Mary stood at the bus stop in her chocolate wool winter coat which Stan had always loved very much.
It hangs so well, he had told her.
The optional imitation fur collar had been removed as she preferred natural garments made from wool with no ostentation.As a matter of fact, she has one of Stan’s woollen vests on under her gold silk top.Her hair fell in light blonde curls around her pensive face and her eyes looked as if she were seeing a mysterious vision of the Matterhorn in midwinter while on heroin.
Suddenly she realised the bus was there and she put her card up to the machine before looking for a seat.The bus was rather full so she sat down next to a youth with an i phone hanging from his hand.Suddenly it rang.His chosen theme was,
Please release me, sung by Tom Jones.
Mary smiled as, if she were near Tom Jones she would need no invitation to free him.The youth began to speak rather louder than normal.
Mary tried not listen but it was impossible.She was too hot as well.Wearing Stan’s vest was a mistake as the bus was overheated.She turned pink like a sunrise over ICI in Billingham for, perceive it or not, the pollution had a beautifying effect.
I’m sorry I wore your vest, she told Stan.
I should have given them away but I was trying to save money on heating.Still, I will be home soon.Oh,for some fresh tea.
Where’s your microphone, the youth demanded in a light voice?It must be one of those new tiny ones, I guess
A microphone? Mary said curiously.
Yeah, he cried.I assume your phone is in your pocket.
Actually, it’s in a pocket in my knickers, she informed him in a manner resembling that of a mildly dotty scientist.We used to wear these knickers in the gym at school.
Did you not wear a top? he enquired, his eyes running over her hourglass figure like pure rainwater water falling off High Force in Teesdale. in a summer storm.
Well.I didn’t have a bra until I got my grant to attend university,she told him sensitively.
Well, that’s news to me,he said.
So you had to wear a bra at University? That was before feminism,of course.Did you burn it later?
Certainly not, said Mary.I’d been longing for one but my mother didn’t seem to notice my development which was her way of coping with adolescent girls.Of course others may have noticed but they were too nervous to tell Mother I needed any support.We were all so shy and afraid.Anyway be quiet now, I want to speak to my husband.
Have you had your phone on all this time? he asked anxiously, worried about her bill.
No, I don’t need it to talk to him, she responded.
Why, where is he? the youth enquired sardonically.
He’s on my knee, Mary informed him.In this bag.She pointed to her hessian shopping bag.
I have just been to the Coop for him.I ought to have got a cab as he is quite heavy.
Jesus Christ, cried the youth, hastily pressing the bell before leaping off the bus into a small pond that had been created b Hurricane Desmond.He swam away into the cold night.
Well. that shut him up, Mary said to Stan.
Mary, don’t become less gentle and kind, Stan said in her ear.
I can’t be gentle now, she said.It’s a nasty tough world without you to help me and tell me what you think of Jeremy Corbyn.And do I need to have a roast dinner at Xmas or just some toad in the hole?
I am sorry, sweetheart he murmured.Maybe you need assertiveness training.
I’ll just get more aggressive, she replied.Micro-aggressive perhaps.
You’ll need more than micro in this era, he continued.Mary forgot to get off the bus and found herself in the Leisure Centre by the River Tranter
What about the river, Stan, she asked.
Would you like me to throw you in
.A policeman standing nearby ran over.
Madam is it suicide or murder, he asked her awkwardly.
No, it’s a life sentence, she said humorously as she put her hand up her skirt to get her phone.
That’s a silly place to keep your phone he said.
Anyway don’t call a cab, I can run you home in my car.Have you got any China tea?
I could kill for a hot drink.
I have some lapsang souchong, she told him.Do you fancy that?
I do ,called Stan from the bag.The policeman passed out.
I told you not to get a boyfriend yet, Stan continued to Mary.
I’ll do whatever I feel like, she said rudely.I could use a comforting arm around me.
Stan sobbed as only a holy soul can.
She said, quickly
Don’t worry.I’ll get Emile to sit on my knee.Goodbye, for now, darling.
Goodbye whispered Stan faintly.
Good bye…. goodbye….good bye…….

