Month: Feb 2018

A tuf nut

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Dez stood at the top of the stone steps leading from the Casino, he unfastened his Dickybow and loosened his collar, sighing silently with relief. From the inside pocket of his jacket he pulled out a Gold cigarette case. He removed one of the hand-made Sobrani’s and placed it between his lips.
A couple, clad in evening attire, exited the large glass doors of the Casino. Their conversation, nothing more than Champagne induced giggles stopped as they walked past Dez.
“Bonne nuit Monsieur.” said the Man.
“Bonne nuit.” replied Dez, he watched the couple descend the steps, once out of ear shot their giggling resumed.
Tilting his head to one side, Dez pressed his thumb down onto the  Gold cigarette lighter, instantly, with a metallic click, a small neat flame leapt into life. Protected by a cupped hand the flame was introduced to the cigarette.
Dez drew the smoke deep into his lungs, enjoying the coolness and relief it brought. He exhaled the smoke long and slow, through pursed lips into the warm night air.
The giggling couple now stood at the base of the steps along with the Valet, who, with a raised white-gloved hand, had summoned their car.
The sound of invisible Cicadas was replaced by the sound of the slowly approaching car, as it’s tyres crunched the pea gravel drive.
Dez drew on his cigarette, and watched as the Valet opened and held the door, gesturing the gigglers to enter. With the couple sat comfortably in the rear of the Bently, the Valet closed the door shut with a gentle push. The sound of crunching gravel escorted the red tail lights into the darkness, fading, until gone.
Once more the deafening chorus of Cicadas filled the night.
With an elegant stretch of his arm, and a subtle twist of his wrist, Dez exposed the face of his Bulgari Magsonic Sonnerie watch. He bent his arm and glanced at the dial.
“Ah Midnight, the night is young.” He thought to himself.
A reflection in the watch’s glass caught his eye, someone was behind him, he turned sharply on the leather soles of his shoes, ready to respond.
There she stood, a vision of magnificent beauty, her sapphire eyes meeting his. Her tall slender frame was covered by a shoulderless, full length, sequined dress that glittered blue and green as it caught the light. Over her shoulders was draped a small jacket, and the crowning glory was a Beehive of golden hair supporting a Diamond Tiara.
Before he had time to step aside, and let her pass, she extended her arm, and offered Dez her hand.
Dez gently held her fingers, and bowing forward slightly, he drew her hand towards his waiting lips. Keeping eye contact, he kissed her hand.
“Bonsoir Monsieur, Je m’appell Alexandria. Comment tu t’appelles?” She asked in her silken Mediterranean tone.
Before answering, Dez  inhaled and savoured the scent of her floral perfume. “Bonsoir Mademoiselle, enchante, Je m’appell Dez…Dez Cacahuetes.”

 

Capsella burse pastoris. Featuring: Ray Kittup.

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After his hearty breakfast with his young wife, Lye, Ray stepped out of the cottage and into his garden, and he was instantly greeted by all the joys of Spring, Sunshine poured from the azure sky, and birds sang their sweet melodic tunes, he watched as a Blackbird tugged a worm from the lawn, Ray was happy.
With a beaming smile causing his rosy red cheeks to bulge, and using the tip of his Index finger he pushed his straw hat onto the back of his head and set off down the garden path.
He sang as he approached the Honeysuckle (Lonicera japonica) covered archway.
“Zipperdy doo dah….”  A Chaffinch sang from the amidst the young fresh leaves as if  accompanying Ray, and sharing his good mood.
Ray passed under the archway and stopped to admire the explosion of colour that met his eyes, the magnificent blooms of Rhododendrons and azaleas adorned the hedgerow, Bees stuck their heads into the apple blossoms, enjoying the new season’s richness.
Watched by hidden eyes, Ray walked towards the jewel in his horticultural crown, the veggie patch. Seed packets on sticks, stuck into the soft, finely riddled soil, marked the drills and identified the already emerging occupants.
Close by, a Wren burst into song. its shrill voice reverberating off every leaf, and making Ray jump in surprise
White fleece seemed as if to breath, given the kiss of life by the gentle sirocco.
Onion sets stood in proud ranks awaiting inspection.
The General inspected the Allium cepa, scrutinizing each one for imperfection. All was well until he reached the end of the rear rank. There it was, bold as brass.
Capsella burse pastoris! The gardener’s worst nightmare.spurse2
Ray bent down, and mortified by the thought of what this unwelcome arrival could do to his chances of winning first prize at the annual show, using his thumb and fore finger, he extracted it from the soil.
He stood, daydreaming, rolling the unfortunate Capsella burse pastoris until chloroform helped to mix it into a unrecognizeable pulp between his fingers.
Staring down at the broken soil, Ray’s eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped in amazement and disbelief, as a mist like vapour, seeped from the soil, and rose up to form the translucent form of a women.
The sounds of nature were joined by the mystical playing of a harp.
The apportion solidified, causing Ray to remove his hat and hold it close to his chest.Within the golden aurora, was a women of  such beauty that all around her paled.
She spoke with a voice so soft that it caressed the soul like silk.
Ray stepped back a pace.
“Don’t be afraid Ray,I mean you no harm.”
thMAZMDP7OBathing within her golden glow, and transfixed by her beauty Ray spoke.
“Who are you?”
He cleared his throat, and changed his startled tone.
“I mean what’s your name?”
“My name is Flora, and I bring you reward.” She said holding out a small Silver chalice towards Ray.
Reaching out, Ray dropped the mangled mess from between his fingers and took hold of chalice. “What is it?” He asked. Without waiting for an answer Ray lifted the vessel to his lips and tipped back the contents. He felt its silky warmth gently tease his palette, and then he licked his lips and gave an ahhh of satisfaction.
“It is made from drops of the morning dew, blended with my last urine sample.
Its powers will grant you a single wish.”
Ray’s response was instant.
“I wish.” He placed a grubby finger against his bottom lip. “I wish  for my Plums to be the size of Pumpkins.”
We know what happens later, don’t we.

