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.

Night Rider

And Tess has once again tempted us to write a tall tale for her Mag... which follows on from the previous nightmare saga which you will find  here.

Caddoc Goes Solo

 

After breakfast Caddoc said, "Dearest, I'll be in my shed, beavering, for quite a while. My new plan's sure to make you smile!" Though Ada smiled, her smile was grim. "Now what mad scheme's got into him? Last week he put me on his bike, but what came next I did not like - chasing robbers in the buff  to reclaim all our biking stuff. So what's he up to now, my Cad; something more than half-way mad?"

Caddoc had reappeared by noon with many more than one balloon blown up with gas lighter than air. Cried he, "Come see, my dearest fair! We'll lift our little car aloft - " Said she  "Now you've gone really soft!"  "Not so!" said Cad "for up so high, no robbers will be speeding by.  We'll not lose helmets, leggings, boots, and be left in our Birthday Suits! We'll paraglide to Colwyn Bay. The wind will take us all the way."

She fixed him with an Ada stare. "Your off your trolley, I declare. You're on your own! I've had enough," so Caddoc took off in a huff. "I'll ride the skies, alone and free. A wild, Welsh airman I will be."  

He should have heeded what she said. Better - he should have stayed in bed and not let air dreams fill his head,  for his landing wrecked his garden shed!

Not Quite A Moonlight Serenade

This picture by Andrew Wyeth which Tess gave us for her Mag 178,  put me in mind of a Trellis  Saga, akin to the poem by John Keats. Cad and Ada are renowned for such exploits in their long and varied relationship...

La Belle Ada Sans Culottes.
(With apologies to John Keats)

"O what can ail thee, Caddoc T
 alone and bare and pale and wan?"
"My biking kit's been nicked, look you!
And Ada's gone."

"O what can ail thee, goodly Cad?
You seemed chilled through, and woe-begone?"
"You deaf? No boots. No gloves. No wife.
I'm all undone!"

"I see the anguish on thy brow,
as if great sorrows overtook -
and on thy cheeks..." "Hands off, you swine! 
Don't push your luck!"      
       And here Caddoc launched forth into yet another                     tale of mishap by moonlight...
I thought to give Ada a spin,
(beloved wife — she's just 'the most' )
We'd hit the road for Colwyn Bay,
along the coast!

I bought a helmet for her head,
and leathers black and biker's boots.
She flipped her helmet's visor down,
said "Cad, let's scoot!"

I sat her on my racing steed,
and nothing else felt all day long,
but Ada pressed against my back,
with sweet Welsh song.

She bought me pink Llandudno rock
and Ninety-Nines and bags of chips.
And then in language strange she said—
‘Mmmm -  tasty lips!’

She hauled me to a trysting spot,
and there she lay and sighed full sore,
and there I shut her dear Welsh eyes
with kisses four. 

And so we lulled ourselves to sleep,
and there we dreamed, but later on
we woke up in our Birthday Suits
our leathers gone!

We saw the robbers making off,
masked brigands, ugly brutes, a brace.
But then things went from bad to worse!
Ada gave chase!

And so I stand here in the gloam,
and horrid thoughts go through my mind -
If I join Ada in the chase
what will I find?

Two robbers cowering in fear
cornered by Ada without her vest?
She'll be arrested too!  I'll plead
"She did her best!"

Ciggy Saga

On  holiday in Clacton, Trell saw this awesome pair in a photo in a junk shop, and he had to stop and stare at the most uncanny likeness...
( Cad and Ada, I declare! BUT – cigarettes? Good Heavens, that surely could not be – what could be their story? We’ll have to wait and see!)
It's really very simple. They're now both clapped out wrecks.  "'Cos smoking," argues Ada, "is an antidote to sex. "
(Pass the Woodbines, pet . . . )
But Caddoc knows that Ada knows that Caddoc is no fool.  And Caddoc knows in Clacton boarding houses it's the rule to avoid unwonted loss of life when fire disaster looms -
"ALL GUESTS AT ALL TIMES MUST REFRAIN FROM SMOKING IN THEIR ROOMS!"

