Wordless Wednesday – No words, just pictures. Allow your photo(s) to tell the story.
Can you tell it’s me?
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Wordless Wednesday – No words, just pictures. Allow your photo(s) to tell the story.
Facedown on the pier. Do you have days like this?
Not sure what Wordless Wednesday is or how to participate? Click here for full details.
Are you participating in Wordless Wednesday? Although I am not hosting this challenge, you can leave a link or pingback to your post in the comments section to help promote it to other bloggers.
To help those with eyesight-impaired vision, please remember to complete a description of your photo in the ‘alt-text’ and description boxes of the picture in the WordPress media library. For more details, check my post, Adding Images Or Photos To Your Blog Posts? 4 Essential Things To Do.’
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I’m delighted to welcome Judith Barrow to my blog today, who shares a true story about the perils of holiday letting an apartment.
Having read some of Judith’s other stories of holiday letting, there’s always a humorous side to them which I believe would not only make a fanatics book, but a television comedy show.
Confessions of a Holiday Let – A true story by Judith Barrow
Will Judith’s story have you laughing as much as I did when I read it?
***
For many years we summer let the apartment which is attached to our house.
We had many visitors from other countries staying in our apartment and shared great times with them.
Couples from the USA, Australia enjoyed barbeques on the lawn; long boozy evenings of wine and slightly burned kebabs and steaks, of tall tales and laughter.
Visits to restaurants with people from France and Italy. Long walks and talks on the coastal paths with a couple from New Zealand that we’d met from there on holiday in Christchurch, followed by drinks in local pubs.
We had a German man stay with us for three weeks who’d come to participate in the Iron Man Wales event. He’d worked hard for twelve months, he told us and had to acclimatise himself to the course. Three days before the event, he caught a chest infection and had to drop out. Despite his anti-biotics, he still needed to join Husband in a double whisky that night.
Oh dear, I’m sensing a common theme here.
This is the story of our last visitor for the season one year.
He was a single man. We’ve had people come on holiday alone many times over the years and thought nothing of it. When he arrived, we quickly realised he could only speak a little English, and we couldn’t speak his language at all.
He hadn’t been in the apartment before he came to the door brandishing an empty bottle of washing up liquid.
“Oh, sorry,” I said, “I thought there was plenty in it.”
“Used it.”
An hour later, washing powder was asked for by a demonstration of vigorous scrubbing at a pair of underpants.
“There’s a box of it under the sink.”
“Used it.”
Sunday brought him to the door twice. First, with the sugar bowl.
“Used it.”
Then the salt cellar.
“I thought I’d filled it—”
“Used it.”
‘Used it’ quickly became the watchword whenever we supplied tea bags, vinegar or handing over shoe polish.
Monday, he arrived with an empty tube of glue.
“Sorry, we don’t supply glue.”
He stands, smiling, waggling the tube. “Used it.”
Husband went into his Man Drawer and produced a tube of Super Glue. Scowling. We never found out what the man wanted it for, even though Husband examined everything he could that would need to be stuck the following weekend.
Each day, at least once, the man came to the door to ask for something by waving the empty bottle, carton, container or label at us. Unlike most holidaymakers, he didn’t knock on the back door but always came round to ring the doorbell at the front. In the end, Husband and I would peer through the hall window.
“It’s Mr Used It,” one of us would say. “It’s your turn to go.” Pushing at one another. “You see what he wants this time.”
On Wednesday, he arrived with a cardboard roll.
“There are six more toilet rolls in the bathroom cabinet to the right of the hand basin,” I offered helpfully.
“Used it.”
Seven rolls of toilet paper usually last a couple the whole week. I handed over four more.
“What’s happening in there,” Husband grumbled, “do-it-yourself colonic irrigation?”
On Friday, Husband produced a list. “We should charge for this lot,” he declared. “See?”
It read like a shopping list: milk/salt/sugar/vinegar/butter/tea bags/ coffee/soap/soap powder/toilet paper/shampoo/glue/shoe polish.
“Really?” I said, even though I knew the chap had been a pest. “You’ve been keeping tabs on our guest?”
“Too true.” The husband was indignant. “We could even charge him for overuse of the battery in the doorbell.”
“Except that it’s connected to the electricity.”
“Even worse!” Husband grumped off to his shed.
Saturday morning came, and the doorbell rang. Smiling, the man put his suitcase down onto the ground and, vigorously, shook hands with both of us. He waved towards the apartment.
“Used it,” he said. “Very nice.”
***
Judith Barrow
About Judith Barrow
Judith Barrow is originally from Saddleworth, a group of villages on the edge of the Pennines, in the UK. She now lives with her husband and family in Pembrokeshire, Wales, where she has lived for over forty years.
