Cyril has an obsession with birds; the feathered kind you understand. The problem is that he neglects his wife and though he has created a  seed mixture that his birds absolutely adore, will his wife want to remain with a man who prefers twitching to kissing?

A Bird in the Hand

Cyril taught History at the local community school but he knew far more about birds. The feathered kind, you understand. It couldn’t possibly be the other.

If you saw Cyril, you’d understand why. He was an unassuming, humble man. You could pass him in the street and not really notice him as he seemed to blend in with the scenery. Nothing at all remarkable to look at; grey hair, grey eyes and even a grey complexion, sallow and lacking in any healthy colour. Very slim and tall; he wore suits all the time and rarely smiled. He also scratched his head quite a lot. His pupils were constantly sniggering that he had dandruff or nits, but they didn’t realise that it was actually a nervous complaint he’d had since his youthful days.

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This is the tale of how young Wally Wallcott’s career choice originated from a bout of mass murder, blood and tears on England’s green and pleasant downland. But in the end was it the correct choice!

A Career Choice

It is hard to say precisely when one actually decides to pursue a certain career in life, but I am absolutely certain that I knew when my friend Wally Walcott did.  It all began with bugs at the bottom of the garden. Well, to be more precise, the bottom of the garden is at the top of the garden on account of the fact that the garden runs uphill.

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A man is left with a dog his wife brought into their lives.  The animal helps him readjust and eventually find happiness.

A Dog for all Reasons

“No more sex ‘til we get a dog!”

I laughed at her outrageous statement and made wagers with her to win my prize.  I got her inebriated.  I challenged her to nude wrestling matches and other transparent games and she laughed at me.  When I said it was time to stop the games, she said, “Not until we get a dog.”

The dog was a Welsh corgi and he was the right size for our garden flat.  He was farm-born, a few weeks old and nameless when he came into our lives.

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A ‘rough around the edges’ farmer takes a money box into the bank just on closing time on a Friday.  As his money is counted the old man fills the empty bank with his stories.

A Dog, a Hat and a Money Box

‘There ya go, sonny,’ a large, anonymous tin thudded onto the counter, belching dust.  A jagged slit in the lid confirmed it was a homemade moneybox.

I looked at the man, the clock, the moneybox.

‘Ya ain’t gonna charge me fer countin’ it are ya?’

I looked at the clock again.

‘The last bloke said he’d charge me fer countin’ it.’

I reached for the tin.  Two weather-beaten hands held it tight.

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After banishing RAF airman Nobby Clarke’s latest, and noisiest, car from their billet’s forecourt, Newton feels guilty when the car is stolen. With a passionate Nobby urging them on, Newton and Halliday burn up Singapore’s highways in pursuit of the thief.

A Hell of a Lot of Power

Oh hell. That idiot was off again. I raised the needle from my record, got off my bed and went to the balcony. The parking area outside Block 151, RAF Changi, had been floodlit. Under the lamps stood a rakish, silver-finished American car. Its six-cylinder engine roared aggressively as the owner tested his latest modification.

Someone below me yelled, ‘Give it a rest, Nobby!’

An oily hand emerged from the driver’s window, two fingers extended. I sighed. Nobby Clarke’s lewd gesture signalled the end of my record session. Even up on the first floor, it was impossible to listen to music while Nobby played with his new toy. Snooker would have to replace Ellington as the order of the evening.

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A woman is confused about with whom she has a blind date, but the man she picks thinks it’s wonderful.

A John By Any Other Name

Jennifer arrived early on Saturday evening to meet John Miller, an almost-blind-date arranged by her sister.  She sat on a bench by the fountain in St. Francis’ Square, draped her slender arms along the wooden backrest, and tilted her head to catch the glow of the setting sun.

John Miller’s family lived in Adelaide but he had gained his degrees in economics and geography at Melbourne University.  It was there that Jennifer’s brother-in-law had been friendly with the man who was soon to commence working for the town’s most prestigious brokerage house.  Jennifer had seen a photograph of a group of students that included John before being asked if she fancied the idea of a date with him.

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The serious business of insulting fellow guests at a cocktail party takes on a greater significance as Iain Lanton is made an offer he can hardly refuse and his career path takes an unexpected turn.

A Little Revenge

The drinks party had already started when Iain Cuthbert Lanton walked into the reception room. He collected a glass of white wine from the bar and decided to plunge right in. The first unattached person he found was a tall, bulky man in a tweedy sports jacket taking receipt of a large scotch from the bartender.

“Hello, I’m Iain Lanton. You here for the do?”

“Lantern, eh. So, you light the way, ha ha.”

Not a good start. Iain had heard this one too many times. “Not exactly, no. It’s Lanton, not Lantern.”

“Ah. I see. Lanton.”

“Yes,  I. C. Lanton.”

“Pardon?”

“Iain Cuthbert Lanton.”

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A woman joins a gym to lose weight and finds love there. She finds a novel way of coping with eventual rejection.

A Pick Me Up

Derek’s upstairs having a kip bless him. He’s never going to desert me because he needs me as much as I need him. How did we get together? Well, I suppose looking back, it’s Dr. Richards I’ve got to thank.