Many thanks for sparking this off, Tess, with your choice of Togan Gokbakar's photo for the Mag 168

All About Caddoc

Caddoc's Version

Again I've caught Caddoc playing,
straying from his work, perhaps?
A lapse in his attention
I mention here, but I must smile
the while to acknowledge he's a
wizard when it comes to art -
part of why I fell for him -
grim though he may appear from time
to time. (Just look at his hat!
That is too awful for words,
absurd in fact.) But what he did
with a fiddle of his mouse today,
I must say was appealing -
stealing part of a painting! He's no dope,
I hope you'll agree;
he could see in his mind's eye
why a version with arms missing might
have more bite...I reprint it here,
my dear reader, but urge you to go
show him how you feel
for real about his home grown
poem - which I now plagiarise
as a surprise for him...
Thin end of the wedge? Maybe.
We'll see if he thinks
mine stinks...


After many moons of not being visible on this Truce blog, I can assure you I nevertheless remained behind the scenes to keep my gimlet eye upon Cad. So when I discovered today that he had got all creative, it spurred me on. Thank you, Mag 167!

Courtship

Spring, 1935 by Kuzma Petrov-Vodin

Remember in the early days how Cad could never wrench his gaze from fairest Ada, so  demure,  and how he thought that he might lure her to his favourite garden shed?

But prim and proper Ada said

"Divest your mind of such ideas.  For, Master Caddoc, it appears to little Ada (sweet and twenty) you promise naughtiness in plenty. I sense behind your moon-calf eyes imaginings that would surprise the girls from Colwyn to Tranent who don't know that your thoughts are bent on getting into Ada's bed. Chase such malpractice from your head!"

And yet (in brackets, so to speak) our Ada thought 

"If I can tweak his urges to a fever pitch he might decide to soothe his itch by making me an honest girl. Then I’d have me a willing churl!"

 So in due time the pair were wed. Poor Cad spent more time in his shed, not less - for Ada proved a tartar and soon poor Caddoc was a martyr, prostrated by the fires of love … for Ada was no turtle dove!

Until, that is, he’d lined her nest; she found he really was the best of thoughtful lovers, sweet and kind… Then Ada slowly changed her mind; she learned to tolerate his ways. No longer were there stressful days, and life turned out to be just fine – at least for eight days out of nine!



Thanks to Mag 164 for inspiring this tale.

Winter Woes

Winter chill had gripped my heart (and other less romantic parts) for snow and ice, or days of grey had chased my sunshine’s smile away. My Ada, mostly game to grouse, crept sad and silent through the house, too struck by winter weather blues to rally round - try to amuse us.

"You two ninnies are a hindrance. Remember last weekend, for instance; I heard you chatting in the shed. Why don't you talk to me instead? You lounge around and cause a muddle and then start whispering, in a huddle. For you it must be very nice, there in your Fool's Paradise, where meals are placed upon the table like clockwork. I am never able

to take a well earned day of rest..." and so her wittering progressed.

But Trell and I had hatched a plan, long before this strife began.

"That whispering, Ada, don't you know, was us plotting how to show appreciation of your labours. We thought we could do you a favour, book you a holiday, my pet, in some suave place where you could get pampered to the N th degree- far from the likes of Trell or me!"

But look at where we’d booked a place! Their advert’s blurb was a disgrace – Ada’s face was full of woe! 

“Forget it, Caddoc! Drive! Let’s go! Foot on the gas and let’s get home; I’ve lost the urge to ever roam!"

  

Many thanks to Tess and Jacek Yerka  over at The Mag 156 for inspiring this tale of woe  from Trellisland.

Tailpiece

My Guilty Pleasure, if you please

is wearing panties just like these.

Having perused most of the posts in response to Isadora's challenge from the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, I concluded you'd all lived pretty blameless lives and needed cheering up a bit. 

But after a night's sleep of lying awake (!), I was inspired to elucidate further...

Last night as I lay on my pillow
Last night as I lay on my bed
Last night as I mused next to Caddoc
some more lines came into my head...

"My Guilty Pleasure if you please
is wearing panties just like these.
It's just for fun. No one gets hurt
unless I wear my see-through skirt
and stroll about in Abergele.
Then knobbly Welsh knees turn to jelly.
One day I'll get myself arrested
by PCs whose resolve is tested.
They'd fling me in a prison cell.
They would not treat me very well -
I hope!  But things aren't what they seem -
My Guilty pleasure's just a dream."

