Monday, 31 October 2016

Fancy Dress - A Steve Rant

For audio click here 
“How many times,” Steve paused to take a mouthful of beer.
Johnny recognised that pause. It was of the dramatic type. It said, strap in there’s a rant coming. Johnny did up his metaphorical seatbelt and adopted the brace position.
“did you go to school in fancy dress?”
“Um never,” replied Johnny.
“Nor me,” Steve said, “maybe the girls did on St David's Day, but otherwise never. But these days hardly a day goes by when there aren’t pictures on my Facebook feed of kids off to school dressed as their favourite Harry Potter character or some such.”
Johnny nodded it was true.
“National book day, Roald Dahl day, Halloween, dress up as your favourite poem day, got to school as your dad day.” Steve counted them off on his fingers. “They had Shwmae day the other day whatever the fuck that is. For fuck’s sake, there’s more fancy dress in schools than on an Easy Jet flight to Prague.”
“I wonder why they do it?” Johnny chimed in.
“I haven't got a clue,” Steve said. “I can't really see how wearing a crappy costume is educational. Unless it teaches the kids what it is like to be uncomfortable all day.”  
“I wonder if they like it,” Johnny said.
“I would've hated it,” Steve replied.
“Yeah, but you were a grumpy old git even in primary school.” Johnny smiled.
“It's the parents I pity.” Steve completed ignored Johnny’s barb. “Either they have to be a whizz with the sewing machine or they have to spend a fortune on cheap polyester costumes that are likely to catch fire any minute. Thank Christ teachers are not allowed to smoke on school property anymore.”
“Maybe there's a direct correlation between the smoking ban and costumes.” Johnny said. “when did the costume craze start?”
“And another thing,” as usual Steve ignored Johnny’s input.
Johnny winced. Steve did this sometimes, a two for the price of one rant. “I saw a Facebook photo of someone, an adult, in his Halloween costume, Guess what he was.”

“I dunno, a skeleton, a wizard, a mummy. I dunno.”
“George Costanza from Seinfeld. Surely the point of Halloween fancy dress is in the name. When did it become an excuse to dress like a TV character?
“Mate, the world's gone to pot.”
“It has,” Steve reflect.
“Oh by the way,” Johnny said. “Happy birthday you old git.”
“Cheers,” Steve replied, holding up his pint then taking a swig. 
Please if you enjoy these stories share them with friends, family, book agents, etc. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram :-) Thank you.  

Friday, 28 October 2016

Poetry Friday 17

For audio click here 

So we've reached number 17 and I know there will be an 18 and 19.

3 poems this week and a new font! 
The first one is where my Teapot Story started. I wrote the poem in a writers' group where we were challenged to write a piece about being led through a forest blindfold. 

I wrote this and then decided to write the poem. 

On Walking Blindfold through a Forest
A single twit, no twoo.
Tiny flakes of snow on my cheek,
slivovitz and cigarettes.
Still no twoo.
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
Slivovitz and cigarettes.
I need to scratch my leg,
I really need to scratch my leg.
I can feel a thousand tiny feet
pitter-patter up my calf.
Still no twoo.
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
Slivovitz and cigarettes.
The trees creak in the breeze.
The feet are climbing, climbing,
Tiny flakes of snow on my cheek.
Slivovitz and cigarettes.
Still no twoo.
Slivovitz and cigarettes.
Sniff, sniff.
The trees creak in the breeze.
Still no twoo.
Tiny flakes of snow on my cheek.
slivovitz and cigarettes.


Moustache Clinger
Grampy’s hot chocolate
is going cold
I watch his whiskers waver
in the whistle of his breath.
The skin on his drink
is grey and wrinkled
like the skin on his face.
I stir constantly,
to make sure the skin doesn’t form on mine.
And then drink from the spoon
because no one is watching.

With a snort, a snuffle, a sniff
Grampy is awake.
‘Oh hot chocolate,’ he declares
as if it’s a surprise.
He takes a mouthful
and smacks his lips.
The skin clings to his

Non Muse
distraction from
my work.
The curves don’t
but require
willpower to
A happy medium
or large.
A smile
so delicate
and hair so…
No! Tear
yourself away
from her charms
and concentrate
on the matters in hand,
not affairs
of the heart.

So that's poetry Friday 17 done. More next week for sure.

Please if you enjoy these stories share them with friends, family, book agents, etc.. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram :-) Thank you.