#tyre shop open sunday

[sostyreswheels]

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Butter

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating: None

Summary: What if Joel doesn't forget to buy himself a cake for his birthday? But by the time he remembers, all the bakeries in his neighbourhood are closed - except yours.

Warnings: No outbreak AU, pure fluff, mentions of baking and food, meet cute, some sexual tension but very mild stuff compared to my other fics, single dad!Joel being a sexy menace, reader has a nickname related to her job, reader has an accent similar to Joel, very lightly edited, not my best work, but I'm in my writing for fun era 💁🏻‍♀️

Word count: 3.6k

Notes: It's here! This was an exercise in speed writing, and just putting words to paper without overthinking anything. I really enjoyed writing this sweet little piece, this is dedicated to @psychedelic-ink who has been the biggest cheerleader for this idea since day one. Happy birthday to our favourite single dad who never lived through a cordyceps outbreak ❤️

September 26, 2003 was supposed to be a good day.

It’s Friday, after all. Not that the weekend is relevant to you anymore, with Saturdays and Sundays being the busiest days for business. But you have a date for once tonight, and you’re determined to enjoy it.

If you can get the goddamn security shutter to close, that is.

Standing on your tiptoes, you pull futilely at the bottom of the metal shutter with both hands, but it refuses to budge. You lament the sweat seeping through the fabric of the nice dress you changed into, the hem reaching almost indecent heights on the back of your thighs where it’s climbed up. And you don’t have to look at your reflection to know that stress has already smudged the edges of the eyeliner you hurriedly painted on as soon as you got the last customer out the door.

You can be forgiven for not noticing the wash of yellow headlights over the windows of the shop front and the sound of rolling tyres as a truck pulls up on the curb outside the bakery, until a gravelly voice pipes up behind you alongside hurried footsteps.

‘Ma’am, please tell me you’re still open.’

You tap on the ‘Closed’ sign through the window without turning around, determined to wrangle the shutter into submission. ‘Bad luck buddy, come back tomorrow. We open at nine sharp.’

‘No I can’t, I’m so sorry, but I need a cake now.’

Curiosity turns your head, and over your shoulder, you find a broad-shouldered man in a dark tshirt and casual jeans standing a respectful four paces away. Under eyebrows sloping downwards in a pleading angle that matches the slant of his moustache, his warm and imploring eyes are on you.

‘I’m sorry, sir, but I really need to go,’ you say. ‘Can you give me a hand?’

‘Look, I’ll do you one better. I’ll fix the shutter for you for free - if you sell me a cake.’

You purse your lips, the prospect of saving on what looks like an inevitable repair bill tempting. ‘You can fix it?’

‘I’m a contractor,’ he replies, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a battered looking wallet. ‘Here’s my card, if you think I’m bluffin’.’

Miller & Associates is printed in bold across the top, and underneath, is presumably his name and cell number. Glancing up at him, you say, ‘Look, Mr. Miller, I really want to help, but I’m late for a date, and I’m all sold out of cakes today -’

‘I’ll take anything you got. Cupcakes, cookies, whatever you have left,’ he cuts in, then apologises in quick succession, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. ‘I’m sorry to be so pushy - I’m not, usually - but I promised my daughter I’d bring something home, and by the time I remembered, this is the only place I could think of. Please.’

You feel the exact moment your resolve crack, and then fold like a goddamn lawn chair. What can you say, this contractor really knows how to work those puppy eyes, and you can never say no to a man who refuses to let their kid down. 

Especially when the man looks like this.

Shooting off a text to your date to push back your dinner plans, you nod towards the door. ‘Alright. C’mon in, Mr. Miller.’

‘Nice place you got here,’ he remarks politely, hovering by the entrance as the fluorescent lights flicker on, his manners impeccably southern. 

‘You don’t have to flatter me, I’ve already let you in,’ you joke, lips quirking at the way he flusters. ‘But I appreciate it. You been here before?’

When he smiles, you notice the corners of his eyes crinkle charmingly. ‘No, but I know I’ll be comin’ back.’

‘I wasn’t lying when I said I was out of ready-made cakes,’ you tell him, holding the door open to the kitchen so he can come in after you. ‘But I have some cake layers in the fridge so I can put together something fairly quickly.’

He ducks his head in a manner that tells you he’s not used to demanding things, and protests, ‘I don’t want to put you out. I meant it, if you just have some cupcakes or somethin’ -’

‘Listen, you promised your daughter a cake, didn’t you?’ you interrupt.

He shrugs. ‘Well, yeah I did -’

‘I’m guessin’ it’s for a birthday?’

He nods sheepishly. ‘It is.’

‘Well, as a baker, ‘mfraid I can’t let a cakeless birthday happen on my watch, Mr. Miller,’ you insist, opening the fridge door with a flourish. ‘Let’s see what we have here. Cake for three, I assume?’

‘Two, actually.’

Hopefully you’re as discreet as you think you are when your eyes drop to his left hand - his fourth finger is conspicuously ringless.

Interesting.

You hum, considering the mismatched options in your inventory. ‘It’s gonna be a bit of a Frankenstein’s monster of a cake, if you don’t mind. How does chocolate and vanilla layers with cookies and cream frosting sound?’

‘Sounds perfect,’ he answers without skipping a beat. ‘Thank you, ma’am.’

You shake your head, hands full of cake rounds wrapped in cling film as you nudge the fridge close. ‘Please, call me Bri, Mr. Miller.’

‘And you can call me Joel,’ he says in return. ‘Is Bri short for somethin’?’

Laying the cakes on the work surface, you reply, ‘Yeah, Bri for brioche, like the bread. It's a silly nickname.’

The single dad surprises you with a low whistle. ‘Can’t say I saw that comin’.’

You grin. ‘You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Joel.’

You don’t often have an audience while baking, and you find yourself talking Joel through the steps while you prep everything for assembly.

Swirling a spatula through the tub of buttercream you made earlier that day, you explain, ‘I just need to whip up some of this frosting so that it’s nice and soft for putting the cake together. You wanna help me break up some Oreos so we can make it cookies and cream?’

‘I’m all yours, chef,’ he says, one corner of his mouth curling into a teasing smile that has no business warming the apples of your cheek as it does. ‘Just tell me what to do.’

While your Kitchenaid whirrs to life, whipping air into the buttercream, Joel wields a rolling pin, smashing a generous helping of Oreos into crumbs in a Ziplock bag. The almost exaggerated care with which he moves speaks to inexperience in the kitchen, and you muse that either his kid makes up for it in that department, or they live off takeout.

Eventually, he picks up the bag and looks at you in a question. ‘I think I’m done?’

You smile and tap the lip of the mixing bowl. ‘That’s perfect. Why don’t you tip in the crumbs straight in here?’

Before you can step back to allow him space, Joel’s taken two strides towards you, and his arm brushes your shoulder when he lifts the bag and tilts the contents into the frosting. He’s warm and solid, and damnit, he smells good - like sawdust and sweat.

The thought comes to you unbidden - what a man.

There’s a lull, and only when you feel the weight of eyes on you do you realise that you missed his question.

‘Did you say somethin'?’ you squeak, embarrassed.

‘I said, is this ok?’ he repeats, nodding at the mixing bowl.

You nearly stumble over your words. ‘Yes, yes it’s perfect.’

He watches you closely, a touch of concern in his brown eyes. ‘You ok there, honey?’

‘Yup,’ you chirp, far too cheerfully. ‘Just need to mix it all up now -’

If you had your wits about you, you would stir in the crumbs first and set the machine on low. But this man somehow stole said wits by sheer proximity to you, and you accidentally start the Kitchenaid on high, an indignant yelp escaping you when Oreo dust flies aggressively out of the bowl along with a splatter of white buttercream that lands squarely on the front of your dark knit dress.

‘Oh shit!’ you cry out, frantically turning off the mixer. ‘Shit shit shit!’

Over your panicked mantra, Joel is calmness itself. ‘Hang on, honey, I gotcha.’

He makes a beeline towards the sink, grabbing a tea towel and wets it under the tap with a bit of dishwashing liquid. It all screams competent single dad, and you find yourself staring at his unfairly large hand, mapped with thick veins, holding out the damp towel for you to take.

‘Thanks,’ you stutter self-consciously, the tips of your ears hot while swiping at the stain. ‘That was a rookie mistake. I promise I’m actually a good baker.’

He gives you a wink to put you at ease. ‘Don’t worry, I believe you.’

Starting over, the mixer hums as it gently incorporates the Oreos until the buttercream is a speckled grey and doubled in volume. ‘Looks like it’s ready. You wanna taste, Joel?’

‘Sure,’ he says. ‘D’ya have a spoon or somethin’ for me?’

‘You can use your fingers,’ you reply, and it's too late to take it back.

You feel the back of your neck heating up when he shoots you a meaningful look, just a touch of mischief in the tilt of his lips. 

‘Can I, now?’ he teases.

You try a nonchalant shrug that probably comes off as painfully awkward. ‘This batch is just for you, I won’t tell the health inspector if you don’t.’

Joel chuckles, his strong shoulders quaking. And so you watch, shamelessly, as he raises his right hand, index and middle fingers at the ready, before diving into the metal bowl, scooping up a generous dollop of buttercream. There’s a peek of his pink tongue when his plush lips part, and then he sucks his fingers into his mouth with a gratuitously loud moan, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

When he turns to you with a pained expression on his face, maintaining eye contact all the while licking an errant streak of frosting off the side of his middle finger, you gape at him for a whole five seconds before you manage to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

‘Good?’ you barely manage to squeak.

‘You betcha, honey,’ he declares, then adds, ‘Mind if I double dip?’

He doesn’t mean anything by it, you know it, but a hot flush runs through your body and you swallow thickly. ‘You can do whatever you want, cowboy.’

You don’t think you’re imagining the wicked glint in his answering stare - you’re getting yourself into trouble, and don’t you know it. 

