Tag Archives: #LindaGHill

fabian and Zelda

fabian and Zelda – @LindaGHill #SoCS ‘fab’ prompt

Info for Linda’s #SoCS prompt here

fabian (with a small ‘f’) was less ‘fabulous’ than a fish in a frock.

That is to say, fabian thought that ‘that’ was the case.

Zelda (with a capital ‘Z’) begged to differ.

They were twins.

And… they were Siamese twins.

Not, as a rule, did they share the same thoughts, nor have the same outlook on their life (or lives).

fabian would rather read an exciting crime thriller in a quiet corner; whilst Zelda liked to be amongst friends and having a cheerful conversation, with half a dozen colleagues, about all things that there were under the sun.

This may have caused conflict amongst some couples; but, somehow, fabian and Zelda managed to make it work.

When, in their eighties, the unmarried fabian and the thrice engaged Zelda finally said ‘goodbye!’ to this cruel world (fabian first, Zelda two days later) it was the end of an era.

They outlived all of their childhood friends – mostly Zelda’s – and it was with a quietly fond farewell that the world said its own adieu.

Buried together, they still lay within a relationship that few could even begin to comprehend.

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Linda G Hill’ #SoCS Prompt ‘Dough / D’oh!’

Linda G Hill’ #SoCS Prompt ‘Dough / D’oh!’

Linda’s SoCS details here.

Through thick and thin

we moved within

never went without

and, in case there is any doubt,

left our cares within the bin.

We never borrowed,

so we did not owe;

made our own bread,

from our need for dough;

then made it so.

We helped our selves

to add to our shelves,

and he who delves

often finds

himself in two minds.

Though, it has been said,

if you are well bread,

then you can see your head,

from behind –

or is that all in the mind?

Looking back, as you would,

to seek the bad from the good,

you should always remember

the sixth of November

as being the day after

the fifth.

If this is inconvenient,

you might consider being lenient

when it comes to…

from a coma

or a comma

my punctuation

fills nobody with elation

across this nation,

it just amuses some,

amazes others,

and is totally ignored by the masses,

lower, middle and scupper classes.

“D’oh!” Is not a phrase that I will ever use in my writing.

Though, as you can hear, or see, it doesn’t work like that for me.

“D’oh!” Was used earlier. And then again, just then, when I repeated it for cosmic effect.

“Can you hear the songs of angry men?”

No?

It must be just me.

Anyway, I have to go now,

as I know that there is only so much of this Double Dutch that you can take – even though there is so much more of it that I could make – and my 10-minutes is nearly up – although last week, I stopped about a minute and a half early as I had run out of things to waffle iron on about – well, I certainly won’t be letting that happen again. Says I.

“D’oh!” *

*Timer went off here.

#SoCS ‘The Last Piece of Mail I Received’. @LindaGHill

#SoCS ‘The Last Piece of Mail I Received’. @LindaGHill

See here for Linda’s prompt details

It wasn’t hate mail – that’s something;

it wasn’t a love letter, either;

so it must have been one of the other types of letter.

Twenty-six to choose from – I am quite certain, that it may possibly have been a ‘q’ – lower case; and, if that is the case…

Silly, I know, why would it have been a ‘q’? It could quite easily have been a ‘b’ buzzing round.

C what I did there? Actually, ‘I’ did nothing – a big, fat 0 a which is a zero and not an ‘O’. How could u have made that mistake? Perhaps your (or you’re) parrot (it was ‘your’) distracted u with a mis-timed squawk?

Perhaps.

Anyway, all these letters ‘r’ just ‘a’ means 2 an end – which is where we are at.

Solly the Dover Sole #SoCS @LindaGHill

Solly the Dover Sole

#SoCS @LindaGHill

Prompt: Soul / Sole

See Linda’s Site here for more info

Solly was a lonely soul; being the last Sole in the sea. He swam around in the English Channel, a Dover Sole was he. He swam around other places , too – he believed in swimming diversity, ever since he was at school, and all through university.

He sought a like-minded Sole to be his soul-mate; but, he couldn’t find a single Sole, Solly got into a state.

Swimming the seas from Britain to France, Dover to Calais, Solly sought a Sole called Sally; but she had fled, a tad too late, and ended up upon a ceramic plate with a slice of lemon upon her head – in one short word, Sally was dead. Sad face.

Solly didn’t know this, he couldn’t read; he hadn’t learnt, didn’t heed his mum’s advice to learn the Classics, Plato, Dickens, Agatha Christie – where the plot thickens, like gravy or a Béchamel Sauce ladled upon a fish who is now a main course. Sad face with tear.

Solly swam up and down; with a happy face (not) that resembled* a frown (because it was) until he met Annette. Very Sad Face with Tears.

*10-minute timer went off here. Sad face.

