Succinctly Yours Week 8

 Grandma's Goulash at Succinctly Yours hosts this microfiction meme. Each week she posts a photographic prompt for inspiration and the challenge is to write a story using no more than 140 characters or words. Below is this week's photo followed by my offerings.

'You’re tempting fate standing so close to the breakers,’ she said.

‘Nonsense,’ he replied as a wave broke over his head.

(120 characters)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Lydia had driven to the coast while Ted studied the user’s booklet for his new camera, muttering to himself about apertures and focal length. Now she waited patiently while he adjusted the settings.

Never one to do things by halves, he had purchased two alternative lenses, a reflective umbrella, spotlights and several books on photographic technique. Lydia didn’t think these accessories were really necessary for beach shots but decided it would be prudent to keep her thoughts to herself. Ted was already edgy enough.

After fifteen minutes he pronounced himself ready and peered through the viewfinder. Lydia suggested that the monopod would be more effective resting on the ground and he grunted and planted it in the wet sand. Finally he pressed the shutter button then cursed.

‘No memory card,’ he said and they packed everything away and drove home.

(140 words)

Walkies!

Missing from this photo are the various bags needed to contain and transport camera, GPS, et cetera

Barry and I usually take the dogs walking together. That is to say that together we take all the canines out at the same time – my goodness, how word order can change meaning. Occasionally, one of us cannot participate. The dogs don’t mind, so far as we can tell – they’re simply keen to follow up the pee and poohmails from the previous day.

When Barry is the sole human walker of the dogs they are familiar with every stage of the routine, becoming over-excited and, in Gus’ case, peeing on the floor if he hasn’t been put out to relieve himself.

First he goes upstairs to find the correct walking clothes (Barry, that is!) – heavy gauge trousers if it’s very cold, waterproof if the rain is falling, three-quarter length if the day is warm and bright. Gus follows him upstairs, sometimes beginning the overture to a howl – ohw, ohw, ohwwwrrrr - if Barry is taking an unreasonably long time over his preparations. Meanwhile, downstairs, Jenna and Frodo follow every footfall, every creaking floorboard, their heads turning this way and that, their ears standing to attention.  

Shoes are very important – well, of course, Barry wouldn’t go barefoot (though I used to in my teens). Sturdy approach shoes, as used by climbers on the lower reaches of the Himalayas, are his customary choice. He even wears them with a business suit if there’s any likelihood of him having to walk further than fifty yards. Appearances are not of great consequence to him.

He reappears downstairs and disappears to the conservatory to check the weather on his laptop. This determines what sort of jacket he will wear. Will it be a warm fleece, a light waterproof, a heavy goretex, a down-filled coat? Next comes the hat and again there are choices to be made – cap, hat, Tilley? If the Tilley is selected it usually means the day is bright and sunny and so sunglasses are added.

The dogs are now beside themselves. What a strange expression that is. Obviously it cannot be literal – they can be beside each other, or me, or even the seaside, but not themselves. Perhaps it is intended to indicate that they are moving so rapidly in their anticipation of the pleasure to come that they present a blurred, whirling image. Whatever, the agitation quotient is increasing exponentially (I nearly wrote ‘excrementally . . . ) with the chances of a Gus puddle becoming ever more probable. He is dispatched to the garden, ‘just in case’ whereupon he barks, piddles, gallops between garden gate and patio door. Frodo and Jenna are now circling excitedly, deliberately impeding Barry’s progress for fear that they might be left behind. He trips over them and they move away apologetically.

There are not many more steps to be executed. Gloves, mobile phone, camera, video camera, Jenna’s tracker collar, Pacer poles, heart/pulse rate monitor chest strap and associated watch, (all physical exercise is logged) Garmin GPS, (might get lost!) headlamp in case it gets dark (and after all this time, dusk could well be approaching) Aqua kong for the Labradors and finally, car keys. Any one of these stages has the potential for further delay as mislaying, losing, forgetting all come into play though it’s true that the dogs can’t be mislaid.

Approaching the porch door – we have a sort of air lock that enables us to get to the front door without accompanying canines – our badly-trained dogs jostle for position. Gus is still outside. Barry makes his way into the porch and out of the house to unlock the dog car. Frodo and Jenna are let out and Jenna leaps into the car. Frodo looks questioningly at me – ‘Are you coming?’ he asks. Gus is released and joins Jenna, who grumbles at his exuberance. Frodo is encouraged into the car and as Barry drives away, gazes back at me, the answer to his query, this time, being ‘No’.

On his return, a long while later, Barry divests himself of his many gadgets and updates his exercise log.

It’s a different matter when I take them out on my own. I dress appropriately for the weather that I can see through the window, make sure I have my mobile phone (I’ve had it drummed into me never to leave home without it!), put my small camera in a pocket, find the kong, shepherd the hounds into the dog car and set off.

