Did you know this place I live is called Speckled Wood? Unofficially of course, I mean it isn't registered under that name. I just thought it was a good name because the Speckled Wood butterfly is the first butterfly I see in the early spring. The butterfly is so named because it's brown and yellow colouring blends in so well with the sun shining through the leafy trees.
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PEGGY.
Muriel was supposed to be meeting our elderly neighbour Peggy at the bottom of the driveway where they would catch the bus into the city and do some shopping.
With just a few minutes until the bus was due Muriel was becoming concerned that Peggy had not yet appeared. When she saw the bus appear over the top of the hill she knew that Peggy would not be in time to catch it, and knowing how out of character this was, Muriel decided to let the bus go past. She was now extremely concerned and went to Peggy's house to find out what was going on.
There was no sign of Peggy downstairs so Muriel shouted up the stairs, "Are you there Peggy?"
"Aye Muriel. Thank heavens ye've come. I'm needing help."
Muriel quickly went upstairs to the bedroom and found Peggy sitting half dressed on the edge of her bed, looking pale, distressed and in floods of tears.
"What is it Peggy?" asked Muriel, "whatever is the matter dear?"
"I canna' walk, my legs won't work. I think I've had a stroke Muriel. I'm paralysed." Peggy sobbed.
It was while Muriel was lifting Peggy's legs up onto the bed to make her more comfortable that she noticed something odd. "Oh Peggy," she said laughing with relief, "No wonder ye canna walk. Ye've not had a stroke at all. Ye've put both your feet into the same leg of your knickers!"
Oh well this true little tale sounded funny to me when Muriel, my Mum, told me it. But then again she always did tell a good story. Maybe that's where I get it from?
Lucky that Muriel had that common sense to look for a solution to the problem. I like the name Speckled Wood. Rather rural elegant sounding... like a summer lodge or something.
ReplyDeleteI love the sound of Speckled Wood, it conjures up images that I have seen on TV about country Britain, like on Midsommer Murders. If it was here, it'd be called the Bunyip Bush. The story of Peggy and Muriel was priceless.
ReplyDeleteYou certainly can tell a good tale, keep it up. I like the goood old names of Peggy and Muriel :o)
ReplyDeleteAye, thank goodness you're here keeping us entertained....loved this story.
ReplyDeleteHow many of us ladies have been like Peggy at some time in our lives, especially when we're getting dressed in a hurry??
Poor Peggy, what a shock she had... grins. And it was your Mum that told the tale... I knew you must have inherited your talent from somewhere.
ReplyDeleteThank goodness you've only given up the other two blogs. To lose this one as well would be nothing less than catastrophic.
Great story from your Mum. You have inherited the genes.
ReplyDeleteA good story well told!
ReplyDeleteLovely story. I think with a bit of practice, you could write in a similar fashion to Charles Dickens. Thank goodness Peggy was only having problems with her knickers and not a serious bout of something.
ReplyDeleteThe Case of the One-Holed Knickers!
ReplyDelete