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(A) Stay At Home
By Sandshoe
“There’s no other way to say it.”
FOW* is mopping the porch. No-one pays him attention. Nobody there.
“I’ll say it anyway.”
Nobody knows what it was. A raucous noise of a band in the Pig’s Arms Sylvia Plath Memorial ballroom sets up. It disappears like a wisp of a fanfare of a concerto.
On the other side of the car park, Merv walking through the Sports Bar is himself in explication with himself.
“She’s not here.”
Where ‘she’ isn’t or wasn’t depends on where in time you want to go with this, let me interrupt and explicate. I’ll do that sometimes. It’s knowing everything that causes everything. Merv was in the cellar of this infamous address, destination of drinkers and jokers all, place of the people, the Window Dresser’s Arms, Pig and Whistle. He’s risen up the cellar stairs to walk through the Sports Bar. FOW is mopping the floor of the entrance hall of the Manse, but not out of mind. Out of frame.
“I know perfectly well she’s not here.”
Merv is confident. Granny had left the building. Merv had watched Granny’s curvaceous arse gyrate and manipulate its way around and between the Sports Bar tables and chairs and it exit.
Emmjay is calling down into the stair well. It’s his pub. He does as he chooses. Merv careens out of reverie.
“Yes? What do you want, Emm?” Merv calls back from the Sports Bar.
“Merv, did you tell the Flamin’ Crows they could practice in the Ballroom this morning?”
“Don’t know anything about that.”
Of course he doesn’t. He didn’t know I was going to write them in. Viewpoint is everything. The soundscape is deafening. The crescendo is only bettered by the rate of debris falling from the rafters. Chook waste. Dried chook excreta. Chook feathers.
Merv and Emmjay step out into the car park for a breath of morning air unadulterated with reminder the rafters were never mucked out after the last chook was despatched to the WDAPW** Sports Bar counter menu. The sun is risen in a blaze of glory. FOW is at the gate of the Manse directly opposite. A Cyberverse taxi driver is at the Manse gate emptying luggage out of the boot of a Cyberverse taxi. The Bish is back in town.
*Father O’Way
**Window Dresser’s Arms, Pig and Whistle
Big M said:
Oi only just seen this as Foodge has let me down of late, although I’ve been feeling somewhat uninspired as Oi ken only picture him with his head in a vegetable crate.
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Mark said:
Would that be a crate or a crate full of vegetables?
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algernon1 said:
The story just gets weirder and weirder.
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sandshoe said:
That’s so nice of you to say so, Algy. I admit I do feel obliged to you. Do justice as best I can to the benchmark you’ve left indented in the bar. Speaking metaphorically of course.
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vivienne29 said:
I like it.
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sandshoe said:
I’m more than replete with grattude. 🙂
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vivienne29 said:
I actually did ballroom dancing for four years. It included Latin, Rock and Roll, Old Time, Waltz and Two Step etc etc. I got a Certificate. It was back in the 60s. Great way of meeting people.
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Big M said:
Yes, the ballroom, we seemed to have one years ago, then it was moved, or used for storage. There was a rumour that Merv’s ocelot was housed in there.
I did ballroom dancing in the 70s. It was great for meeting sheilas.
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sandshoe said:
I was watching some boogie dancing on Youtube tonight to get a break from myself. I do with I had done ballroom in these, the wiser years of my life but there wasn’t a culture of it and strange my mother did not teach me as she was a beautiful ballroom dancer. My brother jived and did a demo at his wedding with his beautiful wife. Beautiful.
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sandshoe said:
I have added a youtube link on these comments (see below).Xx
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sandshoe said:
Oh well it’s all up or down. It’s up.
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Yvonne said:
If this doesn’t inspire one to trip the light fantastic, nothing will … the ” Pig’s Arms Sylvia Plath Memorial ballroom”. I wish I had thought of that for my Emporium of Terpsichore and Hair removal.
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sandshoe said:
I didn’t know, darling. How did I miss out on that. My social calendar lacks something sometimes. An Emporium of your very own? Removing hair? And titled for Terpsichore as well. There’ll be some some fine wine in it for sure and satisfyingly smooth results, I’ll make an appointment. Xx
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Yvonne said:
Oh, shoe, I will pencil you in for the works! How exciting this is for all concerned. I will chill the bubbly stuff, just for you. Or, is Barossa Pearl more to your liking, rather than Baby Duck? xx
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sandshoe said:
I feel comfortable enough already to admit I like a nicely chill beer rather than the Duck or the Pearl. I’ll call the girls. See if we can’t drum up some more business. I’ll take a cut if you insist, chin chin. 😉
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Big M said:
Make mine Blue Nun, as the Bishop said to the Abbottess.
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