A Room with a Phewww

All the riches of Croesus had been bestowed upon the guardian to ensure entrance to this hallowed place. 
The key held in my hand was the link to another world, hidden from ordinary mortals. Carefully the key was placed into the aged lock. 
It took all my strength to turn the key and free the lock. 
Gripping the iron handles I pushed open the doors and gazed in wonder at the feted space before me. 
It was a place with history where many had passed before, some for brief moments others for many days .. now it was my turn. A room small in size but grand in memories, many still lingering, waiting to surprise the unwary visitor. 
Many aromas filled the room each fighting the other for supremacy in an epic battle for domination. 
Hot, wet dog with a hint of damp Tweed fought its corner against the acrid stench of overloaded incontinence pads, both of which were being backed into a corner by the wholesome sweet smell of full nappies. There were other less intense scents wafting through the room, a hint of garden flowers, a whiff of ancient books and the almost unnoticeable fragrance of honey coating the background.
This was indeed a hallowed place in which I stood contemplating the monumental task before me ....preparing  the Gresley Station Community Hall for its annual Jumble sale in aid of destitute Mothers.

Extract from "The Legend of Turnpike Lane"

Told to me by my grandfather who was told it by his grandmother and is now to be told to my grandchildren, so now the legend will continue….

If you walk from the market place in Gresley Station along Turnpike Lane, towards Witham Moor you will come upon a ruined house, burnt to a shell and decayed by years of neglect. This was once a great house, home to one of the most mysterious residents of Gresley Station, Jacob Fryor, his story begins long ago in the dimmest parts of history just after the railway arrived.

On a damp cold morning in the mid 1860’s a train pulls into Gresley Station, huffing and puffing as it makes the final climb, it comes to a halt and spews steam onto the grey platform. Out of the shroud of mist walks a figure, tall, dressed in black, with scarlet gloves grasping a black cane entwined with two serpents. 

Jacob Fryor had arrived.

Walking … no flowing is more apt, for Fryor moved like smoke on a winter day, drifting amongst the buildings, casually caressing the pavements in an almost weightless manner, Fryor headed into town and took lodgings at the Red Bear (now The Howling Woman) ...

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An Extract from "Werewolves and Werewives"

A Conversation overheard in the Howling Woman, Gresley Station

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Put yours next to mine so we can compare …

There see what I mean?

All length.

Look at mine it has girth as well as length.

That's what makes it, that combination of length and girth, pleasing to the eye and beautifully formed, good deep even colour, even ridges and a tip that is both pointed and rounded at the same time, pure perfection.

I have to admit I do admire it.

So, how do you get the extra girth?

Massage, young man, massage

Massage? You're joking.

No, it works, over time with patience and regular application.

Go on then tell me how.

Get yourself some olive oil, rub it on, all over the length then starting slowly from the end, massage the oil into the skin. Grasping it firmly, slowly take your hand up the whole length till you reach the end then reverse and slide your hand back down. Then keep it up for about 20/30 minutes, making sure you keep it well oiled and do it slowly or you will damage it. Squeeze too hard and it’ll go limp and that’s a disaster. Keep it gentle but firm for best results and you get other benefits as it tastes better, goes further and keeps nice and firm for much longer so that’ll keep the wife happy!

So how does it make the girth bigger?

The oil keeps the skin supple and lets it expand rather than putting on any more length.

Ah I see so the earlier you start this massage the better.

Well you need to let it get to a good length first or it will be all girth and short which is just no good at all.

                                       

Ok, so how often do I need to do this

Two or three times a day

2 or 3 times a day !! Don't know if I have the time for that

You have to make the time young’un if you want that magical combination.

So how long does it take?

Not that long a few weeks, couple of months at most, but it always comes with a bit of perseverance

Hmm it's a big commitment

Listen lad what you are trying to achieve is hard work but if you take my advice it won’t be long before you rise in stature amongst us all and you can stand proud before anyone. They will know that you have made the effort into making it the best there is, even if it cannot compare with mine!

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Exquisite Joy

Ah, the joy of Christmas is upon us. You know what I mean, that perfect moment when you realise that all your credit cards are maxed out and you still have to buy presents for your family.

Oh the joy of it.

Then there are the parties, office, friends, family or just one you stumbled upon. The amazing feeling of that first festive drink soon followed by the "I should never have had that last drink" moment generally served with regurgitated half digested mince pies slathered in beer sauce.

Oh the joy if it.

Shopping for Christmas food is somewhat akin to providing provisions for all the ravening hordes of Ghengis Khan. The entire contents of provender shops are poked into bags and carriers which are transported home to languish in dark corners until the smell of rotting food finally reminds you that they were bought for Christmas and it is now nearly Whitsun; all those mint chocolates, toffees, candy canes, mince pies, iced cakes and all the trimmings of course including brussel sprouts and chestnuts none of which anyone wanted but had to be bought, just in case, let alone the bags of nuts no one could crack or the clementines that dried to an orange version of a golf ball sat in a fruit bowl offering their sweetness and sneaky pips to one and all.

Oh the joy of it.

And the Muzak, such sweet renderings of classic yuletide songs that generally induce migraine within seconds or it is Kirsty McColl screeching alongside a more than croaky Pogues eulogising about some fantastical NY city.

Oh the joy of it.

Then the fatal day arrives at an ungodly hour for parents, whose little cherubs have decided that 4 am IS morning and time to see how much Santa has spent this year. For those of us without incumbent children, a lie in until one of the brood decides it is time to visit at around 8am to 'gift' us. Mountains of carefully wrapped presents are reduced to unwanted dross and tossed aside in seconds  never to see light of day save to be re given next year to some poor unsuspecting person.

Oh the joy of it.

Once the alcohol and dinner have wreaked havoc with our digestives systems, all is quiet save for the snores and farts of Christmas day afternoon, while the Queen regally extols us with her views.

Oh the joy of it.

Boxing Day is a day of recovery for some, if not most, but some of the more mentally challenged seek out sport or outdoor activities, sometimes for the  first time as it is the festive 'must do', who then return hours later swearing 'never do'.

Oh the joy of it.

Then we can all return to the normal, grumpy, immoral hordes that we are in real life and leave the fantasy behind for another year.

Oh the exquisite joy of it.