You Dancing?

Last year, Ada and Caddoc were late for the ball at Willow Manor - possibly because it took them so long to get dressed.



This year, Trellissimo and Ada jumped the gun a month too soon, and tripped the light fantastic wearing the minimum of gear, as they sampled the delights of Paris.

Caddoc had suggested, for a change, that they dispensed with clothing all together, and adopted a more cherubic attitude to life.

He became engrossed for a while in the manufacture of wings, but discovered, too late, that Ada was allergic to both feathers and glue, with the result that she refused to wear anything but this for the 2012 bash at the Manor >>>>>>

The sight was so awesome, he retired to his shed, post haste, and hasn't been seen since...

The Trellis Tribe, however, would like to thank Tess for the invitation, as they realise their weekly shenanigans over the past year have probably tried the poor girl's patience to the limit, at times! You're a good sport, Tess. :)

Entente Cordiale

We went on a coach trip to Paris - that's Caddoc and Ada and me - we thought we could parler en français, but, eh bien! that was not to be. Peut être the natives, when talking, confused our sad, xenophobe ears as we floundered in incomprehension; their patois reduced us to tears! 
So we sought out un thé dansant café where très jolie musique was played and dames et messieurs in tight trousers their pulsating rhumbas displayed.

I offered to partner Ms Ada;  we abandoned all plans to converse, and took to the dance floor, gyrating, but events took a turn for the worse when, carried away with the rhythms, my elbow  knocked off Caddoc’s hat. Then along came a frenetic français who trod on his chapeau - KERSPLAT!
At this point friend Cad really lost it. He rose, and emitting a roar, he grasped the jeune homme by his collar and frog-marched the Frog through the door. (*)

The café fell silent.  The patrons first stared, then whispered and muttered till I (prudently) hid behind Ada,  in case a clenched fist should whirl by.
Le garçon cried out "He deserves it!" 
"Who, Caddoc?" 
"Non! Gaston,” said Cad. “That chap I just dumped on le trottoir. He strutted like he’s Jaques-le-Lad!”
"Steady on!" cried someone in English, in time with the fiddle and  bongo, which commenced with a popular chorus. You'd know it - "It Takes Three to Tango!"

And so after all we were fêted;  they toasted le tout Trellis tribe – but don’t believe all of cette histoire – just try to spot where I have lied!

(*) "La porte" would suit here, but it doesn't rhyme with "roar."  Suggestions anyone?


With apologies to Tess and Salvador Dali for this spot of Magpie Madness!

Busted!

Caddoc at his sculpture class
configured Mrs. Trellis,
but when he came rejoicing home
his wife said "What the hell is
this supposed to be?" Said Cad
"Why, dearest, it's your bust - "
"You leave my bust alone, I say!"
"No change there, then!" he cussed.
But, nothing daunted, Cad resumed
to chisel blocks of stone,
and very soon he brought a pair
of new art works back home
to adorn his window sills.

Now Trell and Ada stand in state-
one each side of his open grate!

Thanks for the prompt go to Tess at Mag 132, where Andrew Wyeth was the featured artist.

Sink Or Swim?

Detail from a painting by Adolphe Valette

Caddoc stood atop the wall like Humpty, poised before the fall. He watched the river waters flowing and as he watched his fear was growing, for mists and fog rolled from the sea and the river rose past six foot three - a depth that caused him great concern.  You will not be surprised to learn that Caddoc is but five foot seven, a gratis ticket straight to heaven were he to plunge into the spate to rescue Ada from her fate where barges bobbed, moored to the bank... it's no surprise that his heart sank as Ada broke the surface, frowning.  Her crumpled Caddoc watched her drowning - or so he thought.  But I declare! Upholstered Ada sports a pair of built-in, buoyant swimming aids,  denied to men but not to maids... They stop her sinking in the brine.  "Now pull me out, you daft Welsh swine!"

Thanks to Tess at the Mag 131 for inspiring this little fol-de-rol.

