The Culprit!

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

This is the photo of my little shed that I painted blue. I was wandering round Wilkinson's and spied this little snail in the exact colour of blue to match. Well I have enough real snails in my garden without adding artificial ones too. I bought it, though, for cosmetic reasons and it lived on the top of the shed roof and looked like it was meant to be there.

Meanwhile, all the real snails get thrown over the fence onto the service lane behind! This gives them the chance to "scuttle off," in a snail like way, if they survive their flight! If not and they get run over.......... well I didn't have to kill them did I? They had a chance!

I went down to the shed the other day and noticed something was different! The plant had obviously grown a bit but the snail was gone! Had it crawled off in the night? Hardly likely! The real culprit from next door was sitting on the shed wondering what I was going to do about it! Well it might not even be him! There are four of them living next door and they all like to curl up on my shed!

The snail was found lying behind the potted plant with his horns broken off! I will not be taking a photo of him as it is too depressing, but he won't be sitting on top of the shed any more!

This is my story and these are my photos for Photostory Friday.

Time To Discard These?

authorblog: Weekend Wandering

This week, David asks us, "Do you have an item of clothing that you haven't worn for a year?"

Well, yes, several if I'm honest, though I do generally have a policy to to get rid of anything that I haven't worn for a year. Some things I have though have never been worn. Why are they in the wardrobe then? What right do the have to be there at all?

There are three things hanging up against the wardrobe in this picture. The first is a waistcoat made out of silk from an ancient kimono and was a present from Japan. It is lovely to look at but there is something wrong with the way the armholes pucker up at the back. So if I was to wear it, there would have to be major surgery on it. Like wise the second waistcoat. My mother gave me that one and I think it was made in South America and I like the colour and design but once again, there is something about the way it hangs around the back of the armholes. Now I have put this down in writing, I feel that there must be something wrong with the way my arms or back makes it hang. Obviously I should not be wearing waistcoats but strange to think that other people give them to me!

I don't know why I have them still. I just seem to not be able to bear get rid of them. I have just been waiting to get them fixed!

The third thing is a yukata (kind of Japanese dressing gown) that I bought when we visited Japan in the year 1999. I have had several given to me as presents and obviously cannot get to wear several at a time. Also in England, for much of the year these flimsy things are too cold and so I need to put on my warmer, cosy one.

What am I going to do with these three items after this post has been published, you may well ask?

Well they are going back in the wardrobe of course! In the meantime, if you bump into anyone wearing these articles of clothing, you will be able to say, "Hi Maggie May, I recognize those clothes, so it must be you!

The Concert (Memory Lane)

This is the story from my childhood when my brother and I were taken to a concert.

My father was what you would call a highbrow. He was a clever scientist but sometimes not always on the ball when it came to common sense! I always found him to be rather remote and my brother Godfrey and I learned not to bother him too much because he could get very annoyed with us for the slightest thing. When I look back I realized that he was not very good with children's needs at all but he mellowed into a lovely grandpa to my children. They have very happy memories of him so I think he must have practiced on Godfrey and me, before moving on to become that lovely Grandpa!

However, when I was a child, his favourite saying was, "Children should be seen but not heard!" This was completely old fashioned even when I was a child. In some ways he treated us like adults and took us to see some operas, recitals and concerts that were totally unsuitable for young children.

I can remember when I was about five years old and Godfrey only half that age, my Mum and Dad took us to a very stuffy church concert. I can picture it all very clearly in my mind's eye......... a church hall that was very dreary and rows of chairs filled with very old people. The women all wore hats, so where we were sitting, we couldn't see much of the stage at all, even though we were quite near the front. We were the only children there. Large fat ladies trilling out arias that seemed to go on for hours. We were getting very bored as there was nothing at all to interest young children. Nothing to see, no reason to be there at all. Naturally we were restless and must have whined and moaned, as the lady directly in front of us, turned round and offered my brother and me a boiled sweet each out of a white paper bag. I popped one into my mouth, glad of the diversion, but before Mum could stop him, Godfrey had put one into his mouth and promptly started to choke! He literally couldn't breath.

My Dad swooped him up under his arm and calmly walked out of the hall. My Mum looked very distressed and after what seemed like an hour but could only have been a few minutes, father and son returned to the hall and walked with smiling faces to their seats and Godfrey was munching his sweet! Apparently Dad had turned him upside down and slapped his back and the offending sweet dislodged from his windpipe!

We both sat still as mice for the rest of the concert and I think that little emergency shocked us into silence while the arias droned on.................!

Funny I should remember that so clearly!

A Last Minute Find!

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

Not long ago on a Saturday, Harry and I used our bus passes and went a long journey! We arrived at a suitable place to take photos. Well I wanted to take photos and Harry was happy to just be there and admire the scenery.

Well, I was happy as a sand boy snapping this, that and the other, when all of a sudden my camera jammed. The zoom wouldn't go in or out and that left the lens open, which I gather is not a good thing. I found a camera shop and explained what had happened. They examined it and took out the battery and the zoom snapped shut. I had got a flat battery. Feeling rather foolish, I thanked them and was a bit annoyed that there was so much to photograph and my camera was dead! Blast!

"Never mind," Harry said, "We can come again next weekend when the camera is all charged up." I thought that was a good idea and that was exactly what we did.

Only this time it was raining! Not possible to take all the lovely photos! Oh well might as well go into the shops and look through the second hand book stalls out of the rain. I bought a book and when we were on our way home we passed a stream and I felt something had moved on the edge of my vision. I went to investigate and saw baby ducklings. They seemed to be on their own. Then I looked closer and saw the mother with about six babies. She let me get quite close and I zoomed right in and took the photo. I felt that was worth waiting for. 

