Tag Archives: Generations

FF – Pins

Image copyright Ted Strutz


Tony, it’s Mum. I’m here!

Great. Remember to drop a pin.

Doing it now…

I don’t see it, are you sure?

Yes. I’m late because I bought some specially. Shall I do it again?

You’re not late, just less ridiculously early. And you didn’t do it yet or I’d see it.

See it? I can barely see it and I’m standing here. It’s lost in the grass. Hang on, I’ll do it again.

Mum. Are you dropping actual pins on the ground? Whereabouts are you?

By the “Garden Path”.

Great. You can lead me up it when I get there.

(This story bears no relation to any actual persons, living or dead!)


Filed under Uncategorized

FF – Pillars

Friday Fiction again and this week a photo from veteran player, Sandra Crook. I think she must have been with us at least as long as me, right Sandra?

Your thoughts and critique of my writing are always welcome.


Edith took the news with a sigh.

“I know you don’t approve, Mum, but the marriage just isn’t working for us.”

“I remember when marriage didn’t work for you, you worked for it. Things got a little rickety, you propped them up. Added a pillar. Or you leant harder on the ones you had.”

“And when there’s no pillars left?”

Edith glanced over at her grandsons. “You’ve three great pillars right there.”

“I don’t love her any more.”

“Well. Love’s the weakest pillar of all. I haven’t been in love since the Great War. And certainly not with your father.”


Filed under Friday Fiction, Writing

Friday Fiction – Squabbles

Friday Fiction time again, thanks to our head prefect, Rochelle Wisoff Fields, and our school photographer, E A Wicklund. Have a read of my story this week, and click on the link to Rochelle’s site if you’d like to see others.

I’d love to see your feedback – good or bad!



Watching, it was hard to know what was mating ritual and what aggression. They wheeled around, sniping and snapping at each other. The males and females almost indistinguishable: gender no more guarantee of temperament than appearance.

“It was different in our day,” said Maggie to no one in particular. “Quieter. More sedate. And the girls had longer hair.”

Rob glanced out at the playground. He liked Maggie; she reminded him of his Gran. The children were lining up now, ready to return to their classes. Soon seagulls would descend and a new battle would commence among the leaves and litter.


Filed under Friday Fiction, Writing