Dishes, Dishwasher, Dirty, Kitchen

T ‘was the night after Christmas and all through the house,

Some moaned with full bellies, and others were soused.

Piles of wrapping paper were scattered here and there,

The sound of electronic gaming was more than I could bear.

As I gazed upon piled dishes and to my despair

None were going to help me, as if they weren’t there

Saint Nick and his helpers now back at the Pole

Really don’t see their aftermath or know its toll.

This good natured humbug is brought to you by Padre

Have a happy Christmas

Shared on –

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie 


man in red and black plaid dress shirt holding white ceramic mug
Євгенія Височина at Unsplash

Here’s my busy lockdown itin – erarey

Sometime before noon – I’ll wake for some tea

I will stretch and I’ll yawn

And I put on the kettle

When it’s all brewed – then on the couch I’ll settle

That task completed I will check my email

Then check on the mat, if there is any snail

Then the kettle again

And back upstairs to my bed

And ponder the Netflix

Or watch YouTube instead

About three, some lunch is on the agenda

Not much – just a sandwich

Or smoothie from the blender

An afternoon shower is then to follow

And then more tea – I think I will swallow

After all of these harrowing chores

It’s time for a nap and accompanying snores

Once awake, it’ll be time for my dinner

I think an oven-baked pizza

Will be a sure winner

Now exhausted by all of my toil

I’ll put my last cuppa on to the boil

Another yawn and a stretch

My Jammies I’ll change

And head off to bed to start it over again


FOWC with Fandango — Itinerary

Reflections On A Star

Holy Three Kings, Holy, Kings

The conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn has just passed after an absence of hundreds of years. Some call this the Christmas Star or the Bethlehem Star. In this year of fires, floods, racial and social unrest, and a world-wide pandemic it is perhaps a time to take stock and to reflect on the story not of this planetary alignment, but of the star of the Gospel account. It was a harbinger of the coming of Emmanuel, God with us. It marked a transition in our relationship with the divine. The age of the Fall of Adam was coming to an end, and a promised saviour, the Messiah had come.

That did not mean that wars and rumours of wars, or fires, floods, and misfortune were coming to an end – 2020 surely shows us that. What it does say is there is a hope that is greater than those trials that is opened to us.

As I was reflecting on this I picked three YouTube videos to share which capture some of my thoughts. The first speaks of the coming of Emmanuel. The other two of the stresses and strains that Mary, the mother of Jesus may have faced in her obedience to God’s call. That obedience in the face of uncertainty and surely fears is a telling example for us all.

I wish all of you a happy Christmas, and pray that what ever the future holds for us, that we might cling to the Emmanuel – God with us.


Covid Winds

Snow, Sun, Winter, Landscape, Nature, Wintry, Forest

Winter’s come amid the mounting snow

But even without it – there’s no place to go

Doors are closed against the blight

There just seems – no end in sight

As if it were the the cold winds that blow

When it will end? Well I don’t know


The Call

House, Home, Mansion, Spooky, Eerie

Douglas Ambrose had been gatekeeper at the estate for nearly a decade. In all that time, he had not once been summoned to the Great House. Today, however, the call had come. It’s purpose was mystifying, both literally and figuratively as he trudged through a thick mist that obscured the residence from view.

As he walked, worries and self doubts began to fill his head. Had the Squire heard of his dice playing at the tavern, or of the dispute with the green grocer where he overturned the apple cart on his exit from the merchant’s shop.

As the shadowy form of the Great House began to emerge from the cold December mist, Douglas set his path to the servants’ entrance. On arrival he was met by Will Youngblood, one of the footmen who informed him that the Squire expected him at the stable block.

Ambrose thanked him, and headed across the gravelled court to the block, where Hilton, the butler, nodded to an open stall door.

On entering, Douglas was faced by the Squire and his eldest son, Richard. Quickly doffing his cap, he mumbled “Good morning, Sirs.”

“Good morning, Ambrose. How are things at the Gatehouse?” the Squire enquired.

“Well Sir, Thank you, Sir.”

“Good – good. Now I have heard some disturbing news Ambrose,” the Squire began.

Oh my Lord, please no, Ambrose thought beginning to sweat at the brow.

“It has come to my attention that your son, Arnie is it? Has joined the Yeomanry as a trooper.”

“Yes, yes Sir. That is so.” Ambrose stumbled.

“It seems that he is taking that nine year old Mare of yours to serve the Crown with.”

“Yes, that’s the truth as well.” Ambrose stuttered.

“That will never do, Man. Here take this gelding. It’s strong, and should well serve the reputation of this house.”

