Friday Flash Fiction 840 – Grounded

February 14, 2020February 12, 2020 ~ tidalscribe.com ~ 10 Comments

‘You’re grounded.’
‘Wha…at, nobody gets grounded these days.’
Dean patted his pocket, he was quite happy to retreat to his bedroom away from the ageing love birds. They hadn’t got Sky yet, but with his new smart phone (bribery present from his mother) and the TV, he shouldn’t be too bored.
‘You are grounded till school starts tomorrow’ said Rob.
‘Suits me, there’s nothing to do around here anyway, nowhere to go in this godforsaken place, I’m happy to stay in my room.’
‘You won’t be in your room; grounded means on the ground, you can come out and work with me.’
‘Muu…m?’
‘I’ve got unpacking to do and dinner to get, I’ll make you both something really nice, what do you fancy?’
‘A takeway.’
‘I’ll do chicken the way you like it; now go out and get some fresh air, you’ll enjoy helping Rob.’

Dean slouched out behind Rob and sneered at the vehicle parked in the driveway. ‘Green Man with Green Van’ was emblazoned on its side. He took the phone out of his pocket and started tapping in.
‘…and you can leave that at home, we’ve got work to do.’
‘Nobody leaves their phone at home. It’s my only contact with the outside world.’
‘The outside world can do without you for a few hours.’
‘Yeah, but I can’t do without the outside world, I didn’t want to come and live here.’
Rob laughed as he pulled out of the driveway. ‘I think you may have mentioned that already and I didn’t want you living with me, but neither of us has any choice. Try thinking of your mother for a change, she’s very happy to get away from the other place.’
‘She married you just so she could live in Woodycopse? I don’t think.’
‘You’ll be glad she married me one day. Stick it out here for a couple of years then you can go out into the world without worrying about your mother, she’ll have me to look after her.’
‘She’s quite capable of looking after herself.’
‘I know, but she deserves more than that. I don’t expect you to understand, just don’t spoil all this for her.’

‘Oh hello Kate, yes we’re back, had a wonderful time, a week of sheer bliss, yes and that as well, no complaints in that department. Anyway, it’s true what they say about Venice.
Dean? Yes, he’s fine, gone out with Rob, they really get on well, I wouldn’t be surprised if Rob doesn’t take him on in the business in a few years time. I think he would have liked a son of his own… at my age? Yes of course it’s biologically possible, but it wouldn’t be fair on Dean, he’s still my baby… he starts at the new school tomorrow, once he meets some kids his own age… No I’m looking forward to my new life, imagine me living in Woodycopse, bit of a change from Fenbridge… Yes, once we’ve settled in you must come down and stay. Right, I’d better get on with dinner, Dean especially requested his favourite chicken dish, a week of his granny’s cooking, he’s probably starving.’

The short drive to the house on the edge of the village was spent in silence, except for exaggerated sighs from Dean. Without ceremony Rob parked the van, jumped out, opened the back doors, beckoned to Dean and handed him a cluster of wooden handles with strange metallic attachments.
‘What the hell am I supposed to do with these?’
‘You’ll soon find out, it’s all clearing today, so you can’t do much harm.’
‘What a jungle.’
‘In a few weeks you won’t recognise it, do you want to see the plans?’
‘Nope.’
‘Suit yourself.’

Dean quite enjoyed the hacking and chopping, though he was careful not to show it, but when he felt blisters coming up on his palms any enthusiasm quickly evaporated.
‘Can we stop now?’
‘No, we need to break the back of the work today, so it will be easier when we come after school tomorrow.’
‘Wha…at, I’m not your slave and you can’t make me do it, you’re not my Dad.’
‘I wondered how long before you came out with that cliché. You’re not my son thank goodness, just a reminder of why I never wanted children.’
‘At least you won’t want to adopt me, but why didn’t you want kids?’
‘I’m too selfish or didn’t want to inflict another teenager like me on the world?’
‘What were you like?’
‘Let’s just say my mother strongly suggested I join the army. By the time I realised that was a mistake, it was too late.’
‘Gran and Mum say Dad loved the army, never wanted to do anything else.’
‘I know, he was a great bloke and I’ve never pretended to your mother that I could replace him. Marrying me is better for your mother than being alone and that is all I can expect. And the least we can do for her is pretend we get along, perhaps one day we will…’

Friday Flash Fiction – 270 – Autumnwatch

September 27, 2019September 23, 2019 ~ tidalscribe.com ~ 5 Comments

Autumn Compost Watch – Sponsored by Greensleaves Garden centres and introduced by Tim Timber

Last week we set up our new compost corner and disguised the cameras from wily worms and agitated ants. Now it’s time for our first look at the insect hotel constructed from broken branches and twisted twigs and even more exciting, we lift the lid on the compost bin, replete with vegetable peelings, weeds, autumn leaves, egg shells, egg cartons and toilet roll tubes.

