Caddoc!

It has come to my notice that Mr T has been bandying my love of dragons about in Blogland, following a strange illustration that popped up all over the place today.

Here is my answer to him!

Welsh dragons are red and not green!
Cad, how could you never have seen
the difference between their red and that green
which Jinksy sploshed over her screen?

Sorry, jinksy, but it IS a bit bright!

A Monday Special

I see my Ada has been wandering Blogland again, writing messages to a gentleman doctor. But she has lead me to discover what might be a fun new blog to follow, HERE where Alicia asks us to write about a terrible dancer, for her first steps onto the floor of the Prompt Palais de Dance.

A terrible dancer
is usually a chancer.
He whirls girls around the floor,
hoping they'll stay for more,
as he craftily plants a
kiss on their cheek!
What a way to start the week...

Please note, Ada, this is not autobiographical.
Love, 
Caddoc. X

One Stop Poetry. 23/05/2011

I received the following poem on a sheet of a "certain kind" of paper, wrapped inside a parcel of laundry from Caddoc Trellis, at present in police custody.  He asked me to give it to his wife Ada. I dare not. She is very handy with the frying pan, or so I'm told. So I post it here. It fits the spirit of Mr. Luke Prater's One Stop Poetry, and it fits too the spirit of the rest of the Trellis story. But I fear Caddoc is finding incarceration distressing....
An Abergele Romantic Speaks Out

Dear Ada is my one true love,
her smile, her hair, her wellie boots,
her startling range of Birthday Suits.

I love her to the skies above;
I love her bed (more than my shed)
and sometimes, when push comes to shove,

her passion yields climactic hoots!
Dear Ada is my one true love.
No sooner had Ada  read his words, than she rushed to her escritoire, and in next to no time handed me a reply on her monogrammed notepaper, entreating me to deliver it to Caddoc as soon as possible. But I thought I should share it with you - don't tell Ada! 
An Abergele Wife Speaks Out

Oh, Cad, you're nothing but a fool!
How dare you write such saucy stuff,
about my being in the buff?

To flaunt such things is really cruel.
You love my bed more than your shed?
I'll whack you with my kitchen stool,

my silly man who's far from tough.
Oh, Cad, you're nothing but a fool!

Flash Fiction 55. 20th.May 2011

I hope My Beloved Ada doesn't start on at me for trying my hand at Mr.G-Man's fantastic Flash Friday short fiction, particularly as my effort mentions . . . well, read on.

Eyeful

A man was arrested in a London Underground station for “breach of the peace” by scrambling up the “Down” escalator. CCTV showed him riding the “Down” escalator earlier in the normal manner.

When asked why he chose this inconvenient way of going "Up"  he replied “The ‘Down’ escalator is on the side with the brassiere adverts.”

Pie Eyed?

Caddoc, on a boot sale jaunt, and defying Ada's  taunt of  "Don't come back with useless tat - you know what I would do to that!",  thought he had a master plan. And this was where his trials began...

"Ada, dear, I swear I'll find a statue of a well hewn kind - something tasteful to adorn our tiny but well tended lawn."

And after hours of careful searching, his eyes lit up."That's it! Kerching! I shall purchase good Saint Francis, cart him home. If Ada fancies... "

"How much," asked Ada, looking grim, "Did you have to pay for him?"

"A measley tenner" Caddoc said.

" But why the piecrust on his head?"

Indeed, poor Cad could not deny when viewed with a discerning eye, the statue's head was less than formal. Its piecrust hat was quite abnormal. Caddoc spluttered out the words "I suppose it's full of Blackbirds!"
"Blackbirds! What, all Four and Twenty?"  Caddoc, you annoy me plenty!'
"Right, Beloved cease your bawling! Can't you see, my crest is falling? I'm off - back into my shed, where often in the past I've fled. That'll give you time to simmer down, and make a pie for dinner!"

To be continued...

And once again, thanks, and apologies, to Tess At Magpie Tales .