#SoCS – ‘Abash / A Bash / Bash’ @LindaGHill

#SoCS ‘Abash / a bash / bash’ @LindaGHill

See Here for Linda’s Info

“Let’s not be bashful, shall we, you and I, skinny-dipping is just an expression of freedom, why should we have any inhibitions when we were all born naked,”

The Bloggers’ Bash After-Presentation Cool Down was to be held in the almost Olympic-size swimming-pool situated to the rear of the premises; seclusion – guaranteed; anonymity – optional; modesty – unlikely.

When we arrived there was already a seething sea of flesh-tones immersed in the beautiful briny.

“I may just drop into the deep end and immerse myself up to my chin!” I quipped, upon spying the ‘5’ depth’ indicator marked upon the side of the pool.

I never answered myself – a fault of mine that I would never outgrow.

“I’ll give it a bash!” I pronounced bravely. “I mean, what could possibly go wrong?” I also never answered the rhetorical questions that I asked myself – it was one of my unspoken rules.

I leave the rest to your imagination. The slender chances of my completing safely any task entered into were soon dashed upon the surety of my inability to achieve a dignified entry into the water; my loose-fitting skin-coloured trunks a la Fitzgerald’s ‘Tender is the Night’ managed to survive approximately three seconds before they became caught up in the pool filtration system – and the embarrassment was increased a dozen-fold as the pool had to be emptied of occupants and water to allow the engineer to release my…

well, I hope to be out of hospital soon; with my wounds healed and my reputation intact – some hope.

“Art” #SoCS @LindaGHill

“Art” #SoCS @LindaGHill

Find @LindaGHill’s #SoCS here!

I popped some “Art” in the cart, and headed for the checkout.

Self-service, I think.

Brought my own bag? – yup!

15 items or less? -yup!

Each one is a carrot.

I pop 15 carrots into my bag.

Each one weighs approximately the same as my 15 pieces of “Art”.

I pay – cash.

Not going to be traced by using plastic.

I am in disguise, too.

Nobody notices a white, middle-aged, well-dressed, politely-spoken nobody.

Nobody.

I pop my “Carrots” into the back of my ‘invisible’ van, and drive to the warehouse.

My “Art” is quickly offloaded and carefully packed in recyclable plastic and bubble-wrap. All 15 items (counted once more) are then placed inside a hollow suitcase (empty) and this is taken to a locker at Paddington Station. Placed inside the locker, the suitcase is left for over a hundred years without any disturbance. The key to the locker is posted (2nd class) to an address in Singapore that doesn’t exist.

One hundred years later, Paddington Station is subject to an explosive device that blows the door off of a single locker. Not the one that the suitcase is in; but, for the look of things, all the lockers are removed to be melted down for the war effort – there wasn’t a war, but it’s best to be prepared.

The 15 “Carrots” are discovered by a labourer who was labouring under the misapprehension that he was not going to discover* a life-changing discovery.

He did, and it did.

The “Art” was returned to its owner – the State.

All in all – it had been a pointless exercise.

Art for Art’s Sake.

–//–

*is where my self-regulating 10-minutes ran out.

G:)

#SoCS – ‘Ask somebody for a prompt’ Prompt @LindaGHill

#SoCS – ‘Ask somebody for a prompt’ Prompt @LindaGHill

See Here for Linda’s blog and info for #SoCS

‘Ask ‘somebody what my prompt is!”

Do you think I have prompt-buddies on speed dial? Is there an assistant that I can turn to?

“Ask somebody what my prompt is, Mr Daniels!” Without please or thank you.

I might pop to a neighbours and ask them what my prompt is – but, the hard of hearing and the hard of understanding won’t be much use to me in this dire emergency.

Hold a seance and ask the dead what my prompt is – mmmmm? Well, that may not work without a room full of gulls called Ibble. And the widgee board could be said to have been fixed. Knock once for ‘my prompt is ‘fire’!

And on it goes.

And I only have ten minutes from when I set the 10-minute timer to do all of this!

I’m on a strict deadline here, folks!

I need a prompt, and I need it now – or yesterday would be even better.

Where is it – I’ll check the post box, under the settee, behind the cooker… no, no, and a big fat NO!

None of those places is where my prompt is. Perhaps I. Oils just use last week’s and say that ‘I’m terribly sorry, but my house was ill and my cat fell down.’

That might work in some other,, less stringent, Universe – but not this one – Oh, no.

I shall just have to wing it and work on the basis that if I choose any old prompt there is a 1 in 50,000,009 chance of it being the one – it’s probably a better chance than that, but if you put 50,000,009 on a calculator and turn it upside down you will find the word ‘oooooo’ – now isn’t that interesting? Rhetorical! Question!

Oh, well, I shall have to admit the feet (de feet) and just await a proper prompt so that I can write a proper stream* of Consciousness Saturday piece.

G:)

*Is where my 10-minutes ended.