Judith has an MA in Creative Writing with the University of Wales Trinity St David’s College, Carmarthen. She also has BA (Hons) in Literature with the Open University, a Diploma in Drama from Swansea University.
She is a Creative Writing tutor for Pembrokeshire County Council and holds private one to one workshops on all genres.
She has written all her life and has had short stories, poems, plays, reviews and articles published throughout the British Isles. She only started to seriously write novels after having breast cancer twenty years ago.
When not writing or teaching, she enjoys doing research for her writing, walking the Pembrokeshire coastline and reading and reviewing books.
1914 – and everything changes for Jessie on a day trip to Blackpool. She realises her true feelings for her childhood friend, Arthur. Then just as they are travelling home from this rare treat, war is declared.
Arthur lies about his age to join his Pals’ Regiment. Jessie’s widowed mother is so frightened of the future, she agrees to marry the vicious Amos Morgan, making Jessie’s home an unsafe place for her.
Before he leaves, Arthur and Jessie admit their feelings and promise to wait for each other. Arthur gives Jessie a heart-shaped stone to remember him. But with Arthur far away, their love leaves Jessie with a secret that will see her thrown from her home and terribly abused when she can hide the truth no longer. Faced with a desperate choice between love and safety, Jessie must fight for survival, whatever the cost.
Click on the book cover to buy The Heart Stone
More Books from Judith
Saga of the Howard family
The Memory
Click on the book covers to buy Judith’s books.
My thanks to Judith for writing this guest post.
If you have any questions or comments for Judith, please leave them in the comments section. She’d be delighted to hear from you.
Do you have a true story you’d like to share on my blog? Contact me via the ‘Contact Hugh’ button on the menubar.
“Strawberry cheesecake ice cream? A family-sized fruit and nut chocolate bar? Iced-coconut sponge? What the heck is going on, Simon?”
“Comfort, you said, so I got you some of your favourite comfort foods. I thought the popcorn would bring back memories of our first date. These will all make you feel better. Oh, there’s one more thing.”
Julia rummaged around the shopping bag, hoping he’d got her what she wanted.
“Hot-cross buns? Are you kidding me? When I said comfort, I meant something I could put on my piles so I could sit down and be more comfortable!”
My recent post, The Trouble With Chocolate, where I dissected a commercial for a bar of Galaxy chocolate (Dove in the U.S.A), which features an Audrey Hepburn look-a-like, had me wondering what on earth happened to Audrey after she got in that strange man’s car.
Here is the commercial again, before I give you my version of what I think happened. Have a look at it, and then allow me to pick up the story for you.
The cool breeze passed Audrey’s face. The area around her mouth, now covered with chocolate, felt a little stiff but smelled heavenly.
She looked down as the stranger driving the car stared at her through the rear-view mirror. His eyes were a deep, dark brown, almost the same colour as the chocolate smothered across her face. She looked up again and wondered why he was driving a right-hand drive vehicle when they were in Italy? Then she remembered, but the answer disappeared as quickly as the chocolate had, once she had got the wrapper off. She still held the world record for eating a bar of Galaxy.
The stranger could not take his eyes off her, narrowly missing a group of chickens and a lady balancing a wheelbarrow on one eyebrow while standing on one leg. Even with her face and dress covered in melted chocolate, he still thought she was beautiful.
He remembered the day he had seen her buying that dress. Blowing kisses at him, she had flirted with him in front of other customers in the shop while he strolled around looking for somewhere to sit down. Then, unfortunately, he had mistakenly walked into a double D cup being worn by a mannequin at least a foot taller than him. The bra had made direct contact with his right eyeball, causing to him shout “ouch” and startle several other customers. By the time he had wiped away the tears, she had gone into the fitting room.
I’ll have to buy a new pair of gloves, she thought to herself, after using them to wipe away the chocolate off her face. Oh, how she wished somebody had invented stain remover. Then she thought she’d try to get away with giving them a quick rinse under the garden tap. “Damn!” she said to herself, having remembered she’d forgotten to bring her heartburn tablets off the old man sitting next to her on the bus.
The stranger blew her a kiss in the rear-view mirror, and she raised a hand to catch it, but a gust of wind caught one of the loose gloves in her hand, and she turned her head and watched it come to rest on the road. He did not stop the car, for he was full of excitement and wanted to get her to the other side of the hill as quickly as he could. He had big plans for the evening, so he put a little more pressure on the accelerator pedal.
No words had passed between them when the car finally came to a stop. He looked at her once more through the rear-view mirror while she picked up her handbag and fumbled inside it. She finally looked up at the building, now in front of her, her glance immediately going to the upstairs windows where she knew the excitement would begin. She felt so excited by the thought of what was about to happen; the heartburn tablets and the woman with the yellow bowl stuck on her head on the bus no longer mattered.
