Welcome to the Short Stories Group.
Please write your stories in the Comment Wall Below.
Latest Activity: Apr 21
Welcome to the Sixtyplusurfers Short Stories Group.
Please write your stories in the Comment Wall below.
There is not enough space for most of my stories but I look forward to reading other people's creations.
With This Ring I Thee Wed Pat and I, were married on the 5th April 1969, and following our wedding breakfast at a popular pub/restaurant in the town of Leek in Staffordshire, we headed off on our honeymoon adventure. We hadn’t made any specific arrangements, rather, we agreed that we would head north towards Scotland, and stop off for our first night as an opportunity unfolded.The evening was drawing in, and with nightfall taking place, we were on the A74 en route to Scotland, when I spotted a sign for Beattock and an advertisement for the Beattock Hotel. We decided to book into this historic looking hotel, and we were given a room containing three large double beds, each covered with a dark red counterpane.We had a few drinks in the bar, some food in the restaurant, and then we turned in for the night.Following a somewhat restless night! I awoke to discover Pat sitting on the edge of the bed and she appeared to be sobbing. My heart sank, as I couldn’t understand what had caused this apparent distress. Had I failed in my nuptial prowess, or was she having second thoughts regarding the wisdom of our marriage? I asked her why she was upset and at that point she told me she had mislaid her wedding ring. We stripped the bed and there was no sign of it. We then searched the room until we realised, we were looking in silly places. I asked whether she was certain she had been wearing the ring when we went to bed and had she left the room during the course of the night. She assured me the ring was on her finger when we turned in, but she did say she had visited the bathroom in the night.I made my way to the bathroom and there was a huge washbasin with a waste outlet about 3 inches across. There was plenty of space for a ring to fall through the waste grille, so I guessed the ring was likely to be somewhere sat in the ‘S’ bend. I made my way to the hotel reception and asked if they had a porter, who might assist in my search for Pat’s wedding ring. A guy turned up and I explained our dilemma regarding the missing ring. He told me he would meet me in the bathroom, where he soon appeared carrying a large stillson wrench. He knelt in front of the wash basin and attempted to dismantle the ‘S’ bend, which looked as if it had not been disconnected in many a year. There were layers of old paint, which began to flake off as he strained to apply leverage to the wrench. It was very hard work and I could see beads of sweat forming on his forehead. After some time, he managed to break the seal and the retaining nut began to unscrew.I was now feeling confident that we would soon find the missing ring, but my heart sank once again, when the bend was removed and there was no trace of the ring. I now assumed that it had been flushed around the bend and into the drain. I had no alternative but to return to our room and give Pat the bad news. I told her not to worry as we would purchase another ring at the earliest opportunity. When we went down for breakfast, we were met by the hotel manager who had the ring in his hand. He explained that a lady had discovered it lying on a rug in front of the toilet. That was a happy ending and the very same ring was to stay on Pat’s finger for the following 51 years.
