Tag Archives: Jon

Please make it wear big pants and a knitting pattern would be nice…..

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I am supposed to post something, as it is MY TURN, AND, I am supposed to be posting on my brand new Blogger Blogspot blog, but I find myself here, in my comfy old WordPress armchair, where I don’t have to worry about coding my photos to make them look sharp.
Sigh.
Mr Devine has already relegated this blog to the bottom of his sideboard under Days of Coven Past. A rash and foolish move, Mr Devine, because from where else can I launch a sideboard invasion??? From where else can knitting patterns take over your life??? Jon knows me better, he has kept a link to this blog on his blogroll.

The reality of giving up this blog has set in. I can’t. Too much has happened here for me to simply pack my bags and walk away. Over the years there has been talk of wind, and trampolines; of bathmats and tambourines; broken promises and dreams – I have had sleepless nights over it – how can I abandon such an insightful commentary to the dustbin of the internet???? And, there have been chaps like this, dressed appropriately for the typical British summer…

Isn’t he huggable??!
Anyhow, I am here for now, but I may also pop up on Blogger, if the mood suits.

Tune in next time for: The Instructions on Page 11

For Dinah, Looby, and Jon…..

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They don’t make adverts like they use to. Why is that? We were spoilt in the eighties, although the drinks being advertised were probably the forerunners of alco-pops, and really weren’t that nice.

I did indeed want to grow up to be Lorraine Chase, or Joan Collins. I dreamt of a future wafting around in floaty frocks and being invited to house parties to sup Campari with suitable beaus.
It wasn’t to be. These adverts weren’t made for me. Turns out that my future was a little more rugged and mud filled – more wellies and waterproofs than sequins and pearls. Never mind. I can still look back on the future that never was, and smile.

The above short paragraph has been sitting in my drafts file since the 27th April. I have no idea why I didn’t publish it. Jon is now on holiday for 10 days so he won’t see it – and that is the problem – our daily blogger, Jon, is away. Daily bloggers are lynch pins within blogging communities, and without them, even for a short time, communities can fall apart. In Jon’s absence I will try extra hard to publish some posts. Mr Devine is making an effort to post every Sunday, and even Dinah has popped up again. I think Sunday is a good day to choose for some regular blogging – I might even tackle a Wednesday as well! But maybe that’s simply another wild dream? Scotch mist, anyone?

PART 5 of The Epic Collaboration

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Continued from HERE and also from HERE

Charmaine glared at me, and then started speaking louder than necessary.
“Are you going to write part 5 of the epic collaboration with Mr Devine, which YOU instigated, or are you going to drift off into hibernation for the rest of the Autumn?”
I squinted at her, and even through my narrowed eyes she was still the size of a bus. I had grown comfortable lodged on the sofa, eating chocolate and watching TV, and to be honest, I hadn’t a clue what the epic tale was about.
“Remind me, what is the story about?” I asked.
Charmaine’s face reddened like an overripe tomato aloft a lump of lard.
“Oh for God’s sake, Aunt Scarlet, it’s not rocket science! To bring you up to speed it’s kind of a mash up of Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty, with a dollop of Alice in Wonderland. All you need to know right now is that Mr Devine and Dinah are travelling on a flying Bathmat to Franconia to turn Mr Mags into Aidan Turner, they will then return in time for the ball at Mogwash Manor. Aidan Turner will then give you your lost wellington boot and you will both live happily ever after, though obviously not together.
“I’m sure you’re missing some detail, surely it can’t be that simple?”
“It has to be simple, there have been complaints,” said Charmaine, stoney faced, “for starters Mistress Maddie is so confused that she’s drinking even more gin than usual, and she’s rather upset because she hasn’t been given a starring role. Dinah is perturbed because she has TOO MUCH of a starring role and feels overexposed, whilst Melanie is politely bemused but is trying her hardest to keep up. Mistress MJ wants to throw cake over the whole sorry affair, though Jon is surprisingly engaged – this is because his award winning back passage has been a major feature in part 3 and part 4. Mitzi is keeping her head down and is studying fractions, whilst Mr Mags is neutral as he would rather sleep. Mr Batarde, Savvy, Kylie, Eryl, Nick, Bill, Looby, and Lulu, are threatening you with legal action should you have any ideas about writing them into any subsequent parts.
So, what does happen in part 5????”

“You want to know what happened up Jon’s award winning back passage in Sarf London?”
“YES!!! I do!!!”
“Well, it was lovely. We sat on his smoking bench surrounded by glorious blooms, whilst sycamore seeds descended from the skies. We listened to Liza Tarbuck on Radio 2 and we had tea and muffins. He gave me two bags of empty wine bottles, I thanked him, and assured him that nothing awful would happen to him in part 5. All was going splendidly until Sid cocked his leg over his Lilium candidum – Jon wasn’t best pleased – there was a lot of hosing down, mopping up, and muttering about acidic soiling, then he threw us out on the street.”

“AND???” Said Charmaine, somewhat exasperated.
“And what?”
“You need to give Mr Devine something to bounce off!”
“He’s fine! He’s floating on a bathmat over Franconia with Dinah – the next time I see either of them will be at the Mogwash Ball when they bring me Aidan Turner. All I can do now is wait patiently on the sofa, and perhaps ask Mistress Maddie, or Jon, to find me a jaw dropping gown.”
“No, that’s not good enough.”
“Okay, okay….. how about… he threw us out on the street just as a large octopus sucker bathmat carrying three people crash landed up his back passage….”

