The Sunday Whirl

Posted Saturday November 5

I decided to avoid all political references  - apart that is from the politics of country village life!

'It's not a race chum'

'Actually, it is matey, and we are not going to lose it. If we don't get to the barbeque soon all the beer and the best grub will have been grabbed and we'll be left with empty bottles and burnt bits. Come on'

Matey was red in the face and going as fast as his stumpy old legs and stick could carry him.  Swearing like a trooper as he puffed and panted, he left a trail of blue air in his wake.

When they arrived at the village green a beaming Reverend Lock was first to greet them.

‘Bless you gentlemen, you look exhausted. Thank you for coming’

‘Right’ said chum rubbing his hands together. ‘Where’s the food and beer?’

Oh, err, well, Miss Fothergill and Widow Applethwaite have some homemade iced fancies and cups of tea in the tent over there but you have to vote first’

‘Vote?’ asked matey.

                                       

‘Why yes gentlemen. We are choosing the next Summer Faire Senior Princess. Between you and me, I think it’ll be naughty Lottie Lovette. She’s marvellous for ninety, don’t you think? And that’s a very fetching bathing costume.’ 

Clearly, he was concealing something!

They looked towards her and she winked.

‘bbbut the barbeque....’ stammered matey.

‘Goodness no chaps, that was last night’

For The Sunday Whirl where the given words are -  race, vote, stump, stick, lock, blue, red, conceal, burn, bless, grab, lose

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