Tag: fun

Partner – Daily prompt

No lies, it’s about precisely nothing

Upon seeing the daily prompt, ‘Partner’, I would imagine that I was not alone in thinking that this would be an ideal opportunity to write a piece on my relationship with my wife.  It would be insightful and honest and lay bare the ups and downs of a modern relationship.

I imagined that I would share wisdom and experience in a light hearted yet uplifting way and it would prove enlightening and encouraging for others as they would see their own relationship in ours.  I would talk about love and compromise and friendship and laughter and…

Okay…I’ll stop there.  I can’t type that with a straight face.

I was mostly going to write about the impact of going to the toilet in front of one’s partner.  I had also considered something humorous on how to be certain that the kids are asleep and not just pretending and instead hatching a plan to burst into the bedroom with a “Surprise!!!” at the most inopportune moment.

Both of those will not now see the light of day though as I mentioned the general ‘Partner’ subject to my wife and her reaction was “as long as you don’t write about me I don’t care what you write.”  There was no malice in it though she did, quite coincidentally, have a rather large knife in her hand at the time so I took her advice seriously.

Therefore, this is mostly a piece about what you will not be reading, so I posted it with a picture of a cat just because.

Want to read more of my stuff?

This is kinda funny

and this kind of sad

This was just fun

 

Https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/partner/

Photo courtesy of cocopasasienne @ Pixabay

Ichabod the first

Imagine if you will, London, 1887.

Narrator:  Imagine if you will, London, 1887.  Thick fog rolls in across the city, and somewhere down a back alley in Whitechapel, just a short walk from the Thames,  Enid Thickett has just finished servicing one of her regular customers.  

He is a portly fellow of good standing who goes by the name of Ichabod White,  and fortunately for Enid he has a thick purse and a penchant for grubby women of a particular girth.  He also has little stamina to speak of which in Enid’s line of work is a real benefit.

To be sure it is not a night for good people like you and I, this is a night when decent folk are safely tucked up in their beds.

“As ever my dear, it was a real treat!” Ichabod insists buttoning his britches.  “have you put on a little weight” He asks, playfully slapping her rather round bottom as she rearranges herself, “You look jolly good in this light I must say.”

“Cheeky Devil” Enid laughs, she knows how to keep her customers happy.  As foul breath and fuelled on cheap liqueur as they might well be, they were a means to an end, and regular customers like Ichabod White were becoming increasingly valuable.

“More of me to enjoy I reckons” she continues, fingering the cold coins in her pocket, the taste of him still on her lips. “Same time next week?” she asks, an awkward toothless smile breaking out across her face.

Ichabod reaches into his vest and from a bulging purse pulls out another coin tosses it to her.  “Afraid not my dear” he answers tucking his purse back into his vest, I am a man of many appetites and a chap I know from the Lieutenant General’s office has introduced me to a number of his acquaintances.”  He grins broadly.  “This was a farewell so to speak.”

Narrator:  It is at this point where our story takes a turn for the worse.  Or perhaps for the better, that depends entirely on your point of view.   Ichabod White was for the most part a good man, and as noble a gesture as a farewell might appear to him he was to discover that it was the very catalyst for what was to happen next.  

Enid always carried her knife for protection, and as she wiped it on her dress placing it back inside her coat, she considered how he Ichabod had screamed and how he  had insisted that it really was not his fault and that he would most certainly be back next week.

She did not care for his screaming or his promises, and she did not one jot care for those that would steal her business.

 

Want to read more of my stuff?

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/29/a-collection-of-miserable-limericks/

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/14/probing-a-cautionary-tale/

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/03/first-blog-post/

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/14/we-unlikely-few/

Photo courtesy of Webandi @ Pixabay

wp-image-2034442149https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/Foggy/

 

 

On the matter of eating endangered species

Following a drunken discussion at the pub.

I would not eat a panda

it does not appeal to me

Despite it being grass fed

and not tough and quite juicy

It’s flesh I would not sauté

bake or broil or steam or fry

I would not make some pastry

and then bake it in a pie

 

Please do not serve me blue whale

it would surely be obscene

To brown it in a skillet

with chopped garlic and some cream

I could not sample blow hole

or a steak of flesh most pink

Do not prepare me sperm whale

or an orca or a mink

 

Bald Eagle’s off the menu

it could never pass my lips  

I’d never shallow fry it

And then serve it with some chips

Please do not bring it to me

if you do I will reject

The smorgasbord of tasty

claws and wings and beaks and necks

 

Be gone you furry entrée

do not ask me to abide

A puppy stuffed with kitten

and Koala on the side

It leaves me feeling queasy

and on me it does repeat

I gag on eucalyptus

flavoured mar-su-pi-al meat

 

I’d never eat a chilli

made of simians for sure

Orang-utan with lentils

that I surely would deplore

I’d not enjoy chim-pan-zee

milk poached with fresh vanilla

I’d rather eat a salad

than bar-be-cued gorilla

 

But pig and cow I’ll gorge on

and chickens fill the belly

Once eels I even sampled

But the hot ones not in jelly

So why’s each species different

some not headed for the pot

whilst others we eat freely

quite delicious cold or hot

——————————————————–

Fancy something else?