Clearing your throat, you attempt to thwart your mind's dangerous descent into the gutter by changing the subject. ‘So, I can do somethin’ really snazzy that I think your daughter would like - do you know what a piñata cake is?’

He shakes his head. ‘Sounds dangerous.’

‘Hardly,’ you chuckle. ‘It’s a cake filled with sprinkles, so when you cut into it, it’s a sprinkles surprise!’

He lets out a playful sigh of relief. ‘As long as there’s no whackin’ involved, it’s good by me.’

You gesture at him to follow you across the room. ‘And here’s the fun part - you get to choose the sprinkles.’

Joel whistles at the reveal of your compulsively organised sprinkles cabinet, each shelf sorted by colour, shape and size. He quips, ‘Is this what the inside of your brain looks like, honey?’

You grin. ‘Pretty much. What’s your daughter’s name?’

‘Sarah.’

‘What colour does Sarah like?’

‘Any and all shades of pink.’

‘I can work with that.’

Now that everything is ready and waiting on the work surface, you pull out a lazy Susan and plonk a cake board on top of it, dusting your hands dramatically. ‘Alright, Joel. Ready for the magic to happen?’

Making himself comfortable next to you, he leans on his elbows, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the way his tshirt stretches and strains over his back. ‘Go ahead, I’m ready to be impressed, honey.’

Filling a piping bag full of the cookies and cream buttercream, you ask, ‘You wanna get your hands dirty?’

He raises his palms in surrender. ‘I’ll leave it to you, I don’t want to make you any more late for your date.’

You’re used to working with much bigger cakes, so this one doesn’t take you long. With a cookie cutter, you carve out a small circle from each cake round, then you stack and fill the layers with buttercream. After loading the shaft in the middle with all manner of pink sprinkles, you stopper the top with the cake cut-outs.

‘How old is Sarah turning today?’ you ask conversationally while you spin the cake around, smoothing on the crumb coat.

Joel looks up, surprised. ‘Oh, it’s my birthday today, not hers. ‘

‘Wait, what?’ you cry, throwing your hands up. ‘I made this cake with Sarah in mind - it will literally be vomiting pink sprinkles!’

‘I’m a girl dad. I like pink,’ shrugs Joel easily.

You huff, using an icing smoother to make sure the buttercream is even all over the cake. ‘I would pop the cake into the freezer to firm up before adding a final layer of frosting if I had the time, but this will have to do.’

‘It looks great,’ Joel assures you as you put the finishing touches to the cake, with buttercream swirls all around the top and a final baptism of sprinkles.

‘There, all done. Lemme box it up for you and this bad boy is ready to go.’

‘Amazin’, thank you so much,’ he grins. ‘Please, lemme do the washin’ up while you’re at it.’

‘Oh, Joel, you can’t,’ you protest, but he’s already grabbed the mixing bowl and all the bits and bobs stained with buttercream. ‘You’re the birthday boy!’

‘Least I can do,’ he shoots back over his shoulder, already halfway to the sink.

‘Well no, you promised to fix the security shutter for me, remember?’ you call after him.

‘Damn, I was hopin’ you’d forgotten about that.’

Joel cleans up with a practised air, humming under his breath as he waits for the water to heat up and the soap to lather. You watch him from the corner of your eye while you secure the cake inside the box, throwing in a birthday candle for good measure. You’ve just tied a nice ribbon around the cardboard box when he puts away everything in the drying rack and wipes his hands dry.

‘Didn’t expect you to be good at that,’ you tease, moving towards the door.

‘Sexist much?’ he jokes, no real bite in his retort. Then by way of explanation, he tells you, ‘I work late, so Sarah usually cooks and I wash up afterwards.’

‘Sounds like you guys make a good team.’

Joel helps with the lights and locks the door, and you stand to one side when he grabs the security shutter and forces it into submission by brute force. You can’t help but stare when the bottom of his tshirt rides up, revealing a soft sliver of belly underneath, his biceps bulging and back rippling as the shutter is finally forced shut in a metallic ripple.

You give him a smile. ‘Well, happy birthday, Joel.’

‘Thanks again for the cake.’ He looks around, as if looking for your car, but the sidewalk is empty except for his truck. ‘How are you gettin’ to your date?’

‘I was just gonna call a taxi.’

‘No, you ain’t,’ he nods towards his ride. ‘C’mon, I’ll give you a lift.’

‘Oh, no, it’s late, and you should be getting back to Sarah -’

‘I spoiled your date, so please, let me,’ he insists, holding the door open on the passenger side. Hop in.’

Joel takes the cake off your hands and puts it in the backseat carefully, putting the seat belt over it while you climb in. Glancing over your shoulder, you see toolboxes and newspapers on the floor, and it smells like paint and wood dust.

‘Sorry it’s a bit messy, occupational hazard,’ he apologises as he straps himself in. ‘So, where are we goin’?’

‘Do you know the steakhouse on Third Street?’

‘Vaguely,’ he replies, pulling smoothly away from the curb. ‘It sounds fancy.’

‘You been?’

‘Nope, I barely have time to go anywhere nowadays. It seems like I’m only ever in bed, or at work, or in my truck.’

You turn to smile at him, admiring the way his his thick fingers around the top of the steering wheel, making it look so small. ‘I feel you. Small business owner, am I right?’

‘I hear ya,’ he shoots you a smile. ‘So - what’s the deal with tonight? First date?’

‘Fourth, actually.’

He wriggles his eyebrows suggestively. ‘Fourth date? You know what happens on a fourth date, honey.’

‘I don’t, actually. Tell me, what happens on a fourth date?’

He blows out his cheeks, and admits, ‘Honestly, I can’t tell ya. I haven’t been on a fourth date since 1991.’

You burst into laughter at his unexpected answer. ‘You’re such a dork, Joel Miller.’

When the truck rumbles to a stop outside the steakhouse ten minutes later, he looks at his watch and announces, ‘Here we are, only fifteen minutes late.’ Squinting through the windshield, he points at a man smoking outside, an impatient frown on his face. ‘That him?’

‘Yeah, that’s him,’ you nod, but you stay put in your seat, in no hurry to make a move.

Joel nods, tapping his tidily trimmed nails on the steering wheel. ‘So I’ll swing ‘round tomorrow after work with my toolbelt? ‘Round six thirty?’

‘A toolbelt? What a sight to look forward to,’ you rib, slowly reaching for the seatbelt and unbuckling it.

‘Hell yeah, it’s got a special clip for my Nokia and all,’ he adds mischievously.

'You must fend off the ladies by the dozen,' you tease.

'Daily,' he answers without skipping a beat.

You probably shouldn’t have, especially not with the guy who you’re supposed to be on a date with glaring daggers at you through the windshield. But there’s something cackling in the air between you and this man you just met not an hour ago, and the way the streetlight filters through the window, backlighting his messy curls and scraggly beard, that has you throwing caution to the proverbial wind.

Impulsively, you lean across the gear shift, your left hand finding purchase on his knee before pressing your lips to the side of his whiskered jaw, your kiss fitting right into that little heart-shaped patch on his beard. 

You’re not sure who’s more taken aback, but you don’t have time to find out. 

‘Happy birthday, Joel Miller.’

He smiles after you as you hop out of his truck.

You’ve just sold your last cupcake of the day when the bell over the bakery door rings. And sure enough, it’s Joel Miller crossing the threshold, right on the dot at six thirty.

‘Hey, Bri,’ he waves, hovering half-in and half-out of the shop, a slight awkwardness having set in overnight.

But it's ok, you're happy to pick up where you left off. Putting your hands on your waist and a cheeky grin, you quip, ‘Wow, you weren’t kidding about that toolbelt, huh?’

Your chest swells as you watch him thaw with an easy smile, and he banters back, ‘I’m a man of my word, honey. You ok with me gettin’ to work now?’

‘Yes, thank you. I’ll be cleanin’ up back in the kitchen, I’ll join you when I’m done.’

Joel shoots you a thumbs up. ‘Great. I’ll grab the ladder and get right to it.’

When you emerge fifteen minutes later, he’s on the fourth rung of the ladder, tinkering the rolling mechanism with a screwdriver and a studious frown on his brow. He looks like he’s wearing the same thing as yesterday - you can believe that he’s a man who buys the same tshirt in bulk - and he smiles at you when you duck out of the shop.

‘Did Sarah like the cake?’ you ask in casual conversation.

‘She went nuts over the piñata surprise,’ he replies. ‘And the cake was delicious, there were hardly any crumbs left when we were done with it. She says we’re definitely ordering a cake from you for her birthday.’

‘I like the sound of that.’

‘How was your evening?’ he asks, glancing down at you from his perch. ‘Did you find out what happens on a fourth date?’

You let out a dry laugh. ‘Yeah, I did, actually. He dumped me.’

Joel freezes, a scowl darkening his countenance. ‘Oh shit, what? Why?’

You shrug, leaning your weight on the ladder as you look at the ground. ‘I mean, I did show up an hour late in some other guy’s truck. And I guess probably shouldn’t have kissed you on the cheek right in front of him.’

You startle when Joel’s fingers slip under your chin, tilting your head up towards him. ‘It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.’

‘Honestly, you don’t look that sorry, Joel Miller,’ you joke.

He cocks his head to one side. ‘Well, I can't lie, I think you deserve better than him.’

‘Do you now?’ you prompt. ‘Who do you have in mind?’

Joel peers at you from under long lashes with a half-smile that's almost shy. He dodges your question, and says instead, ‘I didn't mean to ruin your night, let me make it up to you, honey.’

‘How?’

Deftly, he climbs down the ladder, landing squarely on two booted feet, his presence comforting as he looms over you, his eyes warm. ‘Can I buy you dinner?’

‘Like - a date kind of dinner?’

‘Yeah, like a date,’ he nods.

You can’t help the dig. ‘And you were just sayin' you haven’t been on a date since...?’