Dr. Richards was a real treasure. I swear he used to look forward to our weekly chats and there was never any fuss about prescribing my pills.

“So, Mrs Jones, some more of your little pick-me-ups then?”

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A humorous tale about strong women in the life of a well-meaning minister, and revelations in Heaven.

A Plague of Women

The Reverend Reginald Marshall’s wife was an upright lady.  Moira  served on three Church committees and played the organ in morning service. She held firm views on matters of morality, which she liked to share, peppering her speech with dos, don’ts, shoulds and shouldn’ts.

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‘Kay is giving the bathroom a good scrub when there comes a knock at the door, and an extremely irate woman pushes past her into the house. As the insults fly, as well as ornaments, she has no choice but to sit and listen about her ‘bitch’ of an employer sleeping with this woman’s husband.

A Shocking Appearance

Kay was giving the bathroom a good scrub, up to her elbows in marigolds and soap suds when suddenly she stopped. What was that? Someone was pounding at the front door as if their life depended on it.

It must be an emergency.

She flew down the stairs pulling off her rubber gloves shouting, “Okay, okay – I’m coming.” Then flung open the door, “Sorry I was miles away and I didn‘t hear…”

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This light-hearted story is a modern retelling of the classic fairy tale, Cinderella, told through diary entries written by one of the ugly sisters.

A Sister’s Diary

Monday 24th June

The day Mother told us she was getting married again, I was very upset, especially when it meant gaining another sister, but it’s actually worked out rather well.

In our old house, I had to share a bedroom with Gloria. We don’t exactly see eye to eye, so that wasn’t much fun. My step father already had a daughter, Lucinda her name is, so when we moved in with them, I assumed she’d be keeping her room. After all, this has been her home for twenty years, AND she was here first, but Mother had other ideas.

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Annie’s body clock is ticking and she still wants to have children of her own. Advertising in the paper to find a lifelong partner is all very well, but these things take time and time is the one thing she doesn’t have. Maybe she could skip the lifelong part, but that still leaves her with advertising…

A Test of Friendship

“Do you have a better suggestion?” Annie poured another glass of chardonnay and sat back on the settee. Her lustrous brown bob framed her grinning face. She angled the fluffy white teddy to wave his paw at her friend.

“You’re bonkers. You could adopt.” Karen shook her head in disbelief. “And telling me that Bear needs a pair of little arms to hold him is no justification. You could have left him in the store.”

“It’s all right for you. You have men queuing up, with your blonde hair and blue eyes. I’ve tried internet dating and where did that get me? And you know I can’t walk past a Mothercare store without going in.” Annie threw the newspaper down on the table. The page was folded so that the advert was uppermost.

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Lettie’s bird watching turns up a lot more than sparrows and owls. She discovers a little too late that a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing.

A Word in Your Ear

Lettie Moore clung to the cast-iron post at the base of her steps, for a moment, to catch her breath before mounting the five steps leading up to her veranda.  It wasn’t a long walk from the store, but her bags were heavy and her arthritis was bothering her today.  Then too, she wasn’t getting any younger.  She stopped again at the top to set down her packages and grab the contents of the old mailbox, before crossing the veranda to the coolness of her house.

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Andy knows life isn’t a rehersal. He wishes the same wasn’t true of his romances with Jemima.

Ad Lib

Jemima ran her manicured hand through her fine, blonde hair and asked, “Will you marry me?”

Andy almost dropped his script. He blinked and wondered if he’d heard her correctly.

She moved along the sofa so she sat with her thigh touching his, took his hand in hers, looked into his eyes and whispered the words again, “Will you marry me?”

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A fickle, inept man manages to get a date with the woman of his dreams.

After a While

I know her name because I’ve heard people call out to her. I’ve seen her out in the village with her mother, or girlfriends. Curiously, I have never seen her with a boyfriend. She must be saving herself for me.

She’s sexy, beautiful and around five-feet-seven-inches tall. Her blue-black silken hair drops to her shoulders and curls under itself. It is not an exaggeration to say her hair is like that of models who flick their locks from side to side in shampoo commercials.

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Your four year old has been to Chloe’s party. Somebody has to fetch her home and you drew the short straw. There’s a very real chance that you’re going to have to hear how she behaved while there …

After the Party

“I like to pick my nose
And sometimes I eat it.
It’s all green and …”
“Could you sing a different song, do you think?”
“Why?”
“Well, singing about picking your nose is not as nice as singing about picking daisies, for example.”
“I don’t pick daisies.”
“True.”
“But I do pick my nose.”
“Also true. But maybe it doesn’t need singing about.”

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Amy and I wanted to find Cara a nice man so she’d be as happy as us.

He had to be someone pretty special though.

All Talk

“We need to find Cara a nice man,” Amy whispered at the dress fitting.

“We’ve been trying for years, what makes you think we can do it now?” I asked.

“She’s seen how happy we both are and I think she’s ready to settle down.”

Cara swished back the curtain. “What do you think, Lucy?”