Fine Dining

It isn’t often Ada smiles, but when a famous painter asked her to pose, well, I suppose he could see,  it ain't her usual grumpy face – she smiling, sweet, and full of grace! Her glad rags, plus the ambience of gracious dining, make us glance at Ada in a different way - she’s looking rather posh today!  But what's this!  She seems to be dining alone. Is she waiting for Caddoc to come home?  Or does she plan to be indiscreet, after the sweet?

We may never know! Thanks go to The Mag 129, where Tess and John Singer Sargent prompted this petit morceau of je ne sais quoi!

Down, boy!

You can guess that she leads me a dogs life does Ada, the flower of my heart. How can I describe my dear Welsh wife? You know we are seldom apart...She calls, and I always come running, like the faithful Old Dog that I am. If it wasn't for all of our funning, I really would be in a jam, but laughter is always the spice in the mix, no matter how crazy the weather. So we bend, but don't break, in all the big storms that blow up when we are together. We share warm fronts and cold fronts in winter, chip ice from those harsh words at times, but we follow our hearts and unseemlier parts that lead us to sunnier climes!

Thanks to Mag #128, where Tess and Zelko Nedic set the scene,

The Way To Ada's Heart

Here's another slice of Trellis life, inspired by Tess at Willow Manor and her Jack Vittriano prompt.

"That Cad Trellis  is so late! He said he'd call for me at eight. But now it's going on for nine - I'll wring his red Welsh neck, the swine! Ada should not be kept waiting when we've but lately started dating and I've put on my best black dress my crumply Welshman to impress, and artfully messed with my hair to charm him in this lady's lair.

I hear the doorbell. Is that him? His chances sure are growing slim. He'll get a piece of Ada's mind, 'cos Ada's feeling quite unkind. He shouldn't keep me waiting hours . . "

(She opens the door)

"Oh, Caddoc dear! What lovely flowers - "

Ada Unawares

Trellissimo had his finger on the button!

"HeHe . . Ada doesn't know I snapped this, specially for Eric (Bubba) Alder."

P.S. Caddoc was heard to say" Getting nude would be too rude for Ada Trellis, look you! She is such a modest soul - except...  when Trell was on a roll with his secret snapping! I think it might be fair to say he caught fair Ada anyway - though certainly not napping!"

BUT 55 is not my age, said Ada!

However, to welcome G-Man back to the fold, there are exactly 55 words in my offering below...

“But Mrs. Jones' bonny maid! Ah!
Now she's my Beloved Ada . . . "

(words by one smart Doctor FTSE.)

Here’s my Ada – what a Tootsie!

And Jane and Margaret as well

were very curious, I could tell

to see Beloved in her glory,

just to finish off the story…

over on Trellis Fencing!

If none of this makes any sense to you at all - which is quite likely  -  click on the link and read the comments!

Then PLEASE will somebody tell me what has happened to Trellissimo?

Stop Press

If anybody is wondering what has happened to Ada and I, they can find out by clicking HERE. Sorry we didn't send you a postcard...

P.S. Have any of you seen Trellissimo? The police wish to question him, in regards to the discovery of this poor drowned lady...

Tess was a major witness at the scene, which was recorded for posterity by an artist friend of hers. Odilon Redon. Thanks to both of them, at Mag 124

Green Fingers?

As Caddoc is no stranger to the subject of gardening, I'm sure this week's Mag 120  from Tess met with his approval! It certainly set me thinking...

Image by Klaus Enrique Gerdes

Caddoc's little greenhouse and kitchen garden plot
get overloaded, summer time, with all the plants he's got
to flourish with his tender care -  once started, he can't stop!

Poor Ada has a problem with with finding room to freeze
all his fruit and veggies..."More rhubarb? Caddoc, please!"
The thought of all the cooking brings Ada to her knees.

There, in her busy kitchen, his Ada wails and grumbles.
"Does this mean I'll have to bake at least two dozen crumbles
to use it up? Will so much fruit make all our stomachs rumble?

And soon there will be strawberries and apples by the ton.
Will our culinary capers never all be done?"
But Caddoc merely smiles and says "Ada, you are a one!

You know you love fresh fruit and veg that I bring to the table.
You should thank your lucky stars that your Caddoc is able
to utilise his talents so, to produce his "Home Grown" label!

