Christine Stovell

He’s been a bit grumpy since Potato Day.’She heard Gethin choke back a laugh.‘He set up an all-day workshop on all things potato after reading up about successful winter events at other nurseries,’ she went on, unable to hide her own amusement. ‘It was a terrible failure. Hardly anyone turned up apart from our poet, Wilfie, who wrote a Potat-Ode to celebrate the occasion.

He’s been a bit grumpy since Potato Day.’She heard Gethin choke back a laugh.‘He set up an all-day workshop on all things potato after reading up about successful winter events at other nurseries,’ she went on, unable to hide her own amusement. ‘It was a terrible failure. Hardly anyone turned up apart from our poet, Wilfie, who wrote a Potat-Ode to celebrate the occasion.

– Christine Stovell –

Move Over Darling

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Jennifer Shirk

Arrr, shiver me timbers,” he said in an exaggerated pirate twang. He winked his uncovered eye and hooked his thumbs in his pants. “This is the nicest your mom’s been to a poor old bloke like me-self in days.”Sandra poked a finger in his chest, but grinned. “Don’t make me regret it, or you’ll walk the plank.”He grinned back and, with that eye patch, turned knee-meltingly rakish in under ten seconds flat. “Aye, I won’t be asking you to make me Roger jolly, if that’s what has you worrying.

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