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Oct 2021 Ficlet Challenge
purplecleric
The phrase prompt this month is … A DAY LATE AND A DOLLAR SHORT


And for the second challenge:

It’s Spooky Season - I wonder what mysterious things are happening to our favourite characters?


Happy writing!
 
JustBrad
Vila staggered down the corridor. Vila reflected that this was unfair. He was walking rather normally, for the state he was in, but the walls kept bumping into him. It wasn't his fault. They had all agreed on raiding that Federation ship carrying stolen antiquities from a dozen different worlds.

Tarrant got the currency he wanted. Avon got the components he wanted, Dayna got the guns she wanted, and Cally claimed some old Auron artifact. Vila took a crate labeled Genuine Kentucky... something or other. It was a dark amber liquid, and it was even better than Adrenaline and Soma.

Vila saw a blurry image at the end of the corridor. Well, to be fair every image he saw was blurry, but this one was also shimmering. He squinted. "Oh, hello, Cally."

Cally stood stiffly holing the ancient Auron artifact. In a decidedly non Cally voice she, or someone using her mouth, said. "The spirit of The Lost speaks through me.”

Vila smiled. "That's nice," he tried to say, though it sounded more like, "Thas niis."

Vila attempted to stand straight as he said, "The spirit of... The spirit of...." He squinted at the label on the bottle he was holding, "The spirit of Jack Daniels speaks through me."
Men of Harlech cease your dreaming, can't you see their street signs gleaming...
 
littlesue
JustBrad wrote:

Vila staggered down the corridor. Vila reflected that this was unfair. He was walking rather normally, for the state he was in, but the walls kept bumping into him. It wasn't his fault. They had all agreed on raiding that Federation ship carrying stolen antiquities from a dozen different worlds.

Tarrant got the currency he wanted. Avon got the components he wanted, Dayna got the guns she wanted, and Cally claimed some old Auron artifact. Vila took a crate labeled Genuine Kentucky... something or other. It was a dark amber liquid, and it was even better than Adrenaline and Soma.

Vila saw a blurry image at the end of the corridor. Well, to be fair every image he saw was blurry, but this one was also shimmering. He squinted. "Oh, hello, Cally."

Cally stood stiffly holing the ancient Auron artifact. In a decidedly non Cally voice she, or someone using her mouth, said. "The spirit of The Lost speaks through me.”

Vila smiled. "That's nice," he tried to say, though it sounded more like, "Thas niis."

Vila attempted to stand straight as he said, "The spirit of... The spirit of...." He squinted at the label on the bottle he was holding, "The spirit of Jack Daniels speaks through me."


GrinGrin
Cold.....you don't know the meaning of cold.
Cold is when you have ice on the INSIDE of the window!!!


sues stories http://sjlittle.w...
sues youtube channel http://www.youtub...e54/videos
sues book shelf https://www.media...ne%20Shelf
rebel run video http://www.youtub...prqS-XZtLo
Lara and Sue's Stories http://lectorisal....webs.com/
 
Cygnus Bazza
A Day Late and a Dollar Short

“But that makes no sense! No sense at all! How could that possibly have happened? And you’re quite, quite, QUITE sure about this, Avon?”

“Absolutely certain. Vila’s turned into an American.”

Blake was visibly perplexed. “Well that’s highly inconvenient… And it could have some unfortunate ramifications. Some VERY unfortunate ramifications. He’ll be wanting the fourth of July off for starters.”

“And Thanksgiving!” interjected Jenna.

“What – the whole of it?” Blake wasn’t impressed. The full gravity of the situation was gradually starting to dawn on him. “I’m not impressed”, he muttered. “The full gravity of the situation is gradually starting to dawn on me.”

“That’s not even the worst of it,” Gan piped up. “Pound to a penny he’ll start using a load of weird phrases the rest of us won’t be able to understand. Before you know it, everything’ll be ‘copy that, big dog’, ‘my bad’ and ‘wassup, muthas’…”

“Plus he’ll start using too few letters to spell ‘colour’ and ‘labour’,” added Cally helpfully. “‘Medal’ will become a verb, he’ll forget ‘maths’ is plural, call his trousers ‘pants’ (highly likely to lead to a series of embarrassing misunderstandings) and refer to 13-part TV series as ‘seasons’…”

“This really won’t do!” Blake sputtered tetchily. “It really won’t do at all! He’ll even lose that anally retentive reserve and crippling inability to emote openly that makes us lot so endearing… He’ll think we all know the Queen, can’t cook, have terrible teeth and love a bit of opera. Worst of all, everyone we meet will automatically reckon he’s VASTLY COOLER than the rest of us…”

“Speak for yourself…” sneered Avon.

