Posted Saturday November 5
Tommy Jones looked left then right and scratched his shaggy-haired head wondering where the devil that noise was coming from. Then he noticed the magnificent motor parked in the garden centre car park, a black-uniformed chauffeur leaning against the bonnet, his arms folded and an amused grin on his face.
Tommy ambled over.
‘Come along lad, one doesn’t have all day’
‘Yes luv?’ he asked.
‘Luv? Luv? Where are your manners young man?’
‘Awful sorry ma'am’ he said, holding one arm in front of him, the other behind as he bowed deeply.
‘That’s better. Now, I wish to purchase two bags of that dirt stuff’
‘Dirt stuff Mrs, er Lady, err ma’am?’
‘I am told it is referred to as compoaste’
Tommy looked towards the chauffeur, a quizzical expression pasted across his face.
‘Compost laddy, compost’ he whispered.
‘Ah, gotcha mate’ said Tommy as he failed to hold back a fit of giggles.
‘Compose yourself young sir’ yelled Lady Compberry.
‘What miss, cover meself in compoaste?’ he chuckled.
A few minutes later the ‘bag of dirt’ was safely stowed in the boot of the Roller as it glided from the parking lot, and Tommy was having a good old laugh about Lady C with his colleagues.
Today's given word at Sunday Scribblings 2 is Compose