High Flying Swingers?

Ada and Caddoc, on enjoyment bent, went to the show in the circus Big Tent, but later that night, when they snuggled in bed, the strangest ideas lurked inside Caddoc's head.

"Ada my love, would you ever aspire to be one of those ladies who walk the high wire? Or maybe, to swing on flying trapeze would seem a more elegant act? It might please your thirst for adventure, to learn something new..."

But Ada was frosty. " What's up with you? Will you never learn to stop larking around? Can you see me enjoying life, far above ground level, flaunting my assets in stretchy pink tights and my mascara running because of the lights and the heat of the crowd; not to mention the fear that would make me perspire, I'm certain. Dear, dear! Without even trying, you're always a clown. Now shut up, or I'll gag you with the whole eiderdown!"

Another Trellis Tale written as a result of Circus Fever inspired by Tess and Marc Chagall, at Mag #118.

The Triumvirate

I think Gauguin might have turned in his grave, if he'd known about this re-construction of his painting, which Tess so ably chose for her Mag #117
 

Trell is lunching with Ada and Caddoc
on Colwyn Bay's finest boiled haddoc.
Said Trell "This is vile!
It smells like the piles 
that donkeys discharge in their paddoc."

To which a handy passer by was heard to mutter in reply:

" I have a hunch this sorry bunch
were hoping for a spot of lunch.
But oh my goodness gracious me
they must have been bananas!
There's Ada sandwiched in between
a right old pair of charmers…"

Where's Michael When You Need Him?

Thanks to my buddy Caddoc, two prompts were brought to my attention today, The Mag, with its photo by R A D Stainforth, and IGWRT with its Sunday Challenge to write a Florette. Here I attempt to kill two birds with one stone...

N.B. I hope you get the gist of  the reference in the title...

In summer, several years ago,

two certain people whom I know

once thought they’d hire a little boat

and have a jolly time afloat

                                            and learn to row.

Our Ada , as you may have guessed,

was less than suitably impressed

by Caddoc’s wielding of the oars,

and he, when blessed with no applause,

                                           got very stressed.

“Move over Caddoc, let me try.

I’m sure I’ll make our wee craft fly!”

and Ada bent her back and rowed.

“There you see, you useless toad!

                                       I’m far more spry.”

And truly, she had got the knack,

whizzed them upstream  -  but drifted back,

which gave her arms a chance to rest,

folded across her ample chest,

                                               a noble stack!

Caddoc, meanwhile, helped her steer –

“Now, left hand down a bit just here.

That’s it keep going! You’re so strong,

you make this small craft dash along.

                                      Well done my dear!”

“ How dare you, Caddoc, sing my praises

sitting there admiring daisies!”

But Caddoc merely grinned, the loon -

for, don’t we know, he’s the one whom

                                           nothing phases?

Red Shed Roof?!

Our artistic senses have been stimulated by Tess Kincaid this week. She featured a painting by Marc Chagall, entitled 'Red Roofs', which you can see in its full glory HERE 

As usual, the combined Trellis brainpower flipped, and 'red' became 'green' as they hummed along to the old, well known melody of 'Greensleeves'. Many apologies to Henry VIII, Chagall and Tess for the liberties we have taken.

Cad woke one morning and leapt out of bed
determined to paint the roof of his shed.
The ladder slipped and he fell on his head -
Now his gardening jacket has red sleeves.

Red shed-roofs are Caddoc's joy
Red shed-roofs are his delight,
but Ada has a heart of stone,
and scoffed at poor Caddoc's two red sleeves.

"Your laughter, dear, will break my heart!"
her Caddoc cried as he lay prostrate.
"We've always been a world apart,
but my heart is true to my lifelong mate."

Red shed-roofs are Caddoc's joy
Red shed-roofs are his delight,
but Ada’s heart remains like  stone,
as she  laughs at poor Caddoc's two red sleeves.

"I've aye been ready with hoe and spade
to grow the vegetables for your plate,
but for all the efforts I have made
you are still disdainful of your mate."

Red shed-roofs are Caddoc's joy
Red shed-roofs are his delight.
But he must enjoy them on his own
for Ada does not like his red sleeves.