At Twig Savoy let’s start at the ground floor and watch the workers; the ants are already making themselves at home and who is this? The heavy rainfall of last week has made this corner a dark and damp haven for local frogs. Let’s talk to our clever compost connoisseur Connor. What are we expecting to see when we lift the round green plastic lid off the de-luxe Greensleaves compost bin?

Well Tim, I must stress that we did not put a single creature here ourselves and we have not lifted the lid even for a peek.

Oh this is fantastic, wriggling red worms, hundreds of them, clinging inside the lid, annoyed at being disturbed.

Yes Tim, while we’re tucked up in our centrally heated homes this winter these worms will be chomping their way through the deliciously slimy mass to make compost for our spring bedding. I estimate there are more worms here than people in this town.

Thanks Connor and viewers, don’t forget to join us next week when we’ll be talking about sweeping up autumn leaves and if you can’t wait till then, listen to our series of podcasts on slugs.

Friday Flash Fiction 369 – Little Weed

June 28, 2019June 27, 2019 ~ tidalscribe.com ~ 10 Comments

LITTLE WEED, THE LONG YEARS OF ABUSE

The old gardener’s hands trembled as he picked up the newspaper from the door mat. He slipped out to his potting shed as he heard Mrs. Gardener coming down the stairs.

He laid the paper on the old bench, sunlight barely filtered through the cobwebbed windows, but it was enough to read the main article.

Detectives from Operation Motherwatch are investigating claims that Little Weed was abused for years by one or more flowerpot men. The identity of the flowerpot men is not known, but they have been named locally as Bill and Ben.

The shock allegations follow on from last week’s claims that Looby Loo was abused by both Andy Pandy and Teddy. If Little Weed’s claims are true it will be the first time a plant has made such a serious allegation.

The gardener had never believed people who said they did not know what was going on, now he had to come to terms with the fact that he knew nothing about what was going on at the bottom of his own garden. But surely Bill and Ben were innocent, perhaps it was some other flowerpot men… Little Weed could be vindictive, she was not the shrinking violet people thought. If only he knew where she was now. It was all Alan Titchmarsh’s fault. The Gardener had come back from recording Gardeners’ Question Time to discover his wife had arranged for Titchmarsh to do a garden makeover for his television programme. If the camera crew were hoping to capture the look of surprise on The Gardener’s face they succeeded, only the potting shed remained. Gone were the greenhouse, vegetable beds, earthenware pots; all replaced by decking. And gone too was Little Weed. Mrs. Gardener was always jealous of the plant, said he talked to her more than his own wife… perhaps that was true… she was no ordinary weed, the first weed to appear on BBC Television and there had been none like her since… She was tough, a survivor, he was thankful she was still alive, but why now, why such allegations now, after all this time? And if it was true, was it Bill or was it Ben?

Silly Saturday – Starting Summer

June 1, 2019May 26, 2019 ~ tidalscribe.com ~ 17 Comments

Hurrah, Meteorological Summer starts today, you don’t have to wait till the summer solstice. The weathermen like to divide the year up into seasons of exactly three months according to the Gregorian calendar. Don’t forget, if you are living in the Southern Hemisphere summer is not starting for a long time. If you are a school child in the Northern Hemisphere you may already be on school holidays or may have a long time to wait yet.

If you are on top of Mount Everest it is time to come down, the weather window is nearly over and monsoons are coming. If the summit is as crowded as last week you will have to queue up to come down.

NZ Queenstown

If you are Teresa May, May is over and you only have a week left as leader of the conservative party, but perhaps you have a summer walking holiday to look forward to.

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Summer means we must all look happy and smile at others… if they look up from their phones long enough to notice. If you are a gardener it is safe to plant out your summer bedding and discover how many weeds have taken over… it also means that the non gardeners in the family will have to cook dinner if they don’t wish to starve – the long summer evenings mean you can stay out in the garden watering and dead heading forever.

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What does summer mean to you – putting the chairs out in the garden or going swimming in the sea?

What is your favourite summer song – Cliff Richard’s Summer Holiday or Lovin’ Spoonful’s ‘Summer in the city’?

sunshine-blogger

Silly Saturday – How to Cheat at the Chelsea Flower Show

May 25, 2019May 23, 2020 ~ tidalscribe.com ~ 16 Comments

I have never actually been to the Chelsea Flower Show so I am in the perfect position to tell you how to cheat.

