Love in a wheelie bin

Stan was in his front gardenpolishing 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 bstacle 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 amd faster.As she wheeled her bikeup the 30 yard long front path to the porch she heardmurmurings and mutters,
She lifted up the green plastic lid and saw the two loverscovered 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 round Stan’s waist and between the three of them and Emile the cat and his friend Elizabeth, they managed to haul him 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 hope.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 Catphone 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 a few 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.




This  is  verygood.[I was just practising how to do a lnk there!I am  not fully trained in editing.]
This is an interesting article about the difference between literary and popular fiction.I have written a few short stories but always wanted to write a novel.
I love Nicholas Freeling.His  novels are written as detective stories but they qualify as literary fiction.I especially like,Dresden Green.
You can get a full  list of his novels via the link above.I shall be mulling over the thought of writing this weekend and looking a people walking by as I stroll along.
Why do we women wear such clothes?Why is “feminine” a bad word… like flowered dresses?How can one reconcile feminism with femininity?We don’t all want abortions like Simone de Beauvoir.
The other day I wore a dress and my partner said,Auntie E!
Not a compliment is it?I was wondering how good my imagination is.It’s based on experience