Thirst

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I need a drink

Cola

No

Cocoa

No

Coffee

No

Gin

No

Beer

No

Cider

No

Milk

No

Whiskey

No

Tea

No

Orange Juice

No

Water

Yes

Cold

Yes

With ice

Yes

Sparkling

Yes

Tap water

YES.

why spend money on water if you can get it out of the tap?  We are very lucky in my country to be able to have freshly piped water. In a lot of the World this does not happen.

But we still buy water in bottles! And when we have bought our bottles water the plastic bottle it usually comes in gets thrown away and Sent to landfill or ends up floating in the ocean and destroying the sea life. Meanwhile many people in the world have to drink filthy water and maybe carry it for miles before they can drink or use it. Maybe we should care more about people who are really thirsty. My choice of drinks is almost unlimited. The world must try and be fairer.

Save the world, drink tap water if you can!

Threshold, whiskey galore?

#writephoto looking-out-1

For Sue Vincent’s Thursday #writephoto prompt.

‘Well it was like this officer’ she said, ‘we were down on the beach and saw the cave’. She sneezed, the cold was getting into her bones ‘ it reminded me of the film “whiskey galore” based on the book by Compton MacKensie, so we decided to explore it. We scrambled down the rocks and walked past the waterfall. We went straight in because it had started to lash down with rain, so it was a chance to get under shelter too’

‘About what time was that?’ the policeman had a little hand held computer which he typed into. Not as interesting as a notebook she thought.

‘Around 10am yesterday.’ she pulled the silver space blanket tighter around her shoulders. ‘We are on holiday, we don’t know about the tides’ She looked down at her husband lying on a stretcher  The ambulance people had put an oxygen mask on him and dressed the cut on his head. He gave her a little wave.

‘Yes, the tide came in while we were exploring, the cave goes back so far and the water just came up before we knew it. We were in waist deep water, but the waves were pushing us deeper in when we tried to swim out. In the end we found a ledge to sit on…. .’ the policeman was still typing ‘so what happened then?’ ‘we tried using our phones but they wouldn’t work, they had got a soaking, we tried wading out, but by then we were too cold. So we just sat as close together as we could.’

She sighed ‘ we must both have fallen asleep because when we woke up again the tide had come back in. We were exhausted and decided to wait till morning. My husband stood up to stretch and that’s when he cracked his head on the rock’. ‘So that’s when we found you’ said the policeman. ‘It was the landlady at your B&B that alerted us’

‘one thing’ he said ‘what’s that wrapped in your coat?’

‘This? It’s an old bottle of 25 year old single malt’ she smiled.

Titchy play: Monster

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I wrote three little plays for the Titchy Theatre yesterday.  They were read out at the show. I will post them here one a day.

Monster (tourist to reporter – look south or some such channel)

Reporter : so where did you see it?

Tourist : down by the quay, you know, the harbour?

R: and was it big?

T: well… It was as big as a boat, no… A ship

R: what did it look like?

T: er…. It had glowing all over it

R: what sort of lights?

T: Well… Yellow-ish. Like Glowing yellow eyes, and I think it had huge teeth too!

R: why?

T: it seemed to have a grill or something over its mouth, but you could see light shining through… You know… Glowing like an alien?

R: did it make a noise?

T: yes, a very low humming, and a metallic, clanking noise.

R: so…. how do you feel?

T: very scared. I’ve never seen anything like it before

R: can I ask you where you’re from?

T: oh yes. Stoke-on-Trent

R: so … Have you ever been to the seaside before?

T: oh yeah. You know, magaluf, Malaga, Ibetha.

R: and there was nothing like this there?

T: No… Just always sunny, and at night we went off and partied… The other thing I remember is this long wailing noise! I mean, it was foggy, so I could only sense the looming figure  the Monster…. .!!

R: OK. Well…. We checked with the Coast Guard… .

T: Yeah??

R: the wailing noise was from the lighthouse foghorn.

T: Oh

R: And the big, dark, lit-up ship thing.

T: Yes?

R: Was a car ferry…….

Christine Mallaband-Brown

 

Tidal waves of books

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Tidal waves of books,

Sloshing round my room,

Pouring down from bookcases

Dripping from tables,

Making a beach of pamphlets

Puddles of novels

A tide of documents.

I sit in a paper sailing boat

Atop an ocean of biography.

Littered with paperbacks

Swimming with pratchett turtles

and the old man of the sea.

I’m drowning in books,

Flooded by books

Waves crashing over my head.

Whirlpools of literature ……..

Memory of the sea

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Sunny day, top of the steps, Rhyl.

Over beyond this wall is my sea, the one I remember as a child, the one we visited on steam trains when I was very young.

Out beyond this wall the beach is flat and spreads far out. The sand is yellow and ochre. There are ridged ripples in the sand caused by the waves. Lines of groynes (posts with flat planks in between) hold back the waves and stop the long shore drift washing the sand away. New sea defences have been built to try and prevent flooding during storms. In summer planes fly over for Rhyl air show. Thousands of people arrive in mid summer like a migrating flock of starlings to see the show. Then disappear as quickly. Sometimes the days are wet and windy, other times the sun beats down and uv rays and ozone help burn your skin.

This old lamp post was once lit with gas. Now it’s rusting in the salt air. It looks like it was highly decorated in years gone by. Rhyl itself sometimes feels like time is leaving it behind. There are attempts to restore its faded glory though. If you want to see the sea its worth a visit. Just follow the A55 road North West of Chester and on into Wales.

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Eye don’t know…

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Something appeared on the cliffs above the village that night, but no one saw it till much later.

The wedding had gone well and the happy couple were now on their way to catch a plane to their honeymoon destination. The rest of the party were sleeping the evening off either in the hotels 6 guest rooms, or in the two bed and breakfasts in the old harbour.

Half of the village had been invited and were now dreaming of the festivities while the other half were either too young or too elderly to have gone.

A dark figure, about eight foot wide, was shambling along the path down from the cliff. It’s movements were jerky, like an accordion being played, several legs moved in a strange caterpillar like rhythm and gleaming eyes looked out in long rows along its sides.

Most peculiar of all was its gaping mouth. This was filled not with teeth, but with arm like protruberances which ended in long thin suckes. Each of about twenty arms could reach out of its mouth to either lift or pull objects. They were also able to grasp things and pull them inside the thing.

A feral cat was stalking a mouse as the strange being came round a corner of the pathway. The alien seized the cat with one of its suckers and pulled it into its mouth which snapped with an audible crunch as it closed.

As the light came again to the village open doors greeted the dawn. Most were torn from their hinges. Others wear ripped apart as if a chain saw had cut through them.

Of the villagers there was no sign, the guests who had come down from towns and cities were gone. There were strange gouged marks on the roadway leading to the harbour wall, but no sign of life. Even the sea birds had gone.

Only the lighthouse keeper further up the valley had seen something glowing and gleaming in the dark, but he was saying nothing.

(I seem to be writing more of these, I’m trying to work out how to describe things. To make up a story that is slightly different, not too derivative?) all writing and art copyright Christine Mallaband-Brown 2019.