First of all, if you are lucky enough to have access to BBC television, just watch it on TV. Only the Royal Family, television presenters and of course the judges get to wander around without crowds and actually set foot in the show gardens.

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You can wander round your own garden pretending you are at Chelsea, and you could even take photos to put on Instagram

#chelseafs #gold medal #gardengold So excited, I got my first gold.

Who on Instagram could prove you hadn’t really been there. Even if your washing line, the neighbour’s fence and your mop bucket accidentally get in the picture you can pretend it is part of the design

( See designing your own garden, below )

But the best way to cheat is to go there. Perhaps there is a hole in the fence you could slip through, find a little spot of ground at the back of the refreshment tent by the bins and be a guerilla gardener. There is no need to spend a whole year planning a garden. Everything you need can be found at home, the local garden centre, builders’ skips and the rubbish tip. Anything goes; whatever your makeshift garden looks like you can claim to be encouraging recycling, wild flowers and insects. A few rocks, some old wood and a bucket or children’s paddling pool for a water feature. Then fill in the gaps with lots of plants from the garden center.

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To complete the cheat wear something smart, but not too smart, stand confidently in front of your floral plot and talk to the crowds passing by, or an imaginary camera about themes and your artisan garden. Everyone will assume you are a television presenter or garden expert talking about a wonderfully original show garden.

https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2019/may/22/chelsea-flower-show-2019-top-garden-trends

Friday Flash Fiction – 345 – Little Weed

March 8, 2019June 30, 2019 ~ tidalscribe.com ~ 4 Comments

LITTLE WEED, THE LONG YEARS OF ABUSE

The old gardener’s hands trembled as he picked up the newspaper from the door mat. He slipped out to his potting shed as he heard Mrs. Gardener coming down the stairs.

He laid the paper on the old bench, sunlight barely filtered through the cobwebbed windows, but it was enough to read the main article.

The gardener had never believed people who said they did not know what was going on, now he had to come to terms with the fact that he knew nothing about what was going on at the bottom of his own garden. But surely Bill and Ben were innocent, perhaps it was some other flowerpot men… Little Weed could be vindictive, she was not the shrinking violet people thought. If only he knew where she was now. It was all Alan Titchmarsh’s fault. The Gardener had come back from recording Gardeners’ Question Time to discover his wife had arranged a makeover; only the potting shed remained. Gone were the greenhouse, vegetable beds, earthenware pots; all replaced by decking. And gone too was Little Weed. Mrs. Gardener was always jealous of the plant, said he talked to her more than his own wife… perhaps that was true… she was no ordinary weed, the first weed to appear on BBC Television and there had been none like her since… She was tough, a survivor, he was thankful she was still alive, but why now, why such allegations now, after all this time? And if it was true, was it Bill or was it Ben?

Friday Flash Fiction 400 – The Yellow Door

March 1, 2019March 1, 2019 ~ tidalscribe.com ~ 10 Comments

‘So Mrs Green, take this prescription with you and leave by the second door on the left.’

Mrs. Green trudged wearily along the dreary corridor of the surgery then hesitated at the yellow door. She had never noticed it before, there was no number or name. Warily she pushed it open and was blinded by a bright light, sunlight. Shielding her eyes, she realised she was in a beautiful walled garden. The old lady had often wondered what lay at the back of the doctors’ surgery.

A child’s laughter floated towards her and a little figure appeared running along the gravel path. The child stopped then ran back to a young woman sitting on a garden seat, head back, eyes closed. The older woman approached, but seeing the blissful expression on the mother’s face she perched herself on the other end of the bench, not wishing to disturb her. The child shot off again and Mrs. Green looked around for a father or granny, concerned he might run away, but the garden was safely enclosed. She noticed other seats, other people sitting or strolling and up in an old apple tree several children were perched.

The old lady unfolded the prescription.

NHS Therapy 3,000 hours of sunshine, to be taken daily. If you miss a dose take double the next day.

There must have been a mistake, now she would have to go back and ask about her tablets, but in the meantime she needed a rest. The scent of the flowers brought back childhood memories. A stroll along the path to admire the herbaceous borders would be very pleasant, but first she would close her eyes and feel the sun on her face. The happy chatter of the children was soothing and she was so glad she had come to the doctors’ this morning, although she could not recall which of her conditions she had come to see him about.

Doctor Brown gazed out of the upstairs window of the staff room and turned to his colleague.

‘Who would have guessed it would work so well, of course this weather helps, but rain hasn’t put off the diabetes type 2 group. They were glad of it after all the planting they’d done.’

