Category Archives: Creative Writing

Charmaine escapes, and an accident waiting to happen…

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'Nobody is interested in broad edge calligraphy, Aunt Scarlet’, said Charmaine with a whine in her voice.
She had somehow escaped from the attic and was slumped in the doorway of my light and airy studio.

‘What do you mean, you silly girl, why do you come out with such piffle?’ I said as I balanced precariously on a sixteen foot ladder trying to dust my chandelier.
I glanced down at her. The girl had gone an unattractive shade of puce, and I made a mental note to take her out in the afternoon for some fresh air and a brisk trot around the paddock.

‘I’ve been looking at your blog stats, only 0.256 people read your recent post about the dimple nib reservoir on the Mitchell nib. Nobody cares, Aunt Scarlet, your arse is way more popular than stupid broad edge stuff.’

I smiled to myself, my rear end had always been popular with my readers, but I knew where Charmaine was going with this conversation, it was obvious to me that she was desperate to get her mitts on my pointed nibs. I intended to stand firm and resolute, I wanted her to have a good grounding with broad edged calligraphy before she progressed further, after all she was my protégé; I had hopes of her becoming the calligrapher I never could be; there was nothing she could say to temper my resolve.

‘It’s no good, Aunt Scarlet, if you want this blog of yours to be popular then you’re gonna have to get your tits out next week.’

I felt the ladder sway and wobble as I let her words sink in. The girl probably had a point, but it was not the one I had been thinking of.

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Chin Up, Tits Out!!

Calligraphy Tip no. 58

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You are a silly old bat, Aunt Scarlet!’ Charmaine yelled down from the attic.
I frowned and considered getting some further insulation so that I couldn’t hear the girl whenever she got in a tis.
‘You don’t need a reservoir on a Mitchell broad edge nib!’ she continued, ‘All you need to do is drop some ink in the dimple on the top of the nib and it writes fine.’
I frowned some more, but I was so concerned by her revelation that I roused myself from my chaise longue and wandered into my light and airy studio to test her theory…

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Dimple on the top side of the Mitchell nib.

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The dimple filled with ink

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It works!!!

I frowned some more. I had always wondered what that damn dimple was for. The girl was correct and the only downside to this technique was that the dimple did not hold as much ink as a conventional underside reservoir, thus it needed to be filled more often. This didn’t bother me as I believed it would be an easier for beginners who struggled with the reservoir.

‘And pray tell me Charmaine, from where did you find this tip?’ I shouted up to the attic.
‘Fink it was from Instagram… fink it was Cheryl Dyer’s feed.’

I nodded to myself as I had long been an admirer of Ms Dyer’s work [website HERE] and it didn’t surprise me that she would know such useful things about the mysteries of calligraphy nibs.
I looked around my studio and feeling inspired I sat at my desk to continue working on my own little project…

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My latest masterpiece…. an extract from my favourite book.

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The Last Post

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No, not that sort of last post!! Good gracious! I have promised to publish a post every Wednesday. I am not going to break my promise, unless I am arrested. Or something worse. I am referring to the last post I published.

New commenter, Grouchy, asked: Would this be considered a short story, a serial, or a soap opera (in the works)? I will wait for the flan, but you may have the noodles.

I think this is a fair question, and not only does it apply to the last post, but also to this whole blog. And the truthful answer is: Yes.

And, in further fairness, this blog is a mess. With this in mind I have devised a short questionnaire to aid me with future posts. Please take time to consider each question carefully, the direction of this blog rests on your replies. My questions are numerous with alphabetical intent. Thank you.

1) Would you like me to continue with the Mogwash posts?

a) No, I have had enough of the Mogwash posts.

b) No, the Mogwash posts are far too confusing for readers who are unaware of the ongoing story.

c) No, the Mogwash posts are far too confusing for readers who are aware of the ongoing story.

d) Yes, I would like more Mogwash posts.

e) Yes, I have a crush on Sebastian.

f) Yes, I am hanging on your every word and am desperate to know what happens next.

2) Would you like me to let Charmaine out of the attic and, see more calligraphy?

a) No, I have no idea who Charmaine is.

b) What is calligraphy?

c) What nib does Charmaine use?

d) Yes, I would like to know how Charmaine is getting on with her calligraphy lessons.

e) Yes, but only if Harold is released as well.

f) Yes, I would like to see more calligraphy on this blog.

