For some reason, there was a suggestion that these characters be resurrected, so it was agreed they could come back for a bit. I'm not sure quite what the connection between them is, though, because everyone wrote their own 'first installments' all at the same time.
DON'T LOOK NOW , by Gordon Lawrie
Danny had watched better nights of television: Pan-Scottish Games wasn't what he'd expected when he'd signed up for Cable Sports. Caber-tossing, haggis-hurling, thistle-louping, that sort of thing. Better than watching a blank screen, though.
And his beloved Alice was in the next room reading "Pride And Prejudice" for the seventy-first time.
Danny, though, had chores to do – wash dishes, tidy up, let the cat out. And tomorrow being Friday, put the rubbish bin onto the street ready for collection.
Why Danny looked inside, he'll never know. But what he saw, as well as being unexpected, changed his life for ever.
BEHIND THE SCENES, by Emma Baird
“It’s all very well having a body that can leap metres in the air, vault up onto beams or take you from a to b in the shortest time possible, but the games needs other abilities too,” Alice said.
The SuperParking Attendant™ nodded sagely. Danny had been drafted in from Edinburgh to head up a crack team stopping perilous parking and ensuring trouble-free traffic flow.
The cat, sworn to his Taoist silence, tried experimental purring to draw their attention. Volunteers and parking attendants aside, the games also needed dancing tea cakes. He had played his part in Scotland's glory.
WHAT DANNY SAW, by Jane Reid
Well, it's Friday in dim, cloudy Delaware, where the natives don't eat haggis but they do eat scrapple. Both delicacies are from various parts of various animals.
I came from Missouri, where we eat fried cornmeal mush, which Italians would call polenta.
But none of this speculation gives me any clue to what Danny saw in the trash. Surely not mushy peas. My English friend relishes them; I shudder at the thought. Presumably Danny is Scots or British, and can stomach Spotty Dick and other dishes which make Americans giggle.
But when he saw what Alice discarded . . .
THE NEWCOMER, also by Jane Reid
“Carlos,” gasped Alice, as a man stopped her on the street.
Jane did a double take. This was not the local businessman she knew as Carlos. Well, it was a common enough name.
“Where did you come from?” asked Alice.
“I’ve been visiting family in Argentina.”
“Jane,” said Alice, “this is Carlos, an old, er, acquaintance from college days.”
“Are you going to be living in the States now?” asked Jane.
“That depends,” the newcomer replied, looking sideways an Alice.
Jane thought her friend avoided his glance. “Alice, we really must run,” she insisted. “We are going to be late.”
DON'T LOOK NOW , by Gordon Lawrie
Danny had watched better nights of television: Pan-Scottish Games wasn't what he'd expected when he'd signed up for Cable Sports. Caber-tossing, haggis-hurling, thistle-louping, that sort of thing. Better than watching a blank screen, though.
And his beloved Alice was in the next room reading "Pride And Prejudice" for the seventy-first time.
Danny, though, had chores to do – wash dishes, tidy up, let the cat out. And tomorrow being Friday, put the rubbish bin onto the street ready for collection.
Why Danny looked inside, he'll never know. But what he saw, as well as being unexpected, changed his life for ever.
BEHIND THE SCENES, by Emma Baird
“It’s all very well having a body that can leap metres in the air, vault up onto beams or take you from a to b in the shortest time possible, but the games needs other abilities too,” Alice said.
The SuperParking Attendant™ nodded sagely. Danny had been drafted in from Edinburgh to head up a crack team stopping perilous parking and ensuring trouble-free traffic flow.
The cat, sworn to his Taoist silence, tried experimental purring to draw their attention. Volunteers and parking attendants aside, the games also needed dancing tea cakes. He had played his part in Scotland's glory.
WHAT DANNY SAW, by Jane Reid
Well, it's Friday in dim, cloudy Delaware, where the natives don't eat haggis but they do eat scrapple. Both delicacies are from various parts of various animals.
I came from Missouri, where we eat fried cornmeal mush, which Italians would call polenta.
But none of this speculation gives me any clue to what Danny saw in the trash. Surely not mushy peas. My English friend relishes them; I shudder at the thought. Presumably Danny is Scots or British, and can stomach Spotty Dick and other dishes which make Americans giggle.
But when he saw what Alice discarded . . .
THE NEWCOMER, also by Jane Reid
“Carlos,” gasped Alice, as a man stopped her on the street.
Jane did a double take. This was not the local businessman she knew as Carlos. Well, it was a common enough name.
“Where did you come from?” asked Alice.
“I’ve been visiting family in Argentina.”
“Jane,” said Alice, “this is Carlos, an old, er, acquaintance from college days.”
“Are you going to be living in the States now?” asked Jane.
“That depends,” the newcomer replied, looking sideways an Alice.
Jane thought her friend avoided his glance. “Alice, we really must run,” she insisted. “We are going to be late.”