‘Yes, the pharmacist says she’s issuing half the prescriptions, especially for anti-depressants and blood pressure medication.’

‘…and the attention deficit disorder group are doing much better at school.’

Sunshine Blogger Award Nomination

February 6, 2019February 5, 2019 ~ tidalscribe.com ~ 4 Comments

Thanks to Cheryl of The Cornucopia Allotment for nominating me. Here are my answers to Cheryl’s ten questions, followed by bloggers I have nominated and questions I have chosen.

https://thecornucopiaallotment.wordpress.com/home-page/

1.What is your favourite Flower? Very hard to decide as I love so many, but perhaps the humble nasturtium, relative of the cabbage; their simple citrus colour flowers zing even on a grey day. I scatter seeds and when other flowers are past their best they pop up.

2- What landscape instils calm on a chaotic day? The sea or a high hill looking down, what may be noisy below is reduced to a pleasant hum or complete silence.

3- What is your strongest practical skill? Probably anything to do with needles.

4- What is your favourite craft? Knitting and crochet, they are relaxing sharing with friends or watching television, but I would love to be able to create beautiful textile pictures.

5- What is your most unusual food craving? Not sure, but I do love traditional mashed potato and roasted red peppers.

6- What if anything, is on your learning bucket list? Vastly improving my digital age skills.

7- Have you a favourite author for a rainy day? Tim Winton, Australian novelist, born in Perth where I spent my teenage years, his books transport me back to a hot country.

8- To me sweetcorn tastes of summer! What is your sunshine food? Home grown cherry tomatoes taste of sunshine.

9- If you had the chance to learn to grow anything what would it be? Sweet peas, they smell so divine, but I have never had much success.

10- If money was no object what type of garden would you design? A sunny hillside; near the house would be the walled garden full of abundant herbaceous borders and raised vegetable beds. Descending to the winding river below would be narrow paths among trees and then a grassy spot to sit by the river. Everything would be planted to attract wildlife. As money is no object I would have a head gardener training youngsters and I would just float around dead heading and cutting sweet peas for indoors.

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The bloggers I am nominating are just a few of the bloggers who make me laugh, take me to new places or help other bloggers. No pressure, if you want to have a go answer some or all of the questions. If any other bloggers want to join in you are very welcome.

Anita Dawes and Jaye Marie

Beetleypete

Biff Sock Pow

Bluebird of Bitteness

Life and Soul Magazine

Notes From The UK

Stevie Turner

Here’s what to do!

1- Give a big thank you to the person who nominated you so others can find them!

2-Answer the questions from the blogger who nominated you.

3-Nominate other bloggers and ask them your own set of questions!

4- Let the nominees know about the nomination in one of their posts!

5-List the rules and the Sunshine Award nomination on your own site.

6- Let the fun begin!

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If money and responsibilities were no problem where would you like to live and write?
Many writers have pets draped over their keyboard or under their desk. If you could choose one creature to be your pet what would it be? You can opt for anything from a spider to an elephant.
If you were invited to talk about your book on television or the radio which programme would you like to appear on?
Which famous person would you be thrilled to have following your blog?
You have decided to go on an adventurous expedition to achieve fantastic sales for your book. Where would you go?
Number five didn’t work so you must fake your own death to boost sales, what sort of demise would you choose?
You have been invited to a garden party at Buckingham Palace. You are most excited because A. You will meet the Queen. B. A loved one accompanying you deserves a day out. C. You like cake. D. You like looking round other people’s gardens. E. It will make a good topic for your blog. F. Excellent research for you novel.
Research is hard work so you decide to use a time machine for your historical or futuristic novel. Which time will you travel to?
Number six went drastically wrong, who did you leave your manuscripts and intellectual property to in your will?

Silly Saturday – Snakes and Stairs

October 20, 2018October 17, 2018 ~ tidalscribe.com ~ 4 Comments

Play the Gaia Game; how are you scoring at saving the planet, will you climb up or slither down?

Round One: Life

1.Have you been born?

Slide down the Adder for adding another carbon footprint.

2. Have you given birth to more than two children?

Slip down the Viper

3. You have assisted in the conception of four children, but they have become doctors and environmental scientists.

Climb the stairs, you have contributed to humanity.

4. Have you lived more than three score years and ten?

Descend the Python.

5. You have lived four score years, but ride your bicycle to the allotment where you teach the local school children to grow vegetables?

Take your nimble legs up two flights of stairs.

red colorful orange black — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Round Two: Home

1.Do you live in a city penthouse forty floors up?

Take the lift down to the basement – wait, you don’t own a car because you can cycle and walk everywhere in the city? Take the lift back up again.