“Sshh…” Cally interjected urgently. “Here’s comes Vila now… Act normal, Blake…”

“That’s a high-risk option in ANY situation…” muttered Avon.

“Heyyyyyy! Blake! Avon! Doods! Heyyyyyy! My MAIN…men!”

“God help me….” winced Avon. “Vila, I don’t know what’s happened to you and I really couldn’t give a flying fig. But let’s get one thing straight. I am not, never was and am never, ever likely to be a ‘dude’ or your ‘mainman’. And why are you wearing those ridiculous cowboy boots? You look like Billy Ray Cyrus’s batman. Take them off immediately, you complete sponge!”

“No dice, bro’! I can’t go for that. NO. CAN. DO. Ca-PISH?”

“Well maybe I can incentivise you. Intravenous soma, half an hour a day for the next fortnight. What do you say to that?”

“No deal! Much as I’m Jonesing for a soma, you’re a day late and a dollar short. I’ve TOTALLY embraced my new Stateside persona, it’s doin’ WONDERS for my self-confidence and the fact it irritates the GODDAM HOLY HELL out of YOU, big dog, is just one more tick in the swag column! And I’m changin’ my name to… GRANDMASTER VEE-EYE-ELL-AY MK. Way to go, dooooooooods!”

“Give me strength…” Avon groaned.

“‘MK’? Don’t you mean…. ‘MC’? Cally asked tentatively.

“Just GOTTA be ‘MK’!” laughed Vila. “Somehow it’ll always remind me of a man I used to be…”

[With apologies to Horizon's US contingent]
 
Cygnus Bazza
Out for the Count – A Strange Tale for Halloween (Part 1)

From the journal of Vila Restal Esq.

10th May 1878. Left Buda-Pesth at 10.04, bound for the Carpathians. Journey largely uneventful. As the train reached the fringes of Transylvania, the track became cloaked in increasingly dense forest and the air began to thin perceptibly as we started our arduous climb into the mountains. I took the opportunity to repair to the shabby dining car, where I tucked greedily into a meal of something totally unpronounceable and equally inedible, washed down by – I must say! – a rather satisfying bottle of a local brew called ‘soma’ (if I correctly understood the grunts of the sullen waiter who served me). I ordered a second bottle. And a third. It would have been rude not to. And I’m all for a bit of cultural assimilation if there’s a drink in it. Back in my seat, I didn’t so much nod off as pass out. When I finally awoke, I whiled away a little time picking a few locks on the ladies’ valises in the luggage car. Got to keep your hand in! I certainly kept my hand in those valises. And that very same hand was very much fuller when I pulled it out again! Oh, Kerril, my sweet love! How I wish you were here to share this experience with me! You could make sure no-one nicked my seat while I popped to the lavatory to recycle the soma.

12th May 1878. Am stuck in a tiny village in the middle of somewhere that feels very much like nowhere. Have been slightly unnerved by the barman in the inn where I’ve taken a small, basic room for two nights (only one-and-a-half stars on TripAdvisor – apparently some of the guests go missing). The barman has a patch over one eye and what appears to be a false arm. I assume he got that fighting the Habsburgs. Or perhaps in a ruckus at chucking-out time. I didn’t make out his name but when I arrived, in very broken English, he made some joke about welcoming me to Travisylvania. He thought it was hilarious. I didn’t really understand the joke but, naturally, laughed politely and took the trouble to break into his till while he popped round the back to fetch me another bottle of that ‘soma’ stuff. It would have been rude not to. It transpires that the next coach to Castle Avon passes through here at dawn on the morrow and it really can’t come too soon as far as I’m concerned. The locals here seem very afraid of something, especially when I wave around my introductory letter from Count Avon himself. They steadfastly refuse to meet my eye. Indeed, even the barman’s only eye steadfastly refuses to meet either of mine. Oh, Kerril, my precious darling! How I wish you were here to share this experience with me! You could turn the lumpy mattress in my room. And buff my boots for me. Whatever did I do without you?