I can worry quite efficiently enough about where Jenna might be without the need to track her.  If it rains, I get wet. If the sun shines, I squint and get too hot. If it’s chilly, I tuck my hands into my sleeves. If the cold wind blows, I bend my head against it, pull my inadequate jacket around me and shiver. Sometimes I wear a hat and sunglasses. If I think more physical effort is required, I walk faster. I have to concede that Barry is always far better equipped than me for any eventuality – but I get out walking much quicker than he does!

ps: We only use the word ‘Walkies’ in jest. It was a term used by the late Barbara Woodhouse.

pps: not for nothing did our son's friends dub Barry 'Inspector Gadget'.

 

Can you spot the difference between this photo and the first one? No prizes, I'm afraid ;-)

The story behind the SkyWatch Friday photos

The photograph here is different to the SkyWatch Friday photos – honestly! Okay, it's not a lot different to the untrained eye (that's supposed to make me sound as though I know something about astronomy – I don't!)
Anyway, yesterday was a very busy day, tidying, cleaning, repairing, painting, gardening. All this untypical, even unprecedented behaviour is because we are having company on Sunday and one of the party is coming to our house for the first time. Yikes! Suddenly, all the nose smudges (from the dogs, I hasten to add) seem even more noticeable, and the mud splatters where the canines have shaken excess water from their coats have put a delicate finishing touch to the side swiped patches from muscular bodies (again, from the dogs, in case you're wondering.) Aesthetically, in a painting, say, it looks quite attractive. (Who am I trying to kid?)

We can't do much about the chewed stair treads and the frayed carpet that successive dogs, but mostly Gus, have munched. The dust of what seems like ages but is in reality AGES can be removed fairly quickly, making a few spiders homeless until they take up residence in the downstairs loo again and have to be persuaded elsewhere. (The vacuum cleaner seems a perfect des. res.) The quaintly named dust bunnies, which in our abode are more akin to amorphous dead creatures of uncertain lineage, are swept up or vacuumed several times a day, and still they come. Perhaps I should shave the animals? I'm sure they'd be cooler and feel fresher. White hairs from the Dalmatians cling to every dark surface while the Labradors' black hairs collect on the paler furnishings. Dust, dust everywhere and equally is it shared.

I'm told that having a companion animal lowers blood pressure and steadies heart rate. Pet owners are calmer, happier, live longer. Has anyone researched the effect of several animals on health and temper? I digress – one of the few things the only thing at which I am expert.

We stopped for lunch – a proper cooked lunch, quite unheard of at this address – and Barry said, 'It's going to be a lovely clear night. I think we'll do some astrophotography.'

I thought, 'H'mm, that means we'll be eating a late supper.'

After lunch we did a lot more clearing and hammering and glueing and pruning and felt satisfied by early evening that we could congratulate ourselves. To our eyes, the house is transformed. A stranger coming in would wonder how anyone could live this way. Notwithstanding (I love that word – so grown up!) Barry, happy, content, at peace with the world, began to assemble the things he needed. The handbooks – where were they? Of course, in one of his camera bags or maybe the large trunk-like box that contains other camera equipment. They were not there. For two hours we searched the house, upstairs, downstairs, dining room, conservatory, bathroom, bedroom, en suite, loft, study - back and forth we went, fruitlessly searching the same places over and over again. Barry's bonhomie began to dissipate. These were not, after all, the original handbooks – they had disappeared long since. These were the ones he had downloaded from the Internet and carefully assembled and put safely in his camera bag/box/trunk – only he hadn't! Eventually, he decided to download them again. He calmed down and Gus, who had been very disturbed all day by the unwonted activity, and even more so by the 'atmosphere' began to settle once more. All was well again.

Barry set up the tripod and camera and star tracking device and we had our very late supper. The camera was controlled by computer and we were going to stack the photos, taken every few minutes, to get an in-depth image. As we were looking at them and I was editing them, trying different processes, we heard rain falling, only it wasn't rain, it was the computer-controlled garden spray which had been moved and had decided to play its part as well and interfere with the photographic process.

Suddenly, the air was blue and Barry's face grew increasingly stony as he dismantled the dripping wet equipment. We dried it with towels and tissues but water continued to gather and drip from every tiny orifice. My hairdryer, which I use only occasionally, was brought into play and for the next three hours, it was used to blow hot air into every crevice. Gus was once more anxious and worried, though the others paid no attention and continued to snore. I made a pot of tea for Barry about 1:00 am and went wearily to bed with the dogs. He said he would come upstairs soon but eventually appeared about 3:00 am. We slept soundly, if briefly, and rose to a bright, sunlit morning.

With rest and sun came clear thinking. House insurance! We pay our house insurance premiums regularly and have claimed possibly twice in all the years we've lived here (Admittedly, one claim was for a rather nasty house fire but that was a long time ago before Bethan was born and she's over 25!) Barry found the documents and checked with the insurance company that we were covered. So, along with the sun has come a measure of peace of mind though I shall continue to worry quietly until everything is resolved.