Trellisimo Takes Up The Tale

Cad resolved the problem ceiling. He did not call her cold, unfeeling. No! She knew that he had won when he strapped a blindfold on. Then Ada, totally unsighted found that what he did delighted, and, because all now seemed dark, he revelled in their being stark. And so they passed the night away in variations of horseplay.

After such a busy night (much to Caddoc's awed delight) Ada fried him two fresh eggs, although her motive surely begs the question why she used the pan to feed her oddly puzzled man,who often had to guard his head from frying pans, it must be said!

To be continued... 

& thanks to Tess at Magpie Tales for today's breakfast! 

Shower Over,The Tale Continues...

(For Previous Instalment Click Here) 

Cad’s lashes lifted, very gently, Ada stooping, evidently thought her husband might be dead, until his hand crept round her head pulled her lips towards his own, and Ada let a little moan escape her water spangled mouth, as Caddoc’s hands moved further south.
“Beloved, surely it is time for me to show you, love of mine, just how tenderly I’d woo you? Let us find a spot where we two may indulge our mutual passion. Love need not be on the ration !”
We’ll leave this drippy star-crossed pair to find their way up winding stair, perhaps to sip a glass of wine and reminisce about a time when nightly they affirmed their love and Ada cooed, Cad’s turtle dove... But hush – what’s this? Now she is screaming
”Caddoc, look at how this ceiling’s cracked and stained. It needs redoing – never mind your silly wooing -  and look how badly hung the door is, leaving gaps because the floor is more like rolling hills and dales! This house must be the worst in Wales when it come to decoration!”
“You fill me dear, with trepidation... But Ada, you’re not concentrating on our long neglected mating!”
So while these two are thus disporting, all peeping Toms must stop reporting...

Normal service will no doubt be resumed as soon as possible, after we drink a toast to Willow for her Magpie Prompt,  and remember, it's Day #15 over at Writer's Island.

A Right Shower!

We pick up the grim story of the Trellis household where we left it last week . . . encouraged by another pictorial prompt from Willow. Cleanliness, they say, is next to Godliness. Do the Trellises agree?

Trellissimo: So Caddoc, paint and brush in hand and feeling very far from grand, crossed the yard to paint the shed, muttering inside his head...
"My tender portrait was in vain. Beloved strafed me yet again and packed me off to paint, alone. . . I swear she has a heart of stone."
And Caddoc, though he loved her madly, resigned himself to painting, (badly) the potting shed. But wait! Indoors, Ada gets up from scrubbing floors. Fronts the portrait, smiles, then thinks
"Perhaps I've been too much a minx. He's honest, sober, kind and true. So many things he does not do, like gamble... flirt... or smoke a pipe. Perhaps, perhaps the moment's ripe? I think I'll go and take a shower...sweet perfumes may enhance my power! "
Now what's this? Ada is singing! This time surely she'll be flinging caution to the winds of chance. What is life without romance? Meanwhile, Caddoc coming in, perhaps to fetch another tin of paint, or maybe some paint-thinner, doesn't dream he's on a winner.
"Ada! Ada! Where's... ?"
Where's Ada? Surely he can't have mislaid her? She's in their en suite, damp and steamy, and in his eyes a look that's dreamy now appears, as through the glass he spies Beloved's buxom -
"Pass my bathrobe, Caddoc dearest - I must admit to you, the queerest feelings have beset me- I feel like saying 'Come and get me?' What can have caused this great reversal? Is it an undress rehearsal for some acts of wedded bliss? Do you suppose something's amiss?!
"No, Beloved, it is normal! Life need not be dull and formal. Loving can be lots of good fun, when you find the certain someone who can make your heart beat faster! It is far from a disaster that at last you'll drop defences, and instead let's mend the fences which have long kept us apart. Come here to Caddoc, my dear heart!"
"You naughty man! Forget the bathrobe! Take me! Kiss me! Lick my earlobe!"
Ada, shedding shower water stands before him. Now he oughta seize his object of desire, bear her off to quench their fire. Instead...  he faints as there appears landscapes he's not seen in years.
"Now this passes all belief! Where's my bathrobe? Where's my briefs? Husband Caddoc, you've been warned! Hell hath no fury like Ada scorned."

