First Prize

inspired by Fandango’s One Word Challenge (FOWC) of 9 November 2020, hysterical.

The visitors said “way to go”,
When we opened our garden for show,
Our amazing wisteria
Sent them into hysteria
Not to mention our Dappled Willow.

Open Book Blog Hop (wb 9 November 2020)

In her Open Book Blog Hop, Stevie asks:

What would be the hardest thing for you to give up?

Okay, Stevie splits her response into a few different strands, so I shall do the same.

On one level, it is my meds. A couple of things with me were known many years before the stroke, but I certainly didn’t take them seriously and neither, I think, did my doctors. And then I had a stroke. I mean, during that “stroke” event, all the meds were overhauled, but also, I’m much more hands-on.

I think we, as patients, need to have a mindset that a doctor will be happy to advise us as best they can, but when all is said and done, they don’t really give a monkey’s. And that is how it must be – we have to be in charge of our own health. But the flip-side is that we can’t afford to think my doctor’s got me covered. Because they don’t.

Okay, more lightweight things. I use my computer pretty much all day, every day. Especially with the internet, it gives me that level of communication that I don’t have in real life – a lot of stroke survivors lead sedentary lives. The other thing, I worked all my life in programming computers, so I got back into that and it helped me get my brain back, sharpen myself up again. Things like actually using the computer have become harder, nuts and bolts like typing and reading the screen, but I get by.

I’m speaking from experience, here, too, because I did have to give up the computer for about six months after the stroke – my eyes weren’t good enough to see the screen properly. Fortunately that improved, although when I started back again I had to use a magnifying-glass program to see everything. Even now, I listen if I can and have worked out several ways of doing that.

So there’s another thing I wouldn’t like to give up.

Lastly, tea, because… who could?

Incidentally, one thing I managed to do with pretty much no problem was to give up the company of people, specifically during Lockdown. You might be surprised how little my day-to-day life has changed since last year. You might also be surprised how many people, particularly the elderly, this applies to. Okay, coming clean, I live with my wife, but she is all the company I need. The longer this goes on, the more I realise that my world is in my head – and in my computer!

Come Uppance

A couple of comments from last time made me think I should continue this story, and whilst I had the ending in my head, I didn’t really feel I had done it justice on paper, so I wanted to put another nail into this bastard’s coffin. I hope you all share my repugnance of this character.

The story became a tiny bit erotic as I thought it through, something I have never tried before. I am prudish, and feel quite uncomfortable both reading and writing this kind of stuff, and although it is not explicit, please be gentle with me.


Hello, this is Heike once again. I thought I would post a short update to my anniversary tale for you.

Last Sunday, I was enjoying my lie-in. Work seems to be getting harder for me, I work at a garment factory in the town. My eyes often feel tired, they are not so good any more and it is sometimes difficult to maintain the necessary quality. So, I appreciate time away from the factory, especially time when my eyesight is not crucial.

Mark had gone downstairs to brew some coffee, and I could smell the delicious aroma infiltrating the house. Five minutes later, he returned, complete with coffee, some strawberry jam, and a couple of croissants he had just heated for us to share.

While I tucked in, Mark turned on the TV. My croissant finished, I put the plate on my bedside cabinet and muttered to Mark, “turn that down please, I think I will go back to sleep”. With that, I turned over and settled down to continue my nap.

But Mark was not finished. As I was dozing, I felt his hands on my body. Was this real, or was I dreaming? They were so soft, yet firm. Rousing myself slightly, I began to respond. Mark was clearly in the mood – this promised to be a pleasurable start to the day, as I twisted to find more comfortable access.  

Turning over, my eye caught sight of the now-muted TV, where I caught a glimpse of a face I recognised. Suddenly alert, I cried, “hey, there’s your friend, that guy Jaeger. What’s he been doing?” Mark had now twisted so that he, too, could see the TV. “Put the sound on”, I commanded, as Mark reached for the remote.

What was that? An exposé by one of the Sunday newspapers? Kurt Jaeger spotted visiting a prostitute. “Pah, something and nothing”, sighed Mark. “That might have meant something forty years ago, but not now”. But as Mark lost interest, I kept watching. And that’s when the story became interesting. A year underage continued the report, and the coup de grace, that she was of North African origin. There was talk of legal action, but the exposé showed photographs and claimed to have a name, too. Mark was alert once again. This changed things, it could be career-ending, especially for somebody with such public beliefs. This girl was one of the very people Jaeger wished to push back across the sea!

Now watching the programme, the next story came on, and I had just decided that my lie-in would be more attractive, when I felt Mark’s hands again. The day was about to get even better!