Keith's Ramblings

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With Halloween just days away, Landlord Len had decorated the Baamy Inn with ghosts, ghoolies and cobwebs; he’s not keen on having kids in the pub, but once year he welcomes them; they surge in wearing their creepy costumes then go from table to table shouting and pulling funny faces then stop and begin to sing the song their teacher made up for them …Mary Mary, you’re quite scary, why does your red hair glow… then they are handed treats before exiting the bar and heading off to knock on doors in the village – Albert admits to being a little frightened of them so this year he’s decided to get his own back by dressing in a black robe and painting his face, “you hardly need to”, said Ted, “since you stopped cutting your hair and shaving, you look scary enough already!”.

Over at the knitting circle, Lucy was telling them about when she visited her mother in the retirement home, “Mum’s friend Sally said she’d always wanted to run naked through a crowded place, and she thought this might be her last opportunity, so surged with excitement she stripped off and tottered through the lounge and into the games room where two men were playing snooker; one said, ‘what was that?’ and the other said, ‘I don’t know, but it needs ironing’! “.

“I bumped into my ole mate, millionaire Marcus ‘tother day”, said Arthur, “he told me he’s getting married to a pretty twenty-three-year-old; he even asked me to be his best man, well, I said yes hoping it might encourage him to leave me something in his will; then I asked him how he managed to attract such a young lady, after all, he’s in his seventies, and he said, ‘simple, I told her I was ninety-eight!’ “.

“I saw Surge this morning”, said Babs, “the tree surgeon from down the lane, he told me he took on an apprentice last week and on his first day he handed him a chain saw and told him to practice by cutting down the dead tree behind the barn; half an hour later the boy came back and said he’d tried sawing it without success, well, Surge took the chain saw from him, pressed the start button and it went, vroom, vroom – the lad stuck his fingers in his ears and shouted, ‘wow, what’s that noise?’ “.

“I made up a joke about a skeleton for halloween”, said Colin, “but it wasn’t very humerus – there’s one thing I hate about halloween, which is… – never marry a tennis player, love means nothing to them – how to get a farm girl to marry you, first a tractor – the invitation said, ‘your presence itself is a present, we don’t want any presents at the wedding’, so I assumed that meant I wasn’t welcome – another invite said ‘black tie only, when I got there everyone else was in tuxedos – my mate said I was the worst best man ever, I was speechless – an attracive lady said ‘every time you smile I feel like inviting you to my place’, I asked if she was single and she said, ’no, I’m a dentist – since the price of insurance has surged it’s cheaper to get robbed – I know an insurance saleman called Justin Case – I foresee a surge in the sales of citrus fruit next yer, Kumquat May – my doctor said the eye surgery was a success, and I said, ‘so I see’ – the last thing you want to hear a surgeon say is ‘ooops’ – the expert in keyhole surgery studdied at Yale – a trainee tree surgeon couldn’t hack it to he was given the axe – a lumberjack got promoted, now he’s a branch manager…..”

Before turning out the lights, Len looked around the creepily festooned bar; his dearly departed Maggie would have loved it, “I miss you, my little pumpkin”, he muttered, ‘I’m still here, my love, you just can’t see me’, she whispered as the decorations quivered for a second or two.

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Thanks to Denise for hosting Six Sentence Stories, where this week’s given word is Surge

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My phone died. I only heard half of the message.

I’d been invited to one of those battle reenactments where grown men put on pretend suits of armour and play soldiers. I knew when and where, but little else.

I certainly wasn’t expecting to be handed a Medieval outfit and a sword when I arrived; I assumed I’d just be looking on!

I shook in my boots as the enemy came ashore. We charged down the beach, then seconds later an unfriendly foe poked me in the eye.

This eye patch is quite cool. I wonder if they do pirate reenactments.

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Prod Froggie to visit the squares

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Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers

PHOTO PROMPT © Jennifer Pendergast

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…for Wordless Wednesday and bloghops various

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Let’s start in Norway

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Now to Lima, Peru

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Copenhagen, Denmark

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The River Nile, Egypt

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Kerala, South India

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Nepal

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The Zambezi, South Africa

The Netherlands

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Back in the UK, I went camping!

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This is Eastbourne Pier

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Loch Lomond

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Back home in Bexhill-on-Sea!

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…from my window

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…in the town, last Christmas

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…on the beach

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…above the park!

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Last week I featured Pevensey Castle; I’ll finish with a photo I took there one evening.

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Wilhelmina led a lonely life. The closest thing she had to a companion was the skull that sat on her dresser.

