The Clerembeax Palace Hotel and Spa – World Naked Gardening Day

 

 

The beautiful Downshire village of Clerembeax St Giles was situated to the west of Abbeyvale located between Grace Hill and Bushy Down and on the outskirts was the Clerembeax Palace Hotel and Spa which was a popular venue for wedding receptions and the grounds made a great backdrop for the wedding photos, and it was for their expertise on the well-manicured lawns and borders where Grandparents Bob and Carrie Stephens were employed as part of a large team of gardeners.

 

They were lifelong residents of Clerembeax and before the Spa opened they had to travel fifteen miles each way to work every day but now they had a ten-minute walk to do the work they loved so much, but that was because horticulture was also their hobby.

So, on their days off they were often to be found in their secluded garden enjoying their favourite pastime, but on May 5^th they were gardening with a difference because they were both naked, although they were both wearing wellington boots and hats, while Bob also wore a tool belt, and the reason for their unorthodox attire was that it was World Naked Gardening Day.

 

They had pottered around their garden for most of the day, and as they often did when they were enjoying themselves, they lost track of time.

So, it took them by surprise when they heard their grandchildren arrive, which meant that they had seriously miscalculated the time.

Fortunately, they were at the end of the garden beyond the rose trellis, which afforded them some protection, but the thing that saved their blushes were the tell-tale chimes of the ice cream van in the street outside the cottage, and that stopped the grandchildren in their tracks, but they were soon running up the garden again and calling
"Ice cream. Ice cream"

"Just a minute kids" Bob shouted to them and Carrie ducked down low as he dug around in his tool belt, mindful to keep everything from the waist down below the height of the trellis rail.
He brought out three, two pound coins which he tossed over the herbaceous border and landed them expertly on the lawn a few feet from the children.
However as he extended his arm to perform the delivery he almost delivered his manhood over the rail as well but Carrie grabbed it with her gloved hand just in time
"Oh no you don’t" she said

“Thanks Grandpa” the kids chimed in unison "do you want one?"

"No thanks" he shouted back
“What about Grandma?”

“No, I’m fine” she replied and giggled as the grandchildren ran back the way they came.

“That was close” Carrie said still holding onto him

“I’ll say” he agreed “So I suggest you let go of my spuds and we go and get some clothes on”

“Oh yes” she said and giggled again

 

 

Snippets of Downshire Life – On Account of the Gardener

 

In the small but thriving English county of Downshire people go about the tasks of their everyday existence in ways that range from the mundane to the extraordinary as their forebears had done for centuries before, in the varied and diverse landscape, from the Ancient forests of Dancingdean and Pepperstock, the craggy ridges and manmade lakes of the Pepperstock Hills National Park, the rolling hills of the Downshire Downs, to the beautiful Finchbottom Vale and the short but beautiful coastline to the east.

But our story is set in and around Turnoak-Under-Hawthorne, a large rambling village, originally settled in the 12^th century on the sparsely wooded slopes on the Northern fringe of the Finchbottom Vale about 5 miles from Purplemere, and it was everything you would expect from a Downshire Village and William Hunter had lived there all his life.

He had spent a week confined to the house as his accountant had been pressurizing him to provide him with all his bills and receipts, so he could submit William’s annual accounts at the end of the tax year.

His business was very successful, and he worked hard, but he was a bit of a scatterbrain and he wasn’t brilliant with the paperwork, and he subsequently always left it to the last minute, so when he got the call from the accountant, it always led to a long drawn out and onerous chore.    

When he had finally finished, four days later, and sent everything to his accountant he thought it was time to end his self-imposed exile, and when he opened his back door he discovered he had timed it to perfection, because when he stepped out into the sunlight he found his gardener, Vikki Hynds, working up a sweat cutting the grass, and she always got his pulse racing, even before she stopped to empty the grass box and bent over in front of him.

But it wasn’t just a physical attraction, he really liked her, but he never did anything about it because he thought she was way out of his league, in every conceivable way.

