I shared a story a little while ago; I’d combined two stories my dad had told me, true stories – one about a dog race he went to with his friend Darkus where against Darkus’s advice dad put his money on a dog called Needles. Despite it looking a decrepit old hound it came home first. I wove that into another of Dad’s stories about a friend, Eric who was a very careful better – on the horses; Eric always kept all the winnings and never spent more than a certain amount however much of a lucky streak he seemed to be having. There came a time of a big race when the odds were just right and Eric put all his savings on a particular horse, which thankfully came home and won him a tidy sum. Eric never ever bet again! My featured image is of my dad, front left, and Eric front right – I think they are going for a rowing club dinner!
I wrote my version of this story calling a dog in the greyhound race Jelly and Custard as that was the given title fro my writing group.. I was intrigue to find out what the others had written on this subject, and as i expected they were varied!
- the story of an old lady thinking back and imagining she was a child again, and it was her birthday party and she did not want jelly and custard for her party tea!
- a retired secret service agent whose child’s birthday party was interrupted by an assassin – the last memorable image was of the floor streaked with blood and jelly and custard
- a woman who attends her husband’s works’do’ who is not made to feel welcome by the other wives, and who over hears someone she thought her friend making unpleasant remarks about her. The woman ‘accidentally’ trips over and knocks a waiter who spills jelly and custard all down the horrid woman’s frock.
- a description of a real person, a remarkable woman who is so independent and strong; she is totally self-sufficient and even makes her own jelly, and home-made custard
- a mystery story set in a remote part of Newfoundland where a woman is left her grandmother’s old house and finds a box of hand-written recipes
- a quirky story of a man who’s found badly beaten, and can only mumble ‘jelly and custard’…
- the Seven Ages of Jelly – a funny but clever take on Shakespeare’s seven ages of man, All The World’s a Stage… here’s the original:
All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.