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> Home Made Tales, The journey
peter.howden
post 24th Nov 2020, 07:56pm
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DEAR SANTA.

Some Jezebel has just broken my childish heart by ranting and raving how there is no Santa Clause, or Missus Clause. That naughty woman, havered and hooted how I was just a big Jessie, besides trusting a fairy tale fit for a bairn. My whole world has been crushed, hoodwinked, or was it a figment of my imagination…or a willingly wish. Even when central heating was installed, I blindly believed the magic main Christmas man coming through the ventilator.

Bravely hiding the pain, as tears fell while telling the poison dwarf to put on her jaiskit and bugger off …and what she could do with Goldilocks. Secretly I bought this magic portion of Reindeer food, which would attract Rudolf and the rest of the sledge team, straight to my back yard on the illustrious enchanted night for all good boys and girls.

From the pantomime, I know not to give away my five magic beans, but I do not wish to disclose how much I paid for the feed, in case the old hag was right, making me look a bigger fool than I am. The guy that sold me the unique nosh; rubbed his hands with absolute glee, then mentioned something about baby Jesus by quoting… “One born every moment…and some mothers do have them?”

Bizarrely , I’m became a tad worried about the Tooth fairy, for each night, I take out my teeth, yet in the morning… no monies or gratuity is left. I just thought she could not swim, or she was frightened of water….even when it was in a tumbler.

P.s….I hope this will not affect my Easter chocolate egg and mister Bunny

P.P.S. Santa: I miss you….From a 908-month-old nice little boy
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peter.howden
post 25th Nov 2020, 07:09pm
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My Chronicles 25/11/2020

We are advised another 4-week lockdown for the home in which Aunt Becky is residing. Also, two weeks ago, the residents were asked to take the test, Becky refused this time around. The whole inhabitants, including staff, casual or full time have been tested in the past, however, if an individual refuses, the staff must abide. The matron informed me they are monitoring her day by day, and Aunt Becky is fine, although fragile
There is strange thing about our lockdown, this time around…it exist close to; ‘Get me out of here…I’m no celebrity’, plus a ‘Two way Stretch!’. ‘She who must be obeyed’, and myself, want the freedom to wander at will…go somewhere…anywhere, just for the hell of it, yet there is a hidden comfort of safety behind our front door. Rebecca is making Christmas Cards and knitting wee weird teddies, while being the dominating male, painting outside Inanimate objects, mainly huge boulders surround our lawn. Calling it a lawn is not only stretching the truth…its beyond basic honesty, for the green patch of grass, moss and weeds is so bumpy…you need climbing boots to walk on it?

Some 12 days ago, in the supermarket, I purchased a packet of assorted sticky sweet dates which Rebecca has dished out a selection of them during weekdays. These ‘Phoenix dactylifera’ fruits, mentally transported me way back to around 6/7/8 years old, early Christmas’s, where dates of the same calibre were the main treat for the whole family. I don’t consider myself as vain, but I lost the front tooth of my dentures top plate with teasing out a stone… I was now in a quandary.

Due to such damage proved an inability adjusting to dine…and coherent communication without wallies proved nigh impossible. Fortune shone on being thrifty, as stored in a sock drawer for 15 years, were a redundant set. As for the false tooth, displaced by vigorous gnawing the stone from the date’s skin, there was a near certain chance being swallowed in all the excitement and flurry.

Then two possibilities rose from the confusion…To have the plate completely repaired once it the foreign body came out from its wrong end unwanted captivity. Or await for the naughty virus vaccine to be discovered…allowing attendance at the dentist for a new replacement set…which one was chosen?
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peter.howden
post 30th Nov 2020, 09:21am
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The Puppet who could not talk(1/2)

There was nothing really unusual about the puppet, except a kind of cute wee nose, next to his one eye twisting around to follow you wherever you may stand. He was adopted by a courteous little girl who lovingly cuddled him, and covered him with doting kisses each night, ever since she received him as a late gift from an auntie, she never knew she had. The little girl carried the puppet everywhere she went, making sure he was on her pillow each night before her night-light went on. She told him stories, and nursery rhymes she learnt during the day, and just before she fell asleep, she kissed him warmly on his scraped head. He was a hand puppet.