She stood up from her task and turned towards him and smiled.

“So, you’re not dead then” she said

“No rumors’ of my demise have been greatly exaggerated” he paraphrased.

“So, what have you been up to?” she asked

“End of year accounts” he replied, and at that moment her new apprentice, Daisy, appeared wearing similar work boots and dungarees to Vikki, and was carrying some empty heavy-duty sacks.

“Hello Mr. Hunter” she shouted

“Hi Daisy” William shouted back, then in a lower voice he said to Vikki

“How’s she doing?” and nodding in Daisy’s direction

“Excellently” Vikki replied beaming

“She’s a quick learner, hardworking, eager and reliable”

“Really?”

“I couldn’t ask for better, and she’s a real sweetie” she said “She’s the best one I’ve ever had”

 

He left them to their toil in the soil and made his way into the village to replenish all the essentials he had run out of, and after stocking up at Stephenson’s Supermarket he returned home with his bags of shopping and was looking forward to feasting his eyes on his lovely gardener again, but as he reached the corner his heart sank as he saw Vikki’s van driving away up the road.

 

When William got home and let himself in he went straight to the kitchen, unpacked the bags and started to put everything away, but then he became aware of noises in the house, and he feared that he had an intruder, so he picked up a rolling pin and went to investigate, cautiously.

As he left the kitchen and the sounds became louder he realized they were coming from the conservatory, but when he got there he found that he didn’t need the weapon because he discovered that the intruder was actually Vikki Hynds, and his discovery caused him to stop in his tracks and made his chin hit the floor.

Because she was attending to the many and varied pot plants in the conservatory, but it wasn’t that alone that left him gob smacked, it was the fact that Vikki was going about her task wearing only her work boots, gardening gloves and a smile, while hiding her assets behind a watering can and a potted geranium.

“So, I see I finally have your full and undivided attention” she said “But you’re not going to need a rolling pin for what I have in mind”   

 

A FIRST KISS

 

A first kiss,

Nervous, anxious,

When tentative

And hesitant lips

Lacking confidence

Needing conviction

Miss their mark

And teeth collide

CHOICE

 

She sat on an eternal shore, silent

Calm unexpressive face, still like granite

Contemplating her destiny, knowing

The path she chooses she must take alone

Upon the expected crossroads she came

It arrived suddenly, but then not so

The long awaited, long dreamed of moment

Choices when made can extend far beyond

Like ripples in the water from a stone

Inside herself she must look for the answer

A deep breath, a sigh and she plant’s her foot

Upon the chosen trail to who knows where

With confidence she sets off on her way

Has she made the right choice who can say?

Snippets of Downshire Life – May Bank Holiday

 

Downshire is a relatively small English county but like a pocket battleship it packs a lot in, a short but beautiful coastline, a channel port, the Ancient forests of Dancingdean and Pepperstock, the craggy ridges and manmade lakes of the Pepperstock Hills National Park, the rolling hills of the Downshire Downs, the beautiful Finchbottom Vale and farm land as far as the eye can see from the Trotwood’s and the Grace’s in the south, to the home of the Downshire Light infantry, Nettlefield, and their affluent neighbour’s, Roespring and Tipton in the north but our story takes place in the southern town off Abbottsford which was the biggest in Downshire, its administrative capital and the seat of the Downshire government.

It was also a place of learning thanks to the Downshire University and was a Cathedral City and was also home to Abbottsford Town football club.

 

Charlotte and Philip McDowell were on their way to the Cathedral for a memorial service and as was the norm they walked through Cathedral Park to get there.

It was a busy in the Park because it was a glorious day, as it always was when the sun was shining, and there was always a greater concentration around the boating lake.

They were often in the park, so it was nothing out of the ordinary for but on that particular occasion it was not only a lovely bright afternoon, very sunny and very warm, but as it was a Bank Holiday, so it attracted even more visitors scurrying about.

Even so the McDowell’s expected nothing untoward until Charlotte said

“What’s going on?”

