The vagaries of the English Language – how to trip up those learning English. Examples of words and sayings and pronunciation that can confuse. ~~~~

The Girlfriend by Marie Sever 

 A challenge for the weekend!

After reading Marie's story write a paragraph, or two, to continue it, making sure that you include some more homophones (words that sound the same but mean something different.)

Send your sequel to hightownwriters@gmail.com

Writing it like it sounds!

Sally slept late this morning. She normally rose very early but today being bank holiday Monday, the refuse collectors didn’t come. She pondered about how much she had to do today and wondered if she was right to refuse to use an alarm clock.

After a breakfast of prunes, she pruned a large rose in her garden.

To reach the roses, she needed to push through the jumble of old plant pots which were a thorough mess. She threw some aside, to be disposed of later. It was tough clambering over the rough textured fallen bough of the apple tree, and she had to bow low under the ancient pear tree. She regretted not changing into her gardening clogs, and her pair of slippers was now muddy. She had bought the clogs recently, and was so pleased when she brought them home, but forgetting them was pointless. That reminded her, Pointless was on the TV this afternoon, she mustn’t miss recording it.

Walking around the greenhouse, she narrowly missed being pelted with starling poo, and knew they would be descending onto her new bird table in seconds, stripping it bare of chopped nuts. Sally couldn’t bear starlings, they were full of cheek, and her nephew had found one in her greenhouse last week and been severely pecked on the cheek when trying to release it.  It was time to harvest the beet, she would do that later. Then she returned to the house for lunch, but beat the large mat first, dust and flies flying out making her cough.

After lunch, Sally sat in the garden in the shade of the oak tree to read a crime novel, which was novel for her as she usually preferred romance. The last book she read, or tried to read, was absolutely dire and she abandoned it after only eleven pages. It was about people living in the keep of a mainly derelict castle, and despite the damp and inconveniences they would keep living there for some reason Sally couldn’t fathom. Maybe if she had persevered, she may have enjoyed the story. She had started the book in May and may return to it sometime. The attraction towards the book was that the author was an august character, whose previous books were well received. This one had been published the previous August, to great reviews.   

The sun’s rays were starting to weaken and a chill awoke her with a start. She had fallen asleep, drowsy in the warmth. Five o’clock! Her son and his characterless girlfriend were coming to dinner. She must start preparations immediately.

The ringing of the doorbell at 7pm sounded just as she was finishing the dessert, a chocolate mousse. It sounded like Mike, her son, and Stacey were arguing. Holding the tea towel tightly, apprehensive about the evening if the atmosphere was to be charged with tension, she opened the door to greet her guests. The stormy look on Stacey’s face, and the constrained look on Mike’s didn’t auger well. She wished he would throw in the towel and get rid of this dreary girl.

As she suspected, the evening didn’t go well. The tension was tight, and the meal eaten in near silence, after Sally decided not to try to continue to improve the atmosphere by her, she now realised, senseless twittering. Just as the mousse was being served, Caspar, her Siamese cat, appeared with a mouse, which he let loose under the table. Stacey shrieked and stood on her chair, the fabric seat of which was now ruined by her ridiculously high heels. Mike rescued the mouse using a glass and piece of card, and released it outside, while Caspar continued to hunt for it.

‘Mum, I forgot your flowers, I’ll get them from the boot of the car now.’ Mike had cleaned his muddy boots on the way in, and she hoped she wouldn’t have to remind him to do so again on his return.

Disappointment on seeing the almost brown coloured chrysanthemums must have been evident on her face, and she quickly changed her down-turned mouth to exclaim at how beautiful they were. Stacey wasn’t fooled, and said, ‘I told you they are old women’s flowers,’ which surprised Sally as she thought all 20 year-olds thought anyone over 40 to be ancient.

‘Mum, can I borrow all of your garden chairs please? We are having a barbecue on Sunday and we don’t have enough.’ Without her reply, Mike went to the shed and collected the chairs, luckily for her, leaving the one on the lawn she had been using earlier.

‘Oh no,’ shouted Stacey, ‘I’m covered in cat hair, the cat has shed all over the settee.’

‘Do you still want me to have a look at your laptop?’ her son asked, ignoring his girlfriend. ‘Yes please, it seems to have hung, I can’t get it to do anything.’

Mike hung up his jacket, fiddled around with the laptop for a few minutes, then said he would have to re-boot it. This seemed to do the trick.

‘I’m getting a new company car next week,’ said Mike then proceeded to talk about torque, 0-60 and differentials. Stacey, now sitting on a towel from the kitchen, looked bored. Sally experienced unexpected sympathy for her, she had to admit her son could be a bore at times.

So far, the only obvious dissent had been the flowers, and surely that wasn’t a serious enough subject to cause a row. While Mike whittered on, Sally took up her knitting and did another row of the cardigan she started months ago. The monologue moved onto to Mike’s main hobby, rowing. He was a member of the local rowing club and would usually row every Saturday. He had met Stacey there, but it seemed she no longer joined him.

Nine-thirty came and both Sally and Stacey were stifling yawns. Stacey presumably through boredom, and Sally thought perhaps she too was bored. At least the cardigan was coming along nicely. She perceived Stacey trying to refrain from yawning again and hoped they would soon leave.

‘Would you like some of the mousse to take with you? I can leave enough for me to have a portion with tomorrow night’s meal.’

Both Mike and Stacey expressed satisfaction, and Sally removed a large spoonful for her, and put cling-film over both bowls. The sulky girlfriend, who had said little all evening, told Sally that she was always bowled-over by her cooking, and wished she had learned to cook. Mike cut in with, ‘Yes, everything you make, Stacey, is inedible,’ which Sally thought incredibly hurtful and rude.

‘Well, in this modern age, both males and females do the cooking. I taught you to cook, so perhaps you could do some of the meals sometime, Mike? After all, you both work full time.’ Her son was clearly taken aback, and stammered the response that he would consider it, but only if Stacey went on a cookery course.

‘Okay, how about you come here for some practise Stacey? We could have a weekly lesson, and if it is hot food, then Mike could come and we could all eat it here. If you make cold food – cakes, bread, biscuits, cold desserts, then you can take them home.’

‘Wow, that would be fantastic, thanks, I would love that. When can we start?’

Buoyed up by her enthusiasm and wondering if perhaps she might see Stacey’s personality develop, they agreed a date and time to make Sunday roast.

When she closed her bedroom curtains later, she thought what a close shave she had had. For once, she had considered taking her son aside to suggest he ditched his girlfriend, which would, no doubt, have caused a rift between them. However, now she had seen another side of her son, and felt sympathy towards the girl, and looked forward to the cookery lesson.