humour

Closing Down

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 37 Comments

We are all used to seeing Closing Down Sales, perhaps going along and feeling like vultures, the short term thrill of grabbing a bargain, followed by the realisation your favourite shop is gone for good.

The closing down of well known and loved store chains has become a feature of this century, hastened by economic downturns, pandemics and the connected rise in the popularity of on line shopping.

My first simple shopping experience was the corner shop a short distance from our flat, the top half of a Victorian terrace on a main road. It was run by two ‘old ladies’, one of whom was called Dolly. I thought it a very strange name for an adult human, but assumed Dolly Mixtures, the only sweets I was allowed, were named after her. At some stage in my first six years of life I was seen across the road by Mum to trot up to the shop by myself. I knew the road was dangerous as a neighbour used to warn me; delighting in telling the story of a boy who ran out of his house and got run over.

When we moved to a new house in Farnborough, Hampshire shopping changed radically. No shops nearby, but there was a butcher’s boy who came on his bike, a box of groceries the milkman delivered and a greengrocer’s van. We were amused by the greengrocer’s strong Hampshire accent and used to do imitations – Oi’ve gut som noice roipe tomaters. This was a time of opening up, not closing down and in time a shopping centre appeared with new ‘supermarkets’ like Finefare and more importantly to me, a Woolworths. As well as toys you could buy anything. On each of their birthdays I would buy Dad a bag of nails, if I asked him what he wanted he always said a bag of nails as he loved woodwork. Mum would get a new makeup bag, probably the previous year’s cheap bag had worm out by then and some bath cubes. It seemed you could buy anything there from sweets to Ladybird children’s clothes.

When we emigrated to Perth, Western Australia when I was eleven, to another new house on another new estate, shopping changed again. The only nearby shop, up a sandy track that was the unmade stretch of our road, was the Greek corner shop. All the corner shops were run by hardworking Greeks and Italians.

On Saturday the main shops in towns closed at noon, so Mum and Dad left me in charge of my brother and sister and dashed to Victoria Park to do a Big Shop, the first time this expression was used in our family.

After a while, with new houses and families arriving, Tom The Cheap Grocer appeared up the road and evolved into a little shopping centre and we encountered our first delicatessen. 

When I returned to England for my six month working holiday, that I’m still on, Woolworths was still going strong in every town. I thought they would be here forever. When we were married and bought our first place, having to sell the car to afford the mortgage, our nearby town was so dull it did not even make it into the ‘Book of One Hundred Crap Towns’, but it did have a Woolworths, whatever else closed Woolworths remained. There was also a Big Sainsbury. After dropping my son at school and my daughter at playgroup I would sprint with the baby in the pram and dash round grabbing the many items that were cheaper than the little local shop.

Then a big shopping centre was built on the other side of town and we heard that our Sainsburys was closing down. I could not believe they could do that to a loyal customer like me. It was to be replaced by Wilkinsons, never heard of them, coming down from the north. I said I certainly would not be shopping there. I was reminded of my words often as I became a keen shopper in Wilkos, where you could get everything, gardening to gadgets, cleaning to cushions…

When we came to Bournemouth in 2004 sure enough there was a Wilkinsons in Bournemouth town centre and in Boscombe, which also had a TJ Hughes, already well known to us from holiday breaks. You could buy anything from shoes to suitcases and like Wilkinsons it was a godsend for students needing cheap crockery and bedding.

In Bournemouth Square there was a Borders with a basement full of CDs and of course a floor full of books. Open till ten pm, very cosmopolitan. We had three department stores and a BHS and Marks and Spencer.

I won’t bore you with the order in which all these shops disappeared, some chains collapsing completely, others with branches surviving elsewhere. Woolworths was the biggest shock, we had a branch in Southbourne Grove.

When I started having appointments at Poole hospital, one hour’s bus ride away, I realised they had better shops, not to mention a proper shopping centre with nice toilets. I don’t actually like shopping as an activity, but after covid lockdown it was an exciting novelty to go shopping again.