He finally got out of the driver’s seat and walked around, opening the door for her so she could step out. She was totally unaware that the wrapper from the chocolate bar was stuck to the back of her dress as she rose herself up from the back seat.
He put out his hand to help her out, and melted chocolate passed from her hand to his. The excitement for both was now nearing take off. It would not be long before they were inside the beautiful villa where all the waiting would finally come to an end. She looked up at him as he wiped his hand on the back of her dress.
“Why did you accelerate so quickly to get us here? I was enjoying the ride,” she romantically whispered to him.
Putting his solid and rugged arms around her and looking her straight in the eyes, the stranger finally spoke to her.
“The soft top of the car hood is stuck again, and the garage couldn’t fix it. Plus, I think there’s rain on the way because my knees have gone a little stiff. I’m off to watch the football. Stick the car in the garage will you before you have your bath. Your mother is dropping off the kids in ten minutes, and the dog needs walking.”
Audrey’s chocolate-scented bubble bath would have to wait.
Can chocolate be trouble? Yes, in my books, it can, and Audrey Hepburn is to blame!
I’m really bothered, severely troubled, and it’s all to do with this commercial. aa
So there you have it. Cute commercial, yes? But, where does the word ‘trouble’ come into it and why am I bothered by what Audrey Hepburn is up to on that bus?
Now, I know some of you are shaking your heads and looking at me as if I’ve just announced I’ve purchased a cat flap for a submarine, but please stay with me on this and let me tell you why I think that commercial has made me believe chocolate is nothing but trouble.
Maybe the trouble is to do with the beautiful scenery right at the beginning?
Is it the beautiful Audrey Hepburn look-a-like sat on the bus? She does have incredible eyes, doesn’t she? All sort of puppy looking and adorable.
Is it what she reveals is inside her handbag when she opens it?
Oh, wait! What about the handsome chap who pulls up in the car beside the bus? No, he’s not my type, and why is there a woman sitting on the bus with a yellow bowl on her head? Did you see her? Yes?
Now, where was I? Oh yes, what was inside Audrey’s handbag. Now considering she’s sat on a hot bus (because it’s a beautiful sunny day outside and the commercial is set in a hot country), should that chocolate bar not have melted in her handbag? Does the guy sitting next to her look like he needs some Gaviscon? To me, it seems like he has heartburn. Are you still shaking your head?
Is it the music and the song, Moon River, that is the problem, or what about the singer’s voice? Beautiful voice, yeah, but wouldn’t make it on X-Factor or The Voice. Besides, I prefer the original version.
Then there’s that guy in the car. He may be good-looking, but, believe me, I don’t think he’s the one who is trouble. OK, I wouldn’t turn down an offer of a beer with him just to find out what hair products he uses and discuss why Barbie and Ken never got married, but, believe me, it’s not him.
Right, back to the commercial. Is that a pumpkin on the road Audrey passes when she gets off the bus? Did they have big ripe pumpkins in the middle of summer in the 1950s, and why has somebody painted what looks like two caterpillars above Audrey’s eyes? I’m sure they’re moving around her face.
Could it be the rugged bus driver that is the trouble? Is it him I want to see in place of Audrey on the bus? Well, no, because who would then drive the bus? Audrey? Not with the shoes she’s wearing. No way! I’d be off that bus quicker than my Aunt Mary being chased down Dagenham High Street by two Store Detectives after sticking a frozen turkey up her jumper and making a run for it.
Now, back to the good-looking man in the car. Do you think he has a big head? I only ask, as when Audrey puts the bus driver’s cap on him before getting into his car, it looks at least two sizes too small for him. On the other hand, maybe the bus driver has a small head? After all, he is bald. Perhaps that is why the cap is far too small for the good-looking man driving the car? What do you think?
How on earth did Audrey get the chocolate bar out of her handbag as the good-looking man whisked her off in his car? I never saw her open her bag and get the chocolate out. Did you? And, come on, Audrey, would you really get into a strange man’s car without even asking his name?
Want to know what happened to Audrey after being driven off in that strange man’s car? Was there really romance in the air? Click here for all the details.
Two sugar sachets are on the saucer. The teaspoon looks rusty and dirty from too many dishwasher washes. Never mind, the coffee looks good, and it’s a beautiful day here on Mumbles seafront.
I take my first sip, and then it begins.
“Hello, Brian, can you hear me……I’m on the mobile……can you hear me, Brian?”
Bit of a pause.
“Brian, can you……what?…….what did you say, Brian?”
Longer pause.
“I’m ringing to find out if…….Brian, are you still there?”
Bit of a pause.
“OK, I’m waving now. Can you see me?”
