Dear Readers
Some of you may have noticed that occasionally I discover little articles of local news and write a little fantasy around them. I think the last was Ladies Day at the races and before that something about our local cats and dogs home open day next week, which sadly I shall miss. I shall definitely not, however, miss Miss Austen's festival.
'Have you noticed, Miss Grant, that Bath is celebrating?'
'Indeed I have, Miss Austen. I understand the populace is celebrating your work. You are a great celebrity hereabouts and the city is most proud of your achievments.'
The two ladies were taking tea in the fine hotel that dominates the southern side of Queen Square. They had an arrangement with the gentleman who owned the establishment and, later, would retire to a room where he believed they read worthy works and discussed their import. The truth was that they retired to the room and indulged in the wicked practices which are known as, one can barely bring onesself to pen the words: in fact I cannot.
'Have you finished your tea, Miss Grant?'
'I have, Miss Austen.'
'Then, while the populace is celebrating my fame, let us retire and I shall celebrate my very good fortune to have found a woman who shares my intimate interests.'
Her eyes twinkled and Miss Grant rose, collected her Gladstone bag, the one in which they kept all that would be necessary for their forthcoming pleasures. She and Miss Austen ascended the wide staircase, Miss Austen opened the room's door and they entered. They unpinned their hats and shook off their coats. Miss Austen turned to Miss Grant.
'And now my dear, the bag.'
Ceremoniously Miss Grant placed the bag on the bed and with a certain flourish, opened it wide. Miss Austen shivered as she saw them lying there, the source of her excitement. They were made of wood as is customary. Miss Grant fondled one, from its well rounded bottom, to its tapered, smooth end. She placed it on the floor, just below the window, than placed 8 more in a triangle behind it. At the other end of the room, Miss Austen held a large wooden ball in her hand and rolled it along the carpet. It struck the leading skittle a glancing blow and knocked all nine to the ground.
Oh, the wickedness to be found in a Gladstone bag!
2 comments:
Did Miss Austen and Miss Grant retire for a suggestion of philately? It’s well known that it’s a past time that takes some licking and as for skittles once your pins are placed well apart a few strokes with the ebony ‘thingie’ are all you require……..or so I’ve heard.
A masterpiece. LOL
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