Poole still had a Beales department store, a Wilko and a Marks and Spencer. No sooner had I discovered that Marks and Spencer sold post-surgery bras than they announced they were closing their Poole branch. Beales and Wilko followed.

Sometimes shops stay empty, sometimes the fun returns. Wilko reopened in Poole under new ownership? Debenhams in Bournemouth Square reopened as Bobby’s, which apparently is what the original store was called before Debenhams took over. Not as a department store in the traditional sense, it is an ongoing ‘reimagining of the concept’. That means you can’t buy clothes, bedding or curtains there, but it has had an art gallery, now a work space, had a pet boutique, now a Makers’ Market… and now a restaurant on the top floor.

Borders became a Tesco, New Look became a restaurant. Primark is still there and some shoe shops, but if you need to have a good look round for clothes you are out of luck. However, you can buy clothes for Teddy. Build-a-Bear is still going strong.

Meanwhile back in Southbourne Grove… Woolworths stores all closed in 2009. Our Woolworths miraculously turned into The Ludo Lounge, with its fun décor, old wooden furniture and games and books it looked like it had always been there. A café bar that appealed to everyone. On the roof garden you can still see the old Woolworths sign. We thought it was unique, but actually the lounge chain started in 2002 and there are now 250 lounges and you can get a lounge passport. Lounge fans enjoy visiting other branches. In Christchurch a large hardware shop became the Arcado Lounge.

Have you lost a favourite shop, or lost your job when a shop closed?

Thursday Trail – Mud and Flood

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 32 Comments

It is not raining in this picture, but it has been raining A LOT.

No one is sitting by the river today.

Only a blogger or photographer would be stupid enough to walk here.

It is high tide.

Long ago this would have been swamp and flood plains, but humans like to tidy things up and build barriers…

No ferry today

Someone’s enjoying the water.

Time to cross the river…

…by bridge…

…and walk home up hill!

Tuesday Tiny Tale – My Best Friend

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 34 Comments

Who would have imagined meeting Francis would change my life?

I was walking to work along my usual route when I saw Pat coming towards me, in my direction, not turning down the next corner, not crossing over. Coming towards me on the narrowest stretch of pavement. What should I say? Hello, talk about the weather? Don’t look at the pavement, look at her.

‘Hello Kimberly, on the way to work?’

‘Yes.’

She’s stopping, not passing, think of conversation.

‘Is it going okay?’

‘Yes.’

No, I mean I don’t actually get paid and I’m not using my brain… but what shall I say…

‘Em, okay, but I have applied for a better job.’

‘Excellent, I’m sure you are wasted where you are with your brains. Anyway, say hello to your mother, bye.’

‘Bye.’

Should I have said ‘Have a nice day?’ but I don’t know where she is going or what she is planning to do and it might not be nice…

Why did I say that. I haven’t applied for a new job, despite hints from Mum. I was just searching for something to say. Now I can just see her chatting to Mum ‘Oh I hear Kimberly has applied for a new job.’ Now I’ll have to apply for one.

When I arrived at The Centre Jo greeted me with great excitement.

‘I want you to come and meet Francis, you two are going to get along, I just know it.’

That seemed unlikely as I did not get along with many people. I followed silently as Jo chattered on, at least her incessant talking meant I did not need to fill in the gaps.

‘Did you have a good weekend, we went to see that new film, the relaxed showing. Your mother would love it as well as you. Come along, Francis is looking forward to meeting you, ah here he is. Francis, meet Kimberly.’

I looked straight into his eyes and held his gaze. I did not look down at the ground. Instantly I knew I would be comfortable in his company. By the end of the day we were good friends, as if we had known each other for ever. At last they had found me the right support worker.