“Take, Sir?”

“Yes – yes, take. It’s a gift. And Ambrose, Happy Christmas.”


Tale Weaver – Gift

FOWC with Fandango — Great

Easy Spicy Hummus

It has been some time since I last posted a recipe. Sadly it has been very much same old – same old for me during the lockdowns. Today, however, I decided to literally spice things up a bit by making some homemade spicy hummus. This is an easy (or even cheaters) recipe as I have not gone through the whole process of soaking and preparing my own beans. That said I think this is far nicer than most store bought varieties and a lot less expensive.


  • Chick Peas (Garbanzo Beans) – 400 g can in water
  • Haricot Beans (Navy Beans or similar)  – 400 g can in water
  • Garlic – 1 large clove
  • Lemon Juice – 1 Tbs
  • Extra Virgin Olive Oil – 1 Tbs
  • Curry Paste – 1 Tbs (I use Tikka)
  • Cajun Spice – 1 tsp
  • Water – < 1 Tbs (as needed)


Peel the garlic and blitz in a food processor.  Then add the curry paste, lemon juice, and spice.  Drain the tins of beans/peas and add to the processor and blitz on high for one minute.  With a spoon stir the mixture to allow any chucks to be moved to the blades, and blitz again for half a minute. You can if needed add splashes of water to reach your desired consistency (I prefer mine on the thick side).  Spoon into a storage bowl and chill.  That’s all there is to it.


Time Traveller

MorgueFIle 2020 October file0002096044980

Clem Rogers was outriding on the drive when a twister began to bear down on the herd. Before he knew it he was caught up in the whirling vortex. He awoke rather battered but alive in a dry gulch.

As he lay there trying to come to his senses, a rider wearing some odd blue denim trousers came across him. She was tolerably pretty, but Clem wondered why she was dressed like a man.

“You okay?” the newcomer asked. “Can’t believe you survived. I saw you fall and thought you’d have been killed.”

“I reckon I’ve been better,” Clem responded.

The stranger dismounted, and aided Clem to the horse and helped him to mount. He then led the horse to a ranch house about a mile away.

“I’m Donna, by the way,” she said as they made their way.

“Good to meet you, Ma’am. I’m Clem Rogers.”

As they approached the house, Clem saw a blue pickup in the drive, and a strange metal dish on the side of the house.

“Miss Donna, what is that thing?” he asked nodding towards the truck.

“You must have taken some serious bang to the head if you can’t recognise a truck.”

As they entered the house two teenagers sat on a couch watching television. Clem blinked a couple of times, but decided that he must be hallucinating. Maybe Donna was right about the head injury.

She led him into the kitchen and told him to sit at the table.

“Do you want some coffee?” she asked.

“That would be mighty kind of you,” he repiled.

She then scooped some grounds from a jar and placed them into the cappuccino maker.

“What in tarnation is that contraption?”

“It’s a coffee maker,” she replied.

“My word, why don’t you just make it in a pan?” he asked.

“A pan?”

“Just boil it up,” he replied.

“That sounds disgusting,” she said.

“Guess I got used to it that way out on the drive.”


“You know – the cattle drive,” Clem elaborated.

“Goodness you don’t look that old. There hasn’t been a drive near here since the 30s.”

“How can that be Ma’am, they didn’t start till they brought the railroad to Abilene?”

“What year do yo think this is?” she asked with some concern in her voice.

“Ain’t it 1888?”


This story was inspired by the FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER prompt, but is well over a hundred words too long for the challenge.

An Entrance

brown concrete castle under gray sky
Carlos Dias at Unsplash

“Okay, if we use our heads and if we are lucky, we should be able to enter the castle and confront the baron,” Harold told his band of followers as they canned the castle defences.

“Um – exactly how are the nine of us going to pull this off?” Owen asked.

“Like I said, with a little cunning we can distract the guards and get through the gate while they are dealing with our feint.”

“So what do we do?” Lars asked.

“Well Lars, you and William will roll the haycart to the front gate and then just out of reach of the guards set it alight and run. While the guards are dealing with the fire, the rest of us will rush in,” Harold explained.

“And what if they don’t rush to put out the fire?” an unfamiliar voice queried. “I hear those guards are really good at sticking to thier posts.”

“Those pampered buffoons,” Harold retorted. “They will run about like headless chickens.”

“Do you know Harold Greengrass, I think this is your lucky day after all,” The Captain of the Guard said as twenty guards closed in from behind the band. “I’d wager you will be inside and facing the baron sooner than you thought.”


FOWC with Fandango — Lucky