Silly me, I locked myself out!

I wrote this for Sunday Scribblings 2 where our prompt word is Overnight

I locked myself out last night. Good old me! I tried reaching the indoor bit of the lock by laying on my back and reaching through the cat flap, but it didn’t work and I got my arm stuck. So I lay on the floor for a few minutes thinking what to do, much to the amusement of Bill from the next door flat who just giggled and stepped over me. Just wait ‘til he needs help! Tough mate. Eventually I wriggled free.

I knew my friend Keith had a spare key at his place - he likes to have one ‘for emergencies’. Like running out of wine! So I drove to his pad. I knew he’d be there doing his knitting or whatever he gets up to when everyone else is out enjoying themselves on a Friday night. He seemed pleased to see me. He insisted we watch a movie - that Through the Looking Glass one I gave him - again! I reckon he's got a thing for Alice!

He offered me a drink, then another, and another, and then one thing led to another and........GOSH NO, not that! Heaven forbid! 

No he suggested I stay overnight on his blow up thingamajig on the floor. So I said thank you and yes, and then off he popped to his boudoir. I saw there was bit of wine left in the bottle – well, quite a bit actually, and it seemed a shame to let it go to waste!

I left about an hour ago with his/my key. I didn’t see him. Still in the land of nod I guess. Old people and all that. Before I left I had a lovely long bubble bath, found a couple of tasty croissants and there was just enough coffee left in the jar to make myself a cup.

That’s what friends are for!

I hope I didn't make too many mistakes. I usually get Keith to help me, but this time I did it all on my own! Yea!

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Sing along Saturday!

I’ve composed a song, Why are you grinning? I really have. Listen, it goes like this.

OK, so that was a bit out of tune but  you can’t actually hear me, so you’ll have to believe me when I say... it was pretty good.....or ‘sick’ as the new generation says. (why is that?)

So. all together now…….

PS. I've come up with a yet another idea to make using mobile telephones on the street safer, but you'll have to wait to find out about it until MMT supplies us with a fitting prompt word.


For Sunday Scribblings 2 where the prompt word is compose

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Hello!

At Sunday Scribblings2 this week’s word is ...not telling you!

I’ve had a good idea! Don’t laugh, I do sometimes. We girls should have our own dating service. Not for dating each other – not that there’s anything wrong with that of course. No, it’s a website where only men advertise their assets themselves, and only women can chat them up. Get it? And guess what it’s going to be called...drum roll....

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Stuff

At Sunday Scribblings the Second, the given word is 'letters'. My initial thought was to write a piece about a priest entitled 'Letters pray' but I changed my mind.

Do you get letters? I don't. I asked the kids in my class if they had ever

written a letter, and Johnny said yes, he wrote the letter J on his locker door yesterday. 

My friend Keith writes letters; mind you. he is getting on a bit. He probably uses one of those feathery pens! Seriously though, he really does write regularly in pen and ink to a number of fellow bloggers in America and India. 

When did a letter last land on your doormat? All I get is stuff advertising stuff I don't want. Or bills which I also don’t want. Stuff them I say. 

I still have the Parker pen I was given on my 21^st birthday. It's tortoise shell and gold. How smart is that? I also have an ancient bottle of Quink - that's posh person's ink in case you’ve forgotten. Queen's ink maybe! I remember squeezing the rubber tube in the pen once and realising why it was called a fountain pen. I've even got a blotter -  not that it was much help to my white blouse that day.

So how about we have a shot at writing a letter to each other? Perhaps not!

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Wobbly Wosey!

As well as writing this for Three Word Wednesday, I am also sneaking in the back door of the A-Z Challenge where I’m not a signed up participant. Please don’t tell on me, I don’t want the Challenge Police knocking on my computer screen!

What a nightmare! There I was wending my way along the promenade on my bike when I started wobbling. It happens now and again. Suddenly I walloped the little brickie bit in front of a flower bed. OMG. I went flying, and ended up sitting in the wallflowers with a tear in my tights and a tender derriere. I felt a complete wooz.  Anyway, I ignored the amused stares of the onlookers, and the terrified tantrum of the child I just missed, and climbed back on my bicycle. Unfortunately, the front wheel had adopted a new shape, sort of ovalish. So off I went bobbing up and down and up and down and up and down.

Which reminds me, did I tell you about when for a laugh I borrowed my Gran’s mobility shopping ride-on scooter thing?

Too late!

I'm  too late to take part. It's the story of my life. Keefie is to blame of course - you know him as Keith's Ramblings by the way.  I told him to tell me when the A-Z Challenge was due to start. But did he? He totally forgot, or so he said. Total tosh I say! He didn't want the competition! 

Now I feel guilty for moaning about him . Not very guilty, but guilty just the same. You see, we actually are best mates. He's the same age as my ancient father, but you wouldn't know it; obviously, because you've never seen him! Hehe! Seriously though, I really treasure our friendship. 

Now I'm getting tearful. Get your act together Rosey you twerp! To have a true friend without any complications is special indeed. A friend that doesn't judge. A friend that  tolerates my inadvertent eccentricities. A friend that is - a friend. A true friend. Keefie.

Dreaming...

At Friday Fictioneers, the photo prompt comes to us courtesy of  Marie Gail Stratford. Rochelle is our host

I was sitting outside Starbucks cradling a mug of coffee. The rain-sodden street was filled with bustling shoppers. A girl caught my eye; she carried a bright yellow umbrella. I realised she was looking at me. She held out her hand. 'Come’ she said. ‘Fly with me’.

I stood, my hand in hers. As we drifted upwards, I looked down at the miserable scene below. I looked up and her yellow umbrella beamed golden sunlight onto my face. A sense of warmth spread through my body.

It was then I realised I’d spilt coffee in my lap and everything had returned to normal.