Frankie was a good companion in every way, from carrying heavy shopping for me to enjoying country walks, we both liked to get away to peace and quiet. He never criticised, only encouraged and so I found the courage to apply for a challenging mainstream job.

I completed the thorough on line application, lots of hard technical questions, but at least I did not have to talk to anyone. I was delighted to soon get an email saying I had been shortlisted, having passed the technical assessment with flying colours.

Now I had to face the interview. The formal letter assured me that the company was inclusive and supportive and had a policy of nurturing young talent. Mum was over the moon. I tried to keep everything low key. I had no idea how many others were going to be interviewed.

On the day, Frankie accompanied me to the impressive riverside building. Mum insisted on coming too and said she and Frankie would wait in the riverside gardens till I texted to say the interview was over.

The three people behind the long desk were almost smiling, but the big  desk made it hard to understand their expressions. I tried to sit up straight and look at whoever was talking to me.

‘These results in the tech tests are excellent and you are au fait with the new XYZ system?’

‘Yes… I was lucky to get on the training course at the centre.’

‘Not lucky, according to your references your aptitude secured you a place.’

He then put on what I called a cosy voice.

‘Now tell us a bit about yourself.’

The part I dreaded.

‘We want our staff to feel comfortable working here, with all the help they might need.’

My mouth went dry, I looked down at the desk. Without Frankie at my side I had lost my voice.

‘Perhaps you could start with any questions you have about the job.’

‘Can my support worker come to work with me?’

‘Yes, yes of course, several of our staff have extra support.’

I was glad to get back out in the sunshine and walked briskly down to the river.

‘Good news Frankie, you can come with me.’

Melody, Kimberly’s new team leader, was waiting in the foyer to greet her and organise two ID cards. She glanced at the clock, expecting Kimberly to come through the revolving door at any moment, but there seemed to be a bit of a commotion out on the pavement. The security man spun through the door and addressed Melody.

‘Your new staff member, has she got clearance… er, um approval to bring her support donkey to work?

Tuesday Tiny Tale – Moving Away

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 35 Comments

‘You’re moving where?’

‘Puddleminster-on-Sea.’

‘Is that an actual place?’

‘Yes, I have bought a cottage there.’

‘But Lottie Darling, you can’t leave London.’

Lottie almost faltered under the withering gaze of her agent Felicity Buchannon, but it was too late to change her mind.

‘Felicity, it was you who said I must take a break after losing Callum.’

‘A break, not permanent exile.’

‘I’m hardly leaving the country, it’s a lovely little place where I can get away from everything.’

Charlotte stopped typing. She had set herself to write the opening page of her Lottie Lincoln novel, now all she had to do was decide in which order to put all the chapters she had written so far. She could well imagine the reactions of Felicity and Lottie’s friends. She recalled her boss’s reaction when she had handed in her notice.

‘Where on earth is Hambourne?’

Once her boss realised Hambourne was not within Greater London, Royal Berkshire or Surrey, she lost interest and obviously decided Charlotte was a lost cause and did not try to dissuade her. After that, the longer Charlotte left it to explain to people she was moving away, the harder it became to tell anyone, let alone mention David’s situation. Her best friend from school days had recently departed to live in New Zealand with her new partner, so there was no need to reveal her change of address, thank heaven for emails.

So here she was in Hambourne writing, which was more than Lottie was doing as Charlotte had given her writer’s block. She started typing again.

When Lottie’s mobile rang and she saw Felicity’s name, she was tempted not to answer, but Felicity had been a good friend to her, she deserved better.

‘Lottie, how are you, we’re worried about you.’

‘I needed time to think.’

‘Did you ring that number I gave you for the grief counsellor?’

‘I don’t need counselling, a walk by the sea helps.’

‘So how’s your novel coming along?’

Novel?  She hadn’t even unpacked the few chapters she had written, so much had happened to her, Puddleminster was not the quiet place she had expected. After Callum’s tragic death some people had advised her to have a complete break from writing and work, while others had insisted she must keep busy, keep writing.

