Husband Creche… Why???

One day I was walking down a street in Manchester city centre and spotted this sign outside of a pub.

Why do people like this primitive type of humour?

I fail to see what’s so funny about comparing a husband to a child. A child at least needs looking after. A grown adult doesn’t. Pocket money! Does he not earn his own money? Why should women put up with this?

How is being single worse than this???

This is why LGBTQ+ people go “are the straights okay?” And they’re right.

The sexism is, of course, another issue. Don’t women go to pubs?

Stupid on every level.

Carts, they said

When I saw this week’s Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge, I knew I had to take part.

The topic is “carts” and don’t you know it’s exactly the kind of stupid thing I like to take pictures of (in fact they’ve already featured on this blog). Though I like wheelbarrows better, I have more pics of carts. I see many abandoned shopping carts, or trolleys as they call them here, in my neighbourhood. I live near a Tesco superstore… but not all the carts I come across are from there.

Escaping to the park. Just like many of us.

Hiding in an alleyway. He’s up to some shenanigans, I bet.

This one got rusty, poor fellow.

I always use shopping baskets when I shop, never trolleys (I don’t think I’ve ever pushed a shopping trolley in the nineteens years I’ve lived in the UK). I’m a single girl, besides I don’t know if I’d be able to operate those things. I’d probably run someone down.

Security Signs

When I saw the Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge was Security, I knew I had just the right stuff for it!

One of the things I like to take pictures of is signs. They often have to do with security–fire exits and similar. Here are some I picked for today’s post:

Don’t fall into the water!

This one is a standard. From the back of my local Tesco.

This one is in Piccadilly Gardens in Manchester city centre. That poor figure inside the triangles has been through everything.

This one is in Shibden Hall in Halifax, the door leads to the backyard.

This last one is the only one taken with a DSLR camera, not smartphone like the others, and you can find it in Abney Park in Cheadle, near Stockport.

Really, what have poor horses or motorcycles done to you?

Mask drying on the radiator

That’s it. That’s the picture.

After I just washed it.

Wearing a mask is annoying. It’s not something you’d choose to do by yourself. Unless you’re, like, Spider-Man or something. It also makes your glasses fog up. Such a drag.

But, it does have a few advantages. It helps protect you from covid, it helps you protect others from covid, in many places there is a legal requirement to wear one (unless you’re exempt), and, when the cold days come, it keeps the lower part of your face warm.

Also, when you’re doing your supermarket shopping, and they play music at the said supermarket, you can lip sync to the song–and nobody can tell.

It was Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen. Come on, it’s a tune!

The Materialising Of A Prompt

This is the story about how a writing prompt–or more precisely, a trio of writing prompts–came alive.

One of the blogs I follow is The New, Unofficial, On-Line Writers Guild. It’s relevant to my writing blog, not this one, but anyway, this blog publishes a fictional story every week, plus three prompts. These can be responded to in the usual style of prompts of WordPress. In a post a couple of months ago, the prompts went like this:

  • 1. outside Halifax
  • 2. no god worth worrying about
  • 3. selling truth

I looked at the prompts and instantly, they formed a whole sentence in my mind:

There is no god worth worrying about selling truth outside Halifax.

Okay, it looks like a sentence, you think, but it is a tiny bit nonsensical. And what about it came alive?

Well, not only was it a line in my head, it was a situation I was able to picture quite clearly, and one that I was sure I’d actually seen in real life, with my own eyes. How?

Like this:

Halifax is a town in Yorkshire, or in Nova Scotia, or wherever else, but here in UK it is also a bank. As banks usually do, they have branches in most town centres. So, that is the easily imaginable “outside Halifax” part. As for the god not worth worrying about selling truth, well, street Jesus freaks of all sorts are not an unusual sight here in Manchester. Strictly speaking, they’re probably not selling anything, not in the normal sense, in exchange for money, but they must want something from you, otherwise why would they stand there, shouting their preachings?

I knew I would be able to snap a pic that would encapsulate the three prompts in an ideal form. It was only a matter of time, and luck. And time and luck it was, while out on my lunch break about two weeks ago. Here is the photo:

They’re also standing where the tram lines divide, which, I like to think, adds a dramatic effect. And, of course, in true Manchester fashion, it’s raining.

The lake of fire probably won’t last long around here.

I’m not religious myself, but I showed this to a colleague who is a Christian, and she said the writing on the banner is untrue, because Jesus spreads love, not fear. He is all about forgiveness, not punishment. It certainly seems like the wrong message, even to a heathen like me.

It’s really… not worth worrying about. And I’m pretty sure it’s not the truth. What would some dude with an umbrella standing in the middle of Manchester know about it, anyway?

So that’s it, that is the story about how a trio of writing prompts came alive. Thank you for reading.

Beware of the Headstone

If you have glanced at my blog before, you will know that I’m always into seeing any unusual sign. I spotted this one on my Easter Sunday walk in Prestwich (area of Manchester), at the St Mary’s church graveyard.

Imagine being killed by a falling headstone

It’s not a joke! The graveyard is quite old and there are fallen headstones; you can see a leaning stone cross on the left there, with a background of daffodils. The more recent deceased have their resting places on the right side of that wall, on a little hill under the trees. This leads to Prestwich Clough, a little piece of land of woods, which I have enjoyed having a wander in on previous occasions.

Random and Weird Phone Shots – Subscribe To Their What?

I was walking down a street–Peter Street, to be precise, in this our city of Manchester–coming back from Castlefield (see my previous two posts) when I spotted this:

Impossible is, according to their description on Google “Whimsical nightspot with a theatre and gin bar, serving Asian street food–inspired pub grub”. As all similar places are now, it’s closed, because you know.

It’s funny and sad at the same time.

One day, this too shall pass.

Or I bloody hope so.