Wash your mouth out, fool.

Flash fiction: Living the dream

CLEANING the floor looked easy on TV.

An actress jauntily sprayed fluid then melted into some rugged man’s arms. Janet Masters wiped black gunge from the hall carpet off her hands, cursing herself for believing the hype.  

She sighed and headed to peel more potatoes, willing her husband home. Shepherd’s Pie was Mike’s favourite and she’d splashed out on a bottle of Cava.

Q&A from Mrs Lister

 
IT'S a long time since I have been included in a meme but I do like a good tagging. Erica has included me in the people she'd like to see answer questions from Mrs Lister. So here you go.

Which living person do you most admire, and why? 

My business partner Carol springs to mind first as she was told when she was a child that she would never walk and never have children. Of course she has done both and so much more. People sometimes say we are like a double act, sisters or an old married couple. The last comparison is the most realistic as we bicker a fair bit and never have sex. I'd also include Pc David Rathband.

Short story: A sweet surprise

PAULINE Walters hated her job. Dishing out doughnuts from a van at a garden centre wasn’t exactly a vocation.

 “Come and get them, you know you want them,” she yelled. She didn’t sound convinced. Often her voice was drowned out by Beyonce.

“If you like it you should have put a ring on it,” blared out from a speaker in the van. Pauline wanted to disappear. It was her husband Henry’s idea of a joke. Every time Pauline heard the word 'ring', she looked at a doughnut and cringed a little.

“This’ll get the punters flocking,” said Henry. Pauline preferred Sugar Sugar. It had been good enough for the last eighteen months.
People pictured Amazonian women dancing when Beyonce sang, thought Pauline, not a 52-year-old in a van emblazoned with “Heaven’s Doughnuts”.

Short story: Lady Muck's last stand

'COME on Love, move your arse,’ Mum coaxes. I don’t want to go.

Squirming with embarrassment as she entertains more screeching women at another 40th birthday party is no fun.

I’d rather be practising my music. I'd love to do it at college, but the tuition fees are out of reach. We sold my violin when Dad lost his job. I study when I can, with a borrowed violin.

Mum reckons I’m the next Myleene Klass – erm, with a different instrument and no bikini.

Short story: A way with words

THIS was the first Sexy MoFo party Alison had been to in ages.

She was just through the door and sex toys saleswoman Muriel was holding court about “a different sort of stiff.”

Muriel was going to retrain as an undertaker.

“’Ere, your customers'll still have more life in ‘em than my Steve,” bawled Alison's friend Sam.

Six other 40-something women seemed oblivious as they giggled over a clutch of vibrators on the mantelpiece.

This wasn’t the inviting scene Alison had imagined. Surely there should be more of a build up before they got stuck in?

What's a mum? With no apologies to Persil

 

YOU'VE got to love a bit of nostalgia, haven't you?

Here's my take on a modern day version of a recent Persil ad.

A mum is someone who saves to buy her kids a Wii activity mat

Then spends the money going to see Take That instead

 

Poem: Blogger's lament

I don't want to watch Dancing on Ice tonight
If it's all the same to you

I'll canter starkers through the lounge
Then watch what you'll do 

Sorry I can't give you a lift today
Here's hoping you won't mind

When I disgrace myself at an all night gig
And see what fun I'll find.

While you think I fool upstairs with my blog,
Weaving one post after another

Truth is I've shimmied down the drainpipe
To wrestle an energetic lover

* I posted this as I attempted an earlier poem and people said it sounded sad. I hope this one is happier!

There was also this earlier poem, which I enjoyed writing.

On turning the air blue in the supermarket and other adventures up the aisles

Photo by daveknapik on Flickr

EVER wondered what goes on behind the scenes to bring you your weekend news?

Once this involved me standing by the satsumas in Sainsbury’s yelling "cock".

I'm surprised I didn't get arrested - or escorted off the premises at the very least.

Interview with author Keris Stainton

KERIS Stainton is one of the sweetest people you could ever meet. Totally unassuming and modest, she is a fabulous writer and blogger and now, don't you know, author of Della Says: OMG!

Della’s over the moon when she kisses her long-standing crush at a party – but then she discovers her diary has disappeared... When scans of embarrassing pages are sent to her mobile and appear on Facebook, Della’s distraught – how can she enjoy her first proper romance when someone, somewhere, knows all her deepest, darkest secrets?

Here's an interview with Keris to mark publication of her first young adult novel, which I can't wait to read.

This interview will also be appearing at Judith's Room by the way.

Choose three words to describe yourself

Determined. Excitable. Short.

Journalism.co.uk: Ten blindingly obvious things I learned in my first year as an author

1.  A book launch may be more hassle than it’s worth This time last year, I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. My first book, the modestly titled Greatest Freelance Writing Tips in the World had just been published. Holding some initial copies in my quivering hands, I’d felt a rush of pride. Now here I was, preparing for my very own book launch. Then one by one, more than half the confirmed guests dropped out. My heart sank. Even though local paper reports and reviews followed and those lovely guests who did come along were overwhelmingly positive, I was disappointed. In hindsight I can see my expectations were unrealistic. But I hated feeling like Billy no-mates.