‘Are you still there Lottie? I don’t want to push you, but we have got a publishing deadline to meet.’

‘I can’t do it Fliss, maybe I’ve got writers’ block. If I do write it will be something dark, this is such a strange place it’s given me new ideas.’

‘Darling, we don’t do DARK, what on earth would all your readers say, they want romance and escapism.’

‘I’ll write under a pen name then, look I have to go, I have an appointment…’

Five minutes later Lottie was on the beach and happy to bump into Geoff the pathologist out with his friend’s dog.

‘Hello Lottie, my wife was just talking about you, wondering when your next book was coming out.’

‘Oh dear, my agent just rang with the same question. I think I’ve got writer’s block. Maybe I should write something different, about a pathologist or a forensic scientist, what is the difference?’

‘For a start hasn’t that already been done and my wife certainly doesn’t want to read about bodies, being married to me. Mind you, I have got an interesting case on the slab, elderly lady, quiet life, living alone with her pot plants, not an enemy in the world and she has been poisoned with a very unusual substance, the sort of thing arrows in the South American jungle were tipped with…’

Lottie wasn’t sure if there was a code of conduct among pathologists and if he should be telling her this, but her interest was piqued.

‘Ohh, was it a local lady?’

‘No, no, way the other side of town. I would not be telling you if it was local.’

 ‘Are you sure she was murdered?  Would the plants still be in her house, did she have exotic plants?’

‘No idea, why?’

‘My aunt had plants, house like a jungle my father used to say. Anyway, she liked her tea brewed properly with freshly boiled water, so she would empty her kettle before using it, distilled water for her beloved plants. If your lady had an exotic plant and the kettle spout touched highly poisonous leaves, is it possible the poison might end up in her tea….’

Geoff laughed then looked thoughtful. ‘I am not an expert on tropical plants, but it would be amusing if an episode of Gardener’s World was devoted to plants that killed their owners.’

‘Oh yes, those viewers’ homes where they can hardly move for plants.’

‘…and you were right about the headless body in the park…’

Charlotte passed for a moment, what fun, this could be a further step to Lottie becoming an amateur detective.

Two weeks had passed with Lottie writing not a single word, while frantic emails from Felicity became more and more frequent. She had joined a walking group and a widow’s support group, where she was of great interest because of her novels and the unusual circumstances of Callum’s death. But she had to face the fact she had no idea in what direction her life should go.

As she walked on the beach one morning she looked up to see Geoff striding purposefully towards her waving.

‘You were right, house full of exotic plants. More than one type highly toxic. A gradual build up of poison in her body, it would not have killed you to have one cup of tea with her, but… ‘

Charlotte closed her lap top, no need to decide tonight how poor Callum had died or what might happen next in Puddleminster-on-Sea.

Silly Saturday – Random Ramblings

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 21 Comments

2025 has slipped down over the horizon and a quarter of a century has gone by.

Christmas is wound up – how many metres of lights on this reel? Answers at the end.

Time to blow the cobwebs away and head into 2026.

An alien or a jellyfish? Answer below.

Where are you if you have this view?

Who are you waiting for?

Whose garden shed?

Can you give a home to an unwanted Christmas soldier?

ANSWERS – NOT NECESARILY IN THE RIGHT ORDER

An ice plate, Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra, 75 metres, the garden centre’s, Regent Centre Christchurch

Are you ready for the next quarter of a century?

Friday Flash Fiction 900 -Morning Jog

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 28 Comments

Gabriella tied back her springy blond hair and trotted down the stairs.

‘Gabby, surely you are not going out dressed like that, you’ll freeze.’

‘Muuum, this is my jogging outfit, I’ll soon warm up running.’

‘Do be careful and don’t go into the woods.’

‘But the woods will be perfect on a morning like this, sunny and frosty.’

‘Not now they have started that new scheme.’

