Karen's Café

I was only going to post one more story this year and I'm saving that for Christmas.
BUT... since my blog is about to pass the milestone of TWO MILLION page views
I feel it's necessary to give my readers a little something extra to celebrate. 

I've been trying to write this story for several years with varying degrees of failure.
It's one I've really struggled to finish and it's still not finished. This is chapter one.

I hope you enjoy it. I'll work on the second half in the new year. 

Rock Chicks

My sister managed to get her hands on four tickets to see AC/DC at the EnormoDome. I was really jealous because they'd sold out in minutes and being almost sixteen, I didn't have the money to book one... and even if I did, Mum reckoned I was a little too young for such a big concert venue.

On my sixteenth birthday my sister gave me a card along with an apathetic apology for not getting me a gift to go with it. I was a little disappointed. She normally buys me a CD or something but this time she gave the impression that my sixteenth birthday wasn't important... certainly not important enough to warrant spending more than a pound or two on a birthday card. Of course I feigned gratitude as I peeled the envelope open... but felt utterly disappointed having only received a card from her. I opened the card to read her message and couldn’t believe my eyes... for there, inside the card is one AC/DC ticket for the EnormoDome in six weeks time. 

I was over the moon that I'd be going along with my sister and her friends and could barely contain my excitement... in fact I couldn't!

“Now there are conditions Matty.” my sister told me.

“Yeah I know... no drinking, keep away from the mosh pit.” I said.

“Definitely no drinking!” she said, winking at me.

Mum surprised me and said I could drink if I wanted, providing I was sensible. “But please don't wander off... I know how hard it is to find people in a place like that... you pop to the loo and spend about an hour trying to find your place in the crowd again.”

Who'd be a Boy?

Luke got himself his first job working as a hotel porter for the prestigious Marrion Hotel chain. He arrives in good time on his first day, clean shaven, wearing his brand new trousers and shirt, hoping to make a good first impression. He knows there's a uniform provided as he's already been measured for it. It's just a jacket to wear with his own smart trousers and freshly pressed shirt and even if it's a horrible colour, he knows it could be worse. The Waldorf hotel chain had recently decided to make their room attendants wear traditional chambermaid's uniforms and in recent years some of the big cleaning agencies begun making their staff wear housekeeping dresses... and with that in mind, Luke tried his very best to avoid applying for any cleaning jobs. He practically skipped all the way to the Marrion Hotel on the outskirts of town. It was a secure job, not well paid but not many are for boys and men these days. Luke's under no illusions, he knows it will be boring, just carrying bags for the guests and not much else, but it's not a cleaning job and that's the main thing!

A Tough Journey

Oakham

My mother knew the arrangements. I'd be back in Basington on Saturday Evening, staying at my girlfriends house on Saturday night, going to an exhibition opening on Sunday morning, spending the day with Kelly and heading over to Oakham on Sunday evening to spend a couple of weeks with my mother... everything was going fine until about 1.00pm. Kelly and I were just leaving the exhibition and looking forward to a pub lunch... then Mum called.

Podium Girls

I had no intention of publishing another story quite so soon...

but this one just fell out of my fingers after I'd

plagiarised one of Not Too Bright's captions.

quickly written, not proof read, possibly packed with errors and it ends abruptly...
apologies in advance

Agent Parker

Sold for Sixpence

...and a Happy New Year!

The Petticoat Trial

On the Radio

“This week on Weekend Woman's Hour, we talk to Denise and Robert Matthews; a couple who've completely reversed their traditional roles. Denise works full time as an estate agent whilst husband Robert works full time at home doing the laundry and ironing, cleaning, gardening, grocery shopping, cooking, washing up... everything.” presenter Janine Murphey introduced. “Now, Denise... can you talk us through a typical working day?”

“Of course Janine, and hello.” Denise replied. “I get up around six-thirty, seven AM and have a quick shower before breakfast, which Robert has lovingly prepared for me. He straightens the bed and gives the bathroom a once over before laying out my clothes for the day...”

“He chooses your clothes?” Janine quizzed.

“Oh no, not at all.” Denise said. “I tell him what I'll be wearing and he'll lay it out and whilst I’m dressing, he's clearing up the breakfast dishes and preparing my packed lunch...” she goes onto describe him handing her her case and coat, seeing her off, briefly explains her working day which ends at 5pm. “I return home to a cooked dinner and we dine together, and whilst Robert's clearing the table, cleaning the kitchen and washing the dishes, I'll either catch up on some paperwork or put my feet up in front of the TV.”

“And Robert... what's your typical day like?” Janine asked.

Sunday School

We'd moved here a few months ago and I quickly made new friends, both at school and in the neighbourhood. There's a place called Cooper's Quarry which is now a formal garden with paths, benches, flowerbeds, an orchard and a glade. It used to be an adventure playground and according to the group of kids I'd befriended, it was 'totally ace'. They spent many hours playing there, and the more dilapidated it became, the more fun they had... then the council decided it was dangerous and removed all the fun stuff, replacing it with flowerbeds and benches which are only good for OAPs and parents with pushchairs.

A few weeks ago, we were passing through Cooper's Quarry and reminiscing about how much fun they had there, as well as grumbling about how boring it is now. I could only take their word for it since the space was redesigned before we moved to the area. Climbing frames, elevated walkways, rope swings and a 'death' slide sounded loads better than what there is now. Looking back, I'm not sure who started it, but it didn't take long for the rest of us to join in; stomping on the flower beds, uprooting shrubs, breaking branches, booting the bins and benches over and generally destroying or disturbing whatever we could.

The act of vandalism was front page news in the local paper, which stated that one of the gang had been caught at the scene and the others ran off. That one was me, but I didn't grass my mates up. I'd have got my head kicked in if I had, and no one wants to be friends with a grass... so keeping shtum and taking the rap all on my own was, I believed, in my best interests. Being a minor meant they they couldn't print my name in the paper, nor could the authorities fine me for the damage caused, make me do x hours of community service or anything much... the most they could do was make me attend Sunday School which sounded really boring. The judge who heard my case said that I'd have to attend Sunday school for a period no less than 48 weeks and no more than 48 months, and that my attendance period would be closer to 48 weeks if I did the decent thing and gave the authorities the names of my accomplices. I refused and claimed that they were some kids I’d just met and I didn't know their names or where they lived... but they knew I was lying, I knew I was lying, and I knew that they knew I was lying.