(To be continued…perhaps)
 
Cygnus Bazza
Out for the Count – A Strange Tale for Halloween (Part 2)

From the journal of Vila Restal Esq.

13th May 1878. What a day so far! Successfully made it to Castle Avon after a three-mile walk from the spot where the broken-toothed old coachman dropped me off. Literally. I was sitting on top of the carriage (deterred from travelling inside by the stench of garlic – someone must just have had a Chicken Kiev, which probably qualifies as a local dish here) when he gave me a crafty shove as we rounded a corner and down I tumbled. My valise followed in short order and I was left to surmise that he didn’t want to stop for some reason. He probably had an emergency dental appointment in the next village. Luckily, I found a roadside sign which I deciphered using my ‘Romanian for Victorian Dummies’ phrasebook: ‘Castle Avon – 3 miles. Coach parties welcome. Cream teas. Giftshop (June to August only)’. This was my first real setback. I’d been counting on picking up some knick-knacks for Kerril – perhaps half-a-dozen souvenir coasters, a set of gingham tea towels and a box of assorted fudge. No matter! Having traversed the increasingly overgrown trail for almost an hour, I stumbled wearily into a huge clearing whence I first espied my elusive destination – Castle Avon!

And what a forbidding edifice it turned out to be, looming broodily on its massive rocky outcrop! Breathless from the precipitous climb, I knocked with all my residual strength on the immense oaken door. This eventually creaked open, inch by painful inch, and I was confronted by a lumbering colossus of a fellow who introduced himself as Mr Gan, Count Avon’s faithful manservant. Gan regretfully informed me the Count wouldn’t be available to meet in person until dusk as he was having a lie down after “a heavy night on the red stuff”. (Funny – I thought red wine wasn’t supposed to give you a hangover.) In the meantime, he led me through to a dusty, heavily cobwebbed reception room and rashly invited me to make myself at home. This I most definitely did (it would have been rude not to) and I quickly located the safe behind a portrait of some bewhiskered old duffer with over-prominent eye teeth and discreetly removed several appealing items of jewellery which somehow stuck to my sticky, sweaty hands. They’ll suit Kerril perfectly and more than make up for the absence of coasters, tea towels and assorted fudge. Am scribbling this entry at the writing desk to give me something to do whilst I continue my countdown to meeting the Count. Oh, Kerril, treasured heart! How I wish you were here to share this experience with me! You could have run a feather duster round the room, emptied the bins and starched the lace cloth on the sideboard, and I could have added a line for ‘comprehensive cleaning services’ to my bill when I eventually present it to the Count. Thus, as ever, do our hearts and fates intertwine, dearest love!

(To be continued…possibly)
 
Cygnus Bazza
Out for the Count – A Strange Tale for Halloween (Part 3)

From the journal of Vila Restal Esq.

13th May 1878 (bedtime). Note to self. Must enrol on that course I received a circular regarding. ‘How to Write Quietly’ is PRECISELY the skill I’d gladly swap all my criminal training for right now! Damn! (Apologies for swearing.) This quill is so scratchy and scrapy! I’m sure it can be heard from the corridor and I don’t want anyone (or anything) to know I’m still awake lest it prompt another visitation. Have only just ejected a fetching young lady who burst into my bedchamber not twenty minutes ago. “Help me, I beg!” she implored as I extracted a leg from my stretch-cotton designer long johns. “I am Jenna, a prisoner here! I come from the town of Stannis, famed for the manufacture of stairlifts. Summoned by Count Avon to provide a no-obligation quote valid for 30 days, I found myself forcibly prevented from leaving. ‘OK’, I said, ‘I’ll extend it to 60 days…’. To no avail! I’ve been kept incarcerated ever since!“

I was astounded. This seemed wholly out of character for the Count, who’d been the epitome of curt and creepy politeness when he’d finally swept into the reception room where I was waiting, his long black leather cape wafting dust and cobwebs in my face. In fact, he wore long black leather EVERYTHING: jacket, shirt, boots, trousers (shorts would have looked odd) and presumably socks and long johns too. “I apologise for my lateness,” he began. “And I regret my Countess, Servalan, still sleeps after a hectic day oppressing the peasantry and exploiting the quasi-feudal system that underpins our obscene wealth. But you must rest! There shall be ample time to learn your British criminal arts over the coming days, ready for my trip to a special event in the hamlet you call ‘Steventon’. Yes, there is much to absorb to ensure my visit to England is a COMPLETE success…” And with another waft of the cape – and another faceful of dust and cobwebs for me – he was gone, leaving Gan to escort me upstairs. I enquired about bedchamber service but he just laughed, compelling me to raid my emergency family bag of bitesize Snickers.

