What if?

These are the questions being asked by those about me, and the answers are mixed. Some from Bob and some from me. I bet you can guess who answered what..

What if the sun burns itself out?

His next in command, the moon, will take over and our lives will be mellower.

What if it doesn’t rain before September?

Irish people will become even more disgruntled and focused on the weather? Nothing new there. Their 4 legged tail wagging friends will wallow in the shade and be content with early morning walks in the woods.

What if Breeze the ogre moves out of the wood in search of water?

More cupcakes for little old me!

 

 

 

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Book Launch: The Runaway Schoolhouse

I am in a panic and not even The Bob is calming me. My children’s book is being launched tomorrow night. I will put up an short piece from it for my few followers, thank you all.

But for now, here is the cover of the book. It is aimed at children of 7 years and upwards. This schoolhouse was bored and …ran away.

Bob’s Diary: Four more sleeps till Turkey Day.

“I am afraid to look Bob. How did we end up in this mess?”

“Ellie, Lets rewind back to earlier when I was sitting minding my own business.”

And stuff  kept dropping on me as Maria was rushing in and out getting the tree and other bits. Then you, Ellie made the mistake of sitting down… and Maria decided it was an opportunity..

To make us look like a pair of right Irish idiot dogs. I mean do we look happy? Roll on Turkey day.”

Bob’s Diary. ..I am not a Reindeer!

After the Christmas Reindeer story, I thought I was safe for a few weeks. Life can be cruel can’t it?

I knew there was trouble brewing when Maria and Sara offered me jelly babies.

 But I didn’t expect this…

 No sir, I got to talk to Sir Bob about this…

I am not a reindeer….

  I have the answer..

 I am a Superhero.

 

Bob’s Diary: And you think she has been neglecting you, the blogging community?

Hi,

Things have been hectic. Maria has been busy which is okay but the service in the kitchen is terrible.

I mean it is getting to the stage where we are queuing to get in to be fed.

 

I think I will start a petition for meals to be served on time.

Maria’s Stuff: The fight against evil.

John walked into the lecture room and every one in the audience focused on him. He often wondered if people were disappointed when they saw him. They expected a knight in shining armor what they got was a nondescript man.

John was neither tall , nor an impressive man. He knew he would be skimmed over in a crowd. But here, he was regarded with awe. He held power. Here his past victories reigned. He had experience in the world of tracking down evil. His greatest wish was to pass his knowledge on to others in an effort to rid the world of as much insanity as possible. Each day began with this lone thought rattling around in his brain: Imagine a world where everything is as it should be. How wonderful and amazing would it be to have evil fade into insignificance and be forgotten?

Eilis sat among the audience. She had one thing in common with John. She was as ordinary as ordinary can get. She wore nothing startlingly out-of-place. Dressed in scruffy jeans, checked shirt and long hair framing her ordinary face. She was careful to don a normal expression, one of an audience of two hundred all wearing the same benign look, striving to understand the words being delivered at a precise rate.

John took a deep breath and before he began his lecture he scanned the group before him. It was always this way, deliver your lecture to an unappreciative looking group of students and then hope that one of your points would stick with even one of them. He was hoping for a miracle. Still, as he continued on delivering his lecture he wondered which one it would be and what they would get from it.

What he failed to realise was the miracle would take his world in a direction he had never thought it capable of.

Bob’s Stuff: Baby sitting or invaded?

I was waiting for ages.

 

I thought we were baby sitting. Normally a job I love, kids, toys, fun and food. What more could a sociable dog want?

Definitely not this…..

 

 

 

 

 

I was hijacked into babysitting….kittens?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nope Robyn is pure spitting evil. If you don’t hear from me by Tuesday send in the army. Take a look at this….

 

 

A Muddled Tale Continues….

A Muddled Tale

Part 3: It is a weird world – Three  Knights in a new world..

 

When the awkward problem of no clothing was solved, they came to a heart stopping decision. It was made in their usual manner by holding a group discussion. This meant a very meandering path was taken before the point was clarified. The conversation went something like this:

“These clothes are very soft,” Grouchy muttered as he ran his hand gently up and down the shirt fabric.

“Not very manly nor fit for a Knight. They don’t clank or need polishing.” Sleazy whispered. “But I agree they are warm and don’t make my skin itch.”