“What?” he asked and tried to follow her gaze, and when he had established he was looking in the same place as she was he saw that there was a girl in a skimpy dress walking towards them who appeared to be causing something of a stir.

“Isn’t that Claire Hammond?” he asked

“Yes, I think so” she replied

Claire was someone they had known for a few years, and they had a mutual dislike for each other, and she was a rather innocuous looking girl certainly more than mildly attractive but not a stunner or of movie star calibre.

She definitely suffered from pretty girl syndrome, and though she was attractive she thought she was far more beautiful than all other women around her, and yet she was causing every head to turn, male and female, young and old.

Men’s jaws dropped to the floor and their eyes stood out on stalks and women looked sternly and shook their collective heads.

But this behaviour was not restricted to pedestrians, cyclist’s, drivers, rowers and Pedalo passengers joined in the ogling.

“What are they all gawping at?” Philip asked

“No idea” She replied also questioning if this unremarkable girl was worthy of all the attention.

But as she passed them, without them acknowledging each other, they continued to follow her with their gaze and the reason for the head turning soon became apparent.

The hem of her skirt had snagged on the bottom of her shoulder bag rendering her rear aspect exposed from the waist downward.

Though it wasn’t that in itself which had elicited the response she had received, that was due solely to the fact she had neglected to wear any pants.

As she continued on and turned more heads Philip asked his wife

“Do you think we should tell her?”

“No way” she replied “Serves her right for being so vane”

 

 

Snippets of Downshire Life – May Day

 

The village of Brocklington was on the River Brooke about six miles downstream from Sharping St Mary in the Finchbottom Vale which was nestled comfortably between the Ancient Dancingdean Forest to the south and the rolling Pepperstock Hills in the north, those who are lucky enough to live there think of it as the rose between two thorns.

One of the Vale’s biggest employers were Brocklington Broadcast International, which is where employee Ross Manning had been  trying to get a date with Marta Gouveia since the BBI Christmas party, but for a variety of reasons it never happened, until shortly before the May Bank Holiday when they were talking and he asked

“Let’s go to Sharpington on May Day”

And in her response there was no prevarication and he was shocked when he heard her say “yes” immediately.

 

The weather in the week preceding the May Bank Holiday had been unseasonably warm, but from Friday lunchtime onwards it gradually deteriorated until by May Day itself it was a grey dismal day with torrential rain accompanied by thunder and lightning.

 

Ross picked her up at 9.30 and the rain hammered down all the way to the coast and he thought that the prospect of the weather clearing was extremely optimistic.

On reaching the traditional seaside resort of Sharpington-by-Sea they parked on the sea front facing the sea and sat in the car and for a few moments they silently looked for a glimmer of hope and simultaneously sighed.

They opened the car doors and the few other visitors that had ventured out, were already scurrying for cover as it was still lashing down with rain and there was a violent thunderstorm accompanying it.

“This is not what I had in mind” he thought as they hurried through the rain to a café.

“It was supposed to be perfect”

 

As they sat at a table in the café they perused the brochures that listed Sharpington’s highlights, its Victorian Pier, seafront hotels, crazy golf, The Palladium ballroom, well maintained gardens, promenade, theatre and illuminations, all the usual things to have a great time by the seaside, as well as amusement arcades and of course the Sharpington Fun Park.

He looked across the table just as a clap of thunder rattled the windows and said

“Not a very auspicious first date, is it?”

“I guess not” she replied flatly

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be presumptive, I mean, I’d like a second date, but I should ask first”

“There had better be a second date, after a seaside washout, but before we right off today completely, I think we should try to make the best of what we’ve got and go to the Fun Park” she said and reached across the table and squeezed his hand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SHE’S LEAVING

I suppress the sunshine, she says

And bring her nothing but rain

Now I’m begging her not to leave

But I know that it is in vain

And I know that if I let her go,

Although that would ease her pain,

I am full of fear of saying goodbye

In case we will never meet again