Pause
“Well, I’m waving. Hold on, I’ll get Margaret to wave.”
Margaret starts to wave her hand.
“Can you see us?”
Pause
“Well, I can’t understand it; we’re both waving. Are you there, Brian? Can you hear me?”
Pause
“Yes, I was ringing to find out if it was working?”
Pause
“No, I said, I was ringing…….Brian, can you hear me? Perhaps you can’t hear what I’m saying?”
Pause.
“OK, I’ll get Margaret to wave again. Hold on.”
Margaret waves again, and a small girl passing by, licking an ice cream cone, waves back at her.
“Can you see her waving, Brian? I’m waving now as well. Can you see us?”
Pause.
“No, I’ve been to the Opticians. My eyes are OK. I wasn’t ringing about that; I was ringing about the……”
Longer pause.
“No, my eyes are fine. They said I could continue with the glasses I’ve had for the last… hello…Brian, can you hear me? Are you still there, Brian?”
He looks at the phone.
“I think he’s gone, Margaret.”
He puts the phone back to his ear.
“Brian, are you still there?”
By this time, I had gulped my coffee down, wanting to get away, but then he looked at the phone again, and this time he closed it up, since it was one of those clam-style phones. I thought about getting another coffee and maybe a cake to continue my people-watching, but then his phone rang.
“Hello…Brian, is that you? Can you hear me?”
Not wanting to find out what he wanted to know was working; Toby and I made a rapid departure.
We enjoyed a lovely, quiet walk home along the beach without the sound of any mobile phones going off.
Have you ever overheard a one-sided conversation? What was it about?
What? I almost married Lara Croft? OK, I don’t mean ‘the’ Lara Croft, do I, just somebody else with the same name as her?
Well, no, I mean the most famous Lara Croft there has ever been. She is a full- has the body most men desire and most women envy.time tomb raider and
Our relationship started in August 1997 when a friend loaned me a copy of “Tomb Raider” for the Sony PlayStation 1. I’d had the PlayStation for some months but was already bored until my friend introduced me to Lara Croft.
When I inserted the game disc into the PlayStation and pressed the play button, I fell in love with the only woman who would ever pull at my heartstrings.
I would spend countless evenings, nights, and weekends with Lara. It even got to the point that I would no longer go out on a Saturday night. Instead, I would spend the evening at home with Lara while my friends danced the night away, having fun, socialising, meeting new people, and enjoying each other’s company, while I only had eyes for Lara.
She’d take me to far-off places worldwide, Peru, Mongolia, Egypt, and India, to name a few. She’d protect me from killer bats, bears, lions and weird monsters I never knew existed. I followed her everywhere and ensured nothing horrible happened to her while on our travels.
I even remember that Saturday afternoon, I sat down with her at 5:15, and before we knew it, the clock told us it was 4.05 Sunday morning. But it didn’t matter then, as we were both in love and saw each other daily.
The day we got engaged was beautiful. By now, I knew I had met the perfect woman, and I was sure that Lara felt the same way about me. Why wouldn’t she? After all, I’d spend all my free time with her and tell my work colleagues about her. I know some of them envied me for having caught myself one of the most beautiful and sexiest women in the world, but others were happy for me and wanted to hear more about the adventures Lara and I were having.
I begged Lara to let me buy her an engagement ring, but she was having none of it. Well, not at that moment anyway, as she had dangerous work and would never forgive herself if she lost the ring while working. She promised me I could buy her an engagement ring just as soon as she had solved the mystery she was working on. But that day never came, and it wasn’t long after that when things started to go downhill, and our wedding day kept getting further and further away.
I’d gone everywhere with her on her first two adventures. While she worked at solving mysteries and puzzles, I earned the money that would pay for our wedding and first home together. We both knew that nothing could part us when she started her third adventure, but how wrong we would be. I’ll be honest and say that her experiences were getting too difficult for me. But that was because I’d started going out again, socialising, meeting friends, having a real laugh, enjoying the world around me, catching up on gossip, TV and the movies. Meanwhile, Lara continued her adventures without me, never wanting to accompany me.
“Most of your friends don’t like me”, she’d told me the day it all went pear-shaped, and I’d realised she was right. I also learned that Lara had put quite a big gap between my friends and me and that I was almost losing them and my life! Not only that, but she’d also put a strain on another relationship, the most important one, the one I’d had since 1993 and, to this day, is stronger than ever. Would my partner ever forgive me?
I finally ended my relationship with Lara and called off the wedding. I thought she’d be distraught, especially when I told her I was also selling my PlayStation. But she simply walked away with the man who had purchased the PlayStation from me, and I never heard from her again.
Do I have any regrets about what happened? No. I’m happy I found my life again and have never been tempted to contact Lara…Ever!
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