Most of her friends had settled down with witchers, wizards or warlocks; many now had witchlings.  Perhaps it was time to find herself a partner. She wondered which way to go about it.

In her younger days, she frequented a pub in Witchleton called The Cauldron. There, she enjoyed brews and potions with her mates. That was probably the place to start.

She straightened the point on her hat, shook the dust from her most bewitching gown, then set off on her trusty broomstick.

The first person she came across was witcher Whitaker, who was on a similar mission!

Wilhelmina’s wish was granted. They became a couple and lived witcherly ever after!.

Image Credit: Paula Morin @ Unsplash

Thanks to Sadje for hosting What Do You See?

Before I begin, I need to say –

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On this very day, 20 years ago, I launched Keith’s Ramblings. 3674 short stories later, it’s still going strong! Thanks to those who’ve stuck with me over the years, I couldn’t and wouldn’t have done it without your support!

Now, where were we? Oh yes! Time for short story number 3675!

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Crouched in a hollow, they were fully prepared, an arsenal of ammunition at hand. Soon their foe would appear. 

However, the attack was sudden and unexpected. They were bombarded with soggy sprouts and rotten tomatoes. They retaliated with stale cupcakes and mouldy bread rolls. It was bedlam.

However, minutes later they admitted defeat. Their punishment was to clear up the battlefield and return the spent weapons to the supermarket bins from whence they came.

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Thanks to Sammi Cox for hosting the Weekend Writing Prompt

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The Baaamy Farmers were chatting away when they were interrupted by Bert’s phone ringing, instead of answering it he stabbed the red button, “I needed to call the bank this morning”, he said, “and they put me on hold, ‘thank you for holding, thank you for holding’, over and over again, I gave up after a while; I hate phones these days, unlike my wife who’s addicted to hers, the other day she answered a call and only talked and laughed for about thirty minutes, I said ‘that was short, you usually jabber away for hours’, and she said, ‘it was one of those nuisance calls”.

“I was in the field this morning, and I had hold of a cow by its horn, a young lady walked along the footpath, looked over the hedge and asked why some cows had horns and some didn’t, well, I explained why, then she pointed across the field and said, ‘why is that one hornless’, I said, ‘because it’s a horse’… youngsters today!”

Over at the knitting circle Natalie had them in stitches talking about her friend who’d set up a first date with some fella, “she put on her sexiest dress, made herself up like an princess then waited and waited for him to come to pick her up; an hour later she thought she’d been stood up and decided not to hold on any longer, well, she changed into her pyjamas and slippers and slumped herself down in front of the telly – just then the doorbell rang and there he was, he said, ‘sorry I’m late, but it doesn’t matter because you’re obviously not ready yet’!

“We went to a dance on Saturday”, said Bab’s, “the one they hold at the village hall, it’s the only time I get to hold my hubbies hand, there was an elderly couple there doing the waltz and every now and again they kissed each other on the cheek, hubbie said, ‘they look so in love, how sweet’, and I said ‘yes, they’ve been married fifty years … but not to each other’, they looked so different from the couple at that wedding we went to, the bride looked miserable as sin during their first dance” –  Suzie at the next table leapt to her feet and began to sing, “you don’t always get what you want…”

“A pirate was waltzing”, said Colin, “and he said to his partner, ’we need to spin the other way’, she asked why and he said, ‘because you’re unscrewing my wooden leg’ – a skeleton danced on its own because it had no body to go with – dogs are bad at dancing because they have two left feet – I used to tap dance, but I kept falling in the sink – ballerinas dance on their toes so people at the back can see them – I dropped my phone from the 20th floor, good job it was in airplane mode – the detective dropped his phone and cracked the case – A Roman walks into a bar, holds up two fingers and says, ‘five beers please’ – you hold a platter of cheese very Caerphilly – don’t hold a person to anything he says if he’s in love, drunk or running for office – I was reading a non-friction book, it was hard to hold – I like to hold hands at the movies which surprises people either side of me – Tom can’t hold petrol but Jerry can….….”

After another busy evening, Landlord Len relaxed in his armchair with a comforting cup of cocoa; he picked up a book from the side table, it was his dearly departed Maggie’s book of poems, and it fell open at a page with the corner turned down – “when you hold my hand, like child, I feel safe,” he quietly read to himself – ‘when you hold my hand, I feel your warm embrace’, she whispered in his ear.

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Thanks to Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge for hosting Six Sentence Stories, where this week’s given word is Hold.