He flashes you a smirk, and you shiver when his hand brushes your waist. ‘Since 1991. Tough sell, I know - but I thought I’d give it a shot.’

Running a finger along his sharp jawline, softened by the endearingly untidy beard, you have to bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from giving away too wide a grin. ‘Why, I think I have a good feelin’ about you, Joel Miller.’

Catching your wrist in his fingers, he presses a sweet kiss to your knuckles, the rough graze of his stubble chasing goosebumps across your skin as his eyes smile at you. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then, honey.’

More notes: I hope you enjoyed this sweet little oneshot 🥰 I really leaned into the fluff and I have no regrets. Comments/reblogs/asks are much appreciated as always! I don't have plans for a second part right now, but a smutty follow-up is always a possibility...

The adorable dividers are by @firefly-graphics 👩🏻‍🍳

[soniadigitalblog]

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[entrepy]

[  GRAPPLE  ]  for  your  muse  to  wrestle  mine  down  to  the  floor  or  against  the  wall ( bucky ) / @prettybrawler .

The open cab pick up Ford reverses down the long driveway that runs alongside the Barnes garage at five in the afternoon on a Sunday like it does every second week without fail. Bucky’s had his eye on the new driver for a while now. They’ve exchanged words before — not exactly pleasantries — but mostly stick to their jobs. George Barnes had run a struggling, yet respectable business up until the enforcement of the 18th amendment. Then the bootleggers had come knocking . . . and then the gangs . . . and before they knew it the garage was turned into a front for the storage and exchange of alcohol, weapons, and any manner of goods that the gangs saw fit to push through the shop. 

Bucky’s father stopped having a say in the matter soon thereafter, extorted and threatened . . . but also protected. Bucky didn’t understand how bad it really was until he dropped out of his second last year of school a year after the stock market crash and started working day in and out at the shop with his dad. A veteran of war, his father was the bravest, strongest, most powerful man Bucky knew — but he learned very quickly that didn’t much matter when money and influence was involved, and that learning came with nursing his own father’s split lip, black eye and broken rib after a round with the mob. 

He’s greasy from a day’s work, cigarette hanging from his lip as he uses both hands to roll around and stack tyreless wheels in the back yard. He straightens when he hears the engine and trundle of tyres down the dirt path and the cab backs into the yard, accompanied by a rude couple of honks. It’s distasteful is what it is and Bucky is already irked by the Byrone kid’s simple existence. There was just something about him. Another pretty boy. Bucky’s seen that smile of his, and he’s seen it in his own goddamned mirror. Maybe that should make them friends, but all it does is set Bucky on edge whenever that blonde head of hair shows up in his driveway on a Sunday afternoon. 

He pauses with the wheels for a second, watching the cab come to a stop in front of the wooden crates that he’s supposed to load up into the back. He takes the moment to drag in a few breaths of smoke, free hand on his hip and squinting a little against the evening sun. It was a hot, stinky day and Bucky’s got the burn and sweat to show for it. ‘ There’s no need for a ruckus, hotshot. Neighbours can hear you rolling up here just fine. ’

Through to the end of his cigarette, he spits it to the ground, stamps it down and walks over to the crates. It’s not his business to know what’s in them – what’s really in them, that is. He’d had to pack old, rusted parts that were due for the wreckers into them, covering up the smaller crates that stood inside, and painted the address of the wreckers on the side and filled out the books with the same address, but he’s seen enough to know that’s not where this crate was going to end up at all. He turns around to see Byrone standing just outside the driver’s door. ‘ What’re you doing ? Give me a hand, would ya ? ’ 

He watches through squinted eyes as Byrone takes out a pack of cigarettes and starts to light himself one.

‘ I aint’ movin’ these myself, pal, ’ Bucky points out, hands falling to his hips, feet set in the ground very tellingly. 

‘ Well, it ain’t my job, ’ Byrone chews through the end of his cigarette, the audacity to appear bored. 

‘ It ain’t my job either, but you’ll be going home with an empty car if you don’t pull your weight, ya unlicked cub. Ma never taught you manners ? ’

For a moment it seems like he’d struck a nerve, and the beginnings of guilt start to grow in the pit of Bucky’s stomach, but then Caed smirks, blows out his smoke and says, ‘ No. Can I learn from yours ? ’

For feet that had been planted to the ground, unwilling to move until Byrone cooperated, they sure move fast – the run up making the force with which Bucky’s fist slams into the side of Caed’s jaw almost bone shattering, the fact that the only place his head has to go after the impact is the steel of the car probably not helping with the imminent concussion. He slips to the ground, and Bucky gets a few more hits in, kneeling over him with one hand fisted into his shirt to keep him lifted off the ground enough for his head to swing with each punch before Caed recovers from the first hit to start fighting back.  

[topgearwheels]

TopGear Wheels & Tyres

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[violet0203]

Ken Ryuguji

It was a Sunday afternoon, but Draken still had a lot to do at the shop so he was busy working.

You had come to the shop to forced him to take a lunch break. Once you two finished he went back to work and you decided to wait until he is done.

Despite of Draken believes it wasn’t a burden for you to stay there with him. Actually you love it. Watching him with his overall half open, his hands covered in grease, his grunts.

Suddenly you heard him sigh and the a clank of his spanner when he left it in his tool’s box.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him while he was cleaning his hands in a nearby towel.

“It’s missing a piece I don’t have”

You got up of the sofa and walked over to him.

“Do you want me to go and buy it?” When he looked up to you, you noticed his tired eyes, but even then he refused.

“I’ll be back soon and I promise you that we will go home in no more than two hours, I just have this bike left and to change the tyre of that other one” his voice sounded as if he was really trying to make you believe his words, like a promise he owes you, but you owe him more to him than he to you.

“Hey, it’s okay. We are in no hurry” you reassured him as you hugged his arm and let him kissed your temple.

After he hummed a thanks, he left the shop. The closest store was just a couple of blocks so you knew he was going to walk over there. That should be enough time to surprised him with what you had learned lately.

Hands on work, you put an overall he had left hanging. It was way over your size, but it will work. You grabbed the tools you needed and carried them over to the bike that needed the tyre change.

The first time you did one was pretty hard and you messed it up a lot, but you have been practicing so much that now it didn’t even take you more than a couple of minutes.

Proud of your work you restored the things as how it were before Draken left the shop and you went back to your spot.

The little clink of the bell informed you that your boyfriend was back carrying in a bag the things he were missing.

He walked up to the bike he was working in before to finally fix it, but something was off. He could sense it but didn’t know what it is.

Took a look around when he realized the flat tyre gone. He looked up to you and smiled. You had a little grease stain in your cheek.

“Thanks” he said taking a seat next to you and with a clean towel cleaning your face “Where did you learn to do that?”

“I asked Mikey to teach me the basics about this stuff”

“Why would you do that?” you sighed and turned to face him. One of your hands in his shoulder while the other one cupped his right cheek.

“Because I see how you work hard everyday in this shop and I have a lot of free time, so I thought I could be of help at least with the easy stuff. This shop is your dream, but that doesn’t mean you have to do this all by yourself”

Draken was never good at expressing his emotions, but the way he hold you in a tight hug while he kept kissing your temple was enough for you to understand how much he appreciated your gesture. There was nothing else to say. You both were deeply madly in love with each other.

“We can go home, I’ll finish the bike on Monday” you separated of him and looked him at the eyes. You got a much better idea.

“Let’s finish it together, you can teach me. I bet you are way better than Mickey”

How his eyes lighted up you will never forget. You would definitely do anything for seen him always as happy as this.

[chaletnz]

Furano Trip

To make the most of my two days off I decided to drive to Furano after finishing work, to ensure I would be able to see the lavender first thing in the morning. I packed up the car and had a shower, then headed off. About 5 minutes after leaving home, I approached a cat sitting calmly in the middle of my lane, I screeched to a stop and the cat didn’t run so I rolled over the top and then it must’ve slunk away. It was enough to give me a fright, I drove a little slower from that point on since I was still in town. Well, after clearing Kutchan town I was on a country road on the way towards the mountains and the second cat was not as lucky... He darted out from a farmhouse and I saw his little ginger face in the split second before he bounced into the right front tyre. There was a bit of a thud but no bump. He ran off into the bushes. Very shakily I pulled over and went to investigate, there was a woman there who could speak English and she said she had seen him run down into the bushes surrounding the farm. I left with an eerie feeling that maybe I should go back home and drive tomorrow, like these cats were meant to be a sign. I drove on for about an hour, my lights on highbeam and my eyes on high alert – I was more concerned about deer now. I pulled over after another hour or so and sent a message to my mum just in case the universe was conspiring, and then the spookiest part... As I was sitting in the car recording my message, a third cat came running towards me! In the middle of nowhere! Very carefully I drove around it and back on to the road and that was thankfully the last cat I saw on the drive. After that it was smooth, I stopped for a late night McDonald’s at Chitose and then drove on until I found a nice big parking lot with a 24 hour toilet. There were bugs everywhere in the heat of a warm summer’s night, flying around the lights of the toilet building. I slept quite well all things considered.

