A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 62 Hello Dad

Dave laughed and said, “Simmering on the Hobb‽ That’s over the border in Northumberland isn’t it? Small spot no more that six hundred folk live there.”

Tommy Dowerson said, “Nah. You got that one mixed up, Dave. That’s Gravy on the Hobb you’re going on about over in Northumberland. The Hobb river over there is nay mere than a beck. Simmering on the Hobb is on the outskirts of Ross on Wye away down country, Herefordshire way. Ross has about eleven thousand folk and t’other spot has maybe four. Just on the other side of Ross from Simmering is Custard on the Hobb where the custard boreholes are which strictly puts it into Wales. The Hobb is a big tributary, mostly in Wales, of the Wye which eventually runs into the Severn Estuary. There’re some odd town names down that way like Builth Wells and Symonds Yat. I only know because I did a postmasters’ course in Hereford a few years back.” There was just enough truth in Dave’s and Tommy’s ridiculous remarks to cause some confusion in the newer outsiders, but considerable hilarity amongst the locals and regular attenders from outside. Inventing silly, often profanely coarse, place names and equally ridiculous personal names vaguely connected to the satirical comedies of Monty Python, The Goons and Much Binding on the Marsh was an ongoing game they played often at each others’ expense. Their recently invented favourites were the villages of Shaver on the Motte, Hard on the Rod and Whacking on the Edge, the last of which came about as a result of a discussion concerning killing flies with a fly swatter. For some reason he wouldn’t explain Fluff in the Hinge was considered to be particularly amusing by Alf.

Midnight, Jack’s Ranch:
The Werewolves that came to help and protect Jack’s family were patrolling the perimeter of the property. Jack’s wolves were patrolling closer to the main house. Jack’s wife Debbie felt it would be better if all the grandchildren and the adults were at the main house, instead of in their own homes. This way they wouldn’t have to split their forces up.

This one's not for the faint of heart. Over the course of the story there will be death, suicide attempts, a fair amount of physical and mental abuse, some egregious torture and a hefty dollop of foul language, but hopefully a happy ending. Actually, the last bit's a given since it's me doing the writing, but between here and the end is a rocky road, so please if any of the above is likely to be triggering for you, please, please think twice about reading.

This one's not for the faint of heart. Over the course of the story there will be death, suicide attempts, a fair amount of physical and mental abuse, some egregious torture and a hefty dollop of foul language, but hopefully a happy ending. Actually, the last bit's a given since it's me doing the writing, but between here and the end is a rocky road, so please if any of the above is likely to be triggering for you, please, please think twice about reading.

The year was 2010 and I was in my fifth year as a teacher. I’d been told from the outset that not many people transition into teaching in later in life, but I’d though, ‘I raised three kids on my own, how hard can it be?’ What nobody told me – and I’ll admit I never bothered to ask – was that not all kids were polite, intelligent and interested in learning.

Nobody bothered telling me – though this I should have been able to figure out for myself – that maths and science are among the most hated subjects in school, and only weirdos like me actually like them.

Brenda managed to strike Nick, but it barely phased him. She grabs her helmet and put it back on. This freak was pissing her off and she knew she was going have to resort to dirty tricks if she was going to be able to kill him. She tosses down some smoke bombs and swing her sword towards him.

Nick was a little surprised when the woman he was fighting tossed down some smoke pellets. However, he is barely nicked when her sword comes out of the smoke and cut across his chest, leaving behind a red mark. An amusing look appears on his face as he retreats backwards.

Unknown Island, South Pacific:
“That’s the last of this batch.” Nick wipes the blood off his hands.

Now that all of them were back in their bodies. They weren’t relying on their weapons or tricks like before. This time they were relying on skill alone. All thou, Nick does notice Cheshire is more deadly than ever.

“Same here.” Jack tosses the two men he killed away from him.

“Count these three assholes as dead too.” Cheshire was dragging two guys and carrying one guy.

This is a true story. At least for the first three sentences.

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 60 Rizla® Papers

Brigitte had remarked to Peter that there were any number of XY girls who were far more natural at being girls than he was despite he being XX. Peter had caustically replied that that was hardly surprising because they were girls whereas he was not.

