Category Archives: Creative Writing

Happy Christmas!!!

33 Replies

I

t is Christmas Eve, and I have decided that I will start a new Wonky Words Christmas tradition. From now on I will publish this old post every Christmas Eve to herald the festivities.

I really am spoiling you…

Here we see Darren. He is hoping to be selected as an ambassador for the Littlehampton Confectionery Display Team. He is submitting one of the finest examples of his work in their annual ‘Exposure’ competition. It is a grand affair. It is held in a disused caravan park close to Southend pier, and display enthusiasts come from far and wide to exhibit their elaborate confection. For example, competitor Annie has flown in from Amsterdam and has done something gratuitous with a fudge finger fan, whilst Gavin from Gateshead [the winner in 2006] has been imaginative with a Toffee Crisp and an artfully adapted 12 inch Twirl; Maggie, a mother of three [the winner in 1908, but never since] has chosen a minimalist/conceptual approach – her piece is entitled ‘Red Smartie with Toothpick’.

So far the judges have been less than impressed with the entrées, but Darren is confident that he can lick his rivals. Darren has a secret. Darren has balls, golden balls, and he knows how to arrange them. He waits in the wings as poor Simon, a professional kitchen fitter from Stevenage, sobs and stumbles from the judging panel after his Sherbert Fountain fails to font, and his Lion Bar goes limp.

Darren feels the tension rising – his moment has arrived, he takes a deep breath and walks into the spotlight. His golden balls are piled pyramid high upon a silver platter creating a sophisticated yet captivating display that brings the essence of Egypt to Essex. Darren stands proud. It has only taken a smidgeon of superglue to keep everything erect.

Alas, Darren is unaware of the envious Maggie who will do anything to win, and from the wings she gives Darren an almighty shove sending his nutty nibbles into orbit to splatter down upon the judges heads. Horrified, Judge Erica picks golden nuts from her hair, and exclaims, ‘With your display you are soiling us!’.

Darren hangs his head in shame, but he is not downhearted. There is always next year when he is planning an ambitious assemblage with Annie, they are hoping to cause an extravagance of good taste with a giant curly wurly and a custard cream flan.

First published on the Scarlet Blue Archive 8th January 2010 12:45 BST

How May I Help?

26 Replies

Voice at the other end of the phone: Good afternoon, Digital Preservation Society, this is Lauren, how may I help you?

Ms Scarlet: Oh, hello, my name is Ms Scarlet, and I was wondering if I could have a grant to preserve my website and blog.

Lauren: Can you give me your website address?

Ms Scarlet: http://www.wonky-words.com

Lauren: One moment please…. [sound of extensive tapping on keyboard]….Hmmmm….I’m not really sure that your website qualifies. I mean, you get points for the traditional WordPress theme, but you’ve tinkered with it haven’t you? You’ve fiddled with the code to get the orange hover colour, I’m sorry, but I don’t think your site is something we would be interested in preserving. If you stripped it back to basics, got rid of the ducks, uploaded some useful content, then maybe we could look at it again.

Ms Scarlet: [sound of extensive sighing and muttering] Whaddooya mean????!! It has plenty of useful content!!! Look at the calligraphy; the bottles; the collages….the calligraphy…the…er… all the other interesting stuff….

Lauren: I’m sorry, but statistically speaking only 10 people are remotely engaging with your website per month, they are the same 10 people each and every month, and there is evidence to suggest that even these 10 are beginning to lose interest. There are a few rogue visitors from Pinterest, but they tend to not hang around; after they’ve looked at the Gold Gallery they click away to something more edifying. At a guess I believe they find your website confusing. There needs to be more original content; you need to finish your projects, and there needs to be some sense of coherence. Have you thought about trying Blogger as a publishing platform for your…er…words? The Digital Preservation Society has recently prioritised giving grants to Blogspot authors. Or perhaps a good fit for you would be writing things down on paper in a private journal away from prying eyes.

Ms Scarlet: [Sobbing extensively] So you’re saying that this is the end of Wonky Words?

Lauren: Please don’t get emotional, Ms Scarlet, you are overdramatising the situation, you have plenty of options available to you. I’m sorry that the Digital Preservation Society couldn’t help you today, please feel free to contact us again when you feel your website meets the criteria for a grant – details can be found on on the Digital Preservation website. Good day to you, Ms Scarlet. [Hangs up]

To be continued….perhaps.

Swede Dreams

42 Replies

Ilaid back on my chaise longue, which is a worn purple velvet affair swamped with grubby throws and cushions, Charmaine loomed above me – glasses poised at the end of her nose – notebook and pencil in hand.

“I have to practice, Aunt Scarlet, now close your eyes and relax”

I muttered something about wishing I’d taught her modern calligraphy. It was my own fault that I was now being subjected to Charmaine’s latest fancy, which was to train as a dream counsellor.

“Would you like to have a go with my vintage 303 nib?” I asked, with a pleading intonation.

Charmaine ignored me and chewed the end of her pencil as she flicked through her notebook. She looked displeased, and in exasperation she threw the notebook aside and took a huge tome from a picnic basket that she had dragged into my studio from the hallway. The huge tome thudded onto my desk causing my collection of tiny bears to topple over.

Opening the Dictionary of Dreams, Charmaine thumbed through the pages in an expert fashion, but couldn’t seem to find what she was looking for. I knew this because her brows had knitted themselves into a puzzled frown.

“So you’re saying that he was creeping up to your house across a muddy field? He looked like a scarecrow and every time you looked out of the window he froze and stood still? He wasn’t chasing you? You were making soup? And you felt strongly that it was Autumn, and that the scarecrow was Swedish?”