The next morning I woke up around 6am when the heat in the car simply became too much to bear. It was gearing up to be at least 30 degrees today. Somehow the exact time I wanted to use the bathroom there was a cleaning crew surrounding it and I could just quickly brush my teeth and wash my face before leaving. I started by visiting a large campground park that I had intended on staying at last night but didn’t quite reach there, and luckily I hadn’t because it was a crowded carpark with a far worse toilet! I drove up to the first lavender field of the day, Choei Lavender Farm. There was a winding road up the back to reach a mountaintop viewpoint overlooking the lavender and the Kamifurano township. I battled to take some videos with my GoPro that seemed to be struggling in the heat already – by 8am it was already 28 degrees. Japan doesn’t do daylight savings so it means that sunrise is about 3am in summer so the hottest part of the day is earlier in the morning than you would expect. I parked down at the bottom of this farm and took a few more photos although it wasn’t possible to get a good angle of the word “Kamifurano” spelled out in Hiragana in large lettering filled with colourful flowers. I decided to get some gas because Kimbo was already thirsty again, and then arrived at Farm Tomita just before 9am. As Google maps directed me there, she made sure to inform me “this destination will be closed when you arrive” but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to wait for 10 minutes in the carpark. Well it seemed that the Japanese had the same idea! The main parking lot was already full and the parking attendant waved his lightsaber to guide me right down to the back lot. Furano has great flower fields but not much shade so poor Kimbo had to suffer in the sun while I went for a walk around. By now it was 30 degrees and humid. Japanese people carried umbrellas and wore full length sleeves in the heat. Many people were dressed up in their Sunday best to take family photos in the lavender with a bouquet purchased from the gift shop for 500 yen. Dogs were posed for photos and then taken back into the shade where they could lie down. I took my photos and walked around the perimeter but it was far too hot for me so I had to browse in one of the air conditioned gift shops to cool down. I tried to walk up the side of one of the more shady lavender fields but it was deceivingly steep and I struggled to get halfway! It was time for an ice cream break by 9.30am, and of course I had to try the lavender ice cream again. It was a soft purple colour, with a mild taste and started dripping immediately. Luckily there was a shady seat to sit and eat it and appreciate the views of Kamifurano and the mountains in the distance. In winter Furano is also a hugely popular ski resort that is often paired with Niseko for longer snowsports trips. To distract my thoughts, a child squeaked in with those annoying shoes that sound like you’re standing on a plush toy squeaker with every step. All heads turned to look at the child, who promptly trips up and starts scream-crying uncontrollably. And now my relaxing ice cream break was ruined. I walked around a little bit more and bought a few postcards and lavender things to send home then sat down for a drink and a potato croquette for an early lunch. I had been waiting around for a bit because I wanted to visit a café nearby that opened only at 12pm. It was relaxing anyway to sit and watch Japanese people enjoying the lavender and trying to get the best photos when the entirety of the scene is purple!

I drove to Kamifurano town and parked at the post office as I couldn’t find any free parking lots near the Polar Coffee café, I withdrew some cash and then walked there as a loud alarm sounded through the city – presumably a test as no one seemed even mildly concerned. On Instagram yesterday I’d seen that my colleagues Tim and Nick had come to this café which is owned by a Taiwanese guy (they’re also Taiwanese) and it had a good vibe from their photos so I was determined to try! It was even better than expected, I ordered a flat white and it was not only very Instagrammable but also cheaper than anywhere in Niseko. Cooling down in the air conditioned café was also a highlight. After my coffee I made the long drive to Asahikawa to see a rice field. But not just any rice field, one planted very carefully with different varieties of rice that had coloured shoots. The reason I made this long drive just for a rice field is because the second half of July is the perfect time to view such rice fields - the rice shoots have grown in and are brightly coloured at this time. I was very proud of myself as I directed myself to the field. Although a lot of people online said it was so hard to find, I had no trouble at all. Actually my Google map would have led me exactly there but I followed some signposts instead that said “tanbo art” on them in Japanese, and the reason I was so proud – I could actually read what it said! I was the only person there so I parked where I pleased and climbed up the viewing platform to see the art. Unfortunately the field was so wide that it was hard to take a photo of the entire thing, even with panorama! The design changes each year and this time it was a couple of anime characters, there was also something written way off to the left that wasn’t really visible from the platform and I could only see “2021” and some squashed Japanese characters from the ground. Anyhow, it was a very unique attraction and I was glad I had made the trip to see it. My next destination was the Ningle Terrace; a series of log cabin-esque boutique shops arranged along a wooden walkway in the forest. If my phone wasn’t so terrible with capturing greenery then it would’ve been another Instagram-worthy place to see but other than a cool photos the souvenirs were quite expensive and many of the shops were closed anyway. I took a long drive from Furano to Obihiro for tomorrow’s adventure and stopped at a mall for a KFC dinner. Usually Japanese KFC is great, but this one had unfriendly staff and they gave me a half frozen burger which I had to send back for a fresh one. I bought a few supermarket supplies and then drove towards the small Obihiro airport once it was dark to find a suitable parking space for the night. I passed the airport parking lot as it there were too many floodlights which would make it hard to sleep, further up the road there was a small shoulder so I stayed there in the pitch black instead, with a nice forest on either side. I got out of the car to change into my shorts to sleep but I heard rustling in the bushes and freaked out! Instead I changed inside with the doors locked. I felt a little uneasy falling asleep as there had been searchlights beaming around the sky that I’d assumed were to find intruders sneaking into the abandoned Gluck Kingdom theme park and I worried someone would knock on my car window and tell me to move on. Of course I didn’t want to get caught on my urban exploring but I thought “you would have to be absolutely insane to venture in there at night”. As it turned out though, the lights were for the airport perimeter security and nothing to do with the theme park coincidentally located about a kilometre opposite.

[1962dude420-blog]

Today we remember the passing of Eubie Blake who died February 12, 1983 in Brooklyn, New York

James Hubert "Eubie" Blake, was an American composer, lyricist, and pianist of ragtime, jazz, and popular music. In 1921, he and his long-time collaborator Noble Sissle wrote Shuffle Along, one of the first Broadway musicals to be written and directed by African Americans. Blake's compositions included such hits as "Bandana Days", "Charleston Rag", "Love Will Find a Way", "Memories of You" and "I'm Just Wild About Harry". The 1978 Broadway musical Eubie! showcased his works.

Eubie Blake was born February 7, 1887, at 319 Forrest Street, in Baltimore, Maryland. Of the many children born to former slaves Emily "Emma" Johnstone and John Sumner Blake, he was the only one to survive childhood. John Sumner Blake was a stevedore on the Baltimore Docks.

Blake claimed in later life to have been born in 1883, but records published beginning in 2003—U.S. Census, military, and Social Security records and Blake's passport application and passport—uniformly give his birth year as 1887.

Blake's musical training began when he was four or five years old. While out shopping with his mother, he wandered into a music store, climbed on the bench of an organ, and started "foolin’ around". When his mother found him, the store manager said to her, "The child is a genius! It would be criminal to deprive him of the chance to make use of such a sublime, God-given talent." The Blakes purchased a pump organ for US$75.00, making payments of 25 cents a week. When Blake was seven, he received music lessons from a neighbor, Margaret Marshall, an organist for the Methodist church. At age 15, without his parents' knowledge, he began playing piano at Aggie Shelton's Baltimore bordello. Blake got his first big break in the music business in 1907, when the world champion boxer Joe Gans hired him to play the piano at Gans's Goldfield Hotel, the first "black and tan club" in Baltimore. Blake played at the Goldfield during the winters from 1907–1914, spending his summers playing clubs in Atlantic City. During this period, he also studied composition in Baltimore with Llewellyn Wilson.

According to Blake, he also worked the medicine show circuit and was employed by a Quaker doctor. He played a Melodeon strapped to the back of the medicine wagon. Blake stayed with the show only two weeks, however, because the doctor's religion didn't allow the serving of Sunday dinner.

Blake said he composed the melody of the "Charleston Rag" in 1899, when he would have been only 12 years old. It was not committed to paper, however, until 1915, when he learned to write musical notation.

In 1912, Blake began playing in vaudeville with James Reese Europe's Society Orchestra, which accompanied Vernon and Irene Castle's ballroom dance act. The band played ragtime music, which was still quite popular. Shortly after World War I, Blake joined forces with the performer Noble Sissle to form a vaudeville musical act, the Dixie Duo. After vaudeville, the pair began work on a musical revue, Shuffle Along, which incorporated songs they had written, and had a book written by F. E. Miller and Aubrey Lyles. When it premiered in June 1921, Shuffle Along became the first hit musical on Broadway written by and about African-Americans. The musical also introduced hit songs such as "I'm Just Wild About Harry" and "Love Will Find a Way." Rudolf Fisher insisted that Shuffle Along "had ruined his favorite places of African-American sociability in Harlem" due to the influx of white patrons. The reliance on "stereotypical black stage humor" and "the primitivist conventions of cabaret," in the words of Thomas Brothers, made the show a hit, running for 504 performances with 3 years of national tours.

Blake made his first recordings in 1917, for the Pathé record label and for Ampico piano rolls. In the 1920s he recorded for the Victor and Emerson labels among others.

In 1923, Blake made three films for Lee de Forest in de Forest's Phonofilm sound-on-film process: Noble Sissle and Eubie Blake, featuring their song "Affectionate Dan"; Sissle and Blake Sing Snappy Songs, featuring "Sons of Old Black Joe" and "My Swanee Home"; and Eubie Blake Plays His Fantasy on Swanee River, featuring Blake performing his "Fantasy on Swanee River". These films are preserved in the Maurice Zouary film collection in the Library of Congress collection. He also appeared in Warner Brothers' 1932 short film Pie, Pie Blackbird with the Nicholas Brothers, Nina Mae McKinney, and Noble Sissle. That same year he and his orchestra provided as well most of the music for the film Harlem Is Heaven.

In July 1910, Blake married Avis Elizabeth Cecelia Lee, proposing to her in a chauffeur-driven car he hired. Blake and Lee met around 1895, when both attended Primary School No. 2, at 200 East Street in Baltimore. In 1910, Blake brought his newlywed to Atlantic City, New Jersey, where he had already found employment at the Boathouse nightclub.

In 1938, Avis was diagnosed with tuberculosis. She died later that year, at the age of 58. Of his loss, Blake said, "In my life I never knew what it was to be alone. At first when Avis got sick, I thought she just had a cold, but when time passed and she didn’t get better, I made her go to a doctor and we found out she had TB … I suppose I knew from when we found out she had the TB, I understood that it was just a matter of time."