“Yes. But they are not normal but neither is this world. That hut looked like nothing we know.” Lazy beckoned and they moved closer. When they were in a tight huddle he whispered, “we are under a spell. Be very careful of what you say and who you say it to.”

“I agree, we are in a world of magic and mystery. We are not afraid. We are knights – we have to stick together.” Grouchy gave a nod and stood very tall and proud.

The decision was made. Even though they were strangers in a strange world they would act knightly and stay together.

Two minutes later they split up to search for food or a means of transport. They would meet at the foot of the mountain close to them at dawn next morning.

It is not necessary to go into the tedious frightening details of how badly they each fared. Enough to say when they returned to their meeting point, none of them carried any food or had a horse or cart with them.

Grouchy was shaking. Sleazy rendered speechless. Lazy was jabbering like an idiot.

They walked to a small stream. After taking a drink Grouchy declared it to be tainted. Then they ate berries which they found growing in a nearby hedge. Sleazy thought they were sour and too bitter.

Lazy said, “we are neither Goldilocks nor the three bears. I think they are fine.” He ate his fill which left the hedge pretty empty.

Night was descending on the mountain in an abrupt manner. By the time Grouchy lit a fire  it was dark and cold. Sleazy dumped a bundle of sticks on the ground and crouched low. He said, “there is something peculiar happening. Lazy was spinning on his head. One minute he was dancing on the spot the next he was spinning on his head.”

Grouchy frowned, “I have had a peculiar feeling all day, like I should be providing a better place for us to stay. I have this itch to make the ground more comfortable and the fire bigger to warm us all.” He jumped to his feet. With a screech of horror he said, “I’m turning into a girl.”

Sleazy nodded. “It is as I thought . We are bewitched. I know this because I have been counting non-stop all day long. We need to hide.”

Grouchy considered his words carefully. “To be in disguise and untraceable we should take new names.”

Sleazy allowed this thought time to roam and wander through his head.

Lazy danced into view. He performed a neat pirouette and said, “I have this desire to dance. I am crazy or ill.”

“No,” Grouchy said, “you are under a spell.”

Lazy searched the landscape around them. Briars and gorse were mingled with brambles and small trees. “Who put us under it? And where are they?”

Sleazy explained their theory on the event. “We should change names. I would like to be called Liam.” Lazy declared.

“I am George, ” Grouchy said.

They both turned to Sleazy. He wrinkled his nose and thought for a long time. “I am Sam.” With a deep furrow spreading across his forehead he admitted, “though it will seem strange to be called that, why don’t we stick to our initials?”

So they became G, S, L.

“We need to get moving as far away from here as possible.” G said.

“In the morning, would be fine with me.” S said to L only to find L had twirled out of sight.

 

 

Maria’s Stuff: Children’s story: Betty’s Do-whacky’s.

Betty is a Grandmother who loves inventing things.

“Gadgets, Do-wacky’s” she calls them.

Her inventions hang from the ceiling in her workshop.  Everything will be useful some day, Betty says. Especially, the wind powered dog walker and even the grass-growing timer.

Betty would love to invent a special car just for her.  A car, which will not collect great bumps and dents whenever she tries to park it. Until then, Betty cycles everywhere.

She is easy to find with her hair pulled into a high bun, which perches on top of her head like a small bird having a rest. Her eyes are large and dark brown. When she laughs, stars tumble from her eyes.

Baby-sitting and Bird Watching.

Betty was babysitting Jim.  She watched him carefully because, Jim loves trouble. Betty did not want any accidents.

Betty’s white cat Sourpuss was sleeping on the floor.

“W-h-a-t ?”  Jim, a very yoghurt faced Jim asked. He waved his spoon around. Dollops of yoghurt flew off his spoon and landed on Sourpuss.

“What indeed Jim!” Betty said. She stopped eating and put down her own spoon. Betty said,  “Well done, your first word. Say it again!”

“Whaaaattt?” he shouted.

Betty picked Jim up. She danced around the room hugging him. It was a hop, skip and jump dance over the toys on the floor.

Wouldn’t it be handy if I could just fly over all of this mess?  But I’d need a flying suit or gadget of some sort! Then an idea danced about in her head until a picture of it formed. “What a brilliant idea, – a flying suit.”

