I’m delighted to announce that my latest book ‘Summer Changes, Winter Tears’ is now available on Amazon in both eBook and paperback formats.
Although basically a Romance, the story includes nostalgia from my first visit to the Mediterranean island of Malta, and the man who was born there. Ours was more than a holiday romance, and although he died at a very young age, the memories of many of the quirky aspects of our life together brought a smile to my face. Would we have ended up like this? Possibly. 😀
‘No grandparents were harmed in the writing of this story.’
George and Mary
Setting: An elderly man is sitting in an armchair, watching a small television. To his right is another empty armchair. An elderly lady shuffles in carrying two steaming mugs of cocoa.
Mary: George, move your newspaper. I need to put these down before they burn my fingers.
George: There’s plenty of room at the side. Here, give them to me.
Mary: Not without a coaster, you’ll take all the varnish off. Do you know how long I spent polishing it?
George: I remember the Coasters, but I thought they were American, not Polish. Didn’t Mike Stoller write their famous one?
Mary: What on earth are you talking about? I’m not having those fancy German cakes in this house. You’ll have biscuits and like it.
George: What’s the difference between a cake and a biscuit?
Mary: How would you know? If I didn’t cook, you’d starve.
George: When they get stale, one goes soft and one goes hard.
Mary: None of your smutty talk. We’re too old for all that. Drink your cocoa and pass me the remote.
George: But the footie’s just starting.
Mary: Sex and football, that’s all you think about. Now shut up and let me listen to the film. It’s one of my favourites.
George: Why do you want to watch it again, if you’ve already seen it? That’s daft.
Mary: Not as daft as watching twelve men chasing a bit of leather about. Shush, it’s starting.
George: It’s eleven, not twelve.
Mary: It’s not eleven. It’s only just gone nine.
George: I meant… Oh, never mind. Isn’t that what’s her name? Gloria something. I used to like her.
Mary: No, it’s … I know who you mean. It’s on the tip of my tongue.
She was in that film with that good-looking bloke. He was a bit of alright.
George: You used to say I looked like him when I was younger.
Mary: In your dreams. Anyway, he’s dead now.
George: No, he can’t be. He was in that documentary the other night.
They were doing his life story.
Mary: You silly old fool. That wasn’t him, that was the other one.
George: No, not the one who was married to the blonde girl, he was in that film with …Oh, you know. That actress you used to like, Mary something.
Mary: I’m Mary, you daft bugger. Do you mean Susan? Susan, Harding, Hendersen.
It began with an ‘H.’
George: You mean Sarah Godfrey. Yes, I used to like her. Wasn’t she a brunette, though?
Mary: That’s the one, Sheila Gordon. I knew it would come back to me.
George: She ran off with an Italian Prince, didn’t she?
Mary: Who? Shirley? No, it was a French Count. Became Madam something.
George: Didn’t she run a brothel in Streatham?
Mary: Trust you to know that. Wouldn’t surprise me if you hadn’t popped in there now and again. You always were randy.
George: You never objected to a bit of slap and tickle, if I remember correctly.
Mary: I’ll tickle you in a minute. Now hush, I’m trying to watch the film.
George: It has been a while though. Fancy an early night?
Mary: It’s only been on ten minutes. Oh, this is the good bit. He goes to the wrong place when they’re supposed to meet, and she thinks he doesn’t love her anymore. Pass me the tissues.
George: How can you get all weepy when you already know they get back together again?
Mary: Now you’ve spoilt the ending. It’s so romantic. Do you want another cup of cocoa while the adverts are on?
George: No thanks. I think I’ll go to bed.
Mary: I’ll be up soon. The film’s nearly finished. Goodnight, dear.
George says goodnight and goes upstairs, feeling frustrated at a lost opportunity, and remembering when they were young, and couldn’t keep their hands off each other.
The film finishes. Mary wipes her eyes at the happy ending, washes the mugs, then decides to put on her best winceyette nightie. The film has put her in the mood, and even though it’s not his birthday a little cuddle might be nice. A quick dab behind the ears with the perfume he bought her at Christmas, and she slips into bed as seductively as her arthritis will allow.
Mary: I’m ready, George. Are you awake?
A loud snore is her only answer as George turns over, hogging the duvet and muttering ‘Get your eyes tested, ref.’
Mary: Typical male. Well that’s the only scoring he’s going to do tonight. Men!
© Voinks March 2019
Please check out the ‘Look inside’ feature on Amazon to see if the book is for you. If not, it could make an excellent Christmas present for the ‘impossible to buy for’ lady in your life.
Thanks for visiting. See you next week.