She’s fiercely independent. Her cottage and garden are a sanctuary. She’s a neighbourhood curiosity.
Eventually, inquisitiveness overcame barriers, for the neighbourhood BMX gang with the youngest jostled to the front. “Hey, Lady, don’t you have a fella to do that painting job?”. She smiled and admired this scruffy lad, who wore a back-to-front cap that tamed his curls, though not his attitude.
With a stern expression, she replied, “Yes, I do; he’s chained to the kitchen bench.” She nearly laughed when his jaw dropped, and he muttered, “Chur, lady, that’s out there.”
Boys peddled faster than they had arrived.
Life at No. 22 
Haha!
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Eventually, all parties accepted their individual weirdness and as the saying goes, lived happily ever after in suburban.
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Feisty!
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To the bitter end 😉
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Funny! Wouldn’t do to chain mine to a kitchen bench. He’d be useless there. Much better with a paintbrush.
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Thanks, Jo. Eventually she became a not so scary lady that lived on the corner by herself. If my memory is correct it was one hell of a job, scrapping paint, sanding then painting all by hand. She did it without any assistance 🙂
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LOL! You packed a lot into those few word.
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Thanks very much, Eilene. A moment in time 🙂
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Good fun riposte
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I love this. I hung around with a gang of boys like that and you captured it.
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Thanks, Martha. I’m pleased you enjoyed it. Families were larger, so there were many opportunities to recruit to create “gangs,” which we also did.
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Ha, ha, that’s gold!
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Goodness me, I’ve just noticed comments I haven’t replied to yours included. Sorry about that, Nilla. It feels like a couple of lifetimes ago.
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No problem, I know you have a lot on your plate.
Hope all’s going ok?
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Ok thanks Nilla.
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LOL. I wish I was that quick-witted. 🙂 A fun story.
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Thanks, Diane 😊
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Oh yes, some conversations in life are hard to forget 😉
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