Tag Archives: his

Pumpkins

Posted on by under 2022, February 2022 - Wealth

            Smayle’s concrete grey face was a Niagara of perspiration. War was ongoing with the slugs and snails. He had three large dustbins on his plot, where he mulched food waste into fertiliser. Little burrowing creatures got in there sometimes, and partook of dinner. Birds, butterflies, and he didn’t know what, slipped under the netting around some of his raised beds. But none of them had inflicted damage on his most prized growth: his pumpkins. His wheelbarrow bulged with them, fat, comfortable, like the heads of yellow turbaned oriental aristocracy.

None of the other allotment holders grew them in such volume Once fully grown these mighty plumped fellows were allowed access to his house, just yards from the allotment gate. Sometimes there were so many, he believed they could practically march down there in military columns.

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The wrong sort of promise

Posted on by under 2022, January 2022 - The Promise

Will had always loved wood. He loved trees and sawdust and the curls of planed wood. The tools for wood working were endlessly fascinating; sharpened chisels, saws and delicate nails. Even the smells of wood were pleasurable, both timber being worked and wood rotting in country glades.

As his school reports, carefully preserved by his mother, attest Will was a student of broad abilities and his future was an open book that could fall open on a number of different pages. Will’s mother had her own set of expectations and was quietly confident that her son would attain well paid professional status in due course.

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Toilet Humour

Posted on by under 2022, January 2022 - The Promise
Teenage Male sitting on toilet thinking of Gorilla Glue

Just forgot.

Joe had not meant to leave the seat up again. He had promised Mam to mend his ways but talking it over afterwards with Geraint in the railway sidings had spawned a flow of subversive mycelial thoughts that spread and advanced each time he used the bathroom.

The rails were a comforting backdrop for the boys to try on the fit and suitability of new ideas before  integration into their developing adult identities. The clatter of rolling stock, honk of diesel horns and that special click as the point changes engaged oiled the process.

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Secret Santa’s Secret

Posted on by under 2021, December 2021 - Christmas

Alice arrived late for the third time that week. Just my luck, she thought, as she saw the boss talking to the receptionist. She saw him glance at his watch, but to her surprise, he seemed to ignore her. She hurried on up to the office.

Dan heard the door opening and automatically looked at his watch and then towards the door.  Noticing it was the new girl, a blush rose up.  He quickly lowered his glance and continued his previous conversation.

The office was in pandemonium as everything was behind schedule for the Children’s Christmas Party.  Alice redeemed herself by offering to stay late and help out with the colouring sheets packs.

Everything had to be right for tomorrow. It was the first year that Dan had been in charge since his Dad retired, he couldn’t let the firm down.  He worked later than usual to make sure that there was nothing that could go wrong.

Alice would have been in tears if her anger hadn’t been so focussed on the Gestetner Duplicator.  She swore at it as it gobbled up yet another one of the copies into its internal workings.  It was all she could do to stop herself kicking the damn thing.

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Who Says You Can’t Choose Your Own Family?

Posted on by under 2021, Sept 2021 - You Can't Pick Your Family

Walking out of the courtroom, Zac turned to the couple who had fostered him for the last six years. His face lit up a huge grin on his face. 

”I won, she is out of my life. I’m all yours, you can now adopt me.”

His birth mother stormed out, mouthing abuse at anyone in her path. Zac stood his ground his eyes blazing. Hesitating, his mother met his eyes, turned and stalked away.  

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HIS MYSTERY GIFT

Posted on by under 2021, March 2021 - Lost
His mystery gift

His habit on the permitted daily walk was to scan the evening arc of the bay. Today was no different. From the three islands off the rocky headland, the gorse swathed cliffs, the conurbation of Mumbles seafront, alongside the dotted houses at West Cross and the lone pub outlined stark in its whiteness, Gareth panned the curve of the prom, so intent on the visual feast, that the preceding click in his cerebral cortex only vaguely registered. With a whirring like interconnecting cogs, the malfunction embedded.  Then came the shock of a shadowy presence occupying his own footsteps recently vacated.   Gareth spun around…..and round and round again….  like a tail-chasing dog yet the shadowy outline remained out-of-focus fringing his peripheral vision. The tide was on the turn; the imprints were momentary,-quickly filled and obliterated. Like the “ghost,” no trace.

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Daffodils

Posted on by under 2020, February 2020 - Desire

The university park stumbled down to the sea, imitating the crazy lurching of the terraced houses on the same giddy hill. Sam scuffed about the paths round the flower beds, vaguely aware of daffodils in bloom.