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 59 Chineseium

“Well, Son, doubtless if you looked the words up in a fancy English ordbok it would tell you that they are the same, but there’s a difference in the way Bearthwaite folk use the words these days. Yance ower they were the same here too, but now a visitor is someone we welcome, even if they’ve never been here before, decent folk are visitors. Tourists are folk we don’t really like, folk we don’t approve of, but as long as they don’t get too far out of line we’ll happily tek their money off ’em. Okay, Son?”

“Yeah. I get that. Visitors good, tourists bad. Simple enough, Granddad. I’ll explain to my brothers. Thanks.”

As Ethan left Alan couldn’t help but smile at the Orwellian simplicity of life as seen by a child. Visitors good, tourists bad. ‘What,’ he wondered, ‘would I give to be eight again?’

My Friend Græme

Græme was to all appearances a villain as a young man. Poverty stricken, he stole to eat and to put rags on his back to avoid freezing to death. To me he was always a decent man, for he hurt none and always had done his best to help all and anyone he’d ever met. He’d spent his life being the archetypal Good Samaritan.

Unknown, South Pacific Island:
Nick looks over where Cheshire and Jack are sleeping. He knew the two of them were lightly sleeping. They had managed to tear the sleeves off the jumpsuits they were forced to wear. All the weapons they took had been reloaded. Each weapon had three reloads to it. After that, they were shit out of luck.

“Owe!” Nick rubs his shoulder after firing the rifle they took off the hunters.

“Did you hurt yourself?” Cheshire looks at Nick with a smirk on her face.

Unlike Jack and Nick, she had reverted to how she looked when she was younger. So, she knew what her body could do.

London, England:
“Mom, come quickly!” Mouse was holding onto Zoey as the younger girl fought her to get loose.

Mouse had scratch marks on her forearms where Zoey had dug her fingernails into her forearm and drew blood. They were having breakfast together in the kitchen when out of the blue Zoey started acting weird. Zoey upended the kitchen table like it was nothing and then started attacking Mouse.

Photo by Pablo Heimplatz on StockSnap

It happens when you're an old fart. You just sort of doodle along, until one day you open your dresser drawer and there is only one pair of shorts left in there and when you put them on they sort of droop and barely hang on, the elastic shot from too many washings. Back when I was married such things just wouldn't have happened, my wife would have replaced my worn underwear as part of her wifely duties. Seriously, that's how she thought of such things – wifely duties.

Clair’s Ranch House:
“Go ahead and contact everyone so we can see what they think. I’ll go ahead and start on the background search on each lady.” Gina had pulled out her cell phone and was making notes on it.

Nick was impressed with how Gina took charge. His oldest son, Robert could take lessons from her. He couldn’t believe how far she had come since Jack adopted her.

Cadmus looks up and starts growling. Gina looks down at her wolf and wonders what has him on alert.

“What’s wrong boy?” Gina has learned to listen to Cadmus.

A Successful Family

The possession of a small number of cows, pigs, sheep and goats in addition to ducks, hens and geese was to the older family members the currency by which they measured true wealth. That the hundreds of doves that lived in the centuries old dovecote and the fish in the lake were a readily available food source was a wonder to them. When they added a couple of hives of bees and a dozen rabbits to keep in a barn they couldn’t imagine a better life.

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 52 Political Analysis

Continued on from GOM 51 on a Saturday evening in the Green Dragon Inn taproom

“Christ, Lads, Dave missed his calling as a green grocer he should have been a diplomat. He’d have all the middle east conflicts sorted in minutes. Admittedly, he’d turn the entire spot into one big, f*** off, glassed down, radioactive plain, but the situation would be sorted permanently which would definitely be a result. We need more of that kind of thinking.”

“I recently heard, Alice, that Hell is staffed by vegetarians and the security guards are all vegans, so I’m going to heaven where slaughtermen and butchers like me are well thought of because the angels who run the spot are known to enjoy a deliciously bloody, blue steak, and there are no security guards because none of the residents wish to leave.”

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 51 Coneys, Bees and Fish

Continued on from GOM 50 on a Saturday evening in the Green Dragon Inn taproom

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 51⅒ So Just Where is Bearthwaite? is included before the footnotes

For any as don’t know a coney is an adult rabbit. The lasses’ cuniculture business, that word always makes me snigger, but honest to god it is what the tax man refers to it as, so maybe they’ve not all had their senses of humour surgically removed.