Tag Archives: #vss

Oblique House

Charles Dickens was once said to have said,

‘Thank you for my meal, Catherine.’

However, this was not

what

he is remembered for.

Bleak House, one of his finest novels,

originally serialised in 1852/3,

tells a tale – as do all the rest

of his works –

and is of matters that matter.

There is a lot of legal jargon and

Inspector Bucket is brought in to investigate.

There may be more; but, perhaps,

you should read it and find out if that is the case.

Uther Pendragon Kellaly

Uther Pendragon Kellaly,

father of Arthur …

and the inventor

of tiny little guitars …

Opportunity (Grab it!)

Opportunity:

If an opportunity comes along grab it with both hands.

But, don’t shout out to a colleague ‘Grab it!’ if you see an opportunity for them that they haven’t seen*.

*This mainly applies for when you are upon a boat.

The Education of Begonias

Now, why Begonias should need an education is beyond me – as are so many other, less important, things. But, if I just go along with the premise that they do, then I shall be able to comprehend why these things are.

It is at this point that I ask,

‘Why is monosyllabic such a long word?’

And other questions. Eventually.

Returning to Begonias,

‘Last night I dreamt I went to Begonias again.’

as was once, fictionally, almost uttered by the second Mrs. de Winter in the book ‘Rebecca’ by Daphne du Maurier.

‘Amanda was a carpet-fitter,

Amanda lay a carpet.’

as was recently written by me in my short prose piece, ‘Education for Begonias’

But, to the crux of the matter – or the important bit (whichever you prefer) – the Begonias.

Not the 1963 film directed by Alfred Hitchcock, nor the famous (yet unheard of) pop group from the mid-1960s, but the specific breed of flower. Begonia Obliqua as the Latins might have called it if they were alive today.

Actually, all plants need to be fed and watered with knowledge otherwise they shall remain ignorant and grow the wrong way down a one-way dead-end street.

So, send them to college, fill them with knowledge, and make sure that they ‘are’ Begonias, and not Triffids – there is a difference, but only time William Tell what it is.

Up the Begonias.

Why didn’t I mention ‘Begonias for Beginners’?

There’s your other question.

I shot the Triffid (and I swear it was in self-defence).

Now, not everybody hates a Triffid (if you consider all life being valuable, you don’t have favourites – all are equal).

So, when (in self-defence, I hasten to add) I shot the top of a towering Triffid, I was mightily surprised when a young lady ran up to me clutching leaflets and a sad expression.

“You’ve killed it!” she cried. “What harm was it doing you? You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Why?”

All these exclamations and questions were not readily answerable to her satisfaction, and I was soon being issues with a notice under Regulation TR1, Section 5, Sub-Section 3, that stated I was formally warned that my actions had brought me in direct conflict with S.C.A.T. (Serious Crimes Against Triffids).

“Do you know S.C.A.T.?” she asked me.

“Without hesitation I broke into some Scat / Do-wop and braved her exasperated look for all of twenty seconds.

“Very recently.” I answered her question.

“What, about two minutes ago?”

“Yes.” I mumbled.

“We shall be watching you.” she warned, as she departed the scene.

I looked after her retreating form, then around at the Triffid trunk.

Shaking my head, I picked up my Triffid Gun, and headed back to my truck.

If – Linda G Hill’s #SoCS

(A prompt for a Saturday Stream-of-Consciousness write – which I restrict myself to doing in 10-minutes – this week the prompt was ‘if’).

See here for Linda G’s site.

—//—

If I manage

to write something

of worth here

I shall be mightily surprised.

And, before we get too far into this,

I am writing prose

in a poetry-looking format –

well, it has to be done.

Anyway,

if I ‘do’ manage

to create ‘War and Peace’

in the ten minutes

that I have allowed myself for this,

no one will be surprised.

Sorry, it should have read,

‘no one will be more surprised than me’,

but it didn’t – if you can follow that.

So, if a picture paints a large number of words

(In the vicinity of a thousand)

why can’t I paint?

If a rhetorical question

gains no answers,

why ask it in the first place?

If I knew all of the questions to some of the answers …

Ha! If!

No, seriously for a second –

why is it that E=MC squared?

Remember, you only have a second to answer that.

If you take too long

you lose a point.

If you answer with time to spare,

well, here is a chest

to pin a badge upon.

If this goes on too long

please let me know,

before I write copious amounts

of drivel

and waste everybody’s time.

Well, obviously, not ‘everybody’s’

that would be slightly over-stating

the dozen or so people

that irregularly read

(or claim to read)

what I do write.

If all (nearly) 8 billion people

read my words

(which they don’t)

and even one percent commented,

that would mean my taking

the rest of my life answering.

BTW ‘if’ is the centre part of ‘life’

that was one of those ‘Squirrel’ moments –

I get them from time to time.

Is it almost over?*

As if!

*the 10-minute alarm went off here – how appropriate. G:)

“Oh, no, it’s the Exercise Men!” – Extended.

One day, at about three of the clock in the morning, as the smugglers were offloading their latest cargo of tax-avoidance items at a small inlet upon the island of Looe (aka St. George’s Island, Looe Island, or, way back in time, St. Michael’s Island), there was a voice heard from the lookout, old George Penwithit, his voice still loud and doughty even after seventy-three winters and almost as many summers. ‘Boat approaching!’

‘Oh, no, it’s the Exercise Men!’ exclaimed William Telmother, the youngest of the gang.

Twenty minutes later they were all doing press-ups, star jumps, and crunches, before they were to run two laps of the island.

The Tenant of Trenant Hall

The Tenant of Trenant Hall

by

Anne Brontosaurus

You must go back with me to the Autumn of 1827 – sorry, you must go back with me to 18:27 one Autumn evening a few years ago – the exact date shall remain suitably vague so as to protect the innocent – to that most audacious of country manors, Trenant Hall.

.

TBC

One liner Wednesday – Cinnamon.

I am a cinnamon, but I pray every day to the Irish God to forgive me.

PC Winters Enters – #DialogueForAPlay

NB PC Winsome Winters always refers to his notebook for detail, and is constantly updating it.

SD PC Winters Enters

PC Winters: I have arrived hot foot from the station, Sarge!

WPS Wispy: Foot? Not ‘feet’, Constable?

PC Winters: Oh, yes, ‘feet’ it is, Sarge. Let me just write that down. (there is a slight pause) ‘Feet’.

WPS Wispy: Marvellous. And your reason for running all the way here, Constable?

PC Winters: Ah, let me just consult… my notebook. (there is a slight pause) Feet! No. (Another pause) Ah, yes, here it is. ‘Tell WPS Wispy that Romeo and Juliet are doing the Foxtrot Tango.

WPS Wispy: I see. That’s good. Can you let DC Acey know that Papa’s got a brand new bag.

PC Winters: (writing) Tell DC Acey, ‘Papa’s got a brand new bag.’ Right-o.

SD PC Winters leaves.

WPS Wispy: The boy is a fool, a good-natured fool, but a fool nevertheless.