In his dream she was there with him

a café where cigarettes were approved of,

vapour camouflaged the hectic waiters

stumbling, rushing yet never spilling a drop

an accordion fidgeted, Jacques Brel sung

a chanson, made all the big girls cry

Waking up can sometimes be a let down


He favoured Russian roulette over fencing

claret over ale, thought over action

body language over speech

women over anything and everything

Then there were thighs, yes thighs

surpassed stilettos and eclipsed jewellery yet

not slapable bare butts or a surreptitious glimpse


“What are you up to?”

“Not a lot…just trying to put pen to paper without much success.”

“Let me see…um…not your best.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“Fancy making me a coffee seeing as how I’m up a ladder painting yet another bloody ceiling BY MYSELF I might add.” 

“Without sounding pedantic you’re not actually up a ladder presently so logically you could make your own….” She put on her stern ‘I’ll have to hit you in a minute’ face, “…OK then let’s have coffee in town the rain has almost stopped.” 

Spitting feathers, saving snails, pulling faces or in confidential interludes he cherishes her above all things



28 thoughts on “SUNDAY MORNING

      1. Me too, Mike, me too; in fact, I very nearly jacked the whole bloody thing in earlier today. x

    1. Not a hope…people don’t believe me when I tell them just how useless I am. I nearly killed Shirl last week doing the one and only thing I’ve done since we moved here. She said that the light-bulb in her shower needed changing and as I’m taler than her would I mind doing it. So I unscrewed the surround bit and managed to affix a funny little flat faced bulb in. Next morning she told me that whilst showering the entire light fixing (wires the lot) fell out! I can’t even change a light-bulb!

    1. Thank you for that. I’ve just had a look at your blog…I often drift back in time writing my old toot and it was thus that yours fascinates. May take the liberty and follow? Manners and all that!

  1. Aww, this was beautiful, though I’ll admit I thought Shirl wrote it and put your name to it, as you would most definitely be in the pantry before being up a ladder. 🙂

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