BACK THEN - a story in 100 words

 

 BACK THEN

Grandma was always reminiscing about her youth.

Everything was better ‘back then’ – neighbours looked out for each other, you bought food locally and cooked it yourself, roads were safe to walk along, people read books instead of screens.

We’d smile indulgently and go home to order pizza and watch TV.

 Then the plague came. We helped our neighbours, discovering that the village greengrocer stocked more than we realised, and the corner shop always had toilet rolls. We took our exercise along undiscovered lanes, and someone set up a book swap in the bus-stop.

 We were almost sad when it ended.

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Just found ten minutes to write a story to go with CEAyr's image. Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioineers so diligently for so many years!  https://rochellewisoff.com

We are in the throes of buying a new kitchen. The one we inherited was installed by the previous tenants themselves, on the cheap, and after two years in this cottage we are still not happy with it. So the time has come - savings aren't earning anything anyway!  Next Monday the contractor moves in to make a proper mess, which in our tiny cottage means we will be eating out for a week, purely in self-defence, you understand.

And one more thing - I HAVE PUBLISHED THE FOURTH AND FINAL BOOK IN MY SERIES!! If you click on the LIVING ROCK blog entry for last week, you can read the prologue, which I hope will encourge you to buy my books, all of which are on Amazon. And if you have already read the first three, click on the book cover top right to buy ROCK FESTIVAL.

PRINTEMPS - a 100 word story

PRINTEMPS

Paris! City of romance and glamour, where even schoolgirls are effortlessly chic.

The smell of wet tarmac each morning as bouches de lavage clean the streets.

An enticing aroma of fresh baguettes, croissants, cafe and cognac.

Metro stations redolent of Gauloises and garlic, loud with fluid French accents.

Secret geranium-scented courtyards bathed in sunlight.

And malodorous pickpockets targetting careless tourists.  Stale-breath’d beggars slumped on Montmartre steps. Putrid bins crammed into ruelles teeming with thin cats.

But this spring the city is odourless, every cobbled square deserted.

Paris consigned to the rubbish heap by a bat - or possibly one dropped petri dish.

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My first visit to Paris was in 1967 on honeymoon, so I saw it through rose-tinted glasses. I still have one tiny cognac glass as a memento of those cafe-cognac breakfasts - so bohemian we felt! Ten years later we saw a different side of the life that teemed there, in the company of a French teenager and her boyfriend. All cities are two-faced though, and now I find the crowds claustrophobic - I do not envy those poor souls on lockdown in those empty streets. We live in a small town in the country, where my daily walks are full of spring colour and life.
Stay safe, everyone - we have a long way to go before this is over.

HARRY'S PLACE - Fiction in 100 words

HARRY’S PLACE

Bryony’s nose wrinkled when they entered the shabby café but Albert headed confidently for a table. The barman flicked a switch and the wall of empty bottles glowed suddenly with colour. Albert’s hand shook slightly as he touched one.

“Your Nan and I shared this on our Golden Wedding – we always came to Harry’s. Saved my life in France, Harry did – kept his hand on that hole in my chest till the medics came. I thought I was dying but he said we’d live to be ninety. He never made it, but I’ve come to his place tonight so he knows I did.”

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Thanks to http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  for th photo that prompted this latest in a long line of 100 word stories. Floow the link on her blog to read some of the others from Friday Fictioneers,