Transparent Trevor I called him. I could look into his pale blue eyes and have a good idea what he was thinking. To me, they were the windows of his mind.
He was never the same after his beloved Jane passed away. He hardly spoke and rarely left the house. His eyes became hazy, I could no longer see through them.
Each day he would wake at sunrise, stare from his window and watch the world go by. Then the sun would set. The next day it would set sooner, the next day sooner still.
Last week we walked along the cliffs in Bexhill-on-Sea. Eleven miles to the west, the cliffs are very different for instead of sandstone they are chalk!.
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They stretch twelve miles along the coast from Eastbourne to Seaford. I walk there often, and these are just some of the pictures I’ve taken over the years. You may have seen a few of them before.
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Up we go!
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This is one of the most photographed views in the UK. The cottages have featured in many a TV series and quite a few movies!
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I think this one speaks for itself.
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By the way, you were in good company, the King was pictured here six week’s ago!
Tyler was looking out of his bedroom window. The sky was clear and the moon was huge.
He leaned his head on one side and then the other. He squinted.
His little sister Kate crept up behind him. ‘Boo’, she shouted and Tyler almost jumped out of his skin!
‘What are you looking at Tyler?’ she asked.
‘The moon’, said Tyler, ‘I’m trying to see the man in the moon’.
Kate giggled. ‘Don’t be silly Tyler, there’s no man in the moon. There can’t be because the moon is made of cheese’.
‘Perhaps he likes cheese’, said Tyler.
Mum walked into the room. ‘Hi you two, what are you looking at?’
‘We are looking at the moon’, said Kate.
‘The moon’s a balloon’, said Mum with a silly grin on her face, ‘a big yellow balloon!’.
They all looked at each other and laughed.
‘Tyler believes there’s a man in the moon’, chuckled Kate.
‘Kate believes the moon is made of cheese’, laughed Tyler, ‘and it’s not a balloonMum!’
‘I’ll tell you what I believe’, said Mum, ‘I believe its way past your bedtime!’
Kate went back to her room and opened the curtains just a little so she could see the moon from her bed. She saw a little mouse nibbling away at the surface.
Tyler took one last look before he jumped into bed. He waved to the man in the moon, and the man in the moon winked back!..
I thought I’d have another shot at The Sunday Whirl but the words were a bit challenging.
crush crisp creamy script brisk dreams dust seeds dim night whisper shimmer
So, here we go!
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I live a humdrum life. One dull, dim, dreary day after another.
But at night things are very different, whilst sleeping I have a wonderful time! Dreams are far more fun than reality. I sometimes wish I could sleep for a week!
I had a great one the other night, it was like being in a movie; whoever wrote the script was a genius. There I was walking along a path when the dust beneath my feet changed into sand, a tree became a cactus, then a distant scarecrow began to shimmer. It was then I see’dher, (sorry about that, but it was a difficult word to incorporate so I made the best use of it I could) for it morphed into the most beautiful girl I’d seen since the previous night’s dream.(nice bit of rhyme there!) She walked towards me slowly at first then briskly. Straight away I had a crush on her. She whispered something in my ear, something I could hardly hear, (there I go again!) but it mattered not.
A cow became a camel, a two seater with three humps. We climbed aboard Humphrey (an appropriate name, I thought!) and headed towards a distant town. A bell around its neck went ding-a-ling. It got louder and louder until my bloody alarm clock woke me up.
If only dreams were like continuing dramas or soap operas, ones that end with a cliff hanger and carry on the next night.
It was time for breakfast, crispy toast with creamybutter (I knew I’d find a way of using those two remaining words!) and there it was, another dull, dim, dreary day.
*I deserve a bonus point for using two of the words not once, but twice!
ispy toast with creamy butter (I knew I’d find a way of using those two remaining words!) and there it was, another dull, dim, dreary day.
Percival enjoys a perfect life. He amassed his millions not by hard work, but thanks to devious means and his punctilious powers of persuasion.
He remained single until he reached his fifties. It was then he met and wed an attractive young lady who was twenty five years his junior.
When asked what he did to induce her, he admitted to lying about his age.
Everyone assumed he’d pretended to be considerably younger, but not so, it seems he convinced her that he was almost eighty and had but six months to live!
The Baaamy farmers were chatting away, except for Arthur who had his head in a newspaper puzzle, “I’m stuck”, he said, “I could do with some help, my grandson’s never here when I need him – he’s at uni and there’s a crossword club in his lodgings, two floors down and three doors across he told me; the other day he asked if I fancied a go at sudoku, I said I never liked the idea of martial arts then he laughed and said it was numbers game, so I said count me in!”
“I used to love quizzes”, said Ted, “but the ole memory aint what it used to be, I thought it would be a good idea to write down my daily chores in a book so I wouldn’t forget to do them, Monday washing machine, Tuesday pop to the shops, Wednesday, something or other, Thursday, erm, well, never mind, you get the drift” ; “is it helping?” asked Barb, “it probably would if I could remember where I left it” Ted replied.
