RATS
Twenty
years we’ve lived here, but I’ve never felt comfortable.
I imagined
the kids drowning, but of course they were soon swimming like ducks, and when
Derek bought a narrow-boat they were ecstatic.
Admittedly
the gently sloping gardens are lovely, but every passing boat brings gawping
strangers and, since a photo of me in a bikini appeared on Facebook, I’ve
stayed indoors.
Then last
week it rained, in biblical proportions.
“We’re
safe,” Derek declared, sitting Canute-like beside the canal bank, but had to
admit defeat when a rat swam past him, heading for our terrace.
When the
water recedes we’re selling up.
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For some reason I thought yesterday was Wednesday, so when I saw the next photo on Rochelle's blog I thought it was the Friday Fictioneers' prompt. So here's the story I wrote yesterday - two for the price of one!
Please feel free to comment on both before you follow the links from https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ to read other stories.
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COBBLESTONES
The
villagers protested but the mayor carried the vote – the cobblestones that
rattled his Rover’s suspension would be covered with pulverised gravel from his
quarry, which the village could have at cost.
Within
days every carpet was grey with dust, and the men covered their drinks whenever
someone drove past the bar. Complaints poured into the Mayor’s office, but he
shrugged, “What can I do?”
Then the
rains came – a true tropical storm that raced down the steep village street and
washed every grain of grey onto the beach, leaving only ancient cobblestones to
gleam under the next day’s sun.
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And yes - the theme of rain seems prevalent this week - must be due to the weather in Sussex :)
