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 - "