While serving as bandleader with the USO during World War II, he met Marion Grant Tyler, the widow of the violinist Willy Tyler. Blake and Tyler married in 1945. She was a performer and a businesswoman and became his valued business manager until her death in 1982. In 1946, Blake retired from performing and enrolled in New York University, where he studied the Schillinger System of music composition, graduating in two and a half years. He spent the next two decades using the Schillinger System to transcribe songs that he had memorized but had never written down.

In the 1970s and 1980s, public interest in Blake's music rekindled following the release of his 1969 retrospective album, The 86 Years of Eubie Blake.

Blake was a frequent guest of The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson and Merv Griffin. He was featured by leading conductors, such as Leonard Bernstein and Arthur Fiedler. In 1977 he played Will Williams in the Jeremy Kagan biographical film Scott Joplin. By 1975, he had been awarded honorary doctorates from Rutgers, the New England Conservatory, the University of Maryland, Morgan State University, Pratt Institute, Brooklyn College, and Dartmouth. On October 9, 1981, he received the Presidential Medal of Freedom, awarded by President Ronald Reagan.

Eubie!, a revue featuring the music of Blake, with lyrics by Noble Sissle, Andy Razaf, Johnny Brandon, F. E. Miller, and Jim Europe, opened on Broadway in 1978. The show was a hit at the Ambassador Theatre, where it ran for 439 performances. The production received three nominations for Tony Awards, including one for Blake's score. The show was filmed in 1981 with the original cast members, including Lesley Dockery, Gregory Hines and Maurice Hines. Blake performed with Gregory Hines on the television program Saturday Night Live on March 10, 1979.

Blake continued to play and record until his death, on February 12, 1983, in Brooklyn, five days after events celebrating his purported 100th birthday(which was actually his 96th birthday).

He was interred in Cypress Hills Cemetery in Brooklyn, New York. His headstone, engraved with the musical notation of "I'm Just Wild About Harry", was commissioned by the African Atlantic Genealogical Society. The bronze sculpture of Blake's bespectacled face was created by David Byer-Tyre, curator and director of the African American Museum and Center for Education and Applied Arts, in Hempstead, New York. The original inscription indicated his correct year of birth, but individuals close to him insisted that Blake be indulged and paid to have the inscription changed.

[officialcherubcampus]

Three Futures - The Family Man

So what happens to James, Lauren, Kerry and all the gang after Shadow Wave?

Robert Muchamore has written three stories, depicting alternative futures for James and Kerry set in the year 2031.

PREGNANT DOCTOR IN MOTORBIKE SMASH

A pregnant doctor and her husband were involved in a motorcycle accident on a roundabout while travelling on the A456 last Sunday night. James Choke, 29 and pregnant wife Dr Kerry Chang 28 were rushed to hospital by air ambulance.

Police say the accident was caused when rider James swerved to avoid a truck, which veered into oncoming traffic after its front tyre burst. Choke’s powerful Yamaha bike skidded, then careered more than thirty meters down the side of a steep valley.

The young couple were both taken to Birmingham Royal Infirmary by air ambulance, where Mrs Chang went into an early labour and gave birth to a healthy daughter, two months premature.

Mrs Choke and newly born daughter Gwendoline are doing fine. However a hospital spokesman commented that James Choke has suffered a serious back injury and remained in serious but stable condition.

The truck driver is believed to have emerged from the accident unscathed.

Kidderminster News article, June 16th 2020

Muswell Hill, North London - October 2031

James Choke reversed his electric wheelchair back towards the stair lift, buckled a red safety belt around his waist and pressed the button to travel down.

As James whirred sedately downstairs, the slim eleven-year-old body of his daughter Gwen whipped out of her bedroom and squeezed past him, dressed in school uniform.

“Mum,” thirteen-year-old middle-daughter Sarah screamed from the top landing. “I’m sick of telling Gwen to stop using my stuff. You’ve got to bloody tell her.”

Dr Kerry Chang emerged from the kitchen, dressed in a white doctor’s coat and looking rather harassed. She stopped youngest daughter Gwen as she reached the bottom of the stairs and scowled at the state of her school blouse.

“You’ve only been at that school for a month,” Kerry yelled. “How have you got your uniform in that state already?”

As James reached the half way point of his motorised cruise downstairs, Sarah stood dressed in bra and knickers on the top landing with hands on her hips and shouted.

“Mum, are you listening to me? That little bitch is using my deodorant again. You’ve got to tell her.“

Kerry looked wearily up the stairs. “It’s not even roll on, Sarah,” she yelled back. “Put deodorant on the shopping list and I’ll buy you a can each. If it shuts you up, you can have two cans each.”

“Well where’s the shopping list?” Sarah asked sulkily.

“On the fridge door,” Kerry answered. “As you well know.”

At the same moment, James and Kerry’s oldest daughter, fifteen-year-old Ellen emerged from another bedroom. She cut behind Sarah into the upstairs bathroom and bolted the door.

“Hey, I was just in there,” Sarah shouted, as she kicked the door. “Bitch.”

Ellen shouted happily from the other side of the door. “Well you’re not in here now, bitch.”

“Pack it in you two,” Kerry shouted. “And I’m sick of hearing the word bitch banded about my house. It’s not nice. The next one who says it loses a weeks pocket money.”

“Does that include me?” James asked cheekily, but his wife didn’t see the funny side.

Gwen had gone into the kitchen to grab breakfast by the time James reached the bottom of the stairs. His wife glowered at him as he unclipped his safety belt.

“What?” James asked innocently. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly,” Kerry screamed, as the bathroom row upstairs broke out again. “Why do I always have to do the shouting? Why do I have to be the bad cop, while you let your three princesses wrap you round their little fingers?”

“Time of the month come early did it?” James asked.

Kerry made a big grunting noise. “If you weren’t already in a wheelchair I’d bloody well put you in one.”

Gwen sprinted out of the kitchen with her school backpack, gave James a kiss and opened the front door.

“Bye-bye, Daddy,” Gwen said brightly, and then in a much grumpier tone, “and the rest of my oh so beloved family,”

“You see what I mean?” Kerry said, as the front door slammed behind Gwen. “You get bye-bye Daddy and I get evil eyes.”

“She didn’t scowl at you,” James said.

“Well she sure as hell didn’t kiss me on the cheek,” Kerry snarled. “And Gwen can’t have eaten breakfast. She was only in the kitchen for two minutes.”

“She’s a big girl, she won’t starve herself.”

“No, but she’ll scroff sweets on the way to school instead of eating the decent breakfast that I got up and made for her.”

“You worry too much,” James said, half smiling. “It’s gone half eight. You’ll be late for your shift. I’ll sort the girls out. What would you like for dinner tonight?”

“Surprise me,” Kerry said.

Kerry grabbed her coat and keys as James wheeled himself into the kitchen and scraped Gwen’s half-eaten boiled egg and toast into the bin, before loading the dirty plate into the dishwasher.

“I’ll be home around seven,” Kerry said. “Barring medical emergencies.”

James knew he was more likely not to see his wife until nearer nine, but didn’t comment.

“Love you,” James said, as Kerry pecked him on the cheek.

“Love you too,” Kerry said, giving a smile that warmed James’ heart.

Kerry gave a final blast up the stairs before heading out. “You two girls have got fifteen minutes. If I get a text message from the school saying that either of you are late there’s gonna be big trouble when I get home tonight.”

“Yeah, bye mum,” Sarah said, as she raised one eyebrow. “Take a chill pill, why don’t you?”

With three girls in a small house mornings would always be stressful, but James found it easier after Kerry left for the hospital because her style of charging around the house biting people’s heads off just seemed to stress everyone out.

James knew his daughters weren’t perfect: There was the odd letter home from school, an occasional missed curfew and Ellen had had a couple of boyfriends who he’d happily horsewhipped, but compared to some of the stunts James had pulled when he was a teenager his daughters were angels and it seemed unnecessary for Kerry to make a fuss over every tiny thing.

“I wish you’d stop stressing your mum out,” James said, looking up the stairs at Sarah as he wheeled past.

As James looked up at the thirteen-year-old, still waiting for her turn in the bathroom, she reminded him of the way his sister Lauren had looked at that age.

“You know your mum’s got a very demanding job,” James said. “Do you have to set her off every morning?”

“Face facts, dad: we need an extra bathroom,” Sarah said, as she punched the door again. “Or a bigger house.”

James felt guilty as he wheeled himself into the dining room which served as his office. Kerry earned a decent wage as a doctor, but James only scraped a living doing online tuition for university maths students.

The main reason why they’d never moved to a bigger house was that it would cost tens of thousands fitting it out with stair lifts and special bathrooms, widening doors and making all the other adaptations that would be needed to accommodate a person who was paralysed from the waist down.

James worked from the first floor dining room. It was a nice old victorian semi, and the room had bay windows overlooking a lawn which was expertly tended by their robot mower.

The office was a bit of a geek fest, with retro games consoles and a two-metre-wide megascreen. James’ computer woke up when it heard him rolling into the room and it’s synthesised voice asked for a password.

“LordSexyPants55,” James said.

The computer accepted the password and James’ virtual life opened up on the 3D screen. He had a Facebook message from Lauren saying that she was heading to Canada on a CHERUB mission and might be out of touch for a couple of weeks. There was a swanky 3D animation which was an invite to the opening of Kyle Blueman’s new legal practice in Clerkenwell, along with a bunch of written messages and video clips from confused and sometimes anxious maths undergraduates that would have to be dealt with before lunchtime.

But James had recently subscribed to the newest Playstation VI module for his megascreen and decided that he needed to chill out by playing Blast Buggy - XXX Psycho Edition before settling down to some serious work.

As soon as James pointed to the game icon, the vast screen became a 3D tunnel filled with jets of flame, steam vents and bubbling pools of oil. When he pressed the resume icon, James was driving a hovercraft at breakneck speed, while using his virtual legs to control speed and a bright blue plastic machine gun to fire mortars at the other racers.