Where was I? Oh yes! I put my nocturnal visitor’s mind at rest. “I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding. Perhaps Count Avon’s worried that fitting a Stannis stairlift will adversely affect the value of his property. I’ll have a word in the morning.” “Oh, THANK you!” Jenna gushed. And I must say the people in this neck of the Carpathian woods seem very forward – as I extended a hand to bid her goodnight, she fastened her jaws round my neck and gave me quite a nip! Naturally, I returned the compliment – it would have been rude not to. Talking of bitesize, two small punctures have appeared on my neck… Oh Kerril, revered angel! How I wish you were here to share this experience with me! You could dab the wounds with warm water and run my blood-flecked long johns through the hot wash.

(To be continued…conceivably)
 
Cygnus Bazza
Out for the Count – A Strange Tale for Halloween (Part 4)

From the journal of Vila Restal Esq.

14th May 1878 (teatime). Just got back from Countess Servalan’s chamber and – boy! – I’m worn out! I rose late this morning to find Castle Avon utterly deserted. No sign of the Count, Gan or Jenna. Maybe she’s been released. She probably finalised the stairlift contract and nipped back to the depot to check if the extruded steel rails and battery isolation switches are in stock. No breakfast had been set for me so I decided to abuse Count Avon’s hospitality by breaking into the giftshop and helping myself to two boxes of assorted fudge and a tin of shortbread fingers with a lithograph of the castle on the lid. Whilst staving off hunger pangs, this gave me a humungous sugar rush, so I went for a quick jog and, as luck would have it, bumped into the postman as I arrived back five hours later. Just as well because there was a letter for me! The writing on the envelope – addressed to V. Restal Esq., c/o Castle Avon, Creepy Woods, Spooky Forest, Scary Mountains, Transylvania – was unfamiliar. Incredible that it reached me without a postcode! I tore open the envelope and devoured the contents. Well, I WAS still hungry. Luckily, the postman had brought a duplicate letter lest an accident befall the original. It contained this message:

‘Mr Restal,

You are in grave peril. But I am on my way post-haste! An authority in matters occult, I have the requisite knowledge to defeat your host, my foe Count Avon. I shall bring two sticks I can use to form an improvised crucifix. I could bring an actual crucifix, obviously, but that wouldn’t be nearly so much fun.

Professor R. van Blake’

Naturally, I filed this very embodiment of crank mail in the bin. There was still no sign of life in the castle so, like any normal guest, I thought I’d have a nose around, look in all the rooms and poke around in lots of private drawers. It would have been rude not to. And I stumbled on a VERY strange chamber deep in the building’s bowels. A little sign on the door said ‘Servie’s Room’. Like any normal guest, I walked straight in and prepared to apologise for walking straight in. There was no bed, no dresser, no anything, save a big stone plinth with a big long box on it. It looked very much like a coffin but couldn’t have been a coffin because those are for dead people. Of course, It would have been intrusive to look inside. I looked inside. There she was, fast asleep, with a red dribble oozing from the side of her mouth. She’d obviously had a big pasta lunch and nodded off. Oh, Kerril, light of my meagre existence! How I wish you were here to share this experience with me! You could whip me up a quick spaghetti puttanesca and a nice big tiramisu for dessert with your worn, weary, once shapely hands!

(To be continued…maybe)
 
GanMiniMe
You could dab the wounds with warm water and run my blood-flecked long johns through the hot wash.



Don’t put blood stains in a hot wash, you’ll never get the stain out!!

These are cracking, Cygnus Bazza, I’m trying not to binge-read them all at once! Very clever too, and the idea of Avon as a vampire.
Forget Kerrill, I’d stay the night with him...
 
Cygnus Bazza
GanMiniMe wrote:

You could dab the wounds with warm water and run my blood-flecked long johns through the hot wash.



Don’t put blood stains in a hot wash, you’ll never get the stain out!!

Great tip, GMM!
 
Cygnus Bazza
Out for the Count – A Strange Tale for Halloween (Part 5)

From the journal of Vila Restal Esq.

