Did She Fall Or Was She Pushed?

Caddoc arose from his bed with a scream. "Beloved, I've had a most terrible dream. O, Ada, my Ada I saw you outside the window! I thought you had gone for a ride on the wing of a bi-plane but had taken a header and fallen to Earth - you couldn't be deader as you landed below in a blood splattered heap..."

"Caddoc, you ninny, I've been fast asleep beside you for hours, not walking on wings. What makes you think up such terrible things? Must be the cheese you ate for your supper?
Now snuggle back down and don't be a duffer!"

Tess gave us more food for thought today with her Mag which featured a photo by Elena Kalis.

Olé !

We'd gone and bought tickets for some local hop to be held in our village hall - the kind of occasion where everyone goes, the long and the short and the tall; the young and the old and the fit and the lame - all welcomed, and everyone treated the same... 

But Ada and Caddoc, I'm certain you've guessed, would add their own spice to the mix- "We'll dress in our Spanish-type costumes. We can dance a wild tango, for kicks!" Caddoc cringed at the thought of the spangles and lace, but manfully plastered a grin on his face.
" Beloved, I'll follow you where'er you lead, but I beg you to keep it polite, for tango's, if danced with abandon, can be a right turn on. All right?" 

" Caddoc", cried Ada, " Just finish your drink - sometimes it's best that you don't stop to think!"

Written for the Mag 181, with thanks to Tess and apologies to Toulouse-Lautrec .

Unhand Me, You Cad!

"We've always," quoth Ada, "been drawn to each other. But sometimes I think he treats me like his mother; and some days I think I'll go out of my head unless he slopes out to lounge in his shed with his droopy sad face like a wee bloodhound pup; he’ll hide there while I wash the breakfast things up!

(And don't you agree, come now, won't you confess, his hat is a terrible, terrible mess?)

But then he'll come in and he'll creep up behind and I must pretend that I really do mind how his left and his right hands unerringly know the very two places where they should not go!

So I always pretend to be stern and severe and cry "You great Welsh lummox, less of that here!" And then he says "If not there, where then, my dear?" as he smiles his daft smile and gives me a cuddle, knowing he’ll soon throw my thoughts in a muddle till I’ll give him a kiss, and forgive him his hat. Now tell me, could you resist chat-ups like that?"

Cad's hands took a slightly different approach from Escher's... but thanks go to Tess and her Mag for the image.