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/03/first-blog-post/

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/14/we-unlikely-few/

 

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/shallow/

A letter to the council – An Armitage Tangent

Secondly, and perhaps more obviously, I would again press as to why my husband is now on what is quite obviously a dangerous undertaking.  He did not take either a proper coat or sturdy shoes,

The Cottage

79 The Crescent

Little Norwood

West Yorkshire

 

To whom it may concern

I would write to you in the strongest terms with regards to the recent treatment of my husband, Mr Armitage Shanks, of the address noted above.

Two days ago My husband attended your offices and was informed by the receptionist that in order for his family to continue to receive our support he would need to support one of your apparent operations within The Rift.  This really is most unacceptable and not how we should conduct things as the last bastion of organised civilisation.

To this point I would ask a number of questions.

Firstly, who the devil is this receptionist.  Whilst the world may have gone to hell (please forgive my language, but this matter has me most vexed), surely one would require far greater authority to compel my husband to risk life and limb that that possessed of a mere receptionist.

My husband is a weak willed man and I can only assume that she is one of these modern liberated types who, feeling empowered per some council agenda, feels that she can order people to their doom willy nilly.  This simply will not do and on that matter I would ask that you escalate my concerns to the highest possible authority.

Secondly, I would again press as to why my husband is now on what is quite obviously a dangerous undertaking.  He did not take either a proper coat or sturdy shoes, instead choosing a light summer jacket and a pair of tan brogues.  Can you assure me that you have provided his with suitable apparel.

Lastly I would again insist that you return him home as soon as is possible.  He is in no way prepared for an endeavour of this basis and not capable of a great deal more than some light gardening and the occasional trip to the pub.  He has also not yet fitted a shelf in the kitchen over which he has been procrastinating for some time and I must insist that should anything untoward happen to my husband then I will hold you responsible for not only the welfare of me and my family but you will also need to put up that shelf as I currently have nowhere for my pans.

I anticipate your swift response.

Yours Sincerely

Katherine Shanks

 

If you want to read more about Armitage Shanks please take a look here.

Is it really so bad ?

I, like most of you , am probably prone to over exaggeration.  If I were to say “I am going to kill the kids if they leave a towel on the bathroom floor again” then I think you probably know what I mean and where I am heading with this.  Unless of course I am prone to killing children for acts of untidiness  – which I am not. 

Just to be absolutely clear on that matter – I have not nor will I kill my children for leaving a bit of a mess in the upstairs bathroom.

Equally, as it turns out I did not actually nearly die when filling up my car recently despite me insisting to my wife to the contrary.  My life did not flash before my eyes, I was not filled with the urge to hold my sons one last time, and I did not re-evaluate my existence as a consequence of paying £1.20 a litre.

I also had to reconsider whether leaving a chicken in the oven for what was maybe 15 minutes too long last Sunday – resulting in the breasts being a little dry – was in fact the disaster I supposed.  Would I classify the lack of moistness as a serious disruption, occurring over a relatively short time, of a community or a society involving widespread human, material, economic or environmental loss and impacts, which exceeds the ability of the affected community or society to cope using its own resources?  

Probably not, I just made a little extra gravy. 

With the realisation that I am prone to such exaggerations I ask myself whether I will perhaps use more appropriate language in the future. 

No, obviously not and I am sure you feel the same.

I will still insist that I very nearly soil myself every time something surprises me and I will continue to insist that the neighbour, who drives so terribly, is indeed as blind as a bat and by that token navigates via sonar.  No one ever became excited or intrigued and leaned in with great interest upon being told that they are absolutely going to believe a tale I am about to tell. 

There is a joy in exaggeration, a freedom and a licence to share an excitement that is ours and which we simply want others to feel.  It helps us express, albeit lazily, the things we feel and lets us get straight to the somewhat more mundane details of the thing we are expressing.

 

 

 

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/disastrous/

Soil – An Armitage Tangent

“A scotch egg is not a fruit!” Wednesday insisted forcefully, “it is an egg wrapped in sausage meat then crumbed and deep fried!”

 “A scotch egg is not a fruit!” Wednesday insisted forcefully, “it is an egg wrapped in sausage meat then crumbed and deep fried!” 

“All I’m saying” replied Thomas, “Is that if you use your imagination, and think of it maybe as a meat apple then it maybe could be.”  He paused for a moment.  “Don’t you think?”

Wednesday did not think.  Not for one moment. 

“Why do you insist on being so completely ridiculous?” He ranted, face flushed and his jaw clenched.  “I swear you do it just to annoy me!”

“What if I gave you an apple flavoured one?”

“That’s a bloody apple!” Wednesday raged.  “We’ve got a job to do here – stop going on about scotch egg flavoured apples and apple flavoured scotch eggs and dig!”

“What about an orange flavoured one?”

“Ok, you know full well  that an orange flavoured apple flavoured scotch egg is a bleeding orange!”  A vein pulsed just above his right temple.  “Just keep digging and stop being an idiot.”