   
“Fair Ada continues to give me grief,
yet still her scolding enraptures me,
I long for occasional light relief,
though I revel in my captivity.”

Red shed-roofs are Caddoc's joy
Red shed-roofs are his delight.
But Ada says”Leave me alone,
you bumbling Caddoc with red sleeves”.

“If I should strip myself to the buff,
hold both of my bare arms open wide
with no red sleeves to make you huff…
might that appeal to your softer side?”

Red shed-roofs are Caddoc's joy
Red shed-roofs are his delight.
So Ada agrees ” That’s more likely to please-,
you  look much better, Cad, without red sleeves”.

Ship Ahoy!

With thoughts of floating eggshells offered by Tess, came the chance to indulge in another off-beat escapade for our off-beat, Trellis trio. Many thanks and apologies go to her, the artist, and of course, Edward Lear!

 

Cad, Ada and Trell sallied forth one day,

in a beautiful egg-shell boat.
They'd a case full of whisky and Ada got frisky,
wrapped up in her fake fur coat.
Old Cad looked up to the stars above
and sang to a small banjo.
“O lovely Ada, O Ada my love,
you've a fabulous frontage you know,
you know,
you know.
You’ve a fabulous frontage you know."

Ada glowered at Cad which made him feel sad
“Give over and stop that talk,
or we’ll leave you behind and then you may find
it’s an awfully long way to walk!
From fair Colwyn Bay we’re sailing away

to a land where no Bong Tree grows!"

But there, looking good, Trellissimo stood

With a dreep at the end of his nose,
his nose,
his nose
with a dreep at the end of his nose.

"So, Trell,  are you willing to make cheesecake filling
from the moon, if we travel that far?"
Gallant Trell shook his head and off they all sped.
“Does anyone know where we are?"
(They dined on mints after multiple hints
that their whisky breath smelled too strong)
"Whisky chasers in pocket, we’ll fly like a rocket!
What intrepid explorers we are,
we are,
we are
what intrepid explores we are!”

Cool It!

Each time Ada lost her cool and made poor Caddoc feel a fool, his mind played rather nasty tricks. He never quite knew how to fix whatever grouse had led her mind to be vindictive. Could he find a way to lessen the effect of feeling like a duff reject?

At last, he hit upon a plan to boost his confidence. A man could haply face domestic strife from a nagging, angry wife, if he painted, in his head, her face with garish colours! Instead  of shivering sadly in his shoes, he found this ploy could let him choose how he’d dampen down her wrath - (like dousing chip pans with a cloth designed to  blanket flames… )

So the red of Ada’s ire, like those flames in chip pan fire, he  damped down to coolest blue – I like her better so – don’t you?

With thanks and acknowledgements to Tess and Sarolta Bàn, who feature in The Mag 107.

Look Before You Leap

"To think" mused Ada "I proposed to Cad. I thought that he was such a lovely lad. But I soon realised his garden shed was more attractive to him than our bed. I did not know he wore such gruesome hats. I did not understand we'd have such spats. Are you surprised my mouth quite soon turned down, that where there once were smiles there's now a frown? I HATE the way he scratches at his belly. I do not like my life in Abergele. Sometimes I think I ought to run away and find myself a flat in Colwyn Bay. Look out!  He's coming in. And oh . . my nose is telling me he's bringing me Leap Year roses! Do I misjudge him? Has he a kind heart? All the same, I wish that he'd not f**t so loudly when he's thinning seedlings... He tries to get round me with his wheedling words, which (he should know), I find absurd!
Especially when trumpeting’s all that I’ve heard!

Ella at IGWRT asked that we wrote about sounds we heard - but she probably never expected these... Haha! 

Shopaholic Versus Alcoholic?

Caddoc closed his calloused fist
upon a crumpled shopping list
and glared at stacked up tins of soup.
“Why am I always such a noop
who tries  unfailingly to follow
Ada’s law, though hard to swallow…
(unlike her cans of Campbell’s soup
made from chickens) Could I stoop
to crafty levels?
Be a wild, rebellious devil?
Buy the beer I’ve lately missed?
I’d promise I would not get p*****
by drinking all the tins at once.
I was never such a dunce
that I could not slake my thirst
without succumbing to the worst
fate that ever mankind knew-
intoxication from a brew
of hops and other heady potions
designed to give a fellow notions...”

