Tag Archives: fun

Good Times


Good Times? These are a few of my best, from childhood on…

  • Spending time with aunty’s seven kids during school holidays – bike rides out to the river, spending the arvo at the local park…
  • Finishing a party at someone’s house by cooking a fry-up with whatever was in the pantry/fridge
    (despite cleaning their flat out of food for the week)!
  • Riding on the outside of Wellington’s Cable Car – heading back to the flat after a night out.
    (Only a leather strap to hang on to.)

Wgtn OldCablecar-thelatest-1-1024x696

  • Working in the music-cassette section of a record pressing business – and being called in to help the boss decide what the heck to do with “Ma Na, Ma Nah”.
    (This before Sesame Street had hit the TV screens. If not for me, no one would have heard it for another seven-odd years!)
  • Learning to crochet a baby layette for my first-born… lemon 3-ply wool, in a shell pattern.
    (Quickest learning a handcraft I ever have managed.)
  • Teaching self-defense to my eleven year old pupils.
    (From then on they could disrupt any trouble in the playground by asking “Does anyone here need help?” Oh, the scrambling with reassurance “It’s only a play-fight!”)
  • Watching elder son machine knitting his own secondary school uniform pullover.
    (So proud.)
  • Reading good books to classes in which a third could not or did not read for pleasure. McBroom’s Wonderful One-Acre Farm to get them laughing, House of Sixty fathers to get them weeping.
    (“Not crying, Miss – just something in my eye.”)
  • The years spent with my dog, the Basenji I named Toffee, ‘cos he was brown and sweet.
    (This after asking my class to use the Internet for suitable names in the language of the breed origin – much glaring.)
  • Commuting between home town and uni city every week. 140 K on the straight listening to AC/DC. (And getting pulled up by the rural cop who’d seen me twice but stopped me on the third for a warning.)
  • Watching the cop fist-pump as he sang “Thunder!” on his way back to his patrol car.
  • Teaching – from five-year olds to sixteen-year olds, then tertiary-level students.
  • Breaking the secondary school’s rules, by not reporting the 16-yr olds who smoked. I mean, we gave them adult level responsibilities, so I gave them some “tips”.
    (“If you’re going to smoke when you’re driving in your car to school, hold the fag in your right hand, with your window open just a crack. The smoke will get sucked out and your hair won’t stink.”)
  • Joining the teens in the back shed when the ‘grown-ups’ were wining inside.
    (Better music, better gags, more fun.)

F – for the fortnightly ABC For 2018 blog challenge


letter-f-2246324_960_720

Ready to Fire up your imagination? Use the Fuel of your dreams?

Choose a headline for your post to this challenge, in which the First word starts with ‘F’.

Anything – Fury, Friendship, Fun, Funky, Frenzy-making, Freebies, Fur-Babies, Feathered Friends, Fast movers, Fist Fights, Fiji, France, Frankenstein, Frankfurters, your First {whatever}, your Finest {whatever}…

All I’d like is [ Like] on this post, and a Ping-back when you post your response, please.

And to all who’re taking part, a big “Fanks”
Thanks

D – ABC for 2018 Challenge Call


Again …. late in posting. d-image
But, here it is…

Suggestions? a “D’uh!” moment, Dialogue, a Day in the life of …, Doubt, Deluge, Drums (rock with that), Drama, Dogs … you get the idea.

The letter starter should have been posted on February 12th, and due by February 25th. But, as you know by now, I’ve not kept to my own schedule.
So, all I ask is, write a post – a poem, a short story, an opinion piece – on any topic that comes to you to match the letter of the moment, and have it “live” by March 19th (a fortnight away.)

Comments and ping-backs to your own post are welcome. have fun

ABC for 2018 – C (late)


Hoh, boy, am I late…C-images
But then again,  it’s never too late, and it’s better late than never, right?
If I’d kept to my own schedule, this challenge I’m setting for myself (and anyone who wants to take it up) would have been posted wa-a-a-ay back on January 16th!

Take the letter of the challenge, and write a post based on your own word starting with it, and have it “live” in two weeks’ time.

Comments and pingbacks welcome!

(Shoulda been by January 29! Sorry)
(Lynne)

 

 

ABC Goal for 2018 – 1


Well, as there are 26 letters in the Alphabet,image_A
and there are 26 fortnights in a year…
I’ll be posting one post a fortnight,
following the alphabet.

I thought ‘Maybe someone else might enjoy this,
as a challenge during this new year’.

So here’s the first letter (obviously).
Choose any theme, subject or topic you like,
to match each letter I post.

Ideas for ‘A”?
Admiration, Adversity, Autumn (how out of timing is that!) Awards, Acting,
but don’t feel restricted to these suggestions.
All I’d love to see, is the First letter in your post titles being the letter for the fortnight.
Doable?

Publish your post for the current letter by January 14th, please.
Leave a link to you post in the comments below, and a “ping-Back” to this post.

Thank you, and Happy New Blogging Year.

 

Break In


They stood on the front porch, stymied and stupified. Dylon had no key to the front door, and Linda hadn’t brought her key. She’d assumed Dylan would have his with his car key. No.

The spare key lock-box was empty. That meant Adele had taken it, either into her room or – as her car was nowhere to be seen – out with her.