            He had a sharp, stabbing pain at the side of his stomach that wouldn’t go away. He was utterly miserable. Three years he’d stayed away from the town, but as soon as he’d entered the park – following the route he and Nicola had often walked – the sense of oppression had just welled up from within him. Memories from the past  pushed up a bit like bulbs in the soil.

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Saudade

Posted on by under 2020, February 2020 - Desire
Saudade

I first met Jose Luis Vercas on the concrete apron jutting out into the mouth of the Targus where the splendour of the Manueline Port of Lisboa ends and a wide expanse of river divides the city from Alcântara. He was short, but well-muscled and possessed of that curiously Portuguese combination of a mane of swept-back, black and wavy hair; and a forehead so high it begged to be labelled, “domed”. He said he too was a teacher, but offered no hint of subject or at what level he taught and, to be frank, my interest did not extend that far.

“Do you have it?” I asked in my formal Portuguese. He smiled and nodded – a slight movement of his head, causing a lock of stray hair to struggle free. Patting his messenger bag, he said in accent-free English, “It’s here.”

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From Resolven I Am

Posted on by under 2020, Jan 2020 - New Year Resolutions

I had to move my bag to make room for him. It wasn’t as if the bus was even full. It being January 5th, I gave him a sardonic, “Happy New Year!”

“You a Swansea boy?”

“Pontypool,” I said.

“The Pontypool Front Row! Remember them?”

“Bobby Windsor, Charlie Faulkner, Graham Price,” I said.

“More of a Neath boy, me. From Resolven I am … you’d think I’d be one for making New Year’s resolutions, wouldn’t you? It’s in the name.”

I let the chug of the bus answer.

“The number of times I have given up fags and booze … Eventually, the penny drops, don’t it. No point making yourself miserable.”

I could smell the alcohol on his breath, just past mid-day.

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A Resolution to be true to yourself

Posted on by under 2020, Jan 2020 - New Year Resolutions

Orlando’s Café was a dreary downmarket affair, hardly Mr Barings’ idea of a meeting spot.

Pimply youths lazed idly behind the counter, a toothless black woman drowned in a million shopping bags and a blonde floozy hunched over her cup of coffee whilst her boy, one irritating snot nosed tyke waddled from aisle to aisle thumping anything with his fists.

Worst, a lovey-dovey couple, shared a Sunday with a single spoon, breaking off from time to time for a quick peck on the lips or an ear splittingly giggle which made Barings long for a shotgun.

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RESOLUTIONS

Posted on by under 2020, Jan 2020 - New Year Resolutions

In their 23 years of cohabitation, Mel and Ron had reached achieved an efficient level of consensus. Holiday, theatre and cinema choices had all passed without rancour. Co-operation in the upbringing of son Ben was effective (although Ben was unlikely to return to the family home once his college days had expired).

They had reached deep agreement over the marking of high days and holidays. Birthdays were briefly acknowledged, Christmas was not much different from other days in the way of festive food. New Year resolutions were beneath contempt – that is, until quite recently.

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For Auld Lang Syne

Posted on by under 2020, Jan 2020 - New Year Resolutions

Father O’Brien was already waiting in the confessional. Mary could see his shoes tapping expectantly through the gap under the curtain. But she wasn’t here for the usual forbidden tryst.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned…”

“Come into the Vestry, Mary,” Father O’Brien interrupted, breathlessly.

“Father, listen. I’m with child. Yours, of course.” She dissolved into tears.

Father O’Brien muttered a prayer. “Wait there,” he said, finally.

His footsteps echoed and faded as he clattered out of the church.

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Backwards Jak’s resolution

Posted on by under 2020, Jan 2020 - New Year Resolutions

The Aurora, a Danish research vessel, had been sailing for over five years when it hove-to West of Swansea Free Port. Kaj Lydafspiller stood on the bridge looking at the structure in the distance through his binoculars.

Only a few times since fortune had favoured him with a right place, right time confluence after the “Big Splosh” had he found habitation. Mostly they were primitive, hostile or both, until now.

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A Card

Posted on by under 2019, December 2019 - Christmas in Wales

The Christmas card simply said: ‘Bill.’ No jolly message, no ‘to Henry.’ Just the one word as usual. He put it on the mantelpiece and over Christmas, whenever he glanced at it, he thought: ‘Some friend!’

            He spoke to his wife Jan, workmates, pals. We knew each other at college, he told them, and have kept in touch by Christmas card since. We’ve never met up, never phoned, and he never says a damned thing in his card! All of them gave him the same message: just stop communicating with the blockhead.

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