Midsummer Maahes – Day 4 – Buttercups and Daisies?

Oh gosh, are you OK? I am so sorry about the thunderstorms and I know the power cut doesn’t help. Here, you remember the sound of music ….

Well, in a  thunderstorm like this, what better than to recount a tale? Can you create for me a Twitaga? a story in no more than 140 words? The only considerations are:…. it must include; a fruit, the object immediately to your right, and be suitable for telling in a thunderstorm, in a haunted house (see previous posts if you are new to this). I’ll post mine tomorrow…

Ahh and Q2, so to speak; As I was going……In Roud 173 how should I apply cream to my scone and if so where, above or below?

Oh, if this does not make sense. You can still enter, every comment equals one entry in a money can not buy prize.  also if you have access to Spotify, you will find clues and your entries are welcome at This playlist

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Posted on June 24, 2010, in Maahes. Bookmark the permalink. 15 Comments.

  1. Q2 so to speak… well the cream MUST come at the end… on top of your Strawberry jam. Imperative. No question.

    As to how to apply your cream? Thickly. Voluptuously. With a knife…

  2. Q1..

    I lift my pen, scent of apple hovers over ink. How can a gentle perfume so alarm? Candle flickers, curtain billows, a kiss. Rapture & death.

  3. It was a dark and stormy night, the cherry tree branches brushed incessantly at the open window. The rain played on the leaves like tympani in full flow. The heat was unbearable, stifling, the fan clattered ineffectively and the full moon threw shifting shadows around the room. In the distance the sounds of a mad midsummer night across London rose and fell. It had been a long and tiring day with so many questions and so few answers. I wished sleep would come as I stared fixedly at the bowl of deep blood red ripe cherries. So beautiful, so ominous. How had they got to be on the bookcase beside me. I turned. A fleeting glimpse of movement, of black and the caw of a crow. Silence. The rain stopped. A single shaft of moonlight momentarily illuminated the perfect crime.

  4. I’m assuming you mean above or below the jam. since The song Strawberry Fair (Roud 173) is meant to be from Devon then we should do it the Devon way. I can’t recall what this is but I tested the cream/jam combination the other week and concluded the cream needs to be above the jam otherwise the jam taste overwhelms the cream when it is the other way round. Since i like my food to taste good then i shall do it this way regardless of what the Devonians declare!

  5. Personally I like my cream on top of my strawberry jam – or am I barking up entirely the wrong tree here?
    Working on Q1, might get back to yoy on that one

  6. Here’s my 140 words

    The night is hot and humid. Something has flown in through the open window and is buzzing loudly round the desk lamp. Thunder rolls in the distance, shall I shut the computer down now? A flash, a fizzle, the desk lamp goes out. Not much in the battery, I need to shut down before all my work is lost. Another flash and a crack, loud enough to wake the dead. I don’t like the dark, I need to find a torch. I grope my way across the room and my bare foot steps in something soft and yielding, ectoplasm squelches between my toes and I recoil in horror. I find the light switch but the power is out. My foot is sticky and then I remember the bowl of half eaten stewed apple and yogurt I left on the floor

  7. The love affair had started many years ago. Those illicit moments snatched and then sustained for as long as possible. Knowing that once experienced, there was no letting go, no matter how wrong, how illegal, what the signs said and the impact on others.
    Once tasted there was only one possible outcome, to keep coming back until the point of self destruction was reached.

    I was tired when I arrived and threw the case down. The night was sticky, clawing; the cool packs had eventually warmed and failed. The fetid odour; garlic mixed with army socks, crept like miasma across the floor and lifted to my nostrils. I had to get up and as I lifted the bag the clasps burst; the head like structure rolled to the floor. The flesh squelched from the casing and I devoured my durian.

  8. On Q2 – my answer is always ask for two scones, then you can have one cream and jam; one jam and cream. Also ask for a cheese one to take away, because they are by far the best!

  9. aghhh I was rushing I read it as 140 characters like Twitter.. so you have a very abbreviated Twitaga there…

    Now let’s stretch it out a bit

    She sits at her desk, pen to hand. Violet ink, reminding her of him. She droops her head, weeps as the pen dips, swoops on the creamy paper of her journal. A breeze lifts her hair; she tucks it behind her ear. Scent fills the air. Apples. Again air caresses her cheek, the candle flickering. Apples, his favourite fruit. She cannot eat an apple without remembering him . Yet there are no apples. The breeze deepens, she suddenly feels his kiss on her neck, her breast, she cries with rapture. The pen dropsfrom her outstretched fingers, the violet ink splashing the journal. As she sighs her last breath, he takes her pen, finishes her entry. “I have eaten the apple to the core. All is gone.”

    The breeze is silent, the ink is dry. Only the scent of apples remains.

  10. Now three scones, one savoury and 2 sweet.
    That isn’t a cream tea.. that is DINNER!

  11. Janet, that is a disgraceful waste of apple and yoghurt – and anyway what are you doing eating it with yog? You aren’t on a diet, that should have been clotted cream…

  12. Linda! What was the crime!! You can’t stop there (even if you have run out of words…)

  13. And as for you, young Grethic, I do believe that dorian fruit and smelly cheese should probably be eaten together…

  14. Great stories one and all – thank you so much!

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