BURNING THE PASSPORTS
It was supposed to be a day of
relaxation – drive into the French countryside, eat moules in a tree-shaded cafė, stock up with goodies and head home.
It was dark when we zigzagged through
burning tyres, dodging masked men brandishing weapons.
“They only stop lorries,” Dave said,
just before a torch blinded him and the door was wrenched open. Not a gendarme in sight as our wine hit the
road and two men squeezed into the boot.
“We have guns,” they said, “Drive.”
If we don’t end up in prison I’m
burning our passports.
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And here's another story in a much lighter vein - two for the price of one this week!
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TRAVELLING
I was happy in that quiet close –
trees for shade, some lovely flowers, and the cats kept the birds at a
respectful distance. The furthest we travelled was to a local market – nothing
too adventurous, until we went on a day trip to France.
Miles on the motorway, far too fast –
anything over fifty upsets my digestion. Then, after hours in a smelly ship,
we’re driving on the wrong side of the
road!
The moment we got home I moved out.
The people next door never go anywhere – I’ll be much safer living behind their wing mirror.
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One of the treats I looked forward to when we returned to England was a day trip to France such as we used to enjoy in the 1990s. Though the news reports are no doubt exaggerated, with the turmoil that fills our present world, the very idea now fills me with dread.
The second tale? Well, that cobweb appears with predictable regularity on my car, and on one occasion I actually spotted the spider nipping back behind the mirror. Which I can't take out, so he stays, living an exciting life in the fast lane and catching flying insects in his seine net.
These stories were prompted by Ted Strutz's photo posted on Rochelle's blog for Friday Fictioneers. To read other stories, follow the links from https://rochellewisoff.com/