This month's theme for the Sheppey Women Writers' Group had to be a true account of something funny that has happened in our lives. The other ladies in the group said I was NOT to write a dark fantasy moment (!?), so this is my contribution....
ANYONE FOR BADMINTON
This is the tale of my two boys, Ben and Billy-Joe.
Of how they played on a summer's day many moons ago.
Ben was six and Billy five, both young and full of fun,
They laughed, they fought, they larked about beneath the mid-day sun.
Billy had a grand idea: "Let's play Badminton," he said.
Ben jumped for joy upon the spot and nodded his blonde head.
Up the garden path they ran, flew in at the back door.
"Rackets mum!" they shouted. "Cockleshuttles!" they implored.
Grinning widely at their glee, I led them to the shed,
Dreading cobwebs, spiders, bugs falling on my head
I groped about in all the clutter, hunting for the toys.
Behind me in the garden stood my impatient boys.
Out came rackets, blue and old, two tatty shuttlecocks,
"But where's the net?" cried Billy, yanking up his sleepy socks.
"We haven't got a net," I said. "This piece of string will do."
I tied it 'cross the garden, knotted round a tree or two.
Contented with their home-made court, I left them to their fun,
Telling them as I went indoors: "Lunch will be at one."
Their happy screams and high-pitched shrieks drifted to the kitchen.
I giggled softly to myself as their meal I was afixing.
At one o' clock upon the dot, I called them in for dinner.
Ben threw his racket to the ground, declared the was the winner.
He ran up the garden to the house, as quick as he was able,
Seconds later he was tucking in, seated at the table.
Billy too, was wanting food; dropped his racket the ground.
He started running up the garden, but then without a sound,
He flew straight backwards in the air, as if pushed by hands unseen.
And landed flat upon his back, prostrate upon the green.
I started chuckling at the sight; it really looked so funny,
The makeshift net had vanished in the light so bright and sunny.
There was no sign of the white string, around the trees trunks knotted.
And so to his surprise, young Bill had almost been garrotted!
Did I rush to my son's side? Kneel down next to where he lay?
To give a hug, to give a kiss, to check he was okay?
I just collapsed in fits of laughter, tears running down my cheeks.
Infact it made me laugh out loud for weeks and weeks and weeks.
Many years since then have passed, the memory still stays strong,
I only have to picture it and I'm laughing all day long!