He was in the zone and headed for a record lap a couple of minutes later, when a tap on the shoulder made him shoot up with fright. Ellen and Sarah were both dressed in school uniform and howled with laughter as their father paused the game.

“So this is what you spend all day doing,” Ellen said, shaking her head theatrically and tutting.

“While we’re slaving at school,” Sarah added.

“No, no, no,” James said defensively. “I don’t play games all day. I just wanted to work off some stress before I knuckle down.”

“Sure dad, whatever,” Sarah said, before giving James a kiss on the cheek.

“Have a good day at school,” James told them, as Ellen kissed him.

“And don’t work too hard, daddy,” Sarah said, giggling with her sister as they stepped into the hall.

“And I won’t be in until 3am at the earliest,” Ellen added. “If mum asks, tell her I’m at a big drunken party having unprotected sex with just about everyone.”

James knew Ellen was joking and played along. “No problem,” he said. “My wallet’s upstairs on my bedside table. Help yourself to a hundred pounds each so that you can buy copious amounts of hard drugs.”

“Thanks,” Ellen shouted. “Gee, you’re the best daddy in the world.”

James smiled to himself as he heard his daughters head out of the house, followed by the familir clang of his front gate. He wasn’t rich, his life wasn’t packed with excitement and being in a wheelchair was a constant irritation. But James had lots of good friends, three fantastic daughters and a crazy stressed-out wife whom he loved with all his heart.

James decided to play Blast Buggy - XXX Psycho Edition for ten more minutes before getting down to some serious work. Or maybe he’d make that twenty minutes...

[dutchbikeslondon]

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[s-hylor]

50 Questions You’ve Never Been Asked Before

tagged by the amazing, adorable @bardingbeedle

tagging: @quandongcrumble @laglemon and anyone else who wants to do it.

What is the colour of your hairbrush?

I don’t use one anymore, cut my hair way too short for that, but I do have a couple of easy detangle hairbrushes because my hair was always so easy to knot when it was longer, and they both look like penguins. Hence why I bought them.

Are you typically too warm or too cold?

Depends on the time of year. I do feel the cold less than my dad, if that counts for anything. 

What were you doing 45 minutes ago?

Driving.

What is your favourite candy bar?

Cadbury Flake or Cherry Ripe. 

Have you ever been to a professional sports event?

Went to see the Adelaide Crows play back in 1996 I think it was. I can’t remember who they played. I am pretty sure they won though. 

What is the last thing you said out loud?

“Yes it is a big rabbit.” to my sister.

What is your favourite ice cream?

Coffee, or Rum & Raisin. Also Hot Cross Bun flavour, or Golden North’s Christmas Pudding Ice Cream. I just like ice cream. 

What was the last thing you had to drink?

Iced coffee. 

Do you like your wallet?

Yes. Very much. It’s Civil War Steve/Tony themed. 

What was the last thing you ate?

Ginger nut biscuit. It was meant to be for Jenny, but she was mean to me, so I ate her biscuit. 

Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?

Last weekend, no. This weekend I ordered two hoodies from the Just A Story Podcast merch shop. I couldn’t decide which one I wanted. So I got both. 

The last sporting event you watched?

Probably a T20 Big Bash cricket match? Sometime last year. Because dad insists on watching them even though he doesn’t like that version of cricket. I have barely watched TV let alone sport since I moved back down to the farm. 

What is your favourite flavour of popcorn?

Anything that gives a sweet and salty combo. 

Who is the last person you sent a text message to?

Group chat to my sister and her partner. 

Ever go camping?

Yes. A lot. I spent 6 weeks camping last year while travelling through the Northern Territory and Western Australia. I love camping. 

Do you take vitamins?

Barocca. So what ever vitamins are in that? I just like the flavour. 

Do you go to church every Sunday?

I only go to church if I am staying with people who go to church. Or when school forced me to. Or funerals. But they are rarely on sundays. 

Do you have a tan?

I have a “farmers’ tan”. 

Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza?

Both. Both is good. 

Do you drink your soda with a straw?

No. I do drink milkshakes with a straw though. 

What colour socks do you usually wear?

Black, black-ish, black with coloured toes and heels. Or white with coloured toes and heels if sports socks. 

Do you ever drive above the speed limit?

Never intentionally. I have gone over the speed limit occasionally when I’m not paying attention. But never for long. If anything, I drive under the speed limit. There was a reason one of my co-workers at the mine site called me “driving Miss Daisy”.

What terrifies you?

Something bad happening to someone or something I care about. Pets dying. 

Look to your left, what do you see?

My sister’s cat, Polly, sitting on my sister’s lounge. Looking grumpy. 

What chore do you hate?

Most of them. That’s why they are called chores. I still do them, but I don’t like them. 

What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent?

Normal everyday thing. 

What’s your favourite soda?

Pepsi Max. Or soda water. 

Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thrus?

Go in. Because I hate driving through drive throughs. They all seem way too narrow/tight for my vehicle. 

Who’s the last person you talked to?

My sister.

Favourite cut of beef?

Whatever cut gets turned into corned beef. I eat more corned beef than any other type of beef. I live on a sheep station/farm. Ask me about mutton. 

Last song you listened to?

Hyperfine by G Flip

Last book you read?

The Bodies of Men by Nigel Featherstone. 

It’s a WWII story, about Australian soldiers. It’s gay. Everyone should go read it. 

Favourite day of the week?

Tomorrow. Because I get to go back to work. I’ve missed the plants. 

Can you say the alphabet backwards?

I can barely say it forwards. 

How do you like your coffee?

Black. 

Favourite pair of shoes?

Most worn and most frequently bought are Blundstone boots. Beauty of work boots. 

The time you normally go to sleep?

Between 9:30 and 11. 

The time you normally get up?

Now that I’m starting back at the plant nursery, 4:30. While I was stood down, and before that, around 6am. Unless I want to write, then around 2:30am. Depends.  

What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets?

At the station, we get better sunsets, because the hills block the sunrise. At the farm, it’s in a valley, so the hills block both, so both are about equal. 

How many blankets on your bed?

Two. One duvet with an Avengers cover, and one red, black and white patchwork quilt my grandma made, inspired by the mining town she spent most of her adult life in. 

Describe your kitchen plates

Melamine, brownish, with flowery patterns. They’re just what is in the caravan. 

Do you have a favourite alcoholic beverage?

Don’t really have one. I barely drink. But I used to liked the ginger beer my Grandpa used to brew. It was potent. 

Do you play cards?

Cards Against Humanity. Unstable Unicorns. And several card games played with a normal deck of cards that i can’t remember the names of. 

What colour is your car?

Pearl white. It’s white, but sparkly.  

Can you change a tire?

Change it. Mend it. Put it back on again. Much better at motorbike tyres though, because I have more practise with those.  

Favourite job you’ve ever had?

Trainee at a plant nursery. So, the current one. That I get to start again tomorrow. 

How did you get your biggest scar?

A cow kicked a gate into my head. I now have a scar that runs from my hairline to my eyebrow on the left side of my forehead. Busted me open to the skull. Not that anyone would tell me that at the time. Doctor did a great job stitching it up though, so it isn’t as visible as you’d expect.

What did you do today that made someone else happy?

I gave the sheep stock lime and salt today. It’s like lollies for sheep. So I made 800 woolly someones happy today. 

[fire-bear]

I have had a really eventful week - so much so that I lost track of days at the start of the week... Here are some things that happened (mostly unrelated to Covid-19):

I went to the theatre last Saturday to see Curtains (before Scotland/the UK banned gatherings over 500) which is really good and people should go see it in, like, 6 months when we can go out again.

That same day I drove over a massive pothole - like, it was a huge square in the middle of the road that I didn’t register as a problem (I think I thought it was a patch of road that had been dug up and covered over) until the last second. This resulted in...

Discovering that I had a slow puncture exactly a week ago (confirmed by my more knowledgeable sister when we went to a farm café along the road from us for a get together) and had to go buy a pump to pump it up as the garage my mum suggested wasn’t open on a Sunday. So I decided to go up early on Monday morning when...

My mum discovered that our washing machine had decided to pack it in - it’s been playing up for a while, but it wouldn’t stop (it had 1 minute to go! according to it) and wouldn’t open to get the clothes out. So when we went to the garage (who asked me to come in the next day to get it sorted) we also stopped at Argos to get a new washing machine - it’ll be delivered this coming Thursday... I hope. In the meantime, handwashing it is! And also using the washing machines at the Gulf petrol station nearby.

Got my tyre replaced.

On the Monday, my mum had to get my Grandpa to come over to help disconnect it (he’s 69 so it’s okay!) but when he reconnected it he had some trouble and accidentally pulled the pipe out of the other one it was connected to in the cupboard under the stairs. When my mum started to move stuff to get the things she’d arranged an uplift for (we’ve been meaning to do it for ages), she discovered that the carpet in the hall was soaked because any time we used the kitchen sink there was water going everywhere. Cue using a basin and then crossing the road to throw it down the drain because the one at our front door was covered with all the stuff getting uplifted.

Monday evening is when my mum found out that she needs to socially distance/self isolate/stay at home - she’s an at risk person cause she gets the flu jab for underlying health conditions so she’s been doing housework and reading books and she’s gonna be bored in a couple of weeks.

Started cleaning everything at work because they gave us stuff and they had notices up saying we were gonna do it more and no-one else seemed to be doing it. This was both good and bad - I have a very mild dermatitis which is exacerbated by heat and certain soaps/cleaning products. And also by washing my hands too much. So...

When they put up a sign in work on, like, Thursday, about gloves, I asked about it when they talked to us about what was going to happen. (We get paid for the first couple of weeks at our normal rate as if we were actually working and then get sick pay. Plus company sick pay but I think that’s only if you’ve been with the company since 2012 and I’ve only been there since 2016 so...)