Beauty Is In The MagpEYE Of The Beholder

The Mona Lisa portrait was Tess Kincaid's Magpie#59 prompt this week. My friend Caddoc Trellis decided he would not be upstaged by a mere Leonardo . . .

Trell:     Here's Caddoc home from Abergele. Now I wonder what the hell he's hauling to the Trellis door? Whatever, folks, I guess there's more in this than ever meets the eye. I'll crouch behind the hedge and spy. Already shrill-tongued Ada's speaking. Perhaps a better word is "shrieking"

   "Cad! What's that parcel you're undoing? I think this means there's trouble brewing."
   "See, my love! I've bought this easel..."
   "Why! You gormless little weasel! And what's all this? It looks like toothpaste!"
   "This oil paint's nothing but a foretaste of my latest Arty Project.  Will you sit and be my subject? I'd paint you like Da Vinci's lady. I promise you, it won't be shady."
   "What? Sit for you? A silly plan, you crass, deluded little man! You'd have me smile like Mona Lisa? Why don't you paint that tower in Pisa?"

And Ada stomped of in a huff, she honestly had heard enough.

   "He'll find my smile is bullet-proof against his lusts. He'll hit the roof when once again I thwart his schemes, yielding only in his dreams. I'll show him I'm a Moaning Lisa. I keep my urges in the freezer - and Caddoc's share of married bliss ? A very brief, fresh-frozen kiss, his send-off to the garden shed, though he was hoping for my bed."

Poor Caddoc painted, and his mind supplied the face, for love was blind to all but she who filled his dreams, and so, unlikely as it seems, soon the picture was complete. 

   "Ada, Ada ! Come, my sweet. See if this will win your favour, the product of devoted labour!"

Now Ada had calmed down somewhat. The picture that she saw was not the dreadful daub she had expected. Her Caddoc's talent, unsuspected, had stripped away her years and bitching and for a moment she was itching to swoon into his waiting arms and thank him for revealing charms she had so long kept under wraps. She got no further than . .

  "Perhaps . . "

when, sensing this one word showed weakness, refuelled her Caddoc's care-worn meekness . .

  "Put all such thoughts out of your head!  Be off with you and paint the shed!"

My Mona

The lady smiles, and dreams of love. I see
a mystery in eyes that look away
at secret scenes in her imagination.

I would that Ada sometimes showered me
with glances that would all my fears allay
without the need for further confrontation.

Alas, I fear that this will never be.
Beloved likes too well to have her say -
which often sends me into hibernation!

This famous portrait was Tess kincaid's choice for her Magpie #59 prompt, and we all know how a lady's smile beguiles!

The Table's Turned!

The picture prompt for Magpie Tales #56 this week gave Mrs.Trellis, under seige by husband Caddoc ideas for turning the tables . . .

Ada: My Cad has "that look" in his eye. My plan will make him wonder why he entertains romantic thoughts. He knows they always come to nought. Does he not know we're into Lent? The calendar has heaven-sent me reasons for point blank refusal. His wrinkled face will show the usual 'downcast, hangdog poor old man.' And think! He'd put ME in the can, locked in the attic on bread and water! A fine to-do, he really oughta know better than to mess with Ada! Now, somewhere here I think that I have laid a clove of garlic by. I'll munch it well, release its juices, show it has alternate uses - it's stronger than a spray of scent! He'll think that means more than is meant, especially if I lower my lashes, add some more enticing splashes of "Lentherique" - that drives him wild. He's such a simple, lovelorn child! But when he comes to steal a kiss I'll fix him with the  fearful hiss of fragrant garlic scented breath. That really should be instant death to all ideas of rumpled sheets and indecorous bawdy treats . . .

Unknown to Ada, Trell was peeking, eavesdropping on her loud self-speaking thoughts which should have remained quiet if Ada did not want a riot on her hands when Caddoc learned he'd likely end with fingers burned!

