Ex – SoCS Aug 6/16

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“F U N E X ?”

Those of you who are of a certain age, those of you who are British, those of you who were brought up on 1970s British comedy as a staple of the only 3 TV channels available to us back then (and sometimes, I wish it was still the case, too much choice these days!) will recognise this question, that started off a whole conversation consisting of letters and numbers only, courtesy of The Two Ronnies – Ronnie Barker and Ronnie Corbett. And for those of you who have no idea what F U N E X means, it’s “Have you any eggs?”

As a little girl I remember laughing like a drain at some of the things The Two Ronnies got up to in their sketches. Of course, their comedy was on two levels, as some of the best comedy is, fun for children, and more risque humour for the parents. It was true family viewing.

I’ll leave a video below, so that if you want to watch the whole sketch, you can.

Ah, the 1970s… it had it’s own special flavour! Rose-tinted for me probably, because I had a great childhood. I remember playing outdoors in the garden a great deal, making up stories in my head for my Sindy doll (she was a world class gymnast in honour of Nadia Comaneci), writing (but never finishing) boarding school stories (I read so many Mallory Towers, St Clare’s and Chalet School books it probably wasn’t healthy!) and making Hallowe’en Jack o’ Lanterns with my step-dad to greet my mum from the window when she came home from her studies in the evening.

Gosh – this is a real stream of consciousness post – I hope my ramblings haven’t been too incoherent!.

Please enjoy the video of the sketch ‘Swedish Made Simple’ and find out the answer to ‘F U N E X ?”! (It’s slightly risque and of course, comedy of its time. I certainly didn’t understand at least one of the references made to a certain type of Swedish films at the beginning!).

 


It’s Saturday once more (hallelujah!), and time for the lovely Linda’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt. This week, she has asked us to write on ‘ex’. I’ve takena sideways approach to this – it was truly the first thing that came to mind!

Please head on over to Linda’s blog to see what other writes have been inspired by!

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Bitter sun – Poetic Bloomings

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the (hang)-dog days of summer

tangle themselves in my hair

and the curlicue corkscrews plaster themselves

to my forehead, shiny and greasy with sweat.

I attempt to cool myself

and enjoy a chilled glass of wine

but all I get is a headache

a dry mouth and a hankering for shade.

Summer nights under the stars ain’t all that –

in the northern hemisphere,

once the sun has gone and the sky is cloudless

you’re wishing for your duvet

and a hot cup of tea.

stars may be beautiful, tiny jewels above your head

but they don’t protect you from the chill

and crawling gooseflesh skin.

Yah, kissed by the sun is just  a euphemism –

for scorching sunburn –

for skin raked raw by sand

and swimsuit straps,

and don’t even tell me about trying to pat yourself dry after that needle-sharp shower.

Me? I love summer…


 

Here’s my latest offering to my new found love – ah, Poetic Bloomings, you are a treasure! Tonight, we are asked to use four (or more) of the ten phrases that are often used to sum up the summer experience.

I had great fun with this – and please, take it all as tongue in cheek. I love what passes for Summer here in the UK, although I do wish we had more, errr, sun!

Please do hope on over to Poetic Bloomings to take part, or just read and enjoy!

Young Man! – Sunday Photo Fiction

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Rumour has it that the bells of St Christopher’s refused to be tolled since the Reverend de Montfort left to visit his oldest and most far-flung parishioner, Jacob Reader on the afternoon of 25th July last year

The Reverend, an energetic and forthright man was robust, sensible and didn’t suffer fools gladly. As the warden often said, the vicar was definitely not a pushover.

A single man, the Reverend had fended himself all his life, only allowing the Church to fund an office manager so that his diary remained organised and his days well-planned.

So his disappearance was definitely out of character, and his parishioners mourned his loss with vigour.

As the anniversary of the Reverend’s disappearance approached, the men and women of the parish wondered when the Bishop would admit that the beloved clergyman was gone for good.

They were all rudely awoken by celebratory pealing of the church bells as the sun rose on Sunday, 25th July. Reverend d Montfort strode down the village high street, wonder in his eyes, a smile on his lips. On his arm was a beautiful young man, a true Adonis.

“Chris, welcome to my church, my village, my parish. Isn’t it lovely?”

“Oh yes, Robert, it is. Uncle Jake is a lucky, lucky man.”

The parishioners were stunned at the turn of events, but were pleased to have Reverend back and truly happy after all these years. Especially the warden, who said that young Chris was a delight, to anyone that would listen.

 

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Here’s my latest entry into Alistair’s Sunday Photo Fiction. He supplies us with his own wonderful photos, so deserves our support! Happy Sunday, all….

Do take part if you have time, or just pop over and read the other entries.