Tuesday Tale -Kitchen Sink Drama

Abigail scrolled down the screen impatiently, then she spotted it, her dream flat. She wrote down the details in her notebook in case it vanished off the screen, she had heard how properties could be snapped up quickly, on sale one moment, gone the next. But she had no idea how to book a viewing if the estate agent was on line with no office to visit or human to phone. Luckily Phillip would be round soon.

Character ground floor apartment in lively area, would suit first time buyer. Hardly the sort of thing you want Mother, I’ve booked viewings for several ideal places, but … there we are booked, viewing tomorrow afternoon after the others. We can always cancel if you find one more suitable.’

‘Certainly not, I have a good feeling about this place.’

‘Okay, but you need to be sure, we don’t want to go through all this again.’

‘You mean this is to be my final home?’

‘No, I mean…’

‘I hope it will be, the alternatives would be far worse.’

Soon after lunch the next day Phillip pulled up outside huge gates.

‘Is this a prison?’

‘No of course not, it’s an up market gated community for the eld… people who want to enjoy their retirement.’

‘Not my idea of enjoyment.’

‘It’s got nice gardens and a fountain…’

‘Drive on.’

He handed her a leaflet about the next destination. A smug, sun tanned, fit, mature couple beamed out at her. Oak Dene, luxury apartments for the young at heart and Acorn Grove for those who need that little bit of extra support.  On the estate we have a sports hall and community complex.

‘Hmp, bet that couple wouldn’t dream of setting foot in there and nor would I.’

‘Don’t dismiss it out of hand, lots of company and there’s a bus stop outside to get to our place.’

Abigail looked at her watch. ‘We need to get to my place next, I don’t want another buyer turning up before me.’

Phillip’s frown grew deeper as the Satnav led him down a rundown shopping street then through a maze of small roads.

‘Nearly there… a primary school round the corner, you won’t want to be living in this area.’

‘I love the sound of children in the playground.’

‘But not all the time.’

‘Same town as you and Sandra, isn’t that the plan?’

‘But this is the wrong side of town.’

‘Looks fine to me and lots of interesting little shops.’

‘What on earth would you want with a tattoo parlour and a vape shop?’

When they reached their destination they were both confused.

‘Busy road, can’t see 32B, unless it’s that weird construction that looks like it’s been squeezed in as an afterthought.’

‘Yes, it is, come on, squeeze into that parking space, is that the agent, didn’t look like that when your father and I were house hunting.’

‘Good afternoon, um who is the property for?’

‘Me of course, I hope it’s as good inside as the pictures on your flashy website.’

‘Even better’ the young man flashed a set of white teeth.

‘We have lots of other places to look at’ said Phillip.

The agent ushered them into the tiny hall with a flourish.

‘Kitchen at the front, kitchen sink under the window, you won’t want that Mother.’

‘It’s perfect.’

‘But it’s too small, not even room for a dishwasher.’

‘I won’t need one, I’m not planning on having visitors for dinner.’

The agent smiled. ‘And the guest bedroom is also at the front.’

‘You could not fit a bed in here.’

‘I don’t need to, this is my office, or will be hopefully, how many other buyers have looked?’

‘A lot.’

‘Oh dear, how many offers?’

‘None.’

‘Not surprised’ sniffed Phillip.

‘Now to the main bedroom and lounge which both have French doors out onto the bijou garden.’

‘Oh it’s perfect, south facing as well.’

‘Facing a school by the look and sound of it.’

‘Yes, just a little primary school, but there is a good fence and when that tree is in leaf it will muffle the sound.’

‘Sorry, we won’t waste your time any more, this is totally un..’

‘Perfectly suitable, I’ll be in touch very soon with my offer.’

‘We’ll discuss it and get back to you, come on Mother.’

Back in the car Phillip said ‘Don’t be disappointed, we have plenty more we can look at.’

‘I don’t need to, this is the one.’

‘But that school, balls coming over the fence.’

‘I’ll throw them back again.’

Abigail stood at her kitchen sink looking out at all the toing and froing. Next door was herding her children out the front door, late for school as usual. She had confided to Abigail that the nearer they lived to a school the harder it was to get there on time.

That white car was there again, number 32 told her it was always there when the husband was away. The chap from round the corner waved as he walked by with his dog. She would have quite liked another dog, but not enough room in this little dolls’ house and there was enough entertainment from all the local dogs. Mike across the road was rushing out to recapture his springer spaniel. Perhaps he would have called him something else if he had known how often he would be yelling Bubbles. Whoops, near miss for Bubbles with that teenager on one of those E-scooter things.

Time to get ready for the library coffee morning. Abigail wondered what fascinating characters would turn up today, it was the antidote to that dreary ladies’ club she had belonged to for so long, she had only gone to have a break from Charles after he retired.