Trell: Caddoc! Psst! Where are you hiding? Ada is again deriding all your plans for retribution! Come now! What is your solution?

Cad: I'll bide my time till we're beyond Lenten fasting. Though not fond of practising abstemious habits - I'm more inclined to side with rabbits! But if it must be self-denial, I'll look upon this as a trial until I can enjoy a feast, a cornucopia... after Easter!

Revenge Is Sweet?

Thanks to a link on Poet's United Thursday Think Tank, this Norwegian Proverb came to light. It says "Shameful deeds bring on revenge!" Enough said! The story continues... 

Now Caddoc's  plastered, well and truly, we have to wonder- ain't it surely time he had revenge on Ada? More than once she's gladly made a fool of Cad the poor old stick, who can't help being rather thick when he's addled in this fashion by the way she spurns his passion.

Cad enters, hangdog look on face (Ada had called him a disgrace)

Trell:      "Cad, how now? Come be a man! Revenge is needed, Make a plan!"

Cad:        "By jove, I think you 're right! If I give Ada a good fright she may amend her caustic ways...stop saying 'Kindness never pays!'in that acid tone she uses when she finds nothing amuses her, my little lemon drop! I know how I might make her stop! Never mind, Trell, your "I'll be back!"*  l'll stick with "I am alright,Jack!"

Let Ada suffer for a week, so she sees I'm not that meek. I'll feed her bread and watery soup - in the attic - a  ready made coop for my chicken (the clucking old hen!) P'r'aps she'll think 'fore she's nasty again!

* Click on the link above to read what lead to this state of affairs!


And as for the mention of a lemon drop - you might like to read the story HERE ,  if you've not already done so!

Cut To The Quick

Willow's Magpie prompt this week reminded me of a recent incident in Abergele, in the Trellis household.

Scene:  The kitchen of the Trellis house, which seems as quiet as a mouse. Mrs. T. is not in view, so Caddoc won't know what to do when he enters from his shed.

Caddoc:      "Is Beloved still in bed?  Dare I see if there's a chance of early morning dalliance in my Ada's sleepy arms and still-warm-from-her-duvet charms?    
But now he spies the table  there is laid out with her favourite pair of baking tins and bags of flour.

Caddoc:      "It must be the appointed hour when Ada sets herself to bake my favourite lemon flavoured cake. Her baking's really unsurpassed, and now that we are friends at last, I'll help, I will! I'll do my best to grate for her the lemon zest that's needed to impart the flavour. She will be grateful for the favour!

He smiles at this weird play-on-words (which some might think is quite absurd). Then, taking grater from its stand and siezing lemon in one hand, he attacks its yellow, dimpled skin.  He notes the action is akin to stroking his Beloved's face. From this his thoughts drift to the lace that trims her dainty night-time wear. And straightaway a glassy stare comes to his lust besotted eyes as he imagines Ada's ...Cries of pain escape poor Cad. Oh, what a silly, careless lad! Daydreaming of the joys to come he's grated great lumps from his thumb ... 

 

Ada: (from somewhere up the stair)      Caddoc! What's going on down there! I warn you Cad, if you've brought mud in on your boots, I'll have your blood!
Caddoc:      Dearest one, I do declare my blood is flowing everywhere!
Ada:          And if you've spoiled my lemon cake, I swear I'll make your goolies ache!
 (Turns to the audience.)
This isn't normal Ada-speak, but I have had a dreadful week! First my washing came a cropper when Cad chanced, with swinging chopper, to fell the washing pole, the git! He meant a tree to take the hit, but lack of glasses made things blurry, and he mistook it in his hurry. Next, I had my bumper dented- good job the car was only rented.

Now she looks at Cad askance - he has led her such a dance, but blood is spurting from his thumb. She realises what he's done and grabs a first-aid sticky plaster  (no one could have found one faster) and staunched the flow in one fell swoop. 

