Photo Copyright: Jan Wayne Fields
Here we are again and this week we’re gathered near a ruined tent in Rochelle’s driveway. We’ve come together to discuss our original stories for the week. This is the Friday Fictioneer’s group. Our hostess for the gathering is the talented and gracious author and artist, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge for each of us this week and every week is to write a story with no more than 100 words, not counting the title. It’s supposed to have a beginning, middle, end, and be inspired by the picture prompt for the week. This week’s prompt was provided by Rochelle’s husband, Jan Wayne Fields. Thanks, Jan. To read the other stories by group members, just click on the link below, then on the smiling frog. Next, follow the given directions.
Genre: Humor Fiction
Word Count: 100 Words
“Camping Will be Fun,” George said. by P.S. Joshi
“Camping will be fun,” George said.
He’d never been camping but said he’d read about it.
My only defense for being stupid and believing him was my youth. We were seventeen-year-old boys.
We borrowed his uncle’s tent and went to the local park camping grounds. Mercifully, there were no bears there, so we brought our food into the tent in case of rain.
Snug in our sleeping bags, we were drifting off to sleep when I felt itchy. I got up and turned on the lantern.
Ants had smelled our food. In a short time, I decided I’d prefer bears.
First, a description of the use of some farm buildings and their cleaning and upkeep. Next, an amusing and instructive book on offer by Jim Webster. There’s a review by a pleased reader included.
I know there’s a lot of hysteria about at the moment, but I felt things had got a little silly when one person claimed that the current situation in this country was like 1939. I am afraid I pointed out, somewhat brusquely, that in 1939 they had a special census because it’s good to know how many young men you’ve got who are available to die for their country. Also they were frantically issuing gas masks and making plans to evacuate people. Somehow I seem to have missed these preparations.
But actually it started me remembering. I don’t remember 1939, but obviously my parents did. Indeed I must be one of the few people living who used a gas mask of wartime vintage.
Basically I’d be ten or eleven at the time and we had a few hens. Ours were technically free range, which is why we ended up not…
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Beautiful spots in Fawe Park and the Lakes District.
On a scorching Monday morning, we walked the north-west corner of Derwent Water, passing Fawe Park, in Victorian times the scene of access battles and trespassing protests. Battles long over, though, interestingly, there is still an appalling lack of public access on that corner of a very beautiful lake.
Not that there aren’t rights of way – there are. But not as many as along the other banks of Derwent Water. And there is a strong presumption that walkers shouldn’t stray from the signposted tracks. And even as you walk through the beautiful woodland, you are often corralled in between unnecessary fences.
When we think of the need to trespass, we tend to dwell on the battles in the Peak District and the Forest of Bowland – though the Countryside and Rights of Way Act (CRoW) has remedied some of these problems.
But the Lake District has had periods were…
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Once again, Russell has treated us to two stories for the great price of free. If you enjoy these, you can read more by rising to the top, jogging to the left, and clicking on one or both of the book covers there. You can do even more by reblogging this post as I’ve done. Thanks.
Remember when TV stations had local programing? You do? Then you must be as old as Perry Block. For those under forty, let me explain. Back in the golden era of television, stations would do anything to gain viewers and improve ratings. One of the most effective ways to accomplish this was by bringing local children into the studio for fifteen seconds of fame.
Every station in our viewing area (all three of them) had a “Santa Show” where the kids would sit on Santa’s lap and stare dumbfounded at the camera while Santa attempted to gain their attention long enough to learn who they were and what they wanted for Christmas. (A ridiculous premise since he’s already supposed to know those things.)
My favorite local show was Uncle Zeb’s Cartoon Camp. It came out of channel 8 in Tulsa. Uncle Zeb dressed like an old prospector and was…
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