2.Has your remote jungle village been discovered yet?

No? You are not contributing to world pollution. Take the escalator to the top floor. Oh, you haven’t got an escalator…

3.Have you installed solar panels on the roof of your house?

Take a flight of stairs.

4.You have concreted over your garden to park three vehicles and a caravan.

Go down the Cobra.

Round Three: Food

1.Would you describe yourself as a subsistence farmer?

Ascend the marble staircase… but you chop all the trees down for firewood?

Sorry, slide down the Anaconda.

2.Are you vegan?

Climb up to the moral high ground.

3.Are you vegetarian?

Stay where you are.

4.Do you eat meat?

Slip down the throat of the Boa Constrictor. No wait, there has been an appeal. You farm hill sheep and preserve the countryside and use some of your land for a wind farm.

5.Do you grow your own vegetables and keep chickens in your suburban garden?

Yes, but you’re so busy you use disposable nappies. Miss a go.

green and white snake on branch — Photo by Stephen Joel on Pexels.com

Round Four: Transport

1.Do you own a car?

No, climb two flights of stairs, easy for you as you are fit from walking everywhere…. but your partner has a car and chauffeurs you around? Topple down a flight.

2.You cycle everywhere and wear one of those vests that says one less car on the road.

Excellent, you earn enough points to eat meat.

3.You flew on holiday to Disneyland, return to Go.

4.You took your private jet to the other side of the world to help refugees?

Gaia says return to Go.

Round Five: Power

1.Do you write about the environment in your blog and sign petitions? Does your computer work on solar power? No – miss a go.

2.You got arrested for protesting about fracking. Climb the ladder.

3.You live as a hermit on a remote island.

Excellent, but before taking your next go describe your contribution to society.

Winner

The winner, Mr. Everly Green, has a small house just the right size for his wife and two children. His roof has solar panels, he has eight rain water butts, grows fruit, vegetables and bee friendly flowers among which roam chickens to fertilise the garden and provide eggs and roast dinners. He walks to work and does not go on holiday as he can’t leave the garden.

But hold on, his win is being contested; that bouquet of flowers he ordered from the florist for his mother’s birthday was composed of cut flowers flown in from Kenya and his prize winning front garden display used plants that came in plastic pots and trays on a pantechnicon from Holland.

Mr. Green must take the serpentine descent of shame.

gray snake on black rock formation — Photo by Ajayvir Pal on Pexels.com

Silly Saturday – Potty Poems

July 7, 2018July 5, 2018 ~ tidalscribe.com ~ 11 Comments

Garden Gate

The man next door has a notice on his gate,

ALL CATS WHO ENTER, BEWARE YOUR FATE.

For he prefers two legged creatures,

Those with wings and feathers as features.

Four legged creatures who climb, chase and bite

Beware of getting in my neighbour’s sight,

For the man next door is a very good shot,

His eyes are sharp and his fingers hot.

Blue Tits swing on the latest contraption,

Before grey squirrels get into action.

Wood Pigeons plummet, Sparrows flutter,

He presses a button and snaps the shutter.

Doves coo, Crows squawk, Magpies chatter.

Wren in the hedge hears him natter.

Blackbird sings, Robin hops and follows him around,

Worms and grubs aplenty when his fork goes in the ground.

The man next door tied a letter to my gate,

Welcome new neighbour, we surely will be mates,

If my views you share; dogs and cats detest

And make friends with all creatures who build a nest.

True Love

Robbie was my true love,

He stole my heart one day.

He came to fix the plumbing,

When I was in dismay.

He said ‘Where is your stop cock?

That’s where we must begin.’

As leaks sprung all around,

My feelings he did win.

It’s location I knew not,

As the kitchen he did roam.

‘May I search your cupboards?’

‘Please make yourself at home.’

His voice was melted chocolate,

I did not mind the flood,

As eyes of startling blue

Stirred something in my blood.

Shall I put the kettle on?

Was all that I could say,

When Robbie the hunky plumber

Stole my heart that day.

He soon was in my cupboard,

Found the valve to turn.

As he knelt upon the floor

My cheeks began to burn.

I caught a glimpse of waistband,

Calvin Klein was what it said.

An inch of sun tanned back

Made my face turn red.

He filed and sawed and screwed,

As he mended all the pipes.

The sweat began to pour

Down his manly big biceps.

We sat out on the patio,

At last his work was done.

Wine and chunky sandwiches

To eat out in the sun.

He called upon his mobile

To cancel his next call.

‘Shall I check your heating,

Then will that be all?’

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Times and Tides of a Beachwriter

Drift among the scribbles of writer Janet Gogerty

gardening