Later when a nice clean Jim was back in his own house, Betty began to work on her idea.   “How heavy could it be? ” Betty said aloud waving her hands in the air.  “I can imagine how it would feel to fly high with the birds. Splendid.”

Betty went outside. She looked up at the sky. “I need to study the birds for clues” she said to the blackbird sitting on her fence. He didn’t like the sound of that and flew off.  A floating feather gave her the answer.

“If humans had as many feathers as birds then they could fly couldn’t they?”

The Feather Hunt.

The group of children were fidgeting and whispering excitedly as they stood in Betty’s garden. Something great was about to happen.

“What do you want us to do?” the tallest of the children called Harry asked.  Harry was in a hurry to get back to his game boy.

“I need your help, please. To collect loads of feathers.”

“What type of feathers?” This was from Sara a very nosy little girl.

“Dog feathers,”her brother said digging her in the ribs.

Sara glared at him. “I meant what size? Big ones or little ones Betty?”

‘All sizes, types and colours, but only ones that have fallen off birds. You are not to chase the birds.’ She added this as she noticed Jonathon eyeing up a very fat pigeon waddling across the road.

They set off at a run. Feather pillows suddenly became featherless. The empty pillows were stuffed with the most unusual items, old socks (mostly of the smelly variety), sheep’s wool and Harry had a brain wave of filling the empty pillowcase with a cabbage from the garden.

Hen houses and hedgerows were searched. Trees were climbed and bird-cages were emptied. Betty found some feathers in the hedge where Sourpuss slept and she put them in a box inside her workroom.  She went to sleep that night dreaming of skies filled with flying children. Much safer than airplanes Betty decided before she fell asleep.

 The Flying Suit.

 

The next morning after a large breakfast of cereal, two hard boiled eggs and three slices of toast, all washed down with a pot of strong tea, Betty went to her workroom.

The sight of the large box stuffed with feathers, sitting at the door, was a surprise. Betty dragged the box indoors. She emptied it onto the floor. The feathers were all co lours and sizes, some were bright yellow, others were as dark as a lump of coal. Betty felt a tingle of excitement run through her. Taking her oldest boiler suit Betty began to cover it in feathers. She was no good at sewing so she was gluing them to the fabric. It was a sticky, tricky job.

At one o clock the back of the suit was covered in feathers. The wings were her next problem. Walking around her workroom she glanced up at the ceiling. There was the answer, – two old kites dangling above her.  Betty began to work again.

By nightfall Betty was hopping about with excitement. It was finished.

The suit looked strange but impressive. Betty wondered who might test it for her.

“I’ll do it.” Licking her lips and rubbing her hands together, she sensed an adventure about to happen.

Betty Goes Flying!

 

Betty woke the sun up. She pulled on loads of clothes, because, she was afraid the sun might forget to shine. On went her warmest jeans, thick socks, boots, two tee shirts, a huge woolly jumper and matching hat. Plonking her sunglasses on her head, she said, ‘I’m ready.’

Betty quickly loaded the suit on to her wheelbarrow. Pushing the barrow to the old barn in the field next to her house didn’t take long. She was huffing and puffing harder than any wolf blowing down a house. She looked about her for a moment or two.

‘How, and where, will I land?’ She looked about her.

The ground looked hard. The cows in a field beside her looked lumpy.

‘What I need is a nice soft landing pad.’ Betty opened the door of the barn and

smiled. Hay, lots and lots of hay! ‘I’d prefer to land with a bounce instead of a thud!’ She said making a giant hay bed in the field.

Her next job was to climb the ladder into the hay loft.  She looked from the barrow to the loft. It was a long way up. ‘Best have the suit on just in case I fall.’

Putting on the suit was hard. With a lot of wriggling and groaning, she managed it. Climbing the ladder was tricky. Her flapping wings kept getting in the way.

Standing on the upper floor of the barn Betty pushed open the upper door and looked out at the wide countryside before her. The sun, now awake and interested, was beaming down on her.  The ground looked a long way down.

‘I’m not too sure about this,’ she whispered.

A gust of wind came hurtling in through the doorway. The wind was singing as it neatly collected Betty on its way out.