‘Don’t believe everything you read on Facebook.’

‘… and I do wish you would have breakfast before going out on a cold morning.’

It was a beautiful morning as Gabby trotted off down the road and took the footpath into the National Trust woodland. They were so lucky to live near a forest. She waved to a couple of joggers she knew by sight as they passed by.

‘Lovely morning, happy new year.’

‘Same to you…’

Further along Gabby glanced at her Fit Bit, she was doing a good time, maybe she would go in for the local half marathon and then who knew what next. She took the right fork for the first time to increase the length of her circuit. It was a pretty path but more challenging with an incline and rougher going. Gabby began to wonder how much further this was than her normal route. Then she began to wonder when she would come across a familiar path. After a while she began to feel hungry and a bit light headed. Perhaps she should have had a yoghurt or banana before setting out. Still, she must keep going and not lose her rhythm. Her aim now was not preparing for a marathon but to get home and persuade her mother to cook her a nice breakfast.

In the distance she could see a shape, a cottage, a run down cottage? Strange, nobody was supposed to live in these woods, that’s why they were perfect for the rewilding project. Probably abandoned decades ago, but why could she detect the delightful scent of wood smoke? As Gabby drew closer she could see smoke gently spiralling up in the cold air. Must be some poor homeless person, sensible to make a cosy home for himself, better than sleeping on the pavement.

The path led close by the ramshackle cottage and she felt like an intruder. Should she rush past or take a diversion? No she must stick to the path, the trees were really thick here and she didn’t want to get further lost than she was already. As she ran round to the other side, she noticed the door was open and there was the unmistakeable smell of porridge. She realised just how hungry she was now and wished she was back home eating porridge and watching breakfast TV. But despite her misgivings she could not resist having a peep inside.

To her surprise it looked clean and homely and on a wooden table stood three bowls of steaming porridge. There was no sign of the occupants. Now she was so hungry she thought if she took a spoonful out of each bowl, nobody would notice. It tasted divine, the fresh cold morning air had given her an appetite.

The cottage was silent, she took a few more spoonfuls, just enough to boost her energy so she could get away before the mystery occupants returned. But as she took her phone off her belt, thinking of looking at Google maps to get her location, she had an idea. She must take a few quick snaps to show her friends and put on Instagram and it would be a shame not to take a quick shot upstairs.

The old worn wooden steps creaked as she crept up and came straight out into a single room with a sloping roof, just big enough for three beds. With their clean fresh duvets it all looked unlikely to be a hidey hole for a homeless person or someone on the run from the police. As Gabby stared she realised how cold she had become since she stopped running. It would  be a sensible idea to climb under the duvet and warm her limbs up for a few minutes, as long as she did not fall asleep.

The next thing she knew she was startled by a noise, a lot of noises, loud men’s voices in a strange language. All she could do was hide under the duvet and hope they would sit down and eat their porridge and not come upstairs. Her hands were shaking as she tried to look at her phone, but who should she call?

At that moment she felt a heavy hand press down on her shoulder. She let out a muffled scream and somehow managed to scramble out of the bed and stumble down the stairs. Her nimbleness getting out of the door was her only advantage against the two very large figures downstairs.

At the Reursinement headquarters several people were observing all the monitors.

‘Any sign of them?’

‘No, but that’s only to be expected, we can’t have CCTV all over the forest.’

‘What about the tracking devices?’

‘They stopped working days ago.’

‘So are you saying we have no idea where they are?’

‘Yes, no, surely the idea of rewilding is just that, letting them get on with their own lives, looking after their young without us intruding and they should be hibernating by now.’

‘Hopefully, but do rescued circus bears actually know how to hibernate?’

Tuesday Tiny Tale – The Letter

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 26 Comments

If you are reading this I am probably dead. I wonder who found me? A police officer, the neighbours… did my solicitor pass the letter on to you?

