1750 words “Funny things can happen on caravan holidays,” I said. “Well, she’s only going with Jack and Joanna, oh, and Bob of course, he’ll look after her, it’s just...” Bob was Sally’s brother, my grandson, Jack was a schoolfriend and Joanna his sister, all quite ‘sensible’, admittedly. “The other boys on the campsite. I know,” I said, “they’re randy sods at that age. They’ll do anything to get girls into their caravan, get them on the wine, and before long the lasses’ll be dropping their knickers!” “Don’t hold back mum!” laughed Trudy. “Look, make some tea, there’s something I need to tell you...” I replied.
Tag: 1750 word story
New Forest Frolics
- (1750 words) - “Look, Trudy, it’s your decision but I’d put my foot down if I were you.” “I know mum, but Sally’s set her heart on it, been going on about it for days.” My daughter Trudy, fifty-one, blonde, divorced, and ‘pleasantly plump’ to put it kindly, had, for once, asked for my … Continue reading New Forest Frolics
Ringing the Changes
(1750 words) Leaving the dreary wet concrete of London behind me, I zoomed along the motorway on my way down to Sussex. It felt great without Lucy moaning that I was going too fast. Sod her! In warm sunshine, I drove along Poverty Lane into the village of East Chillingham, Shakatak’s Nightbirds thumping beat on my player. I spotted an old woman cutting her hedge with hand clippers and pulled over. Beneath a green wide-brimmed hat, straggly white hair fell over a crinkled face. “Excuse me, I’m looking for the church.” “What for?” “I’m going to a wedding, Tony Simmons and Reverend Sue Sutton.” I thought she might have heard. She grimaced, showing crooked, yellow teeth. Without speaking she jabbed her clippers away from her, in the direction of a turn to the right, perhaps fifty metres away. “Oh, d’you mean I turn there?” She didn’t reply, putting her head down and carrying on with her self-appointed task.
Ringing the Changes
(1750 words) Leaving the dreary wet concrete of London behind me, I zoomed along the motorway on my way down to Sussex. It felt great without Lucy moaning that I was going too fast. Sod her! In warm sunshine, I drove along Poverty Lane into the village of East Chillingham, Shakatak’s Nightbirds’ thumping beat on my player. I spotted an old woman cutting her hedge with hand clippers and pulled over. Beneath a green wide-brimmed hat, straggly white hair fell over a crinkled face. “Excuse me, I’m looking for the church.” “What for?” “I’m going to a wedding, Tony Simmons and Reverend Sue Sutton.”