Over at the knitting circle Polly was talking about her piano, “I’m thinking of getting rid of it”, she said, “it’s taking up too much room and I’m no good at getting a tune out of it, I can’t even eat with chopsticks let alone play it, anyway, someone appeared at my door yesterday, she said ‘hello, my name’s Dee Sharp and I’m a piano teacher’, I said I didn’t ask for her to come round and she said, ‘I know, your neighbour did’ “.
You may remember I told you that Bert was getting a new bull, well, he went to liveskock market the other day and got himself one, “he’s a big beast” said Bert, “I watched him lick his lips whenener he saw an attractive cow and I thought, yes he’s the one, I’ve called him Big Boy because he’s not just huge, he’s big his busineess department too if you get my meaning – tomorrow I’ve set him and one of my cows up on a blind date, I’m looking forward to seeing how he gets on”, “if he’s that big he’ll probably flatten her when he does” quipped Colin – “OY”, shouted Landlord Len, “I’ll have none of that bulloney in my pub”!
That was all Colin needed to get him going, “crosswords upset me, I try not to get too down – the clue was 7 letters starting O and meaning easly understood, it should have been obvious – ‘assist’ has 3 letter S’s, the others are just there to help – I asked the shop worker if she could recommend something that gets rid of germs and she said ‘ammonia cleaner’, and I said I know you are‘ – I asked the book shop assistant ‘do you keep stationary here?’ and she said ‘no, I walk about’ – I asked the toy shop assistant where the Schwarzenegger dolls were and he pointed and said ‘Aisle B, back’ – when I need help adding up I ask Tommy, Hilfiger it out – accupuncturists have lots of assistants, they needle all the help they can get – pianist have knives because they like Chopin – when they to the mall they take a Chopin Liszt……”
All that talk about crosswords reminded Len of how his dearly departed Maggie used to start each day by turning to the back of the newpaper where the puzzles were, she often got angry with herself when she was stuck for an answer to an easy clue, “I used to help you”, muttered Len – ‘and there was never a cross word between us’ , she whispered.
I may as well not be have been there. The only person I spoke with was the waiter.
Fork in one hand, his phone in the other. I moved his plate of food aside, he didn’t notice. You should have seen him prodding the table! I put it back then drank his wine. He said nothing, just scowled at me.
I messaged him, said we had to leave. The babysitter needed to go.
He actually spoke, ‘another blasted text’, he said. Didn’t read it though, he was otherwise engaged.
I’m on my way home now. Wonder if he’s noticed yet?
It was her birthday once again. No presents, no cards, not even a phone call but that wasn’t unusual. She’d not received anything for years.
She’d ordered a bunch of roses from Interflora with a birthday message to herself attached. It was something she did every year. At least she got a ‘happy birthday’ from the guy that delivered them.
They looked beautiful sitting on the window ledge. She knew it was silly but she couldn’t help but talk to them, after all they were the nearest thing to company she would have.
That evening, after eating a ready meal for one, and enjoying a glass of wine she heard some noise outside. She gingerly parted a couple of the roses and peered through the window wondering what was happening.
There was a group of people. They were walking along the street laughing and waving their hands in the air. For fear of being seen, she swiftly returned to her chair.
Her doorbell rang, giving her a start. Who was it? What did they want?
She walked to the door and opened it, just a fraction.
“Surprise!”, shouted the crowd.
Surprised she was, for it was the last thing she’d expected!
“Oh, no”, said one of them as they fell quiet, “this seems to be the wrong door, sorry to disturb you miss”.
It’s a distant memory but still I see him lounging in his sumptuous armchair, a glass of whiskey in his hand, a ring of smoke rising from his Cuban cigar.
William Stanley Billiscombe, Bill but to a select few, was Lord of the Manor. Forever a batchelor, he lived his life alone.
Famed for his tweed jackets, leather riding breeches and silky silver hair, he was oft to be seen sauntering along the street astride his trusty mare, politely gesturing to folk as he passed them by.
He was a esoteric soul, there were limits to how much we knew of his closeted lifestyle. Maybe I knew a little more than most as I was employed by his preferred supplier of food stuffs and each week, collected his list then delivered to him the items he wished to purchase.
The last time I saw him was somewhat different. He’d not answered the door when I rang the bell. I let myself into the Manor using a key, the whereabouts of which few were privy to.
Yes, he was in his chair, but his cigar was stubbed out in an ashtray, his whisky glass lay on its side, its contents spilled. He was gone.
Often, I look into the sky and see a circle of cloud. That’s when I think of him again, with a ring of smoke rising into the air.
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Thanks to Brenda for hosting The Sunday Whirlwhere this weeks given words are – limits list still bill smoke ring distant wish silky spill fit and key. There was only one I couldn’t fit into my story!