Ada:       Why are you, husband, such a noop? I leave you to your own devices,  and all your plans turn into crises. 
Caddoc:      At least my gory, red blood-spatter did not fall in our cake batter. And what better outcome could I have mastered, than one in which I end up plastered?!
Trellissimo:  Cad wonders, while the cake is baking, would there be time for some lovemaking? But he despairs when Ada squawks! "Cad, clean those bloody knives and forks!"

I'm All For Fairytales

 

And this dainty maiden caught my attention today, thanks to Susan at Stony River, who gave us the picture so's we could produce witty offerings of 140 characters (or fewer, if we're lucky!) for her Microfiction Monday #72. Here's one as sweet as any you'll find, I'll be bound...

Cinderella told me Prince Charming's footwear was less than savoury! I hope this puff of magic, deodorising powder solves his problem.

Puzzling People

Willow set a puzzle for this week's Magpie Tales #54,

which made me think of Ada and Caddoc - the most puzzling

people I have ever met!
(Click on their names if you missed their latest story!)


A Tribute From Trellissimo

How like a jigsaw puzzle, my two friends!
Their lives forever link and break apart,
though each without the other is but half
a whole person. At life's very heart
they have found a place of truce, a private
world within whose margins squabbles cease.
They meet on equal terms, and so together
may explore the advantages of peace-
ful existence. Minor altercations
split the surface of their lives, it's true
but they learned to bend and flex
when volatile earth tremors threatened to
engulf those castles built in air
by this ill assorted, perfect pair.

Have We Missed The Bus?

Ill Met In Amber

Like we two, these ants
are fencing face to face...
How similar we are,
an ill assorted brace.

Could we melt the resin
that keeps couples apart
just out of kissing distance
Ada, my dearest heart?

See! One ant is jumping.
He's keen to reach her arms.
All his insect instincts
have fallen for her charms.

Those two can no more move;
they're frozen fast in time.
But we, through care and love,
can make our hearts entwine.

120 Socks is driving The Poetry Bus this week - are we too late for tickets?!

Too late for tickets? Oh, my!  Thank goodness I, Ada have learned how to sabotage one of Caddoc's posts, in order to give MY side of the story!

Caddoc, will you never learn, my man?
Like the formic acid ants dispense,
all this talk of kissing distance stings
my acerbic wit, and makes but little sense.

Insect instincts are not ones I know
well, for in the main, all of mine agree
it's best to keep your eager arms at bay,
not let them close enough to reach for me!

For then I too, might end up trapped within
your sugar syrup words, with no escape,
like the ants entombed in amber resin!
The very prospect sets my mouth agape... 

A Day For Romance

This illustration provided by Susan at Stony River, was supposed to inspire Bloggers to write a succinct caption, in 140 characters or less, for her Microfiction Monday prompt. But I was feeling loquacious, and this was the result - sorry, Susan  I promise to do better next time.!*Scroll on down!

When Ada suggested a picnic (years ago, one Spring)
I little thought I'd get left out...But I sat there, pondering,
while naughty Ada and a beau started to get pally,
and her next door neighbours, Johnathan and Sally,
calmly read their magazine, oblivious to all;
the hills and vales held no allure. But I was held in thrall
from that point on, dear reader, by Ada's fulsome charms...
and couldn't wait until the time I'd hold her in my arms
as we glided round the dance floor at the local tuppenny hop,
The beau was soon discarded, for she didn't care a jot
for his rather lovesick gaze - she liked her men more manly!.
And so it was dear Ada soon put paid to weedy Stanley
and went for Caddoc's muscles. Do I rue the day?
Of course I don't you sillies! I'd have it no other way! 

Happy Valentine's Day, Beloved! 

*But wait - here's a late edition MFM, just for Susan!
Keep still - there's an ant creeping inside your shirt! Watch it! He might be heading towards your pants! 

