ThE noise types a minke whale makes are various - clicks, grunts, pulse trains, ratchets, thumps and boings. It has been claimed that these indue the whales with the ability to sing, or speak, though exactly what is going on is likely to provide fuel for many a scientific study to clarify in years to come. But I expect someone will one day claim to have taught a minke whale to sing along to an indie song, probably about global warming!
The road to the LAsT house in the hamlet seemed to peteR out. But once you got up close you could see that it led to a trail through the woods. Since it was so well hidden, only locals or the extremely cautious / nosey ever walked the trail. But those that did found it led to a spectacular view. The hamlet had now installed a seat so that one could sit and enjoy the view before returning to get on with the necessities of life.
The blAcksmith Enjoyed his lunch of pease pudding and then got back to work. He gave the charcoal a shake about and grabbed the swage to form the correct nail head. At the end of the day he quickly headed home, showered and emerged from home looking very suave - he really wanted to impress her!
He had left the busy woRld of trading with all its noisy barter and now spent many a happy hour in his garden. Today he was preparing the flower pots, putting a crock in each one for drainage, before planting out the seedlings. As the light faded, he spotted one of the local brock set sensing the air. He picked up his crook and went to check on his alpacas, making sure they were ok for the night.
The noisy guests were witty
Each one of them stroked kitty
Speech was bitty
Baked beans were gritty
What
to you make of my ditty
Annabelle's Room was weirdly decorated with an array of shark's teeth jewellery. Today was her evening for rumba lessons and she carefully picked the most appropriate piece of jewellery for the occasion.
HE Really loved studying, even though his mates were prone to making snide remarks. His studies were learning all about different types of spore which he found so fascinating. To think that a score of them could be on your fingertip and you wouldn't have any idea they were there was so cool.
The dance floor was, of course, noisy. All sorts of beer were on offer, from light to hoppy. Most people looked like they were having a good time, but Ant was doomy and seemed to be glued to the bar. Poppy was a cocky lass who attracted a lot of attention as she and her doggy were spotted doing the boogy. No one would have guessed that her paid job was as a bobby! Poppy's brother, Gareth, was telling an attractive blond about how the area where the dance hall is now was once a woody area. Patrick spotted the blond's plight and came to her rescue, pulling up his hoody so as not to be recognised by Gareth. Gareth became moody and joined Ant (who was by then quite woozy) at the bar. Off to the side of the dance floor, a little scene developed as Poppy was handcuffing a dealer of dodgy substances. Ant brightened a little on observing this - "Oh goody - that guy was the bane of my life".
The street outside was so noisy. It transpired that all the seamen, including every bosun, had been paid a bonus and that they were using rather too much of it on booze!
ThE young Olivia seemed undaunted that each step was so steep. She just kept experimenting until she'd worked out how to do it, and so now she clambered up the flight of stairs in seconds.
It was thAT time of the week when he knew it was going to get noisy - the cricket club was going to be cutting the grass with that ancient clapped-out old machine. He had a stack of work to get through and the noise disturbance was going to be most unwelcome. Each swath of the machine got closer and closer and he dreaded each pass of the machine. He was so relieved when it was over.
ALl through the day it had been noisy, but this hobby meant she got some peace when most folk had gone to bed. Every Wednesday she set herself up to keep vigil watching out for hedgehog activity until 3am. As the light faded and darkness invaded, each pupil of her eye would widen right out and she could make out clearly the creatures in what most of her friends thought was utter darkness. But some Wednesday nights were not successful when some security light or other would light up, shutting her eye pupils down and causing her to give up early.
Young YoLAnda Enjoyed her regular visits to her Aunt Rhoda each week. "Are you looking forward to starting pre-school next week", asked Mum one day. "Well, yes and no", replied Yolanda thoughtfully. It all sounds such fun, but I'll miss visiting Aunt Rhoda. Let me show you what Aunt Rhoda has been teaching me", said Yolanda, as she shot upstairs to Mum's room and set herself up to operate the sewing machine. Mum stood there, transfixed, as Yolanda stitched two pieces of fabric together so neatly and so quickly. She was about to do the next edge when Mum said "I plead with you not to be so heavy on the pedal - I fear you'll get your hand caught". "Oh, don't worry Mum", Yolanda said, "Aunt Rhoda has only let me go this fast after a lot of practice", retorted Yolanda precociously!
"ThERe is no place for snide remarks about your Jerry's piano playing, Mark", said Mum, "He's having to cope with hemi-demi-semi-quavers and a breve in that piece of music; it isn't an easy piece. You need to knuckle down to your English homework or else you might fail your exam. So what was the rheme in that last sentence I said?" "That I might fail my exam?", Mark said hopefully. "Yes. Now what's the rest of your English homework about?" "I've got to retell a familiar story in a new setting. I was planning on doing the story of the whore and the two spies. Where do I find that?" "Well firstly, that word is derogatory - use prostitute instead", Mum warned, "and you'll find it in the Bible, Joshua chapter 2". Mark was struggling to begin with - English was not a strong subject for him. He was having to grope around in the hidden parts of his mind for ideas! Then Mark got quite engrossed in his writing and his Mum was intrigued. She kept finding excuses to get close and read odd bits of Mark's story. "We're going to catch them. With one of them we'll generate loads of blood. We'll watch as he perishes and his blood turns to grume. With the other guy, we'll burke him". Mum was a bit distressed at the gory details but pleased that Mark was getting creative. Meanwhile, Jerry was stuck on his artwork. "What's up Jerry", asked Mum. "I've got to draw an interesting picture with straight lines - not even one curve is allowed", sighed Jerry. "Let me show you a few ideas", said Mum, sketching bits and bobs on a bit of scrap paper. Just then Dad came in. "What's kept you?", Mum was quick to ask, "It's not long before we have to leave to see the revue done by the local amateur dramatics society.
GarEth was alone in the house when he became awaRe of a noise from the basement. He descended the steps cautiously, having to grope around for the light switch. On the last step his foot knocked something off the step nearly sending him tumbling. Once the light was on, he surveyed the scene. The original noise had come from a rusty shelf fixture finally giving way, scattering tins of nails and screws all over the floor. His foot had knocked over an unfinished can of paint which had dislodged its lid and spread paint over the floor. He groaned with despair. "What a chore this is going to be clearing this up", he groaned.
"ThERe are important guests coming for dinner tonight", he announced as he charged in the front door looking flustered. "We need to pull out all the stops tonight for dinner time." "Yes, dear", she replied sighing. "No dear, it was not a good day - thanks for asking", she muttered under her breath as he charged upstairs to change and, no doubt, catch up on the football news. By the time he came back down, the table was all laid and there were delicious cooking smells wafting out of the kitchen. The guests arrived and all was smiles as the drinks were served. The soup was served and the meal started. "Pass round the cruet darling", she said to him. He picked it up and was passing it to the first guest when the rivet holding it together gave way, dropping the salt cellar which fell into the guest's soup, splashing her outfit and making a right old mess. On this occasion he had no one to blame but himself for the disaster and the aftermath as she'd been pestering him to buy a replacement for months.
He was first down to breAkfasT. He opened the packet of bacon and reeled - it stank! But before he could dispose of it, she came in and reached for the packet of bacon. "Avast", he shouted, "it's gone off. It'll have to be toast and marmalade this morning."