“How does this all end?” Asked Charmaine.
“Badly, I imagine.”
“You’ll never make it as a novelist.”
“I know that,” I replied, “but I can still take nice photographs of Sid.”

To be continued over the cusp.

When Worlds Collide and a Pair of Striped Tights

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Iwoke up again. Not only was I still a failure, but now I was a failure surrounded by unfamiliar voices. Maybe I hadn’t woken up at all, I really wasn’t sure. My garret appeared to be filled with a haze of sparkling Champagne bubbles that were emanating from a jolly Australian lady who seemed to be using them as a means of communication with an assistant called Muriel. I shrugged – I mean why not? At some point in the future Champagne’s bUbbles would rival Apple’s iPhone – I knew that.

A nice hazy picture to break up a huge swathe of text.

Moving on [as swiftly as possible], I realised that the other unfamiliar voice belonged to Mr Devine; a dead giveaway was his broad Norfolk accent. He was very tall, and took up too much room. He looked a bit cross, and this crossness seemed to be directed at me. He was ranting about the RHS, and a cease and desist notice, or some such; he was going a bit pink and puffy in the face, but thankfully my faithful hound, Sid, calmed him down with some gentle sniffing and a few adoring looks, which Mr Devine fell for because he crouched down to Sid’s level and stopped taking up so much space.

Finally I could talk eye to eye with Dinah, the jolly Australian lady with the twinkly blue eyes; she informed me that she had all the empty bottles I could possibly need to carry on with my bottled art project. I was so overwhelmed with gratitude that I flung my arms around her, which was somewhat uncharacteristic of me. My happiness was swiftly dampened when I noticed her kindly face clouded by a frown.
“What?” I asked.
“The cost of delivering the bottles from Ausland to the UK may be prohibitive.”
Dinah stood in the middle of the garret with one hand on her hip clutching an extended wand, whilst the other held her chin as if deep in thought.
“I’ve got it!”, she exclaimed, “Jon would be the cheaper option!”

“Aaaaaaiiiiiiieeeeeeee!” Howled Mr Devine from his crouched position. He appeared to be grappling with my drapes and pulled one down into a heap on the floor.
“Oi, watch the drapes!” I shouted.
“Oh don’t mind him,” said Dinah, “he’s got a problem with the cute blackbird that’s perched on your crate, none of us can remember why so we humour him.”
Much to my surprise Dinah pulled down my other drape and used it to cover Mr Devine’s shaking limbs.
“It’s okay, Mr D,” soothed Dinah, gently patting Mr Devine’s back, “you stay under here and Sid will stand guard and protect you should Beaky try to attack.” Dinah rolled her eyes and then winked at me as Beaky the Blackbird flew out the window and back to Norfolk.

Sid, taking his job of guarding Mr Devine very seriously.

“Doesn’t he scream like a girl?” a new voice observed, a little later than expected.
“Your timing is a bit off,” I shouted into the bUbble Haze™, “he screamed about 5 minutes ago.”
“Ms Mistress?” Said a drape muffled voice.
A pair of red and black striped tights appeared from the bUbble Haze™ and dangled above us, jigging lightly from foot to foot.

“Who’s this?” I mouthed to Dinah.
“Mistress MJ, from Canada.” Replied Dinah, mouthing back.
“I can see you,” said the tights in a slow, cool, Canadian accent, “I would join you, but Ms Scarlet’s keyboard is too grubby, and too riddled with germs for me to be typed into this blog post so I have sent a representation of myself. Ms Scarlet, if you could please sanitise your immediate environment then I will be able to appear in all my glory.”

I winced. Cleaning my keyboard, and garret, to Mistress MJ’s exacting standards would take over 23 years to achieve, and I did not have 23 years to spare. I needed the empty bottles for my art, so, at my peril, I ignored Mistress MJ’s request.

“Dinah, where can I find this Cheap Jon fellow?” I whispered.
“*Sarf London,” Dinah whispered back, “you can’t miss him, he has an award winning back passage. God’s speed Ms Scarlet, good luck, and don’t worry about the cleaning, I’ll get Mr Devine to do it.”

Dinah and I clasped our little fingers together, tapped our right heels 5 times, and then I was away on my adventure, with my trusty hound, Sid, at my heels, and with no worries about domestic chores – I trusted Dinah to make everything spic’n’span.

“STOP HER!!!” Shrieked Mr Devine…..

*Incorrect location due to data privacy laws, and also artistic licence.

To be continued over the cusp.

Here are the Answers…..

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Yep. Here are THE answers to the Quickwits quiz from the previous post….

As before, click to make enormous.

Well, that’s a bit dull isn’t it?! I think everyone who guessed, guessed correctly. And some even guessed better than correctly. So now I am here twiddling my thumbs with nothing much more to say about 1938.

To make it up to you I will give you some more answers, only this time you have to make up the questions! Yay! It’s party central here! I PROMISE that there are actual questions to these answers, and they are not just random words, names, and numbers that I’ve made up off the top of my head. PROMISE, PROMISE, PROMISE. I have turned over a new leaf. Well, I have this week.

Here are some more answers:-

1) 1981

2) A seal

3) Hacking computers

4) Sophia Loren

5) Sheep

6) 1974

There, that should do. Two of the questions are tricky, BUT, someone will know them. Oh, final answer:-

7) No.

I’m sure EVERYONE will know the question to that one – he asked it so often.