Come one of her sporadic visitations, Mère Serendipity shares in abundance all that is fortuitous, especially so toward the underprivileged. Mind you, you have to have fate on your side as her charitable stopovers are few and far between. Such was the good fortune of blind Charly and silent Trixibelle.

You see, in the beginning the pair had met one another by accidental chance in the middle of the traffic ridden Highway to Hell. At the time, Charly was escaping the abominable white racists who had blinded him for no other reason than the sake of blinding, hence depriving him of all vision. Not that she knew of his eternal dark fate at the time, upon spotting his desperate plight amid a brotherhood of thundering juggernauts a pure white Trixibelle rescued the poor man; dragged him off the thoroughfare on to the concrete pavement. Though he never got his sight back, instead he had found his sweetheart in the maid who saved his life and who, soon after, thieved a pair of posh sunglasses purloined from a silver-spoon cyclist who’d fallen of his bicycle, just for Charly to hide behind. Prior to, as well as subsequent to the ghastly event both had no fixed address. They slept rough wherever they fancied; doorways their ideal bedrooms. Together they got by…just.

Early on in their close-knit fusion, Trixibelle’s rustic wand-less sorcery, albeit a tad hit and miss, fathomed a way by which she could make, at the very least, functional contact with Charly, who at first was of the considered opinion she did not speak words nor indeed grunts for reasons of personal choice. How wrong he was. The very first time she scribed with a fingertip, “I love you” upon his forehead he got the message that his girl was dumb…in the best sense of the word. Whatever, they got by; him speaking to her…sometimes for her…she listening and replying using her remarkably delicate digits.

She found him in tears of frustration one time, weeping over the fact he’d never see her. “Easy-peasy” her fingerspelling riposte, adding, “Best I find someplace private, Charly. I’ll make double sure what you touch is as fine as any bird’s eye view. By the by, I have blue eyes, milky hair and a bat tattooed on my bum; left cheek for what it’s worth”…and fine it was, for his salty tears turned into ones of sheer joy.   

Later, at dusk, the night promising to be a warm one, Charly announced, “Only the poor like us know how to conjure the best dreams. What was your best one, Trixibelle?”

Her reply? Whether or not of particular relevance, she sneakily determined it required his whole bare hairy chest as she penned the words, “Running off with you to a paradise far, far away where the sun always shines and the stray dogs don’t bark.”

Mère Serendipity saw that their dream came true.

As to my new book, ‘MAYDAY’, should it be of interest, this tome is available in the UK and way beyond these shores via AMAZON. ‘Tis for FREE on KINDLE UNLIMITED, alternatively just £3.29 on regular KINDLE or, if the PAPERBACK takes your fancy, a mere, £6.99 or equivalent outside of the UK.

Copyright © 2021/2022. All rights reserved. Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, and lending, prohibited.


  1. What a wonderful story, Mike! I must thank Holly for sending me here to read this delight. I also love Carla Bruni so I got a two-fer!

      1. I truly am but an old fool, young Dale. Hopeless when it comes to all and every forms of practical projects and such like; and uncapable to do anything that doesn’t interest me…i.e. most things. Luckily my dear Shirl is practical etc. although I do all the shopping and cooking while she digs holes, paints walls and all that is similar. Regards, Mike aka TOF

      2. I shan’t argue. Nor complain at being called young Dale! Well. I must say that things that don’t interest me don’t necessarily get done, either. Mick, my late husband was very good at keeping things in order. I fear his good habits did not rub off on me. Sounds like you and Shirl have a lovely compatibility! 🙂
        Dale (TNSOY)

      3. There’s not a gal in the world who isn’t ‘young’ in my book. I’ve always believed that women should be given the opportunity of running this globe of ours…after all, us chaps have hade a decent run at it and failed abysmally. When I write I make a point that the gals win out…always. ‘Tis a truth that at least Shirl runs the show in our house…that said she’s remarkably bossy, and that’s what I need. Anyhow, I shall bore you no more and wish you a splendid year. Regards, TOF

      4. I love your attitude, Mike, TOF 😉
        You chaps have had long enough…time to walk away, I say 😉
        Have a marvellous day!

  2. Love this tale TOF!
    It’s sweet and beautiful, in its (door) way.
    You old softie.
    Carla did better than I though she would, but then ……

    1. Good morrow, young Resa. I’ve been a tad ill with the curse these last few days, hence I thought a ‘happy’ post would be good for me. Glad you liked it. I must confess I’ve always rather taken to Carla…a gal who does what she wants out of choice. I rather like her attitude. Regards TOF…keen to tap-dance if only I had the shoes and a functional left leg.

      1. The curse? Hmm…
        Yes TOF, be happy, even if you have to force yourself. I insist!
        No luck here re: the tap shoes. However, I have an extra leg that hops around the apartment at night, scaring the bejesus out of me. I’ll make a trap, and see if I can catch it!

      2. Oh, the dreaded curse. How awful that must sound, young Resa. In my case, said ‘curse’ is a gut issue born of my stress post the theft of my EU citizen following the racists, ‘we don’t want them here’ Brexit scum; a curse that will, the quack says, will be with me for the rest of my time.
        If you can do please send me your, ‘extra leg that hops around the apartment at night, scaring the bejesus out of me’. You see 20 odd years back I severed the quads of the left leg, hence your extra leg will be a marvellous thing. By the way, Rosie dog was found in the garden last night…our first clear sky for weeks ‘barking at the moon’. I was impressed. Anyway, sometime during the next few days I shall post my own fearful voice while narrating the first chapter of my new ‘Mayday’ book. I’d never done the like previously…it probably will show. Young George…bossy like his mother…forced me into action, so I blame it on him. Regards, TOF

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