“I didn’t say he was Swedish! I said he was a swede! Look you silly girl, it was exactly like this…”

Charmaine’s brows unravelled to reveal a wide-eyed expression and I swear she looked almost relieved, but also a tad annoyed. In my defence I seldom remember my dreams, but she was so keen; I didn’t think it would hurt to be inventive.

Registered First Class

38 Replies

Ihave been outside!! I know, crazy talk. I had a little trip to the coast and took a picture of the sea.

The rocky path to the sea…

Thankfully I did not break any bones whilst traversing the rocks. Though I did have an altercation with a seagull, which I turned to stone…. using superglue, obviously.

Turned to stone….

Meanwhile, back in the studio I am bordering on prolific as I have made another one of these….

weather-inspired-collage-with-calligraphy-script-uk

It’s raw here…

Inspired by the icy weather at the weekend, I cut up some more vintage books to illustrate how I was feeling, and recycled a blog comment – we shouldn’t simply throw them away, should we? They will probably cause mayhem in the future if left abandoned all over the Blogosphere – think of the bots choking on the code!!

close-up-of-collage

Keep your trousers on!!!

And, I decided my avatar would look fetching on a stamp….

close-up-of-stamping-detail-on-collage

First Class!!!!

Okay, Mr Devine, you can stop holding your breath now….

Why have cotton when you can have silk?

64 Replies

Iseldom speak of the days when I pretended to be Audrey Hepburn and travelled everywhere in a Mercedes Benz 300 Cabriolet. Friends and family considered my pretence as something to be endured, and the mode of transport an unnecessary expense, but they didn’t have my vision, or a chauffeur called Dylan.

Recruiting Dylan was easy, though more luck than judgement. I was returning from the corner shop, where I had bought a large bar of chocolate and because it was such a lovely day, I decided to travel home on a passing vintage bus. I knew the bus would take me 800 miles out of my way, and possibly through Italy, but I was feeling reckless, a little giddy, and I was wearing clean cotton knickers.

Some may think my excursion extravagant, perhaps wasteful; some may frown, purse their lips when reading this; and some may be exasperated by my misuse of the semi-colon, but is how I am: impetuous, even with grammar.

And so I grabbed myself a window seat on the bus, sat back, and considered eating my family sized bar of chocolate. Would it be greedy to eat it all in one sitting? Would my fellow travellers think me rude if I didn’t share? Despite my propensity for being temerarious, I still cared what people thought. Thankfully the bus collided with a donkey and cart and my dithering was brought to a halt. I peered out the window, widened my eyes in an attractive manner, only to see Trevor trying to intercept my journey by throwing fruit and veg all over the road. I sighed. Even my heavily applied CGI couldn’t disguise me from my stalker.

I looked out the window and saw an opportunity to escape. It was Dylan driving the Merc. He looked dashing, and possibly diabetic. We exchanged meaningful glances; coded messages; a mental handshake; a wink and a nod; and I realised my chocolate would be safe with him. So I hopped off the bus, but not before flirting outrageously with the bus driver so that I could steal his cap. I was pretty enough to get away with this sort of behaviour, especially when rendered in glorious Technicolor.

I plonked the stolen cap on Dylan’s bonce, thus anointing him my official chauffeur, and settled myself in the back of the Merc. This was more like it, what had I been thinking by using public transport? I had been a fool, a nincompoop. I took a bite of my family sized bar of chocolate. I relaxed, and decided that from now on all my knickers would be made of silk.

Nice’n’Easy…… [A blast from the past]

30 Replies

Here we see Louise, she’s been feeling a bit dowdy lately having recently been dumped by her boyfriend; for the past week she’s been holed up in her bedroom scoffing chocolate and peanut butter sandwiches. She’s also been devouring self-help books, her two favourites being, ‘How To Get More Than Even’ and ‘Men Are From An Entirely Different Planet Altogether’. To cheer herself up, and to help her face the world again, Louise has decided that she needs a make-over. It only takes five hours, three boxes of Nice’n Easy Natural Baby Blonde, and forty-five ruined towels to turn Louise’s mousy brown locks into a brillo pad of ginger. Louise sobs, wishing she’d done a strand test first as per the instructions on the box, but who ever does? She spends the rest of the evening drinking neat gin and avoiding her reflection in the mirror. In the morning she awakes, still slightly sloshed, but remembers that her Dad keeps a selection of wigs in his dressing-up box. She chooses ‘The Cher’, in natural nylon – it’s bright red, but what the heck it’s better than the ginger brillo. She tops off her new look with a pink crochet beret. Feeling a shade braver she heads out the door to her local salon, hoping against hope that they can fix the damage. On her way she passes a shoe shop and is transfixed by a pair of red stilettos in the window, but there, looming behind the display, is Catty-Mean-Mouth-Bitch-Face-Fanny – the last person you want to see when you’re feeling less than your best. Louise, still fuelled by gin, whips off her beret and tosses her mane of nylon cherry red hair; she struts into the shop and she buys those shoes [you go girl]. We see her striding up the High Street to the salon like a graceful 7ft pillar box on a trolley, towering over all other pedestrians.
At the salon, Terry, who studied ‘Directional Hair Design with Pubic Topiary’ at Southend Tech, transforms her matted bush of ginger into a halo of golden blonde [amazing what can be achieved with industrial bleach, hair straighteners, and a pot of VO5]. Louise smiles at her reflection in the mirror, and it is in this moment she realises that life is never Nice’n Easy; Louise winks at Terry, and resolves that from now on she’s going to be easy’n nice….