With This Ring I Thee Wed 51 Years Later In recent weeks, My wife Pat has been complaining about some severe swelling of her wedding ring finger, and I must admit it did look very sore. She kept saying she feared that her wedding ring would need to be cut off her finger, otherwise, there might be some serious complications.Under normal circumstances, we would probably have gone to a jeweller, who would no doubt have had a special tool for such tasks. However, with the current social isolation measures in place, we discussed how I might attempt the job!I did a Google search and the most common method of removing a ring is to cut it through with a pair of sharp wire cutters. I went through my toolboxes and found a pair of wire cutters, which I considered the right tool for the job. I asked Pat to lay her hand flat upon the dining room table, whilst I attempted to get one side of the cutters underneath the ring. It proved hopeless as the ring was very tight on her finger, so I had to consider other possible solutions.I then remembered that I had a Dremel set, which had never been used in possibly 20+ years. Before attempting to grind through the ring with an abrasive bit, we had to get something underneath the ring to avoid damage to her finger. A pointed steak knife was first used, but this proved impractical due to its sharp edge, therefore, I had to put on my thinking cap once again. Amongst my tools, is an old set of feeler gauges, which was a James Walker & Co Ltd sales promotion item, generally presented to mechanical engineers. I tried several thicknesses, before having some success with a 0.9mm thick gauge positioned underneath the ring. I was now ready for the grinding procedure, and I selected a 3mm aluminium oxide grinding bit and brought it into contact with the ring. It wasn’t having much effect and we nearly abandoned the procedure when the spinning bit slipped off the ring and gouged into her finger. I could see some blood, but I didn’t see the necessity for the outburst of expletives coming my way from the missus!!Despite the small injury, I persuaded Pat to allow me another attempt. Her finger was even more swollen by this time and we both feared that we might have to resort to the local A&E dept. I tried another shape of grinding wheel and began making some progress. The expletives continued every few seconds, when friction generated heat, caused Pat to yell out that I was burning her flesh. Eventually, I managed to sever through the ring, but unfortunately, I had removed far more 18 carat gold than I would have wished. The next step was to open the ring sufficient to remove it from her finger. This I did by means of my Vice grips secured to one side of the cut and a set of pliers to tug away at the other side.It was now removed from her finger and I considered it a good job well done. We now have to consult a jeweller to see if the badly distorted wedding ring can be repaired or whether we shall need to purchase a replacement. I told Pat that ‘Argos’ do a good range of competitively priced wedding rings, but that caused her to give me one of those looks!!
A good story which focused on a wedding ring. I wanted to read on to find out what happened - just glad Pat hadn't got tooth ache!
Great stories .... Chapter one and Chapter two were gripping! I'm excited to find out now whether you managed to get Pat another wedding ring.... I don't like to suggest Amazon, but they seem to sell everything! :)
A visit to the Barbers
Shortly after moving to live in Worksop in 1982, I made some enquiries about a recommended gent’s hairdresser in the town and then decided to pay a visit the following Saturday morning.It was a summers day and the salon door was wide open so I could see that there was standing room only, which struck me as a good recommendation regarding the quality of the service provided. The open door also served as a means of ventilation, as in those days, most of the customers were regular smokers.I decided to wait and following a short while, I was able to take a seat, but then pondered as to how I would know when it was my turn in the chair. There were two ladies and two gents cutting hair, so I didn’t have to wait more than half an hour before I could tell that I would soon be the next customer of the day.I sat there intrigued by the various conversations taking place around me and I was amused by some of the local dialect.There was an elderly gentleman in the chair immediately in front of where I was sitting, so I was in good hear shot of his ongoing conversation with the barber. The old guy had a very loud voice and it was not long before the packed waiting area became quiet as more and more customers began listening intently to what was being said.The barber asked the old man whether he had been on his holidays to which he replied, “Yes”.“Where did you go?” asked the barber.“Rome,” Replied the old man.“Really,” said the barber, “what did you do there?”“I visited St Peters Square,” said the old man.You could now have heard a pin drop and the place was almost in complete silence apart from the noise of the hair trimmers and the clicking sound of scissors. The conversation continued with the old man’s voice still getting louder.“What did you see in St Peters square?” asked the barber.“You won’t believe it,” said the old man, “but I saw the Pope.”“Really,” replied the barber, “did you get anywhere near to him.”“I sure did,” said the old man, “and you’ll never guess what happened next.”“Go on,” said the barber, “tell me what happened next?”“Well,” said the old man, “the Pope came right up to me and asked me a question.”“What did he ask?” said the barber.By this time, everyone in the salon was listening intently as it was almost like a bedtime story.None of us were prepared for what came next as the intriguing dialogue continued.“The Pope came right up to me, took hold of my hand, looked me in the eye and then asked the question,” said the old man.“Whatever did he ask?” said the barber.”“He looked up at my head and then said, who’s cut thy bloody hair?”We all laughed out whole heartedly, and it was a few minutes before all four barbers felt comfortable to safely continue trimming hair!
A funny and gripping super short story - there is a particular talent to writing a really short story, one I sadly do not have!
Really enjoyed the story .... I was on the edge of my seat, waiting to hear what was going to happen!
Funny how we all miss going to the hairdressers and barbers now!
Keep the stories coming ... very entertaining.
Warm wishes to all.
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