Poetry Bus 14th February

More and more I am turning my hand to poetry, now that I have given up playing the saxophone to please my Beloved.  I notice three picture prompts on this week's Poetry Bus Blog. The driver is Dana Bug. So here is my effort, based on  -

Caddoc Laments

Unless your journey is essential
don't go in snow. That's really mental,
as I learned last month to my cost.
I drove my chair out in the frost
and snow. I'd castored barely half a mile
before I had a nasty pile-
up on a smooth and snowy lot.
But what had shunted me was not
a drop-head easy chair like mine.
It was some drug-fuelled careless swine
driving a souped-up two-seat sofa
at sledging speeds. He was no loafer.

We leapt out, slammed out doors and faced
each other in the frozen waste,
blamed each other, as drivers will
for causing this upholstered spill.
"Why don't you look where you are going?"
"You jerk! You might have thought of slowing!"
"That chair ain't built for snow like this!"
"A box of rust your settee is!"
"Go-faster stripes! Outdated curves - "
"A write-off's what your heap deserves!"

Just then we spotted blue lights flashing
beyond the trees, saw cop-chairs dashing
towards us through the wintry snow.
We said "The time has come to go."
We fired our motors. Just our luck!
Our furnitures were firmly stuck
together by interlocking springs
protruding through their horse-hair wings.

The SWAT team circled. Bull-horns roared.
I thought "That's going overboard!
I set out for a winter drive.
I'd like to get back home alive
and not end up a bullet-blocker."

Next time I'll drive dear Ada's rocker.

"I'll Be Back!"

Sometimes Dame Fortune lends a helping hand!  This week's prompt from Willow Manor for Magpie Tales#52 is a picture of the very house where the Police are holding Caddoc Trellis incommunicado.  So . .  Trellissimo to the rescue!

Scene:   The front desk of a police hideout deep in the Abergele hinterlands.

Enter:   Terminator Trellissimo, stripped to the waist and brandishing an AK47.  He has several belts of ammunition looped round his immensely broad shoulders and 3 or 4 Glock pistols in his waistband.  He walks as if he has long Samurai swords down both pant legs, which indeed he has.

Desk Sergeant: "Goodmorning, can I help you, sir?"

Trell: This whole thing's really most unfair! I think you're holding my friend Cad. That's really very, very sad. That kinda makes me really mad, 'cos what he did was not so bad.

Sergeant:  My Gawd!  You rhyme like Doctor Seuss! Cad loitered 'neath the Town Square clock! We lifted him. He turned quite puce. We thought that he might run amok. That's why we've got him in the dock.

Trell gazes tenderly at his AK47

Trell: You know what this is, Mister Copper? Trell's highly lethal baddy-stopper. Just watch that you don't come a cropper. Now, bring forth Ada's floor-tile mopper!

Sergeant: Don't threaten me, you muscled creep! The swinish Cad's in dungeon deep. He sowed crime's wind! Whirlwind he'll reap! (Pause) Your rhyming crimes make Willow weep.

Trell: Sergeant, my mood is turning black. I will not cut you much more slack. Stand-off becomes all-out attack - (With Austrian accent -) I'LL BE BACK!

(Exit Trellissimo)

Sergeant: Who was that guy festooned with arms, quite lacking any manly charms, reject from a body-building farm, and threatening me with G.B harm?

(Enter, splintering the door, a Humvee driven by Trell, a maniacal light in his eyes. Smashes into desk. Trell leaps out.  Fires several bursts from AK47 into the ceiling)

Trell:  Now please hand over my friend Caddoc before I slice you like a haddock, and lest your plight gets any worse - stop slagging off my Magpie verse! So . . follow me, you horrid man. I'll lock you in poor Caddoc's can.

(Quaking, Sergeant hands keys to Trell and points down corridor. Exit Trell down the corridor prodding Sergeant along with muzzle of the AK47. He reappears a few moment later with one arm round Caddoc Trellis's shoulders)

Trell. I love Cad like he was my twin. He has no business being in this hell-hole deep in bosky wood.

