Dreaming of Chocolate, by Bentley

IMG_0332As you all know our two Jack Russells are very much a part of our family life, so much so that they actually insist on writing their own stories from time to time. Bentley, the elder of the two, is nudging 70 in human years; he’s getting a little grey around the muzzle and he’s not quite as fast as he was, but his mind is still as sharp as any young whipper-snapper and he’s proven himself to be quite an aspiring and somewhat amusing author. So how could I say “No” when he pleaded with me to write another short tale? Read more

A SHORT FICTIONAL STORY – ENJOY

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A SHORT FICTIONAL STORY TODAY – find yourself a cosy corner, indoors or outdoors, a cup of tea or coffee, an ice cold drink or a glass of wine and enjoy and I hope you have a lovely Sunday x Read more

A Christmas Story – Part II & A Happy New Year To You All

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Sometimes things just don’t go according to plan! I had a great post lined up for today but I haven’t managed to take all the photos, I’ve been having far too much fun with the family. So for once I told myself it was ok. We’ve been walking and running and cycling. We’ve eaten delicious meals and cooked so much food. We’ve sat around a roaring fire chatting. We’ve been gardening, a little bizarre at the end of December but the weather is gorgeous. We haven’t done anything remotely glamorous or travelled any distance but we have had such a good time, all of us, together, just enjoying my favourite holiday of the year. So I changed plans and I am giving you the final part to my Christmas story. I really hope you enjoy it. Read more

Audrey – A Short Summer Story – Part IV

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AUSTRALIA 2009

Her head ached with November sun despite the straw-hat, and dust coated her shirt and shorts. Audrey was driving the tractor in bare feet, as she had always done, and her toes danced on the brake and clutch as she eased down into the last row of bananas. To her left the first tree had a ‘bunch’ covered in the coloured plastic sheet she was looking for, a lurid orange, and she brought the trailer to a stop with a touch on the brakes and a grunt of gearbox. Her boys spilled off the edges of the trailer and started down the row, looking for further flashes of orange which indicated maturing bunches that were ripe enough for cutting. Dotted down the row were other colours, red and green, each indicating a different stage of maturation. This week it was the orange they were after. Her bandana was wringing wet and she squeezed it dry over the mudguard as she stood on the small plated step. The late afternoon sky above was a vivid blue, and for an instant she was jolted back to a land of lavender and grapes, where a small house sat on the edge of a little village. The thought startled her with its suddenness and intensity, and she shook her head, wondering which bizarre part of her brain had brought the scene to life. Read more

Audrey – A Short Summer Story – Part III

IMG_1695If you missed Part I you can read it here and Part II here

France 2001

The little house still stood in the lane, and in the hot August sunshine the roof almost glistened with heat in the places where the moss had not yet got a hold. The gate in the overgrown, unkempt hedge, hung heavy with chain and a large rusty padlock; the path beyond to a door that had lost most of its paint was barely visible for the tufts of shaggy grass and clusters of pink valerian that sprung out of its cobbled cracks. The afternoon silence shimmered with heat and all that could be heard was a soft buzz of insects and the rattle of scurrying lizards in the grass. Read more

AUDREY – A short Summer Story – Part II

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The summer passed quickly on the campsite above the beach. The weather was glorious and Audrey worked with a goal in mind, saving every centime as the weeks passed. There were moments of great fun, sharing a campfire and a jug of wine until dawn with new friends, and moments of disaster like the day an August gale swept along the coastline and barrelled away with two tents over a fence into a field packed with cows. She served beer most evenings, fending off advances from tipsy campers and lovelorn boys from the village, protected when needed by the burly bar-owner who adored Audrey for her punctuality and thoroughness. Read more

AUDREY – A Short Summer Story

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It was the seagulls she remembered most as a child. Walking the dull grey streets of the island in winter, or sitting on the beach during summer, the seagulls were a constant thread of maritime provenance, a wheeling cloud of white noise that punctuated the seasons. The small island where Audrey lived sat proud as a castle of rock amidst the tidal races of the Cherbourg peninsular, and the seagulls ebbed and flowed with the tide, following the fishing boats as they worked the waters around the islands, across to mainland France, and back again. Read more