She was tumbling along. Betty was flapping her arms up and down at a terrible pace.  She realized something important. It didn’t matter how fast she flapped her arms because it was the current of air, which was carrying her.

By now Betty was tired. Oh my, I need a rest, she thought. There was a huge roar beneath her. Looking down she saw a small airplane. I’ll take a lift on that, Betty thought and holding her wings by her side she dropped towards the plane.

Landing was a bit tricky and noisy as Betty kept shouting things like, “Mind my new wings you big galoot!” to all of the birds who came to watch. They were flapping about and getting in her way.

Finally there she was – sitting on the wing of the plane looking about her.  I wonder where my house is? Another question popped into her head. ‘How do I get back?’

The pilot couldn’t understand why one side of the plane was dipping slightly. The co-pilot could as he spotted Betty land. He was trying to speak.  His mouth didn’t work! He tried rubbing his eyes to make her disappear but it didn’t work. Betty was waving at him.

“There’s a granny sitting on our wing!” he spluttered.

The pilot chuckled, “What? A Granny on the wing, nonsense.”

But turning to look out of the window the pilot got a surprise. “Oh my.”

“What shall I do,?” the co-pilot asked.

“Ask her to buzz off, politely though, if she is like my own granny, we will be in trouble no matter what we say.”

He opened the window of the small plane and shouted in his most polite voice, “Excuse me. Would you mind, hopping off our wing and flying away?”

Betty stared at him. Was he stupid? she wondered. If she knew where to fly to then she would not be sitting on his plane. “Could you please tell me how to get to Ballytrickle?”

The pilot shouted back, “Two miles that way.”

“Thanks ever so much,” said Betty as she was sucked underneath the plane by a current of air. Turning towards the sun, which was hiding behind a cloud, Betty headed home. As she neared the barn she spotted a tiny toddler playing in his garden. She swooped down near him. He saw her coming and his mouth opened wide but no sound came from him. His toy car was made from plastic and very round. Instead of crashing on to its side, it wobbled for a bit. He started to cry!

“Sorry baby,” Betty said. The barn appeared before her. Seeing the giant bed of hay she aimed herself at it and closed her eyes. Landing was a very bouncy affair as she bounced from one part of it to another. She ran out of hay and rolled onto the ground. ‘Ouch!’ Betty sat up to look at the damage.  The left-wing was in tatters but Betty was in one piece.

“I did it!” She said to a bewildered looking cow. Then she put her suit back into the barrow and headed for home.

Time for an extra-large brunch, Betty might fly like a bird but she won’t eat like one, she thought.

“Rashers, sausages, egg and tea all for little old me,” she sang, as she walked. This was followed by an extra long nap.

Flash Fiction: Flying Cakes.

 

Dear Kate,

Chris is lying in hospital.

The doctors don’t know what hit him. That is the trouble.

I know you are only 6,000 miles away but it might as well be the moon in moments of crisis.

I could do with a hug or a smack, I don’t know which would be best. You, as usual, would know and administer the necessary action.

How do I do it? I am married the sum total of five weeks, happy at last, and wham: my husband is lying unconscious on a hospital trolley. The fight for a proper bed is constant.

Right here we go, deep breath, the story begins like this.

I have been trying to impress him.

I’ve sorted his house, scrubbed and cleaned it until it has become so clean and sterilized it is a no go area for any insect or germ.  His wheezy chest has vanished. We are both delighted with his incredible stamina and energy. No need for details your vast imagination can sort that area out with delight, no doubt.

To celebrate I decided to bake his favorite, double chocolate fudge cake.

Me, bake? Why ever not? I decided to go for it. I bought the necessary ingredients and cake tin. Then I followed the recipe carefully. Placed it in the oven and went to watch my favorite tv program.

One hour later the smoke alarm woke me. I opened the back door, windows, skylights. I pulled the offending item from the oven. It was double all right, double burnt and hot. My burning fingers begged for mercy so I pegged it out the back door. This was followed by an awful sound.

I raced out. There Chris was, lying flat on his back and the hissing, smoking cake beside him. I called for help.

Checked no one was about then heaved the offending item even further away and there you go. What to do next? Please help.

 

Your loving but needy friend,

Maria