The Ages of Women

Another Friday Fictioneers prompt has come around and I’m cheating a bit this time. I’ve had this story in mind ever since I read about the three ages of women. No, I can’t claim credit for this bit of wisdom. it apparently comes from a Scottish grandma — whose name I of course can’t locate now when I want it. 😦

I realized lately that my new cell phone has no frowny faces, only variations of Happy-face. Is this a giant plot by a multinational corporation to force callers to make cheerful replies?

Anyway, with a happy smile I want to thank Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this multi-aged group of writers — and for this week’s photo prompt as well. If you wish to join the gang in responding to this prompt, check out Rochelle’s blog, Addicted to Purple. (Does someone care to offer a countering “Three ages of men” version?)

Photo prompt © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The Three Ages of Women

Helen squeezed Hazel’s arm. “I’m so glad you decided to join me on this trip. Travel’s much more enjoyable with a friend.”

“Well, I had been thinking I should stay home. Thought my children might not be able to manage without my helpful advice. Older and wiser, you know. Then a friend enlightened me on the three ages of a woman: ‘Muddle age, middle age, and meddle age’.

Helen’s laughter echoed in the narrow passage. “I’ll remember that one.”

Hazel grinned. “So I decided I’d better get some new interests in life before I slip into that last one.”

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Photo-Tour of Dover

I’ve discovered another new blogger I’d like to introduce you to this morning. She blogs as Sojerden and has posted a pictorial Guide to several historic English cities. So if a quick tour of  Dover interests you this morning, hop on over to her latest post via Air Internet and see the sights with her.

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And now for a chuckle at the expense of some confused tourists:

All Hail Neil!

One day some years back a guide was leading a group of American tourists around the British Houses of Parliament and explaining this and that, when he saw the House Speaker crossing the corridor ahead of them, decked in his flowing robes.

The two men were friends so the tour guide called out, “Neil!” and they exchanged a friendly wave. Then the guide turned back to the American tourists — and found them all on their knees.

🙂

Winnie on Tour

Town Hall

“Awesome architecture!” Raylene snapped another picture.

Winnie eyed the building. “All that brick to whitewash.”

“To achieve such symmetry back in those days…”

Winnie frowned. “All those windows to clean.”

“Oh, well. Help was cheap back then.”

They heard some chatter and the two cousins turned to watch a number of children crossing the street. “Looks like a school tour,” Raylene commented.

“Now there’ll be grubby little fingerprints everywhere.”

Raylene sighed and turned to gaze at the City Hall again. “I think those flower boxes add such a nice touch. Don’t you? The town fathers back then didn’t cheap out when they set up office.”

“Still don’t,” Winnie grumbled. “Just think how much red tape they could produce in an office this size.”

At that second Raylene wished for a roll of duct tape in her hand. She pushed the uncharitable thought away and checked her program. “I see the castle tour is next.”

“Hope we do the dungeon. Dungeons have always fascinated me.”

Raylene rolled her eyes. Somehow that fits. Then another thought flashed through her mind and she chuckled. Her cousin Winnie could probably bring an ‘Iron maiden’ to tears.

Winnie looked at her curiously. “Did I miss something funny?”

“Oh, I was just remembering how the cream on our table at the bistro was sour.”

“Hmph! That’s funny? And our table was the only one with sour cream. Really odd, I’d say.”

“Yes. An odd sort of funny. Let’s go find the rest of our group.”