Musical Memory Lane


When I first saw this photo, I thought of the brightly painted camper van that used to park outside our house.  It belonged to the boyfriend of the lady who lived next door to us, it seemed a wonderful magical thing to my childish eyes. It was the 60’s, a time of great change in the world, the one that most affected me at the time was the music. Now I had The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, The Righteous Brothers, The Supremes, The Byrds….with tongue in cheek and your indulgence, I give you my trip down a musical memory lane

copyright Indira Mukerjee

copyright Indira Mukerjee

Musical Memory Lane

Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 100

Hey Mr Tambourine Man, you’re the king of the road and I’ll never find another you. Baby don’t go.

 Just once in my life I want to be with the ‘in’ crowd. I’ve got a heart full of soul and you’re like a rolling stone.

 Didn’t you hear me crying in the chapel?  You’ve lost that lovin’ feeling and I want you back in my arms again.

 You’ve got your troubles, but you keep singing the same old song and I’m tired of waiting.

 Stop! In the name of love

 I can’t get no satisfaction; baby, the rain must fall.

 

 

Thanks to Rochelle for conducting the Friday Fictioneers, we dance to her tune each week. Thanks for the great photo to Indira Mukerjee via Scott Vanatter.

 

 

A Role Reversal


I missed last week’s Friday Fictioneers; for friends and followers, my previous post explains what happened. All is still not well but this is not the place…

The lovely photo prompt this week, courtesy of Managua Gunn should provoke some great stories from the Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle as usual for continuing to spur us into action.

copyright Managua Gunn

copyright Managua Gunn

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Role Reversal

She stands erect, eyes forward never moving, as we watch her from the corner of the square.

Her long blonde hair is tied back under her helmet, her uniform immaculate as always. I want to touch her, but cannot.

Occasionally she will come to attention, march to the post across the courtyard, turn and march back, but I haven’t time to wait.

Last night she wasn’t immaculate as she abandoned herself to desire. Passion spent, we slept entwined, waking early for her to take up her post.

We walk away. I have to get the children to school.

Watching Trooping the Colour wearing tight pyjamas


Saturday 15th June was the Queen’s Birthday Parade in London.  We  had tickets to watch the pomp and pageantry in Horse Guards Parade; our seats were in a row that backed onto the gardens of Downing Street.

On Tuesday 11th June my husband complained of feeling unwell. He got worse throughout the day; our doctor decided that he should go to hospital and arranged for us to attend the Acute Assessment Unit at A&E.  We arrived at 9.00pm with overnight bag at the ready and were seen almost immediately for a blood pressure check and blood tests.  Next, my husband was sent for X-rays, and then we were told to return to the waiting area to be seen by the duty doctor.

We waited with a lot of other people; some moaning softly in pain, some just staring into space, some playing games on their phones or talking with friends and family. One woman was having an argument with her husband over the fact that he never took the rubbish out; he just sat and held her hand, understanding perhaps that this was her way of handling the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

At 12.30 we were called in to see the doctor. The results were back and it seems my husband had a kidney infection.  We were given antibiotics and pain killers and sent home.

I wasn’t convinced.

For one thing one of the antibiotics had to be ‘taken with or after food but NOT on an empty stomach.’ As my husband hadn’t eaten properly for three days and wasn’t about to have anything to eat now, I knew we were going to have problems.   He went to bed with one of the other tablets as I crossed my fingers and hoped he would have a peaceful night.

Wednesday dawned and things weren’t much better. He still didn’t want anything to eat but managed a piece of toast so he could take his tablet. He still felt ill and had a high temperature, but didn’t want me to call the doctor.

Om Thursday he seemed worse. I rang the surgery and spoke to the doctor. He asked a lot of questions, then told me he was going to admit my husband to hospital and I should take him over there straightaway.  On the way, I realised that I had forgotten to pack his pj’s.  We called in to a large clothing store on the way to the hospital, they had no pyjamas only ‘Leisure Wear’.

Once in hospital, we waited for what seemed like an eternity before he was admitted to a ward. Finally about 11.30pm he went to get changed into his ‘leisure wear’.He wasn’t impressed with my purchase; the top was too tight and the trousers too long.  I kissed him goodnight and left him in the care of the night staff.

I left the hospital and went to stay at my son’s house, not wishing to be on my own that night.  My daughter-in-law had laid out a pair of her pj’s as I had nothing with me. I was touched and amused that she thought her clothes would fit me; she is at least two sizes smaller than I and a good four inches taller. We had a hot drink and discussed what had happened during the last few days, then I climbed into their spare bed in a top that was too tight and trousers that were too long, but I was too tired to care.

The following morning I switched on the television to watch the Welsh Guards trooping their colour on Horse Guards Parade and wondered who was sitting in our seats.

In Horse Guards

Trooping the Colour

In the Mall

(More photos and full report @ BBC)

And a couple of balcony shots, courtesy of my tv.

On the balcony

On the balcony 2

Red Arrows over Buckingham Palace

The Wondrous Heffelumpion


It’s that time again!

 It’s that time of week when we sharpen our wits

And try to work out a story that fits,

Just 100 words, not one more or one less

That’s what’s  required from our good leader-ess.

 She watches o’er our writing with candour and wit

Never tires of praising and commenting one bit,

Rochelle reads them all as Chief Fictioneer

For which we are grateful, let’s give her a cheer

Copyright EL Appleby

Copyright EL Appleby

The Wondrous Heffelumpion

Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 100

My grandmother knitted the wondrous Heffelumpion when I had the mumps. It was love at first sight. He went to school, university and kept me company in my first tiny flat. After much washing he went saggy, but I still loved him.

If my husband thought me odd for keeping H on my bedside table, he kept his thoughts to himself. Our children loved him, each in turn; when they had done with him I took him back.

My little granddaughter has now claimed him, taking him everywhere tucked under her arm. She calls him Mr Snuffles.

She loves him.

Some of her other smaller friends: Bagpuss & Ted

Small friends