That evening Phillip and Sandra popped round for an inspection under the guise of taking her out for dinner. They came bearing plastic boxes of leftovers, or home made ready meals as they preferred to call then, with the excuse they weren’t yet used to cooking smaller amounts since the twins went off to university.

Sandra was peering over the kitchen sink,

‘Oh, there’s a strange man staring in.’

‘That’s Josh, not long out of prison, staying in the halfway house round the corner, nice chap.’

Later that evening Abigail waved goodbye to her son and daughter-in-law with relief. She had enjoyed the meal and people watching, though of course the local Wetherspoon was hardly Phillip and Sandra’s sort of place. No dishes to wash, but she enjoyed looking out of the window before it was time to settle down to watch the news.

Strange, that white car was drawing up and the husband’s car was at home. Now the wife was emerging, carefully closing the front door behind her. Abiail opened the window a little, for fresh air, not to hear what the wife was saying, shouting almost.

‘I told you to stay away, tonight of all nights, just go.’

Oh dear, it looked like he had no intention of going.

The front door flew open and the husband sprang out. He was shouting, but she couldn’t grasp the words. Now the other man was getting something out of the boot of the white car. It looked like, surely not…

Abigail wished she was shut safely in her lounge with the television turned up, oblivious to what was going on. But she wasn’t and there did not seem to be anybody else around. Nobody in the road, no house lights switching on. For the first time in her life Abigail pressed 999 on her phone.

Silly Saturday – News 24022024

House plant expert Flora Flowerdew, speaking on breakfast television, has revealed her secret to success with the three thousand plants she shares her tiny flat with. Flora, whose home has featured on Gardeners’ World viewers’ gardens, said ‘Plant lovers don’t realise plants indoors without the benefit of rain should be washed every day, though it is important to stress that you must not put them in the dishwasher or washing machine.’

Her new book ‘You Can Never Have Too Many Plants’ has become an overnight success. Flora’s personal life has been in the spotlight in the tabloids, but she reassured viewers that she had not split up with her husband, he just moved to a flat nearby which was more suitable for him to work from home.

Most parents are proud of their children’s artistic achievements, but legal experts have warned of the dangers of boasting on social media after a five year old sued his mother for theft of intellectual property. She showed his Christmas wrapping paper on her blog without his permission.

And in another family story a grandmother got a very big surprise from Amazon. Excited that her grandson was coming to visit on his birthday she asked what present he would like. She was not surprised when he said Lego, nor was she surprised when he said he wanted a Lego mini figure as he collects vintage mini figures. He sent her the link to order it on Amazon and she was surprised at how much one figure cost, but she knew Lego was expensive.

All her neighbours were surprised when an overlength vehicle with a police escort arrived in their little cul de sac. On board was a thirty foot high Lego figure. The grandmother, who wishes to remain anonymous, told reporters that she might sue Lego under the trade description act as the figure certainly wasn’t mini, but she also warned other grandparents to read the description before putting an item in the shopping basket.

Finally, in our international, or perhaps interstellar item we look up into the heavens. Tens of people have been excited about the latest moon landing, which is predicted to be the start of the long awaited moon colony. The discovery of one frozen muddy puddle could mean that water can be accessed to brew beer and create oxygen.

Tuesday Tiny Tale 566 – Happy Febmas

Happy Febmas everyone, how long is it since we were all together? Are you glad to be back in the country Danny, back to civilisation?

Is that what you call it? Thank goodness I renewed my contract.

But I thought…

I don’t know how you live with your conscience, raking in all that money in a repressive regime while their citizens suffer.

Ahhem how was your holiday Lydia?

Remind me not to listen to Charles next time he suggests an adventure holiday. I’ve never been so cold in my life.

What did you expect at base camp darling?

For the money we paid, a lot more than a frozen solid tent.

Some of us can’t even afford a holiday to Bognor, mortgage and buying food…

You’ll be glad in the long run son, your mother and I never had a penny to spend on ourselves.

But you were happy ha ha…

Yes we were, we had fun with you all when you were young and you never went hungry like those poor families on television.

Humm, they just need to get a job and learn to cook proper meals like Mum did.

Not that simple Danny.

Let’s dwell on more cheerful things. Isn’t Jodie’s news wonderful.

What news?

The baby of course.

 BABY!

I thought you knew, Danny.

Obviously not. How on earth did that happen? I thought you were with Annya?

I am.

Baby? I thought Jodie was a, you know, is she better now, got herself married?

Oh are you awake Aunty?

I thought you said Aunty Mable had no idea what’s been going on for the last five years.

Ssh, she has moments of lucidity.

Usually at the worst moment.

