She doesn’t let more than a week go by before she matches the Jones’s. Her stone bananas when they put up those silly pineapples. The glow-in-the-dark curtains. ‘We’re building an extension,’ Mr Jones said one morning. She thought quickly. Surely her elderly neighbours wouldn’t need a whole house anymore.
(NB. Please feel free to join in with your own 50 word story via the comments. You might be kinder than me! This is a real house in London by the way... I don't know the story behind it, but would love to. This is all I could find in one of the tourist guides...
Look out for quirky details too such as strange numbering. Apsley House has a wonderful address – No 1 London. A house at Strand on the Green near Chiswick is number Nought, while another near Brick Lane is eleven and a half…)
7 comments:
Triskaidekaphobia?
YES! I think it must be. You win clever blog reader of the day award. And I had to look Triskaidekaphobia up if anyone else is feeling stupid too, it's fear of the number thirteen.
It was when he kissed me.Eleven times,I have counted since then,on my fingers,again and again. And a half too, I remember,before he pulled away,hearing those sirens in his head.He must see this door,walk in,and complete that kiss.
Wonderful, Abha. I love how you turned the photo so completely into your story!
The faceless panelled door is blue all over, except the handle. Charlie Baker is as normal as anything on the outside. But you never get to look at his missus. She hides inside. The door is a second skin. Ask Mr Jones what he does. Says he's a panel beater.
At the door,he turns." I love you more each year," he says on our 40th anniversary.
"Why do men eat with their mouth open and make those disgusting grunting noises. We haven't had sex for years. No chance either. I smile back. If men have teeth it's a bonus.
Eleven and a half on the door. Because there was no twelve. Only half a house where there had once been more. Just walls and windows now, and neighbours with no door. Like a planning blunder put right with a ruler and a rubber. Nowhere else to post the mail.
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