People at work kept going on about big announcements and then watching it on their phones, hoping they were saying they were closing the shops (because it makes sense and because it’s been so quiet that we had nothing much to do) - and then nothing happened.

On Friday morning, I went to run errands for my mum and couldn’t get out of the parking space in the way I wanted to because of the van parked across the road from me and the angle. I ended up scraping the car beside me and I only found out because of some old guy. I still have the P plates on and he helpfully said, “You need to go back and pass your test again.” I bet that guy doesn’t drive so... Urgh. Also, like, I was worried about it and decided to leave a note with my name and number (still no call about it, though) and the guy was all, “Just leave it. I would just leave it.” Why did you stop me to tell me about it, then??

Drove to and fro across town yesterday doing the shopping - and also looking to see if anywhere had toilet paper. Thankfully, my sister shops at Costco sometimes and she’d gotten a lot from one of their deals or something a while back so she gave us some today so we don’t need to worry about that for a couple of weeks. And our local village shop has industrial toilet roll for sale if we’re struggling so that’s cool.

Got called today about how the chain of shops I work in is closing all its shops in the UK (already closed them in other countries) so I can get stuff done at home now. (Such as rearranging my room and stuff.)

[peakysabrina]

Heaven

How Jeremiah met his wife, how they got married, and the story of how Isaiah was born.

TW for miscarriages, sorry!!

Jeremiah Jesus had tried to become a priest before, but because of the reasons stated above, had been pushed out of the noble calling of God. Time and time again, he had gone to the seminar, and had done what all the white boys had done, better than them, and was still rejected with a snare and everything short but a kick to the backside. Somehow, his devotion to God wasn't good enough, his oratory wasn't good enough, and him as a man wasn't enough. Every time, he knew very well why it had been: because he was black, his parents were from the Caribbean, and he didn't fit the Church of England's image of a good shepard for their sheep. The sheep, better known as citizens, weren't big on other ethnicities, and a coloured pastor could drive them away from church, and away from the brain-wash that went on inside such venerable buildings.

So Jeremiah Jesus gave up, tired of wasting his time studying the Bible and the great Classic masters of oratory, given that it was of no use. Instead, he decided it would be much better to make it on his own, to go off into the world, make his money, find a job, one that he could excel at, despite the colour of his skin, or the place of origin of his parents. The first step to make that happen was to go around to the shops, to try and find someone who would employ him, even if it was in the backrooms, or warehouses. No one agreed, so Jeremiah moved on to the farms and factories around Birmingham. There, in the small property of Jacob Steadman, he found what he was looking for: a steady position as farm hand, doing whatever was needed.

The Steadman family was composed of seven people: the father, Jacob, who was married to Lucinda; the eldest daughter, Lucy; and four younger siblings, named Jacob Jr., Alphonse (who went by Alphie), Henrietta and Julius. They had a couple more men on the property, who mostly dealt with the produce the family sold at nearby markets. The Steadmans weren't rich, but they lived comfortably, which allowed them a bit more independence, and an education for their children. The eldest one, a beautiful red-haired girl in her early twenties, was especially gifted, and wrote stories for her younger brothers and sisters, which she also illustrated with all the care in the world. She was, unfortunately, prone to bouts of coughing fits, with no apparent reason, and the fairy-tale sessions were often interrupted by these moments, much to her sadness.

"Hey. You need any help?" the same Lucy came asking, carrying a tin full of water and a plate of food. "You've been at it for hours, eh?"

"It's my job" Jeremiah replied, looking up from the car tyre he was trying to patch up, and seeing that blessed apparition, made even more welcome by the food she was holding. "I will accept some lunch, though"

"Yeah, thought so" she replied, chuckling and handing him the plate and the water. "How's it going with dad's car? That tyre's busted"

"Busted is... an understatement. You feeling better today? I heard you coughing yesterday"

"I uh... I'm better, I think, yeah" Lucy sighed, obviously not one bit better, but refusing to look weak, even in front of the help. "To be honest with you, I don't think I'll ever get any better. But that's just my opinion"

"Have you been to a doctor?" Jeremiah looked up from his plate, still chewing a bit of meat. "Nothing they can do about it?"

"I've been to a couple doctors, and none of them know what the hell is going on. Shit, sorry, shouldn't curse, you're religious" Lucy let out, apparently unaware that it hadn't been offensive, but rather funny, to hear someone so proper speaking like that.

"No problem, I'm not that religious" he assured, observing closely the process of his boss's daughter crouching, and then sitting on the ground. If he was asked, a lady sitting on the ground, talking to the coloured help would be much more scandalous than all the cursing in the world. But he liked how pratical she was, how she didn't let her obvious beauty and good manners get in the way of doing what she wanted to do. "I have a chair somewhere over there, if you want"

"Nah, I'm alright, thanks" was the quick answer, accompanied by a shrug. "I'm sorry if I kept you awake with my coughing"

"You didn't. I couldn't sleep anyway"

"Anything worrying you?" Lucy kindly asked, taking a nearby wrench and playing with it, throwing it in the air a couple of times, and catching it with precision. "Well, anything I can help you with? Even if it's just talking"

"On second thought, maybe it was your coughing" Jeremiah joked, finishing his lunch and taking a big swig of water. "No, it's nothing. I was reading, and I lost track of time"

"I know that feeling. You know what I was reading? That one author you showed me, Jane Austen. Really like her stuff" Lucy informed, dreamily looking into the distance. Truth be told, Jeremiah was terrified of her when she looked like that, terrified of the way it made him want to lunge forward and kiss her. It was unspokenly agreed between the two that whatever the thing between them was, it was friendship, and just that: friendship.

"Glad you like it, I came across some stuff of hers through a friend of mine in town" he replied, clearing his throat, and coming back to reality. "His dad knew her dad, or so he says"

"That's interesting. What about you, what were you reading?"

"Do you even need to ask?" he laughed, drinking what was left from the water. "I go back to it a couple times a year, to make sure I haven't forgotten anything. Helps me keep my mind in the right place"

"Fair enough, Jimmy. No shame in that" she responded, using that name that only she was allowed to use. She didn't like the name Jeremiah for some reason, didn't like the way it sounded; but Jimmy sounded good, it suited him. Reading the Bible and losing track of time because of it also suit him, and Lucy was very aware that it was just one of the manners in which he was perfect, in which he made her fall for him.

"You've read the Bible, haven't you?"

"Might have... when I went to Sunday School. Ah, and on Sundays, they always read a bit, don't they? Can't say I remember reading it from start to finish in one go, though" she admitted, tapping her fingers on her lips as she gave the subject some thought. "I prefer novels, You know the ones, where the girls have pretty dresses, and always end up marrying the man of their dreams and living in a mansion"

"That what you want to do?"

"Pfff" Lucy let out, a strange and humorous sound that made Jeremiah laugh along. "I don't really care about dresses, and mansions are too much maintenance. As for the man of my dreams, he knows where I live, he can come get me if he wants" she added, looking down, and then up at him. Another good thing about Lucy was this: she knew what she wanted, and she knew how to get it. The ball was in his court, so to speak, and there was no religion that could provide an answer.

That conversation was the latest of many they had shared, and hints had been coming all along. But it was all in good fun, a bit of light flirting between friends. There had never been anything like that very particular jab, and it wasn't mistakeable for banter. So, it was time to make a decision: to stick to friendship, maintain everything as it was, and resort to reading the Holy Book to drown the noise of his very obvious attraction; or to go ahead and go get the girl he wanted. It was true: he knew where she lived, and knew which room was hers. It had to be the one which still had light coming from underneath the door. She had to be awake, and alone, for them to be able to talk through what they needed to talk through. As softly as he could, he knocked, and the door opened instantly, like she had been waiting. Knowing Lucy, she probably had been, although she would not admit to it.

"Thank God, I was starting to think you hadn't gotten my hint" Lucy scoffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Took you long enough"

"It wasn't an open invitation, was it? What happens if your parents come around to check on you? And what if they hear us?" Jeremiah asked in return, fully regretting what he had done. It would mean being dismissed on the spot, and he couldn't really afford to go back to his parents' house. "I can't lose my job"

"You won't, don't think about it" she guaranteed, going around Jeremiah and locking the door. "See? They can't come in"

"What does it mean, then? What do you want to do?" he asked, bearing in mind that a decision had to be made, and the sooner the better, before someone caught them.

"Do I need to know? Do you really need an answer to that?" Lucy asked, biting her lip repeatedly, obviously nervous for being put on the spot.

"If I didn't need to know where we stand, I wouldn't have come here, now would I?" Jeremiah asked, losing a bit of his cool. It was in his nature to need everything decided, and defined. The idea of puting them both at risk for nothing was annoying, to say the least. "I came here for nothing, wasn't it, Lucy?"

Her reaction was completely unexpected: instead of pouting, or retaliating, Lucy simply walked up to him, placed her hands on his neck, and pulled him down, kissing him on the lips. For good measure, she took Jeremiah's own palms and placed them on her waist, where he could feel the warmth of her skin through the cotton of the nightgown.

"Would this be considered nothing?" Lucy asked, breaking the kiss but making sure Jeremiah's hands stayed where they were. "Because if so..." she continued, taking his writs, and making his hands move to her thighs, and then up, and up, until the nightgown was over her head and on the floor. "...would this be better?"

For once, Jeremiah was speachless, and torn between looking at her face, or looking down at her body, which was wrong, but pretty damn irresistible. He didn't know whether she was aware of what she had done, but it didn't seem to be a problem when he bent over to kiss her, taking her into his arms without thinking too much about it.

After that night, things only escalated: from sex, to talks of marriage, and to a proposal, done beneath the apple trees on a warm Spring day, complete with the best ring the sparse money Jeremiah could buy. At the same time, he'd started making efforts to find a new job, whereas Lucy had gotten employment at the Birmingham library, in hopes that some day, they could tell her parents about their engagement. Once that was out of the way, they could get married, and move into their own house, living their lives, building a family, having a good existence. Luckily, there had been an opening for Bible Studies teacher, under mysterious circumstances, but that were probably connected with the imprisonment of the deacon. Hence, it was time: Lucy's parents had to know.