Annya and I really wanted to have a baby.

 Don’t you need a chap for that, or did you get an anonymous donor?

Remember Joseph at school? He’s been wonderful and so thrilled to get the chance to be a father.

At last we get to be grandparents.

Not actually biological grandparents, but it will be just like the real thing.

What do you mean?

We used Annya’ egg, she couldn’t mess around being pregnant with her work.

My Arthur wasn’t up to it, that’s why we didn’t have children.

Oh Aunty that’s sad, did you want them?

Always used to blame the woman in those days, no such thing as low sperm count then. Though in our case Arthur just wasn’t interested in that sort of thing.

Wel, well family secrets coming out. Was he gay?

How should I know, we didn’t talk about that stuff.

Anyway, nothing wrong with my sperm count, but Avril and I have made a conscious decision not to have brats and I can’t think why Jodie would go to all that trouble to have one.

I didn’t expect any support from you Danny, after all, you did break the leg off my baby doll, that’s why I didn’t bother telling you.

You always bring that up, it was an accident.

No it wasn’t, you were always breaking our toys.

And stealing my Lego.

What about you Scot, are you still seeing Kamala, we thought you might have invited her here.

No, yes, I mean yes Kamala and I are an item and no I didn’t invite her as I didn’t want to put her through this. I knew exactly what it would be like.

Monday Madness – Febmas

The traditional Febmas morning run?

Tuesday Tiny Tale 300 – Phone Call

Hello Mum.

Felicity?

Yes, who else would it be, why didn’t you answer before?

When?

Half an hour ago and several times before that.

I did get some caller unknown calls so of course I ignored them. I only answered this time accidentally. Why aren’t you calling from your phone?

Because I lost my phone, didn’t you get my text messages?

Was that really you, I thought it was one of those scams, I’m not daft. I’m certainly not going to be like those old people on You and Yours who lose all their money.

I wasn’t asking you for any money.

Good, because I’m certainly not sending any money to Morrocco. So are you enjoying your holiday?

I was till I Iost my phone.

Where did you lose it?

If I knew that I would probably have found it by now.

Where are you calling from?

I’m borrowing someone else’s phone so I can’t be long.

Whose?

A new friend.

Where’s Caroline?

Gone off on a trip with some bloke.

What, so you’re all on your own?

Mother, I’m 39, you don’t have to worry about me.

I obviously do if you’ve managed to lose your phone.

I just need you to go on line and get hold of my bank.

Can’t you phone them?

No, all that security stuff is on my phone.

I told you it’s not safe to do all your banking on your phone. How am I going to contact your bank, they closed my branch.

You just go on line.

But I don’t do on line banking for myself, let alone for anyone else and they would be suspicious. Come to think of it, how do I know this is you?

Of course it’s me, I’m your daughter.

But it could be one of those AI thingys cloning your voice…

Tuesday Tale – Wood Smoke

The scent of the wood smoke brought back a memory. We were having a wood burner installed, my mother’s latest idea, all the rage then. No chopping wood as we do now, neatly bound stacks of suitable timber, factory sawn into identical chunks. They were delivered straight into the new designer wood store which provided enough cover to keep it dry, but still visible to impress the neighbours. It was my twelfth birthday and I took for granted our nice house, loving parents, good school and a host of activities. I was not spoilt, just happy, with everything to look forward to. Life was led at a frantic pace, but my friends’ families were just as frenetic. Our parents took turns ferrying us around to ballet classes, riding lessons, sleepovers. Several of us had auditioned for Britain’s Got Talent and were busy rehearsing, making our parents’ lives even busier. I felt a mixture of excitement and frustration that rehearsals were impinging on my precious riding lessons and the chance to go to the jumping competition. All that was missing was a pony of my own. Would I get one for my birthday?

Was I to blame for not caring about the rest of the world? My parents did not either. Later on, my mother would claim they were too busy working and looking after us. Chloe my sixteen year old sister did enough worrying for all of us, Eco Warrior Dad called her. She would inspect the Waitrose delivery to check if the food was healthy and correctly sourced. That week she was insisting she no longer flew and would not be coming on the plane with us for our Easter holiday. Dad retorted that the plane was going anyway so what difference would her absence make to the environment.

The camp fire crackled and I looked at my twelve year old granddaughter in the firelight. A love of horses was all we had in common, but she jumped raging streams and thorny hedges, not painted poles in a show ring. When she was little she adored stories of my childhood, now my memories bored her. I suppose they were always just fairy tales to her.

I didn’t get a pony for my birthday, unless they were keeping it as a surprise, but I did get lots of gifts, gaudy colourful teen stuff that I can’t recall now. Chloe had donated her pocket money to the children of Gaza instead. I knew about Gaza, but I did not see how her money would get there or help them. For my eleventh birthday she had given on my behalf to the children of Ukraine and that hadn’t stopped the war.