“Let’s call Adele,” said Linda.

Dylan wouldn’t hear of it. No way was his daughter going to learn he’d forgotten to take his key with him.

“We’ll go to the back.”

Linda stretched on tiptoe to reach over the gate to unlatch it.

“I can get a spare key from the garage,” Dylan said. He went through his pockets as he approached the garage door. “Shit. I haven’t got the garage key either.”

Linda checked the doors, just in case they’d left one unlocked. No such luck.

Dylan steamed, Linda fumed…who each was blaming, neither would ever say.

Dylan examined each door…the sliding doors to the lounge and the bedroom were tamper ptoof, as was the wooden door to the laundry.

But…the laundry window?

Dylan turned the screen locks and removed the screen, leaning it against the wall. He didn’t for a minute believe it would, but he tried lifting the sliding window…and it slipped up and out easily.

So, who was to go in through it? Dylan knew he was too large and, at 71 a little too limited.

“I can do it,” Linda said. “I just need something to step up on.”

Thank heavens for absent-minded handyman husbands – he’d left two saw horses outside. Dylan placed one under the window – sort of. One foot was higher than the other three, and as the wall planter for their herbs was right below the window there was quite a space between the saw horse and the sill. Which was at Linda’s bust height.

Now, Linda had her own structural problems, neither age-related, even though she was 65 years old. One hip joint had been replaced, botched, and replaced again, leaving her with the leg an inch shorter than its mate, and limited movement. She had had surgery on the other leg to excise melanoma from the groin, so big a mass and so entwined around the tendons and arteries the surgeon had needed to scrape the cancer from the tendon – leaving even less movement possible.

But, of the two, Linda was the only one who could fit through the window.

She needed a boost from Dylan, but made it to stand on the saw horse. Now, how to pass through the window, now looking much smaller.

“Go through on hands and knees,” Dylan suggested.

Linda couldn’t get a knee up to the sill. “No, I’ll do it this way.”

“Perhaps I’d better try.”

“No, I can do it'” She shuffled herself around on the saw horse, until she had her back to the wall. With her hands behind her on the sill, and one foot on the garden tap, she boosted herself up into the window frame. Not comfortable when it’s an aluminium frame, with a slot-and-groove track for a sliding window pane!

She lifted a cheek so the grooved track fitted more comfortably. Only, now she was facing sideways, but still with both legs hanging off the sill. The leg closest to the window was the least useful leg. Try as she did, the bloody leg would not bend close enough to let her foot pass the frame – even after Dylan pulled her sneaker off.

“Leave it,” Dylan said. “I’ll think of something else.”

“No way – this is fun.”

“Try going through backwards.”

That was going to be awkward – an acrobat Linda was not. She shifted around again. First one cheek, then the other, passed that darned track. Where next…this needed some thinking. If I put my left hand down on the hot tap, and my right hand on the front edge of the tub,  I can start to let myself down onto the washing machine.

She set the plan in motion – and ended up flat on her back on top of the machine, her legs still up on the window frame.

She walked her feet along and down the wall as she turned herself to face the room, all the while laughing like a crazy woman at what she must look like (were anyone watching).

Once on her feet, she unlocked the laundry door for Dylan. He passed her and went to the door into the bathroom.

Shit, oh dear, he had locked the bathroom door from the inside before they’d gone out! Still no entry to their own house!

Dylan remembered he had tools in the boot of the car. Using a screwdriver he popped the bolts from the door hinges, then levered the door out of its frame, hoping the bolt bracket wouldn’t break the door. But no … success. They were in.

Tempting though it was to leave the door between bathroom and laundry, to let Adele see the open plan layout created by her key forgetfulness, Dylan set about replacing the bathroom doors’ locks with ones that could be opened from the “wrong” side, and setting another lock box out beside the lounge door.

The only real disappointment? No one had filmed her hilarious cat burglar impersonation!

Toilet paper from the bottom


Although I prefer the roll to unroll from the top, when Sharon mentioned “from the bottom” and “cats” in her post, I remembered our clever little kitty.

She came to us from the SPCA via my daughter, and had the LOUDEST PURR you can imagine (I wanted her to be named Harley).  Both daughter and I had places to go each day, so Hayley had to learn to use a litter tray. As we were flatting, the litter tray was kept in the bathroom cum shower cum laundry.

Hayley sometimes opened the door and would watch me on the loo, even putting her paws on the seat and peering down into the bowl! (I can laugh now…)

Daughter occasionally forgot about clearing the tray each day. I came home to the flat one day to use the ‘facilities’ and nearly gagged on the tray’s odour.

Then discovered that, beside the loo, there was a pile of toilet paper (as Sharon mentions).

On picking it up to drop into the waste bin, I realised Hayley had in fact pulled down a pile, dropped her own pile, then pulled down another pile to cover her doings. Clever wee kitty! Needless to say, it was all flushed away.

I’ve sometimes wondered why we didn’t smooch her into doing it all the time…who knows, she may have learned to actually perch on the seat for her daily doings. What a time saver that would have been, and So much more healthy.


A memory recalled by Sharon Hughson’s blog post Epiphany on the TP Roll
Click over and have a read.