3) Would you like this blog to continue in a random, haphazard way?

a) Couldn’t care less.

b) No. This blog is a frustrating environment without any cohesive direction, or clear sense of purpose. The author is an unreliable narrator given to writing contrived, misleading, motiveless posts that are published in a non-linear fashion in an effort to appear innovative and challenging. The result of this pretentious drivel is a ramshackle blog space devoid of sense, meaning, or any kind of nourishing reading experience. Although I quite like the pictures.

c) No.

d) Yes.

e) Yes and No.

f) I like noodles.

4) If John has six balls; Emily has nine balls; Samantha has two lemons and a sixpence; Clive has a potato; Malcolm likes playing poker; Jane is a lush; Mary is beside herself, and Julian has delusions of grandeur; then which acclaimed literary author am I referencing?

a) Never.

b) Twelve.

Thank you for taking the time to fill in this questionnaire, the results of which will be analysed and rigidly adhered to.

A Sign of Good Taste…

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Another short interlude…

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

Drive Sexy….

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Ihave a headache this week. I am also bone idle. So I thought I would take this as an opportunity to take a brief interlude. There may be further interludes. This interlude takes the form of a re-post from 2009 – Back in the days when my face had more elastic than my knickers.

Here we see Maureen from Margate. Despite eating five pots of yoghurt a day, Maureen is still feisty and has plenty of verve. She has just stolen a wedding dress; a white dinner jacket; a picnic hamper, and a Val Doonican CD from Bhs, and is now cruising in her brand new Peugeot with the intent of snaring a man with whom she can share her booty. After turning right at the traffic lights at the top of Bromley High Street, Maureen finds herself on the A30 where she spots hitchhiker Gavin.

Gavin is an unemployed petrol pump attendant from Plymouth, seeking work on Bodmin moor. He has not been lucky. As he recovers from being knocked over by a coach load of pensioners on a day trip to Glasgow, he is attracted by the sight of Maureen’s bumpers as they are wonky and need realigning. Pleased with Gavin’s attentions, Maureen lifts her bonnet and displays her engine. Gavin is immediately drawn to her magnetic stack and her reciprocating pistons. After checking her gear head efficiency, oiling her big end, and playing with her hooters, Gavin collapses in the passenger seat and prepares for Maureen to give him the drive of his life. She does several miles down Fanny Avenue; enters Butt Hole Road; gets a bit lost in Lickfold before leading him astray in Ladygate Lane. Gavin is quite relieved when they arrive in Cardiff.

In Gretna Green, Mike, the Mexican Priest, is waiting to perform the wedding ceremony for Gavin and Maureen. He is fond of his nuptials. When they arrive he does his best Elvis impersonation, he wiggles his turbo, reaches a point of high excitation and blesses their future by writing a heartfelt message on the rear window of the now grubby 207. Finally, they are wed. And Maureen is happy that she took lessons in learning to drive sexy.

First Published on The Scarlet Blue Archive 23/09/2009 21:36 BST – but with less punctuation.

I was very peppy back then. Where has my pep gone???? I blame the adverts, they just don’t make them how they used to. Bastards.

An Extract from a newspaper article – November 2045

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…smashed the bottle open only to find a message that read:

To whom it may concern….

Please Mind The Gap.

St. Johnson was adamant that this message proved beyond doubt that the Bottle of Greed was merely a result of Blue’s imagination, and her affection for pseudo-intellectual flimflam. When confronted with St. Johnson’s accusations regarding her subterfuge, Blue was reported to have smiled wryly and hinted at the possibility of there being numerous Truths.

With the benefit of hindsight it is easy for us to mock the doubting St. Johnson, he was, after all, a catalyst character for many of Blue’s improbable plot twists, which saw him drunk and slumped in a bus shelter; performing robust Abba impersonations in the Mogwash Arms, or being arrested for assault. It is easy to understand why St. Johnson has spent so many years trying to discredit Blue, and why he was inspired to write the best selling pantomime script Please Can You Make it Wear Big Pants. And a Knitting Pattern Would Be Nice. Considering the animosity between the pair it came as something of a welcome surprise to see them reunited for the first time in more than 20 years at last night’s opening show.

Peripheral characters at the event included Taramind Dewhurst, Moonchild Etherington-Smythe and Mrs Fitzpatrick, who elbowed each other for paragraph space, and were as eager as the rest of the gathered crowd to hear….