Happy gardening.

Sweats return

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There I stood, looking down at my single metal framed bed, that had half the springs missing, and all the comfort of a plank.
If I sat on it in the wrong place, my butt would touch the floor, and escape would turn into a contortionists nightmare. The mattress had a plastic protective cover, that made every movement sound as if I were sleeping in a bin liner. The two woollen ( standard issue) blankets, equal to emery cloth in softness, were separated from the plastic mattress cover by two cotton sheets, of which, only one per week could be exchanged for a freshly laundered one, along with a matching pillow case. The pillows x 2, were stuffed with chicken feathers, the quills of which, would pierce the outer material and spear my head. Most pillows had been run over several times by a steam roller, or so it seemed. No matter how much they were lovingly fluffed up, they would instantly resume a flat as a pancake appearance.
For morning parade purposes, the edges were folded in and Hospital corners sealed the tomb. Bed Boxes were not required here, that was a blessing in itself.
The whole show was topped off with a counter-pane, one of two colours, pale yellow or lilac, that was so taut, a snooker ball could be rolled across its surface.
And I’ve just been reliably informed, by our Northern England correspondent, that assuming it was fully sprung, 3 men could sit side by side.
This was my retreat, my little corner, my escape into another world.
Once inside my envelope of rustling plastic, cold cotton sheets and stabbing chicken feathers, I looked up at the double fluorescent light tubes,  that blazed down, showering their light into my exhausted world, my confused world. So much had changed over the past few weeks, and so fast, my feet had hardly touched the ground.
One minute I was on Mommy’s apron string, next minute, I was being bounced around a parade square, and now, and now here I am, lying on my pit, somewhere in Germany. Bloody Germany, I’d never left our beloved Island before, and yet here I was, caught in a tide of  mixed emotions, somewhere that I’d never heard of.
The lights, bright enough for an airport, were still on, and would remain so, because it was only 2300hrs, and of the other 3 lads I shared the room with, only one was in. He was pressing his kit, I couldn’t see him, a large wooden Army locker stood in the way, but I could hear the dull thud, followed by the hiss of the iron as it came down onto the garment.
The smell of burning starch and diesel mixed with the steam that belched from under the Iron. The sound was quite rhythmic, pssst- thud-hiss.
The other two beds were empty, their neatness and silence filled my world with foreboding, because I knew, the occupants, two of the meanest, most unsympathetic, homicidal maniacs you could ever wish to meet, were out on the WAZ.
With the ironing done, the lights were turned off, but sleep did not come. The general noise of the other 100 or so occupants of the old barrack block were slowly muted, and replaced with an eerie silence, a frightening silence that amplified every drunken voice. Jovial laughter, pushing and shoving, hoots and hollows, the bash and clatter of the heavy swinging fire doors signaled the sweats return.
The sound of inebriated accents bellowed along the bare, stone corridor, the metallic clatter of a fire bucket being kicked like a football, raked the night.
And then, outside the door, drunken ssssshhhhh’s, loud enough to wake the dead, more drunken giggling as the door was opened, allowing the bright tidal wave of light from the corridor to spew in, and wash away the darkness, the darkness that hid me.
With the room now illuminated like the molineux on an evening kick off, the dogs could see the rabbit, the beasting began.
Tune in again for more nighty night bedtime stories, with me, the Bugs, soon.

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