Those places were far away and my Piza party was what my friends were thinking about. Wood fired pizza, another smoky irony; tonight my seventieth birthday treat was on a spit, the young deer my grandson had shot.

I felt laughter suddenly well up. Chloe had not remained a vegetarian for long after it all happened. She was gone now of course. I was the only one left to remember those times. Dad had come home early; the only thing that was useful about his job in the media was that he was aware sooner than most of what was about to happen.

‘What the hell are you talking about’ said my mother.

‘What about Britain’s Got Talent’ I said.

Dad’s brother Alex was a scientist, Chloe’s favourite relative. Dad gabbled a few curt explanations in between his exhortations to get ready.

Chloe cheered and hugged Dad.  ‘At last, one of my parents is going to break out of this smug middle class life and break into reality.’

 She had her rucksack ready, packed a year ago to prepare for any and every emergency, war, pandemic, wild fires, floods…

Reality was far worse than Chloe could ever have bargained for, but she toughed it out and survived. My riding skills turned out to be invaluable. I got my pony, but not in the way I had dreamed of.

All I have are memories now. It has been a harsh life, but not all bad and I have been very lucky to survive till the agreed limit. Lucky to survive at all, there weren’t many of us. The human race always finds a way, but individuals have not been important for most of our history. Tomorrow they will break camp again, but this time I will not be going with them.

Monday Moments

How long is a moment? Perhaps as long as the BBC time pips which are celebrating their centenary this very day.

Originally they would have helped people set their watches and clocks to the exact time, now our phones, radios and many of our clocks are connected by magic to the beating heart of the universe. Though some say the National Physical Laboratory is responsible.

The pips for national radio stations are timed from an atomic clock  in the basement of BBC Broadcasting House synchronised with the National Physical Laboratory.

 There are six pips which occur on each of the 5 seconds leading up to the hour and on the hour itself. The first five last a tenth of a second each, while the final pip lasts half a second. The actual moment when the hour changes is at the very beginning of the last pip. I checked the clock on my radio and sure enough the clock changed to the hour exactly on the last pip. Looking up more facts surrounding our precious pips and how the whole world keeps time can lead you down a rabbit hole, perhaps you will even meet Alice in Wonderland’s White Rabbit with his pocket watch. But do we still need the pips?  Yes, they are a precious few moments when broadcasters actually stop talking, a moment of peace before we are weighed down by the latest round of news.

https://www.bbc.com/historyofthebbc/anniversaries/february/the-pips

Thursday Thoughts A-Z

One often learns something new from Facebook. APRICITY is the comforting warmth of the winter sun. Sunlight comes about 93 million miles and then gets blocked out by one little cloud or a building. If you find a sunny spot it is bliss.

Most of our local buses have a running commentary to tell you which stop is coming up next, very handy if it’s dark, torrential rain or torrential rain on a dark night. Especially useful if you are blind. I wonder who the anonymous voice is, perhaps an out of work actor. On an unfamiliar route recently a very jolly voice announced a stop then added ‘Alight here for the crematorium.’ Two stops further on he cheerfully announced ‘The next stop is Cemetery Junction, Cemetery Junction.’ Even dead passengers are assisted.

Fact is stranger than fiction. Since I wrote Tuesday’s tiny tale ‘Whatever the Weather’ we have had Storm Ingunn, named by the Norwegians. Apparently the Faroe Islands may have been hit by winds up to 155 miles an hour. I bet Gail Macleod is there reporting.

If your closest contact with wildlife is watching Mr. Fox trotting down the road in broad daylight or Roland Rat scurrying across the back lawn you will enjoy blogs from the African continent.

Robbie Cheadle shares some beautiful photos and we learn a lot.

https://writingtoberead.com/2024/01/24/in-touch-with-nature-giraffes-chew-bones-and-lions-eat-grass-animalkingdom-natureconser

 Scuba Hank NYC is usually underwater, but has been on safari lately and his latest clip of a lovely Zebra set me thinking. Other members of the horse family were domesticated millennia ago. As far as we know Zebras never have been. It’s like the elephant conundrum. Asian elephants have been dragging logs and dressing up in beautiful garments to carry royalty for a very long time and more recently entertaining in circuses, while African elephants seem to have remained independent, or have they? Hannibal took 37 North African elephants over the Alps to give The Romans a fright. They had never seen elephants before so no doubt they did get a surprise. His plan worked, but sadly most of the elephants died of the cold that winter.  African elephants no doubt decided to avoid ever getting involved with humans again.

If you have seen a zebra steeplechase or watched zebra dressage, let us know.