again. And James had been careful to cover his tracks making it nigh impossible for him to be accused of anything untoward. It was Sonya’s word against his and his accomplice Sam; or so they thought.

          The call came three years later. It was from her solicitor. It was good news!

Mary's lamb

Mary had a leg of lamb, she got it from the butcher. She stuck a few sprigs of rosemary in it. She picked the rosemary from her friend’s garden; Rose Marie's garden. Roses are Mary’s favourite flowers. Mary stabbed it with garlic cloves. She got them from her mate Gary who licks cloves. Cloves are good for toothache and Gary suffers with his molars. His friends lampoon him and his spice-sucking habit. Gary has a split personality, a cloven hoof. Mary’s leg of lamb once had a hoof. She coated her lamb in honey, clover honey.

It tasted good.

She also cooked a pie, a blackberry pie which sounds like a pie made from four and twenty blackbirds but it wasn't. Her friends made things too; Pat a cake, and Polly put the kettle on so they could all have a cup of tea.

A tasty time was had by all.

Rosey has words!

Rosey was in a strange mood the other evening. It seems that someone had had said something unpleasant to her during a drama class at her school. As you know Rosey takes her position as classroom assistant to Sally Blackley very seriously, and when she was asked by Sally to take part in a junior version of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet she was in her element! At the time she thought that being too keen was probably not such a good idea, so she answered the request with a line from the bard himself – ‘to be or not to be’ she asked, ‘that is the question – Hamlet act three scene one!’ Anyway, she agreed ‘to be’ and a few days later rehearsals began.

You may recall that I told you about her contribution to the school Christmas play a couple of years ago. She went from being a production assistant to playing a major role, that of the first palm tree on the right next to the principal alien.. Ever since then, the children have insisted that she joins them on stage at every possible opportunity! Clearly, despite her youthful looks, she was a bit too old to play the part of Juliet, much to the chagrin of young Jamey Fothergill who had landed the part of Romeo.

One of the other teachers, Francis (known as Frigid Fran behind her back) always treated Rosey with disdain; clearly she thought that Rosey was beneath her being no more than teacher’s assistant, and was observably jealous of her popularity among the staff and students. She couldn’t understand why she should have a stage part in what was meant to be a kid’s production. ‘For you and I are past our dancing days’ she said. ‘From act one scene five I believe!’ retorted Rosey putting Fran firmly in her place. She then suggested that Rosey play the part of Rosaline, the character Romeo has a crush on in the early part of the play. Rosey was initially delighted! But then she suddenly remembered that Rosaline has a non-speaking part and never even appears on stage.Sally tutted at Fran and suggested that Rosey play the nurse, one of the funniest yet most disturbing characters in the play.

It seems that Rosey’s presence among the cast was having an inspirational effect on the young thespians. ‘O! She doth teach the torches to burn bright’ said Sally to Fran quoting a line from the play. ‘Act one, scene five’ called Rosey from the wings. Fran was visibly riled.


The first rehearsal was a triumph. Sally was delighted with Rosey’s contribution; Fran less so. The children fled from the room visibly excited and enthused by the events of the afternoon.

As Rosy was putting on her coat on, Fran sidled up to her. ‘You are as a candle, the better burnt out’ she hissed.

 ‘Henry the forth part one’ said Rosey ‘and you are loathsome as a toad’.

 ‘Ah’ said Fran ‘Troilus and Cressida! Peace ye fat guts’ she shouted. ‘Henry the forth part one again’ chuckled Rosey.

‘Parting is such sweet sorrow – not’ said Fran as she left the room.

After Rosey had finished telling us about the strange events of the afternoon she opened a bottle of her favourite Chardonnay and visibly relaxed. I don’t know much Shakespeare so the best I could come up with was something along the lines of ‘sticks and stones may hurt my bones but words will never hurt me’.


 ‘Yes’ said Rosey, ’but a blow with a word strikes deeper than a blow with a sword’

 'Who said that?' I asked. 'Aint got a clue' said Rosey,'Cheers!'

Written in response to Carry On Tuesday prompt about words

To read more of Rosey's adventures, visit My Friend Rosey.