15th May 1878 (crack of dawn). What a night! I haven’t experienced such a wild night of heady excess and abject terror since I was a student. It turns out that Count Avon is a vampire! And so is Countess Servalan! And Jenna as well! Oh, and possibly me too! If I had to put someone else’s money on it (which I’d skilfully pinched from a bank vault), I’d say I’m teetering on the brink between a nether world of malign darkness and the real world. Yes, the real world of normal people going about their humdrum lives, albeit tainted by an outrageous dollop of male chauvinism. Can’t stand male chauvinists, as I was explaining to Kerril just before I set off while she was ironing my dress shirts, packing my valise and making my ox-tongue sandwiches for the trip, just after she’d finished scrubbing the scullery’s flagstone floor. (Of course I helped! I passed her the brush. It would have been rude not to.)

Had another visit from Jenna last night. She was only too happy to engage in a follow-up bout of mutual nocturnal neck-nipping. Must admit I hadn’t noticed her protruding canines before. Must come in handy for opening vacuum-sealed food packaging if you don’t have a pair of scissors handy. She then led me by the hand through the castle until we’d passed up an extremely tight, extremely windy spiral staircase (with limited scope for fitting a stairlift, she commented as we rushed ever upwards). The staircase disgorged us into another dusty old chamber where we found Count Avon and his wife swinging from the chandeliers! Literally! They’d turned into bats! I instinctively knew it was them! Then Jenna turned into a bat and joined them! I felt a primeval urge to leap up too – but then a strange thing happened. Someone was talking in my head. I could tell it wasn’t my voice because they weren’t talking b*ll*x. And it was female. So it must have been a woman!

“Vila Restal!” it said in its female woman’s voice. “Come back from the brink! Grip tightly to a memory that’s real, that’s important to you!” Immediately my mind turned to Kerril – or more specifically those ox-tongue sandwiches. “My name is Cally and I’m connecting with you telepathically. I am Professor van Blake’s trusty assistant. We are coming to your aid! We’re just stopping off in a picturesque local town to do the sights and pick up some assorted fudge. Then we shall be with you and end the evil wrought by Count Avon, Countess Servalan and their acolyte!” Quite what evil the Count and Countess could wreak with a high-grade adhesive escaped me. Then I realised ‘acolyte’ wasn’t the same as ‘Araldite’. Naturally, I fled from the chamber and barricaded myself in my room, waiting for dawn to disperse the immediate danger to life, limb and neck. Oh Kerril, delicate bloom! Have you finished scrubbing those flagstones yet?

(To be concluded…inevitably)
 
Cygnus Bazza
Out for the Count – A Strange Tale for Halloween (Part 6)

From notes by Professor R. van Blake, supplemented by Cally Auron. Sent to relevant authorities (plus Blake’s mum).

15th May 1878. Arrived at Castle Avon. Had overnighted in the scenic town of Moloch. (Wouldn’t recommend the chicken, but it’ll be stakes only where WE’RE heading!) Bought two tickets for a coach excursion called ‘Transylvanian Highlights’ as this seemed the most cost-efficient means of reaching our destination. The coach was packed with elderly sightseers, but Cally and I managed to find two seats together, two-thirds of the way down over one of the wheels. Had to sit with my knees around my chin, listening to the tour guide babbling their inane patter: “on our right, a castle….on our left, a big castle…on our right, a big river, a big forest and a big castle….on our left, a small river, a big forest and a really big castle...” It turned out that the excursion had earmarked Castle Avon as the perfect spot for everyone to stretch their legs, take a comfort break and grab a quick cream tea. Cally and I were served by a joyless, lumbering colossus of a chap whose lapel badge (with no hint of irony) said ‘Gan – happy to help!’. The scones were OK, but the jam was peculiar – rich, deep red in colour, with a strange metallic aftertaste.

The giftshop was technically closed but had clearly been broken into recently. We left our fellow-travellers to their unseemly scrimmage for free gifts (otherwise known as ‘looting’), headed to the castle entrance and entered the murky interior. Every curtain was drawn to exclude the sunlight. Upstairs we found a man unconscious in a bedchamber. It looked like someone had forced entry and he’d driven them back by pelting them with a withering hail of bitesize Snickers before passing out. We then found a steep spiral staircase (could do with a stairlift) leading to a lofty chamber where our quarry awaited! While the Countess and the one they call ‘Jenna’ (because that’s her name) slept in inflatable, put-you-up coffins, my old adversary Count Avon sat sneering in a big chair.