Now he is freed, as well he should  be. His happy smile says all now well is, as home he trots to Mrs.Trellis, while I, the hero of North Wales will read more Magpie Birthday Tales.(*)

(*) This Magpie comes to us on the anniversary of Tess Kincaid's first Magpie prompt. Raise your glasses, folks!  'Nuff said.

Microfiction Monday #69

Susan at Stony River challenges us to construct a story/poem around this picture prompt, but in no more than 140 characters.

"Officer - have you seen my Caddoc? Wrinkly. Silly brown hat. I should have met him at 2."

"We lifted him at half past, Mrs.T. For loitering"

(140 characters . . I hope)

Slings And Arrows?

Stafford Ray! What a stroke of genius! A new board game for the terminally bored! After reading these words of yours:-

"I had to block the Trellis blog from the kiddies after this! Shame, they used to use Ada's photo as a darts board!"

which you left left on Ada's Monday's Child post, it set me thinking. Here is my prototype for a brand new game, Triple Daft Darts. Be carefull, when playing, not to confuse Bullseyes with Bulls**t...

Every Dog Has His Day

A hang dog expression is one I know well,
when I'm in the dog-house. Ada could tell
you, if she wanted to, I'm sure
what norty capers she sends me there for!

If I tickle her fancy and give her the giggles,
she's apt to get stroppy, and possibly niggle
until I turn tail and give her a nip
by thinking up some inappropriate quip

which displeases Beloved. I'll get sent to clink
unless I can tempt her with a little drink
of frothy hot chocolate, and digestive biscuit,
and maybe a quick kiss- if I dare risk it!

The pathway to romance is often a stony one,
and in that department, I can't be the only one
who's happy to take the rough with the 'smoove',
for the sake of the person they've chosen to 'loove'.

N.B.Alan and Kat at Sepia Saturday are used to seeing all kinds of old photographs, but how about this fine fellow who was sitting disconsolately amongst the Google images, waiting to be discovered? I couldn't resist using him as a prompt for some more Trellis Teasing!

Monday's Child #31

Monday's Child (alias bkm) offers this charming prompt of two little angels heading up the Wooden Hill to Bedfordshire

Unhappily, there's a shortage of angels in Abergele.

Bedtime Story.

What an angelic little lad!

Reminds me of my husband Cad.

Just watch me lure him up the stair

and pin him in my bedroom lair.

I'll kid him that his Little Ted

will eat him in his ground-floor bed,

so best he comes upstairs with me,

for Husband Caddoc, don't you see

your wooden horsey cannot climb

a staircase. We'll escape in time!

Monday's my weekly pram-raid night

Caddoc, and I'm a frisky sprite!
My hike last week through winter's snow
has left me feeling all aglow.
And what to say about your brandy?
It makes me feel I rhyme with handy!

Do not be fooled by white night-shirty.

When we're alone, it's down-and-dirty.

(You can read more child-friendly entries by following the link to Monday's Child, or for another grown up version, not unlike my own, I've spotted one here, too!)

Ada, Beloved, I have just come downstairs to find you have left yurself logged into the computer again! Think of our electricity bills! And what are you doing, broadcasting frisky details of white night-shirts to all and sundry? Spare my blushes... I may have to return after I've thought long and hard about a suitable repartee to your poetic effusion above...

Yours,

Caddoc X

My Winter Journey

Willow's prompt for Magpie#50 led me down strange pathways.  I was trying out the snowshoes husband Caddoc gave me for Christmas when signs and portents appeared in the sky . . . .

Nothing Ventured...

Whose woods these are I do not know.

My house is somewhere...  Down below
lies Abergele, straight ahead.
I'll take this Scenic Route instead!

My husband Cad must think I'm queer
To walkies take this time of year
past swamps and woods and frozen lake -
But Ada Trellis knows not fear.

But soon my legs began to ache
That sky sign? Surely a mistake?
The only sight I've seen for days
are forks in roads I did not take.

The woods are creepy! I don't like
this never-ending country hike
North Wales via Snowdon, Offa's Dyke!
Snow shoes? I need a motor bike!