Of course, it may be that you yourself called in unexpectedly and got a shock. But this is not a suicide note. I have no idea as I write this when or how I might die. I am fit and well, but it is the elderly well living alone who are prone to dropping dead suddenly, a nice way to go for the deceased, maybe not for anyone else involved, so best to be prepared. Hopefully my departure will be dignified, tucked up in bed or sitting in my recliner with a good book in my lap, not the way your poor father went.

I could be a skeleton, preferable to a less advanced state of decomposition. Perhaps if you had phoned more often, or at all, I would not have reached that state. Scooped up by the council for a pauper’s funeral.

There is no need to contact my solicitor; no money, no house to sell, I did one of those release your capital schemes. I had a great time spending it on myself, or rather working out how best to spend it on myself. Tried a cruise, but that was full of old people, too depressing, though it livened up when a chap fell overboard. You wouldn’t believe how long it takes a floating tower block to stop, let alone turn around. Of course there was no chance of finding him. His wife apologised for us missing our next port and urged the captain to get underway. We reassured her that she might as well enjoy the rest of the cruise.

Where was I, oh yes, in the end I decided to buy an art gallery and exhibit the entire collection of my art. The young man next door got down those larger paintings you put in the loft. I am having a good deal of success under my pseudonym. I also have an adjacent studio, exploring my third age creativity and inviting young artists to share the space.  If you came across my gallery you would be unlikely to recognise it as mine as you never looked at any of my paintings or sculptures.

Well Michael, it was good while it lasted, until you were about ten. Enjoy the rest of your life.

                            Mother

‘Amelia, Mrs Haversham, can you hear me, I’m a doctor, you’re in hospital. Squeeze my hand if you can hear me, you have been in a coma for three months, you had a stroke. Your son is here. …Talk to her Michael… ‘

‘Hello Mother, I got your letter.’

Tuesday Tiny Tale – Old Photos

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 19 Comments

‘Hey, look what I’ve found.’

‘A book, who still reads books?’

‘This is a special book – CHRISTMAS 2025 OUR FAMILY’

‘Old photos, who wants to look at old photos?’

‘I do, they must have lived in this house.’

‘Ha ha, look at what they are wearing.’

‘The garden has changed a lot since then, rather cute, flowers all different colours.’

‘Boring, turn over…. Yuk, what is that?’

‘A baby, what some people used to have instead of cats.’

‘Why?’

‘Not sure, maybe all will be revealed if we keep turning the pages.’

‘Why are they sitting on the ground looking at water?’

‘I’ll do a historic data check…. Sea side, that’s what a beach looks like…’

‘Boring, turn to the next page. That baby thingy seems to be getting bigger.’

‘I’ll data check… it’s growing.’

‘Why?’

‘It doesn’t say, just that they grow quickly.’

‘Keep going, oh it’s standing up, I wouldn’t want one of those things clinging to my leg.’

‘Look, here’s the front of our house, more flowers, lots more people, wonder how many lived here?’

‘Strange clothes, next page… they have put those baby things in boxes with wheels, our cats wouldn’t put up with that. Last page, what on earth is that great big green thing? I’ll data check… a Christmas tree, a tree chopped down and put indoors, no wonder there aren’t any trees left outside.’

‘Right, it’s time we went to check if the cats have finished playing with the humans.’

‘Shall we show this book to the humans?’

No.. no I don’t think so, it might upset them.

Silly Sunday – sELFies

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 35 Comments

He’s Back!

When you get carried away with your Christmas lights…

A Heavenly message ?

Or a Harbinger of Doom?

It’s raining here, but thanks to digital magic here is my favourite brightest Christmas tree from Australia.

Don’t know how I managed that, the bottom 12 % must be really rubbish! Minutes spent includes being distracted, playing with your phone, answering the doorbell and falling asleep – discovering the next morning you are still in the middle of a lesson.

And finally – Home of the Week

Have you got any elves on your shelves?

What décor do you favour for your home?