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We loved sitting here watching the sunset. Remember that conversation we had one evening? ‘How’s work, how’s your mum, you need a haircut – will you marry me?’ Your face! You giggled and said ‘no’, then looked me in the eye and said, ‘of course!‘

Then your sun set. Why? I blamed your doctor, the hospital, God even. How dare he? I was so angry. Sadly, these things happen. To some. Why you?

Here I am, watching the sunset. Our bench looks weather-worn, a bit like me. That tree doesn’t look a day older, unlike me! One thing’s missing. You are missing.

You.

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Prod a Froggie to visit the squares

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Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers

PHOTO PROMPT © Nobbinmaug

…for Wordless Wednesday and bloghops here, there and everywhere!

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Six miles down the road from me is Pevensey Castle. Built by the Normans after they landed there in 1066, it sits in the corner of a Roman fortress dating back to 216 AD. Despite its age, most of the Roman walls remain at their original height, although those on the southern side were washed away by the sea, which has since receded by about a mile. Let’s take a walk!

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Click to enlarge images

The Roman Fortress Walls

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The Norman Castle

On September 28 1066, a fleet of about 700 ships came ashore here, led by William the Conqueror.

A miniature model of one of the boats the Normans arrived in.

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They then built their castle. Many of the walls we see today were rebuilt in the 1300s

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In we go!

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This is one of the guns used to ward off the Spanish Armada in 1588. The cariage it’s mounted upon is a reproduction.

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Here are the remains of the chapel

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and this is the well.

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This is how the chapel and well would have looked back then. The castle remained inhabited until the 14th century.

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Looking at the Roman walls from a tower

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These projectiles date back to 1264. They were launched by a machine called a trebuchet when fending off invading forces

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I would have been up to my neck in water out here in 1066!

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Just a short walk away is a Norman church; most of the outer walls date back to 1080.

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Time to drive home – mind that wall, it’s been there almost 2000 years, and we don’t want you knocking it down!

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I was late, and I dashed down the steps to the underground station, dodging this way and that to avoid people staring at their phones.

A train came to a halt, and I was almost knocked off my feet by a horde of people alighting, most of whom were staring at their phones.

I climbed aboard and spotted Jim, sitting there, staring at his phone. “Hello, Jim”, I said. He said nothing, then my phone ting-a-linged. ‘Hi’. said a message from Jim. I asked how he was, and he didn’t utter a word. Another message appeared. ‘Fine’, it said. I didn’t bother to try and make any more one-way conversation!

I jumped off at the station and dashed to the shop just as it was about to close! I made it and collected my new phone!

As I strolled back to the station, people kept bumping into me. Couldn’t they see I was busy on my phone?

As I got on the train, someone I knew said hello to me. ‘Hello’, I typed back.

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Thanks to Sadje for hosting What Do You See?

Image credit; Benjamin Chambon @ Unsplash

At last, a chance to use a story I’ve been sitting on for ages – albeit slightly altered to accommodate the given words!

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Soon ‘twill be time for young folk to don creepy costumes and act like fools, lunatics even while incessantly performing ghastly pranks in the hope of receiving a treat or two. However, it was not always that way. A similar tradition once existed when homeowners were urged to offer nourishment to those less fortunate than themselves.

‘Twas late October in the year of our Lord 1789. In the waning hours of Hallowmas Eve, urchins in rags, some no more than skin and bones, and sufferers from calamity marched from their hovels in the west until the cobbled streets of Bartonwick came into view.

Smoke curled into the sky from the crooked chimneys of thatched stone cottages. Banging on doors, the soulers begged for food and money, offering songs and prayers in payment.

A soul cake, a soul cake,

Please, good missus, a soul cake.

An apple, a pear, a plum or a cherry,

Any good thing to make us all merry.

One for Peter, two for Paul,

And three for Him that made us all

Old Harriet Wicklesmith opened her creaking oak door, and a smile spread across her wrinkled face. All day she had mixed, stirred and baked her Soul Cakes. She proffered a vast bowl filled with steaming cross-topped sweetmeats. One by one, the soulers helped themselves.

“May your souls be freed from Purgatory when these cakes are eaten”, she murmured.

“We shall eat the fruit of your labour. Blessings and prosperity will be yours,” one replied.

She returned to the calm of her room and settled before the crackling log fire, content that her good deed was done and her soul comforted for another year.

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Thanks to Brenda for hosting The Sunday Whirl. This week’s words are – urged exist pranks view letters incessantly west fools lunatic bones ghastly vast. I used all but one!

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