all that tango, mambo, rumba, conga 

I’m writing another story using words which were the answers to an Octordle, an on-line word puzzle where you have to work out eight words in thirteen words. I shared the first part yesterday and I had hoped the next would conclude it, but I think it’s going to be a three-part! Here’s the next instalment with eight more words from another Octordle, which I have listed at the end.

Life went on, and without having mentioned it much – to be honest our neighbours were a little scary, we paid them little attention. The man, Terrance would just stand and stare at us – at first I would call out a greeting, but soon my friendly words died on my lips. Fanny was the opposite, she would rush into the house, pretending not to see us. I once almost bumped into her as I came out and she was coming into the small but well-stocked village shop. She recoiled as if I was a leper, a look almost of fear on her face. I wondered actually if she was ill, her complexion was sallow and there was a sheen on her skin as if she had a fever.
The houses had been built on what had been fields on the edge of the village and our gardens were separated by a simple wire strand fence held up by wooden posts. At the back were some rackety old panels which would have to come down when we had the time. So there was no privacy, not that we wanted to lounge around in the altogether, but we decided that a fence or a nice hedge would do. We’d been concentrating on the inside, so many things to do when you move into a new place, let alone a brand new place, and we were working as well.
After a period of rather wet unpleasant weather, spring decided to arrive and we went out into our muddy patch to begin to think about what we could do; from a practical point of view and with our busy lives, logic dictated we had an easy to manage garden for the time being. Maybe just grass and a small flower bed, and maybe a tree, and perhaps…
“Hello, you two!” I just about leapt out of my skin – but of course it was Jack. He’d put washing out on the line and was standing behind a flapping duvet cover and I’d not noticed him. “Been sorting socks, bloody things!” he peered over the washing at us and waved a handful of socks.
We got into conversation, talking about our tentative plans for a manageable garden and he mentioned fencing. Any erection or barrier between us and them was theirs – just as the line between us and the scary folk was ours. Typical of Jack, he was consulting us about how we would feel about a fence, and what sort, and how high. His business was landscaping, and of course fencing and hedging came into that. Sandy was a filer – not exactly sure what she filed… but back to fences… We honestly didn’t mind about what sort of fence, had no clue, but I did say once it was up I’d help with the maintenance, painting or creosoting it or whatever he wanted. It was all very affable and friendly.
“I do fencing as a bit of a side-line – if you like I can do your fence and the one at the back too – those panels are a goner!” He told us that there had been dreadful storms in the New Year, and the fencing had caught the brunt of it, and to be fair to the old thing, it were still standing, after a fashion.
“I don’t suppose… ” he started with a somewhat sheepish look on his face. “I don’t suppose you two fancy coming along to a Latin American dance class in the village hall next week. Sandy is desperate to go, and I somehow agreed…”
The answer would have been a ‘no’, except he said we could go to the pub afterwards – all that tango, mambo, rumba, conga could build up a thirst!

brunt, filer, logic, sheen, goner, leper, mambo, leapt,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.