Thomas allowed himself just a little smile.  He loved Wednesday deeply but he was a frightful bore at times and took things far too seriously.  No imagination at all sadly.  “It’s nature’s goodness Wednesday” he grinned, attempting to push the large brown pork ball into his friend’s hand.  “Here”, he said “Take a bite they’re delicious!”

Wednesday hit Thomas’ hand away and the scotch egg fell to the floor “Stop it!” he shouted, “I don’t want a bloody pork apple!”

“So you admit it then!”  Thomas laughed in delight, picking up the scotch egg from the floor “Oh Wednesday, you are funny.  You won’t grow if you don’t eat your vegetables” he teased.

Wednesday did not find any of this funny at all.  His sense of humour was not his strong suite.  It served very little purpose in his line of work.

“Just keep digging the hole and then we’ll get out of here” he said thrusting a shovel into Thomas’ free hand.

“I don’t see why I always have to do the digging “ said thomas “you could help”.

Wednesday rolled his head, bones cracking in his neck.  “You dig because I do most of the killing” he replied curtly.  “If you want to do more of the killing then I will quite happily dig but if you insist of eating scotch eggs and being an idiot then you get to dig.”

“I only asked, bloody hell mate” Thomas said “This should be deep enough anyway, drag him over I’ll get him covered up.”

Thomas shovelled the majority of the soil over what was quite obviously the body of a rather portly gentleman, a single polished shoe protruding from a thick white wrapping that did very little to hide what was inside.

“Job Done” Thomas said satisfactorily, brushing the dust from his clothes.

Wednesday smiled “You got any of those scotch eggs left, I’m starving.”

 

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/soil/

Edible – Daily Prompt

 I would often think that my first born was a fussy eater.  From the earliest age he would take a spoonful of the lovingly prepared broccoli and tuna paste I had whipped up and spit it back out with such delight, perhaps pausing only to rub it into his hair or hurl it across the kitchen.

“What’s wrong Sam?” I would ask, pretending that the heaving spoon full of pulverised cauliflower and chicken was a train and his mouth the tunnel. “Choo Choo here comes the dinner train!”.  He looked at me with such distaste and promptly closed the tunnel for maintenance works.

The meals were nutritionally balanced and everything that a growing boy would need.  They were also a bugger to get out of the carpets.

I once managed to persuade him to eat a Tuna, sweet potato  and sweetcorn mush, and proud as only a new father can be I rewarded his with time In the bouncer which we hung from the kitchen door frame.  Once I had finished cleaning up my wife was quick to remind me that I should have known that allowing a child to bounce so wildly so soon after eating would “quite obviously” result in throwing up.

Oh how I wish Pizza was a vegetable.

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/edible/

Bernard and Charles – Daily prompt

“Ill tell you what Charles” said Bernard, shuffling his newspaper and staring out of the large communal room window.  His eyes followed an older woman in a blue dress being walked by a small pack of dogs on the lawn outside. “Things are a lot better than they used to be you know”.

“Uh-huh, is that so?” replied Charles distantly, not looking up from his cross word and scratching his head through a thick mop of white hair.  He was having a real problem with three across.

“Oh yes, absolutely” Bernard insisted.  “Look at the world now.  It’s not like in our day Charles.  Kids don’t know how lucky they have it.”

Charles muttered loudly “20th century Canadian Liberal, four letters”?

Bernard wasn’t listening, intent only on voicing his opinions whilst continuing to watch the woman in the blue dress, who was now struggling to disentangle herself from the dog leashes which were now wrapped around her legs.

“They never had to deal with any of the things we had to deal with in our day you know!”

Charles lifted his head from his crossword.  “And what was it we had to deal with Bernard?” he asked.  Three across was really starting to frustrate him.

Bernard fell quiet, staring out of the window, his eyes fixed somewhere in the distance.

Charles knew it was mean of him to do that, he knew that Bernard wouldn’t remember.  He never did.

The woman in the blue dress had lost her battle with the dogs and was now attempting pick up a jack Russell in one hand and at the same time prevent the Chihuahua from attempting to mount a rather indifferent looking Rottweiler with the other.

Suddenly Bernard returned to the room, his face animated.  “Now that’s ambition Charles” he exclaimed, pointing towards the woman in the blue dress.

“Look at that, that little bugger doesn’t know it’s a Chihuahua!  It thinks it’s a Rottweiler Charles!”.

Charles looked over, smiling at his old friend.  “Indeed it does Bernard, indeed it does”

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/grit/

 

 

 

 

Welcome to Afterwards

You won’t leave feeling affirmed or inspired but you might just crack a smile at something you shouldn’t, and that is okay because I wont tell anybody. Someone even laughed out loud once but then had to pretend it was something funny they read elsewhere because it was wholly inappropriate and they were a bit ashamed but mostly amused.

You won’t leave feeling affirmed or inspired but you might just crack a smile at something you shouldn’t, and that is okay because I wont tell anybody.  Someone even laughed out loud once but then had to pretend it was something funny they read elsewhere because it was wholly inappropriate and they were a bit ashamed but mostly amused.