He rose and walked slowly towards me. “Avon, it’s me, Van Blake!” said I. “Is it TRUE?” said he. “Stand…still! I was waiting for…YOU!” “Hang on,” said I. “Aren’t I supposed to say that?” before adding “A-von…”, splitting the word for dramatic effect. I jumped onto a convenient table, ran down it, threw myself at the curtains (good, thick lining!) and ripped them down. With an ‘Aarrgh’, an ‘Urrgh’, another ‘Urrgh’ and a few more ‘Arrghs’, Count, Countess and Jenna obligingly turned to dust piles which only accentuated the need for someone to give the chamber a good spring-clean. (I wonder if Vila Restal’s wife is available?) In terms of Vampire De-infestation Services, the sunlight had done the trick. Just as well as I’d left my two sticks in the tearoom.

Speaking of Vila Restal Esq, well of course we’d saved his life!

It would have been rude not to.
 
Cygnus Bazza
GanMiniMe wrote:
These are cracking, Cygnus Bazza, I’m trying not to binge-read them all at once!

And thx for the positive review! Always fun to scribble something and to know it's being read and enjoyed. Hope you've got something up your sleeve this month too!
 
Travisina
Cygnus Bazza, I didn't want to interrupt the flow with comments until the end of the saga, but just wanted to say how much I enjoyed your Strange Tale!

Also:

Cygnus Bazza wrote:

GanMiniMe wrote:

You could dab the wounds with warm water and run my blood-flecked long johns through the hot wash.



Don’t put blood stains in a hot wash, you’ll never get the stain out!!

Great tip, GMM!

This is something we girls learn at a young age Wink
My views are my own.

VILA: I'm entitled to my opinion.
AVON: It is your assumption that we are entitled to it as well that is irritating.


Twitter: @TravisinaB7
 
Sally1958
Dear Cygnus Bazza
I really enjoyed your six part serial, and need to tell you so.
It would be rude not to.
musings from Nanna Sally
 
Cygnus Bazza
Sally1958 wrote:

Dear Cygnus Bazza
I really enjoyed your six part serial, and need to tell you so.
It would be rude not to.

You're talking my language. To underline my agreement I shall now eat some assorted fudge.

Thx, Travisina! Interestingly, my main criticism of the Horizon website has always been that it simply doesn't provide enough laundry tips.
 
Travisina
Cygnus Bazza wrote:

Thx, Travisina! Interestingly, my main criticism of the Horizon website has always been that it simply doesn't provide enough laundry tips.

Grin
My views are my own.

VILA: I'm entitled to my opinion.
AVON: It is your assumption that we are entitled to it as well that is irritating.


Twitter: @TravisinaB7
 
Annie
Laundry tips and great stories. Loved Castle Avon and Vila Americanised. Wonderful.
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
 
GanMiniMe
Cygnus Bazza wrote:

GanMiniMe wrote:
These are cracking, Cygnus Bazza, I’m trying not to binge-read them all at once!

And thx for the positive review! Always fun to scribble something and to know it's being read and enjoyed. Hope you've got something up your sleeve this month too!


Alas, at this moment I have no good ideas as yet. But I do have this:

Those perfume pearl scent booster things you can get for your laundry also make great clothes fresheners if you hang a sachet of them in your wardrobe or put them in your drawer.

I hope that makes up for it.
 
littlesue
GanMiniMe wrote:

Cygnus Bazza wrote:

GanMiniMe wrote:
These are cracking, Cygnus Bazza, I’m trying not to binge-read them all at once!

And thx for the positive review! Always fun to scribble something and to know it's being read and enjoyed. Hope you've got something up your sleeve this month too!


Alas, at this moment I have no good ideas as yet. But I do have this:

Those perfume pearl scent booster things you can get for your laundry also make great clothes fresheners if you hang a sachet of them in your wardrobe or put them in your drawer.

I hope that makes up for it.


Oh another tip. This forum is such a useful mine of information. I'm going out shopping tomorrow......
Cold.....you don't know the meaning of cold.
Cold is when you have ice on the INSIDE of the window!!!


sues stories http://sjlittle.w...
sues youtube channel http://www.youtub...e54/videos
sues book shelf https://www.media...ne%20Shelf
rebel run video http://www.youtub...prqS-XZtLo
Lara and Sue's Stories http://lectorisal....webs.com/
 
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