"Mom and dad, me and Ji... I mean, me and Jeremiah have something we need to tell you" Lucy started, getting her mother's attention, while her father kept on reading the newspaper. "We're engaged to be married"

"You're what? To... to each other?" mrs. Steadman asked, absolutely caught off guard.

"Yeah" her daughter responded, showing her mother the engagement ring.

"No"

"What?"

"I said no" mr. Steadman chimed in, lowering the paper, and looking at his daughter with the utmost disgust. "You are not marrying a coloured man, let alone a poor one"

"Excuse me, sir, but I don't think the colour of my skin has anything to do with this subject. I love your daughter, I am prepared to offer her the best life I possibly can" Jeremiah protested, forcing Lucy to take his arm, to pacify him a little.

"Look son, I have no problem with the colour of your skin, but I am not letting my daughter marry you" Jacob replied, as if he was simply commenting on the weather outside. "You have no idea how people will treat her if she marries you"

"I'm not unaware of that, dad, I know how stupid people are; I don't care about any of that, I'm prepared to deal with whatever is thrown at me. Jeremiah asked me to marry him, I said yes, and that's that. You can be by my side on my wedding day, or not. That's your call" Lucy stated, beggining to feel the burn of anger on her throat. "He's the man I want, he's the man I love, and that's that on that"

"Out" Jacob simply stated, his eyes as clear as day, pointing to the door. He didn't even raise his voice, but the message as loud: he wanted the both of them out of his house, and he wanted them to go without missing a second. As for his wife, she just lowered her head and went back to sewing, pursing her lips but saying nothing. It seemed like the only one affected by that demand was Lucy, whose eyes filled with tears, and fists clenched. "I said out, didn't you hear me? Out of my sight, both of you. And don't you dare come back"

Matter of fact, they didn't. Lucy packed her clothes and some books she'd bought with her own money, wrote a letter to her siblings explaining why she had to leave, and was out of her childhood home before dinner time. As for her fiancé, a completely distraught Jeremiah, there was not much to be said: the guilt he felt in his heart was so overwhelming he wanted to simultaneously punch Jacob Steadman and hug Lucy, to cry on her shoulder. It was her spirit that never waivered, it was her that got him out of the property her parents owned, and it was her who found them a room to rent while they saved up for an apartment or house of their own. Their landlord, Arthur Shelby, was a strange man, but his wife, named Elizabeth, was an angel, who looked after the young couple with as much care as she did her own child, a lanky, sickly-looking boy named after his father.

As for their wedding, there was not much to be said: there was the priest, the bride, the groom, and two witnesses, namely Elizabeth Shelby and her husband, who signed the paper with a disgruntled look on his face. It wasn't much of a party, but then again it didn't need to be, as Lucy and Jeremiah didn't have the means to provide one. The bride had a bouquet of wildflowers, and a simple everyday dress, but her groom was so in love it didn't matter. To Jeremiah, she was an angel, something from high heavens.

"... I now pronounce you husband and wife. Mr. Jesus, you may kiss your bride" the pastor announced, causing both Jeremiah and Lucy to smile at each other, before chastly kissing to the sound of Elizabeth Shelby's subdued clapping, echoing off the walls of the empty church.

"Congratulations, I wish you nothing but happiness, truly" Elizabeth wished, hugging Lucy tightly and patting Jeremiah's shoulder. As for her husband, he was already outside, smoking a cigarette and probably trying to make a pass at any woman who passed by. "Now would be the time to leave your bouquet at the altar and make a wish. I'll wait outside"

"Oh, I forgot" Lucy let out, turning to the altar and trying to think of a wish. "You have anything you want to wish for?" she asked Jeremiah, who in all honesty, was just happy to be alive and married to the girl he loved.

"Not really, I'll leave the wish to you" he replied, accompanying her back to the altar, where a figure of Jesus Christ on the cross looked over them.

"Well, I wish for..." she started, a sweet smile on her features. "I wish for a happy and healthy baby. And since my husband doesn't want to make his own wish, I'll take his and ask for some te ability to carry my child safely"

"That's a good wish" Jeremiah replied, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Both of them are, really. Can't wait to have a little one with you"

"Me either. You reckon it will take long to... should we be talking about this in church, though?" Lucy laughed, putting down the simply bouquet of flowers and taking Jeremiah's hand as they exited the temple. "I feel bad now, for talking about baby-making at church"

"God doesn't care, don't worry" Jeremiah assured, as they walked over to the Shelbies, who were waiting for them. "Can't wait, though"

In the end, it did take a fair bit for a baby to make its appearance in their life. Elizabeth Shelby had four children by the time Lucy Jesus managed to carry a pregnancy to term. Her disappointments had taken its toll on the girl, who became more and more fragile as time went by. Her coughing became constant, and her body slowly started giving in. However, Lucy had gathered every bit of strength she had, and, in 1905, Isaiah was born. He was healthy, beautiful, and strong, much stronger than his mother. In due time, the little boy had to say goodbye to his father, who departed for war, and then, to his mother, who couldn't survive another miscarriage. Elizabeth Shelby and Polly Gray, her sister-in-law, raised the Jesus boy, who grew up playing with the Shelby boys, and who would, in time, become one of them.

The second part of this (focused on Isaiah) is on AO3

[loiswolf]

Day 56 July 28 Drogheda - Dublin 65kms

Day 56 July 28 Drogheda -Dublin 65kms

It’s not really 65kms to Dublin from Drogheda, it was only meant to be 47kms. I did my extending trick again today.

First of all I think I may have misrepresented my accommodation last night. It was really lovely and my host was great fun. She really didn’t mean to use all the hot water.

This morning I slept in because I had no fixed plans. Bridgie at Renville had led me to believe accommodation in Dublin was ridiculously expensive and I hadn’t received confirmation from a Warmshowers host. I was thinking about staying another night in Drogheda but when I checked Booking.com I found plenty of cheap accommodation in the city.

My slow start meant I didn’t get away until after 10 but I had a whole day to fill in. I had discussed my route with Trudi last night and she recommended the coast road. Hmmm.....hasn’t this happened before?

I started off on the 132. It was actually a beautiful day. Sunny and warm!

Since I had plenty of time and the 132 was getting bigger and busier I decided to try the coast road. I turned off onto the 127 and just up the road was a Lidl! What a lovely surprise! They even had toffee twists!! I quickly loaded up on goodies and kept pedalling  towards Skerries.

I’m afraid I also have to apologise for giving such a grim description of the beaches here yesterday. Today the sky was blue and the water almost blue. The sand was still brown.

Cycling along on Shirley with my music turned off the only sound I could hear was the soft hum of her tyres on the road. How amazing is she? Except when I use the front brake and she squeals like a girl. I probably should have got those brake pads changed.

With 25kms under the belt it was time for morning tea. I stopped when I saw a little coffee shop. Strangely enough, it looked just like the one I went to yesterday. This one was so much better. It had good coffee, cannoli, and Hazel, the lovely owner who came out to admire Shirley and talk to me for quite some time. She had once been to Byron Bay and could confirm my opinion of which country has the best beaches.

Unfailingly, whenever I talk to an Irish person and tell them what I’m doing, their comment is always,

“Fair play ter you!”

My other favourite comment is when someone sees a photo I have of my son Joel. It’s like a recording, I show people now just because it’s fun to hear exactly the same response. It’s always,

“ Oooh, he has the look of Prince Harry about him.”

The Irish are so much fun!

Back to the ride....From there I rolled down the road through the town and out to see some more passable water views.

.

The 127 became the 128 then looped back onto the 127 which in turn emptied back onto the 132. I fully intended to follow that road all the way into Dublin but when it turned into a monster dual carriageway I turned off towards Malahide. I knew there was a castle there. The traffic was very slow so I took to the footpath and was soon at the castle gardens. The gardens were lovely to cycle through but the castle was better from a distance. I cycled around to the shops and cafes and they were way too crowded for me. I went back to where I took this photo

And sat on a bench to eat my cheese roll and chocolate bar.

I had succeeded in using up nearly the whole day so it was time to complete my 5000km journey and ride into Dublin.

Even the 107, which I thought would be a quiet back road, was very busy. It did have a cycle/bus lane which I was able to share with the monstrous double decker buses.

My fall near Sligo several days ago had resulted in another wound on my knee which has started festering.

( this photo is pre-festering stage. I thought I’d spare you that). When I saw an open pharmacy I stopped to buy something to put on it. ( something apart from the chopped up panty liner which was currently in place.) Two delightful blue eyed boys inspected festering wound 2 and listened to some of my stories. They seemed to think I would live and sold me a small tube of Savlon. I think they were having a boring Sunday afternoon until I came along.

Playing leap frog with those huge buses I pushed on until I finally reached the Liffey.

My accommodation was not much further. It’s another student accommodation and it’s like a carbon copy of the place I stayed at in Plymouth. One of the staff, Taran, saw me struggling with Shirley and my luggage and not really knowing where to go. ( these places are a maze!) He kindly helped me unload, put Shirley in a special lock-up with the other bikes, then showed me to my room. He also requested a hug when he found out I had just cycled 5000kms from Athens. It’s not such a big deal to me compared with my other trips, but I guess it’s something.

The end of my tour seems to have coincided with another better known cycle tour. I have also been rereading ‘round Ireland with a fridge’ ( highly recommended) and Tony Hawks final entry into Dublin was my reading material just now. He went the opposite direction. We crossed paths in Sligo.

Tomorrow I will be doing some sightseeing around Dublin then cycling to accommodation closer to the airport. I will be getting a box for Shirley and hopefully packing her up before I fly to Iceland.

Maybe I’ll write a wrap up blog when I get back.

Notice I drew my own line on the map!