But once back home Cad was surprised.
Things were not as he'd surmised.
His Ada said "I'm tired of tea.
You've something stronger there, I see.
So why don't we two share a tinfull?"
(More than that she'd think was sinful.)
They sat, drank, giggled at the telly,
the merriest pair in Abergele,
till Ada looked at Cad askance,
decided she would take a chance,
"You've fuelled my ardour with one can.
So get upstairs, you norty man!"

In her Mag 106, Tess has brought our attention to the delights of shopping for well known cans of soup...All of which caused Caddoc's and Ada's minds to wander...

On Yer Bike!

Our hapless pair set out in tandem one fine day, to ride at random. Of a sudden, Cad sees he’s alone. He stops and pulls out mobile phone.

"Is that the Coastguard?  Caddoc Trellis here. Ada's lost along the way, I fear! We set out for a cycle ride. She fell behind.      

I've hunted far and wide from Pentre Mawr and Pensarn, all the way along the coast from Rhyl to Colwyn Bay. I'm getting filled with vague alarm. It's not like my Ada. Has she fallen off her bike? Is she lying by the roadside in distress, her lycra cycling suit a muddy mess? 

Wait!  Sorry that I bothered you. Just found my Ada's in a phone booth, on the ground! I dare not say how little she is wearing! I need to know her reason for her baring all, in this psychedaelic phone booth's light… to anyone but me, a fearsome sight.

     
"Ada!  What do you think you’re doing here?"                             

"Could that be Caddoc's voice? He sounds quite near."       

"Ada, dearest!  THIS EDIFICE IS NOT A SUNBED! Have you, perchance, quite lost your head? I’ve long suspected you might be every bit as mad as me!!!"

Thanks once again to Tess, whose Mag 105 called forth this madness from the Trellis Tribe..

Mud, Mud, Glorious Mud!

Caddoc heard mud baths were good for the skin and wondered how he might persuade Ada in to sample the benefits, though she'd get mucky. 
I thought she'd say,   

"Cad, it's too yucky, ducky. How dare you suggest it? That one such as I, whose addiction to purity none can deny, should flounder about in a tub full of slime? That's tantamount to matrimonial crime!"
But Caddoc was tired of her protestations...
"I'm determined to remedy this situation. I’ll sully that image that's whiter than white, at least in her own eyes. I will give her a fright! I'll make a mud bath but top it with bubbles - cleaning  them up will be least of my troubles… Ada already makes me feel more than a tad useless and hopeless. It’s time I got mad!”
But when Ada lay daintily down in the bath She was a LONG way from having a laugh.  
“Help! What has happened? Someone get me out!”Came the heartrending sound of her piquant shout. 
“Trell to the rescue!” yelled I. Then with haste I hauled mudcaked Ada, now very red faced, onto the bathmat, trying not to stare as dollops of mud trickled down from her hair.

Then I gave her a blow dry, body and all and the mud formed a solid shell, waiting to fall, just like a plaster cast. That’s when I retired, and left  her to Caddoc. He was inspired. He baked her mud-mould and created ‘art’which he hung in the lobby. And that was the start of another new hobby for Mister C.T., the frustrated artist of this family!

This fol-de-rol was inspired by Tess Kinkaid's Magpie Tales #104, where you will find many more offerings.

Men Will Be Boy Racers.

Caddoc, deep in mid-life crisis, sought new outlets which was why his thinking turned to 4 by 4's. Freedom! Fresh air! Out of doors, with shed and Ada far behind, he could roam freely. He would find trackways wild across the hills. All North Wales out there for thrills. So he sent for information, planned trips to hilltop destinations. Mount Snowdon via the Horseshoe Pass. Who knows? Maybe he'd meet a lass stranded with her big-end shot. Then he'd soon show her age is not a bar to wielding jack and tools. "We wrinklies, we are no-one's fools. From Abergele to Porthmadoc I'll be known as Whizzwheels Caddoc!"

Said Ada, "Cad - your lamp grows dimmer. All you need's a four wheeled zimmer. No point in looking so forlorn. Now look you!  Practise on the lawn."