One day as the family were passing a not so pleasant part of their large town, without noticing, the wee girl accidentally dropped the puppet out of her grasp. It had been the little girl’s fathers fault, for as he was carrying her, he jolted the lassie just before crossing the road. In a nervous reaction her grip slackened and so the puppet unnoticed tumbled down to the street below…landing in the gutter. The puppet saw his family move away quickly in big strides, hurrying from the strange dim streets

Luckily, it had stopped raining, however the puppet fell in the only puddle around the manky kerb, causing his fine attire plus his mittens being soaked with dirty water. By a bizarre quirk of fate, a dog happened to be sniffing around trying to find a lead on other mutts around the vicinity. His nose was telling him nothing was happening…so in a fit of pique, roughly picked up the sodden puppet and carried it dripping in his unwelcoming teeth

Wandering around through a couple of streets, the dingy mutt whiffed new prospects in the air, dropping the puppet at the side of a well-kept garden, moving on to investigate where the scents were coming from. Rather undignified, the dazed hand puppet landed on his head, lay there for some considerable time. As night was approaching, he began to fret for he had never been out in the darkness. The puppet was terrified from words unspoken, some awful stories about the goings on happening to unexpected travellers during the hours of nightfall….we don’t really know what happens when the black cover takes over.
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peter.howden
post Today, 08:46am
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THE PUPPET WHO COULD NOT TALK(2/2)


As the last glimmer of light struggled with the all-consuming darkness, unexpectedly the puppet felt warm hands around his now soggy clothing, being carried into warmth and dryness. The mystery saviour decided the next morning to place him, in all his glory in the garden, as a sort of mascot, protected from the worst parts of the rain and wind. His new abode appealed to him, though for some reason he could not forget the innocent kindness from the wee girl. In her house he stayed in the bedroom, with occasional trips throughout and beyond. Several times he slept on her pillow along with her favourite doll. No kissing took place, but it was cosy.

The marionette did not know how long he was there, in the garden, however the sun went down a few times and let lose the eery dark mist. Sometimes the puppet was very scared. One day from over the next door’s gate, as they had a habit of feeding the birds, a piece of bread fell on his head. A magpie came cruising down, but instead of just pecking the bread, the big beak bird lifted the bread and puppets head, flew as fast as his wings would carry him.

Flying over lots of chimney tops, the magpie must have realized it was only the bread he was after and dropped puppet from his beak. Down and down went the puppet, until he landed on something really soft. At last he will return to lovely stories, and a cosy pillow to lay my head, he thought. The Puppet had no way of knowing he had landed on a builders skip. Composing himself, he realized he could see the little girl’s house, just across the street. The joy in the puppet was overwhelming…for now he was sure he would be found, and all of this nightmare would vanish.

Early next morning, the wee girl came out of the house, walking with her mum, heading straight for where puppet was. He saw her up close, obviously been crying for me, thought the puppet, as I have been crying for her. He tried to catch her attention, but could not speak, or even make a noise on his own? Everybody knew this but he did not. He watched her walk away into the distance as her echo disappeared into the crowd. Puppet sobbed and wept.

He heard her giggling when she came back from school, with her mummy, and pass right underneath where puppet was trapped. He tried to call again, but it was hopeless as she vanished behind her front door. Well, thought the puppet; “at least I will see her every day going to school, and I know I will cry some more; but it is a comfort! I’ll even overcome my frighteners of the blackness?... his hopes were raised.

What the hand- puppet, and the little girl, did not know…. was the builder had finished with this skip load, was having it dump the very next day……
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