Stan was in his front garden polishing the wheelie bins with lavender wax polish.
He was not very happy as the garden was only 10 feet by 12. so the huge wheelie bins ruined it.When he got to the third one the lid popped open and out jumped his next door neighbour “Adulterous Annie”.
Hello, Stan” she whispered.”Where’s Mary now ?”
“Why?” Stan muttered into the back of her neck which he licked as he like her salty taste.
“I was thinking, these bins are so big, we could both get inside one.It would make a change1!”.
”What a strange idea” he replied philosophically.however , age was no obstacle where love was involved. if you catch my drift.
Soon Stan and Anne were in the big green recycling bin.Stan being 81 had shrunk somewhat so he took up less space than Annie did.He allowed her to kiss his left eyelid.What a lovely feeling.
Alas, all too soon, as they say, they heard Mary’s bicycle bell.She was getting faster and faster.As she wheeled her bike up the 30-yard long front path to the porch she heard murmurings and mutters,
She lifted up the green plastic lid and saw the two lovers covered in cuttings from the privet hedge.
“What the bleedin’ hell are you doing in there?” she shouted mellifluously.
Well , it’s hard to explain,……………but Stan was wondering about a green funeral” Anne said mischievously.
“Funeral , my hat!” Mary said coldly.”Get out at once”
“Don’t speak to me like that” Stan beseeched her brazenly.
“Well ,it’s a shock to find your husband in the bin with another woman!”
“Wouldn’t it be more of a shock if he was in the bin with a man, or even a sheep?”
“Schmann or Schwommann, sheep,it’s immaterial.
“Hurry, get out, quickly before the school exit time.what will all the mums think as they go by?”
But poor Stan could not get out.He was stuck.Oh ,my! what an odd phrase.
“Have you got your mobile on you?”
“Yes, it’s here in my bag.
“You’d better call 999”
“What a brilliant idea!”
Soon, Dave, the paramedic arrived.
Mary showed him Stan’s situation.
Ever resourceful,Dave was not bothered though the NHS budget might be getting cut.
He tied some rope around Stan’s waist and between the three of them and Emile the cat and his friend Elizabeth, they managed to haul the poor man out.
Annie stood weeping with shame.Her silvery blue eyeshadow was beginning to run mixed with tears and black water soluble mascara from Chanel of Paris and London.
Her new coral lipstick from Clinique was not as non-allergenic as she hoped.Never mind, it gave her lips that bee stung look that many men admire.It reminded Stan of his boyhood days playing near High Force Waterfalls in upper Teesdale….
Teesdale ,still an undiscovered and undervalued part of England.
Contact the English Touring Board for more information. Holiday Loans available from Thwaites of Stockton and Darlington at only 1% interest.
Mary gave Annie a large Kleenex tissue,
”Come indoors,honey, and I’ll make you some Ceylon tea.It’s been the most thrilling event of my entire life and I’ve photographed you with my new Nokia camera phone
[Prices available on request from The Cat-phone Warehouse,Teesside ,Northern England, comes in pink and pink and…pink?How I love pink!]
I’m going to send some to the local paper.
Stan staggered upstairs covered in bits of privet ,lettuce and cabbage hearts, and carrot tops ,not to mention a few dozen banana skins and potato peelings.
What an afternoon.[Please contact the society for the care and protection of vegetables if you wish to make a complaint about this story.}
“That’s the last time I climb into a wheelie bin”, he thunked
“Next time we’ll use the cardboard and newspaper wheelie bin” he proclaimed to Emile.
Well, there;s no fool like an old fool,Emile miaowed
And so say all of us

Ah,brother I don’t want you to lie still

No blood to circulate,no thoughts,no will

No help,no humour.jokes no

sharp true eye

From our old shared pram,to live, to die.

I used to do your homework

late at night

Abstract thought to you was no delight.

You wondered over X and y and z

Preferred the shapes of Nature in your head.

I shall retain the memories of the good

You who taught me speech and hate and love