“You look beautiful, but I knew you would.,” I told her. It was true, she’d been a beautiful bridesmaid at Amy’s wedding and would do the same for me next month. We’d made a pact to be bridesmaids at each other’s weddings. Technically Amy will be my matron of honour, but you don’t think of things like that when you’re nine.

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Debbie is dreading opening sister-in-law Janice’s Christmas present. What will it be this time, she wonders? A tea towel for the failed, fat dieter or a book on personality disorders? But can she beat her at her own game – with one that’s even worse?

An Evil Exchange

Debbie was dreading opening this year’s Christmas present from her sister-in-law, Janice. Every year it was something horrible. Quite what she’d done to make the girl hate her so much was baffling, but the evil gifts spoke volumes.

Debbie’s brother, Jake, had met Janice while he was at university and, shortly after they graduated, announced their engagement. Debbie had been delighted and invited them over immediately. Janice, however, had sat quietly on the sofa – watching her with dark, suspicious eyes, declining all food and drink and repeatedly looking at her watch.

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Katie takes her first yoga class only to discover that she hates the teacher and the pretzel-like postures. By the end, though, Katie realizes that resistance is futile.

Assume the Position

The lithe, disgustingly beautiful yoga teacher sits in front of the class with her long legs stretched out in front of her.

“Breathe deeply all the way from your belly,” she implores us.

She’s nuts. I don’t have lungs in my abdomen. She needs an anatomy lesson.

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A young woman loses her way on a country lane with surprising consequences.

Away with the Faeries

The small car wound cautiously along the minor road, twisting down the contours of a wooded hillside, dark and glistening with damp from earlier drizzle.  The tangled trees surrounding the narrow path were greening but the vivid hues of their leaf buds were obscured by the mist which enveloped their gnarled branches and veiled their roots.  It was eerily beautiful the way they emerged from a white, swirling mass and rose up, reaching towards a pale, clouded heaven.  Susan kept finding herself staring into the woods rather than watching the road.

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You settle down with your four year old to listen to her reading you a nursery rhyme, just to help her with her reading. It’s four lines long, for goodness’ sake! How hard can it be?

Well, for a start, children pick up on more than you might think …

Baa Baa Black Sheep

“Baa …”
“Baa.”
(Pause)
“Then it’s the same again. Baa.”
“Why?”
(Pause)
“Well, because it just is.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s the way the man wrote it.”
“What man?”
“The man who wrote ‘Baa, Baa, Black Sheep’.”
“What’s his name?”
“I don’t know! Just a man, who wrote down the nursery rhyme, so that you could show Mummy what a clever girl you are, and read all these words to me.”

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Herbert had never imagined that his cigarette end would be relished by the creatures of the deep when he threw it overboard. When they gave him a pearl in exchange he thought he’d found his fortune, but can you really trust a sea creature?

Bad Habit

Herbert stood at the deckrail, the invisible sea stretched endlessly out to nothingness. Only the translucent wake of the old cargo ship cutting a watery furrow through the deep gave any hint of the ocean below. Herbert pulled on his cigarette, the bitter taste of the cheap tobacco felt like he was smoking an old piece of rope.

Why do I buy these bloody cheap fags? Herbert thought… “Because they’re cheap,” he answered himself.  Herbert flicked the half smoked cigarette into the velvet stillness of the night and watched as the glowing stub lazily arced through the air.

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Life isn’t easy being a paper grocery bag, especially when your sole occupant is a belligerent bottle of vodka hell-bent on causing havoc in the mind of the ill-tempered woman carrying them both. Be warned: this story has a shattering end!

Bag

“Careful!” The paper grocery bag said to its sole occupant—a glass bottle with bold blue print on its label, clear liquid swirling around within.  Bottle had tipped again, almost punching through Bag’s bottom as it swung erratically in the hand of a sullen faced woman who hurried along a wintry pavement.

“I’m just the jockey, sweetheart!” Bottle said, its voice jangling and slurred.  “Ain’t this babe the sweetest filly?”

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Beset by the hornets that are increasingly making dangerous forays into his billet, RAF airman John Newton muses on the hazards of living in the Far East: bedbugs, snakes, poisonous shellfish et al. And, more importantly – how does he get rid of the hornets before someone is badly hurt?

Beasties that Bite and Sting

Every so often a posse from the health department would descend on RAF Changi’s barrack blocks with fumigating tools. They would strip all the beds, spray the mattresses with atomised kerosene and leave them doubled over the balconies to dry out like so many drunken tramps. A few days later they would repeat the process to kill any bugs that might have hatched in the meantime.

On one such occasion the posse arrived in Block 151 before I had risen. It wasn’t that the health workers were all that early. I had had a late night and then not been able to get to sleep for the noise being made by an airman in a nearby bed.

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Dee knows money can buy all the plastic surgery she wants, but how much is she willing to pay?

Beauty and the Knife

Dee examines herself in the mirror and sighs. She is olive skinned. Palest porcelain is in vogue. Her nose is too big. Her lips are too thin. Her eyelids are too droopy. Her breasts are too small. Her legs should be longer.

Her hair, she admits, is okay. After all, hairdressers can perform miracles these days.

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