(Phew! Abergele at last!  Change plagiarism from Robert Frost to Wordsworth)

Earth hath not anything to show more fair
than Caddoc with my brandy. There!
I'll dump my snow shoes in his shed
Take Winter Journeys in my head

in  future.

A Sepia Saturday Poem For Ada

Ada Trellis, my Beloved

When I looked at this old photograph of my Beloved today, I felt moved to declare my love to the world - or at least, Blogworld, and the followers of Sepia Saturday!

First And Last Love

Ada may not smile a lot,
but, by golly, has she got
what a gal should have, or not?

I keep her picture near my heart...
She's been my woman from the start,
since first love pierced me with it's dart.

And though her hair is turning grey
her lines and wrinkles, I must say,
make me love her more each day.

For she to me is the only one
who warms me like the golden sun,
and will do, till our lives be done.

Evening Hymn And Last Post?

While it is still Friday, and therefore the right day for creating 55 words of wonder or wisdom for Mr Knowitall, I have done exactly that, to continue with the theme of Beloved's previous post...

Slippery Slopes

We figure skate across marital ice,
some results being less than nice,
as the figures inscribed fail to please
and sometimes bring us to our knees.

But when we’re ruled by rhyme and rhythm
our bodies perform, they’re lithe and lissome.
We pirouette to the dance of life,
me (Caddoc Trellis) and Ada my wife.

Magpie#49

These 3 ladies are Willow's prompt for the week.  Enlarge the picture and you can see they are armed with skates!

You can see from my photograph alongside that I do not smile easy! So blame Herr Waldteufel and the cold weather for encouraging me to compose this pastiche. The fall-out is that my husband Caddoc has learned to play the tune on his wretched saxophone. Which would be fine if I could skate!

"Les Patineurs"  (Emile Waldteufel, 1882)



(Sing Along to the music.
Wait for the intro . . . Now, after me . .  One, Two, THREE!)

Skating on snow.
Ever so slow.
Skates catch in skirts
and then down.You. Go!

Down on your ar**
Oh, what a farce
Might as well try to
Skate. On. Grass

Where did you/all get those/funny hats/funny hats?
Aren't you a/trio of/silly prats/silly prats?
O.K., lets/see three ice/acrobats/acrobats
skating like/ar-ice-to/CRATS/ -to CRATS!

Why don't you/look for the/frozen stuff/frozen stuff?
Dare you to/swish and spin/in the buff/in the buff.
I'll heat some/soup when you've/had enough/had enough.

Don't look so/sour girls, don't/TAKE/the HUFF!

Get your skates on, then, girls
Try some figures and whirls
Awesome toe-loops and twirls
Or some lifting and hurls.

You're a joy to behold,
but you look very cold.
Are you much too old
Undersold
Over bowled
Growing mould
'bout to fold
So . .  I'm . . . told

Waldteufel's Waltz
danced without faultz!
Three perfect "tens"
when the music haltz

Mag Forty Nine
really was fine.
God Bless you Willow,
and yours, and mine!

Stony River's prompt promoting marital harmony...?

 See Stony River's prompt and the responses to it HERE.

Cheer Up, Caddoc!

Dear Blogfriends . . . look at the Musical Thoughts (below) penned by my devoted Caddoc in response to Willow's musical prompt. This is my answer to it, beloved.

Raise your windpipe to your lips!
Your Ada will not bark!  Her
love for you would be no less
if you played like Charlie Parker!

I, Caddoc, have a little extra to add to your offering, O Moon of My Delight!

Charlie Parker? Hmm. I see!
He had a lot more puff than me,
but would he love you, if he knew
your little foibles like I do?  

With love ,

from

C T.

 

Musical Thoughts!

If music be the food of love
I’d best play for my turtle dove,
But not upon a saxophone –
Or I’ll be driven from our home!

Inspired by Willow's Magpie #48!

P.S. If you are wondering about the saxophone, go HERE to read some of the back story!


And now it looks like you'll have to go HERE, because Ada has come back with a riposte! Doesn't she like to make life difficult?