Harry and I will try another weekend and see what else we can snap when the weather is better.

We might even be able to take photos of the ducklings when they are bigger, if they are still there.

This is my true story and photo produced for Photostory Friday, hosted by Cicely and MamaGeek.

Naked Dolls

Not everyone approves of Barbie dolls, I know that. However we were given a load of second hand dolls that were dressed up in lovely clothes. We also had a big bag of spare clothes to dress them up in and the granddaughters have had a wonderful time playing with them. Some of them were Bratz dolls which are almost as bad as Barbies. The reason that they are disliked by adults is because they are not in the correct proportions to a real person. They have huge heads and eyes, elongated legs and minute feet and if they were real, they would be severely disabled. There is also the fashion obsession that goes with these dolls, not to mention their adult bosoms!

Putting aside all these non desirable details, the girls have a habit of removing all their clothes and leaving them all piled in a naked heap! Once their clothes are removed, they lose their appeal altogether and in fact they do not get played with after that.

In the beginning, I went round putting more clothes on them after the girls had gone to bed and once more they would be played with! 

Before too long, though the naked pile of dolls would grow into a heap and be discarded. They look as though they are having some kind of orgy!

As I work in an After School Club, I have noticed that girls of all ages seem to do this, even with baby dolls. The clothes will be torn off and discarded and the dolls not played with again until they are dressed!

What is going on? Can someone enlighten me?

In Need Of A Good Sort Out?

authorblog: Weekend Wandering

This week, David  Mcmahon, from authorblog set the question, "How long since you cleaned a cupboard or a room?"

The above photo shows a section of my wardrobe, which obviously needs a good clean and tidy up. I seem to have lots of things belonging to my computer in there, as I have no place else to store them. So this wardrobe has obviously not been cleaned out for some time.

Trouble is, when I tackle a cupboard or a drawer, I often find bundles of sentimental things. Old letters and cards from people who have either died or moved away. I have sometimes started to clean and removed all these treasures to sort out. I end up rereading letters and cards and looking at things that have not been viewed for ages. I carefully read everything and reminisce about past memories associated with these objects. I then run out of time, bundle them all up and put them back where I found them! 

I have recently cleaned and tidied up the kitchen, since the family have left our house. That definitely looks much better than it did. I have tidied muddles in the bathroom too! 

I need to tackle our bedroom next and the spare bedroom and the attic. The front lounge has been done. Our house can be likened to the Forth Bridge in Scotland, by the time the painters have finished repainting from one end to the other, it all has to be repeated, so really goes on for ever! Our house is a bit large and rambling and needs constant attention. In many ways, it is getting too much for us to maintain. I feel we are at a crossroads in our life. Do we stay here or go for something smaller?

However, the need to clean will be here long after I am dead and gone and I feel that I have to have some enjoyment in  my life now, so quite often it all gets postponed while I do something else.

I do have my limits though! I am eventually forced to do something about a muddle for the sake of my sanity. I will only let the muddles get so bad, before I have to tackle them.

How about you?

The Face That Spoilt Everything.

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

When I was nine years old I was friendly with April, a girl from the same school that I went to. We had recently moved house and I didn't know many people, so April was one of the first friends who I saw out of school. We started to see each other in the evenings and at weekends. She told me she had a baby sister called Suzie. It turned out that Suzie was a life sized doll and that April's father had died young, so there were no other siblings.

Suzie must have been the envy of every girl for miles around. She had a porcelain face and was dressed in real intricately knitted baby clothes. She had fair curly hair and was pushed around in a pale blue "carry cot on wheels" type of pram, that was very unusual in that era and I would have given my eye teeth for one like that. Girls in those days seemed to play with dolls much longer than children do today and on the whole they seemed much younger in comparison to the same aged children today. The above photo obviously does not do justice to the real Suzie and this doll is just a cheap one belonging to my grand daughters.

Apart from the fact that she was a much loved doll, Suzie must have been valuable. She was April's most treasured possession, so much so, that she thought of her as her own sister.

One day after playing at our house, April ran home for her tea, leaving Suzie in her pram with me. She was supposed to come straight back for her after her meal but as the time ticked by, I realized she had not been allowed to do this.

I took Suzie out of her pram to play with her. I cuddled her and carried her around with me like a baby. I then made a crucial mistake of sitting her on the dining room chair next to the table and pretended to give her a meal. Crash...... Suzie fell sideways to the floor and her face cracked in half!

To say that I was mortified was the understatement of a life time. It might just as well have been the end of the world. How could I tell April that Suzie was dead!

After I'd cried and was almost sick with fear, my mum, who was very matter of fact, said, "Well if she was so precious, then why did she leave her here in the first place?" She then went on to tell me that I must give April one of my own dolls to make up for it.

I took my doll, Elizabeth, with the cheap pottery face and the bald head. Although she was much loved, she wasn't a patch on Suzie.

"Come on then, better face the music," said Mum as we pushed the pram towards the road where April lived. I could hardly walk.

The bell rang and a look of pleasure fell upon April and her mother's face when they saw the pram.

Then they noticed the face! Tears welled up in both their eyes, though politely they took Elizabeth and closed the door. Mum had done the talking, but what could be said?

Things were never the same after that. Mum said that the friendship would have cooled anyway, as April passed a scholarship into a boarding school so we wouldn't get the opportunity to see much of each other from then on. However, I knew the real reason why we didn't stay in touch. It was because of Suzie and what I had done.

I still squirm with embarrassment and remorse at the memory and April if you happen to be reading this, then I am truly sorry!

This is my true story written for Photo Story Friday which is hosted by Cecily and Mama Geek