Smorgasbord Posts from Your Archives – #PotLuck – Thumbnail sketches – 1950: Hebrew, motzas and ‘Brown Boots’ (2014) by Joy Lennick


Welcome to the  Posts from Your Archives, where bloggers put their trust in me. In this series, I dive into a blogger’s archives and select four posts to share here to my audience.

If you would like to know how it works here is the original post: https://smorgasbordinvitation.wordpress.com/2019/04/28/smorgasbord-posts-from-your-archives-newseries-pot-luck-and-do-you-trust-me/

This is the second of the posts from the archives of author and poet Joy Lennick, although certainly not the first post that we have enjoyed here on Smorgasbord from this entertaining writer. Carrying on from Last week Joy and Eric face challenges as does Joy in her jobs!

Thumbnail sketches – 1950: Hebrew, motzas and ‘Brown Boots’ (2014) by Joy Lennick

Banned from my boy-friend’s flat wasn’t good news…So, what happened next? Once I’d recovered from the shock, I mulled things over. Not having committed any crime I was aware of – except for casting covetous eyes on my ‘significant other’ – I tried putting things into perspective. It wasn’t easy, but being young, besotted and optimistic, we continued enjoying each others company, despite overheard whispers like: “It‘s doomed – she’s a shiksa!” and “Mixed marriages never work…” Of course, not everyone thought that way, and a dear lady: Clara Fresco (her son Ruben was Eric’s friend) welcomed us to their fold. ‘Clara’ was a good cook and introduced me to chopped chicken livers, egg and onion, matzo-brown, chicken soup (a must!), salt beef, fishy dishes, plava and apple strudel – Yummy! (Must have a drop of Jewish blood as I love food!)

Meanwhile, there were livings to be earned. In 1949, I ‘pounded the keys’ for ABC (Associated British Cinemas) in Golden Square, London – best friend Sheila Devo worked there and suggested the interview. I became junior secretary to a Mr. Spalding: an attractive, egotistical man at least twice my age. At the grand Christmas ‘Ball’ he danced with me: holding me too close – I held my ground – as, next danced with the new, very shy actor Richard Todd. Imagine! Wow! Heady stuff for a teenager. Back in the office, the next day, my boss manoeuvred me into a broom cupboard and tried to get his hand in my knickers and worse… You, you…cad! I yelled, battling with a mop and bucket to escape from his clutches: crimson, but with my virginity intact. I left in disgust (no law-suits then!) and secured a post as a junior shorthand typist with a well established firm of solicitors Wilde Sapte in the city. I recall it with affection, for Mr Sapte was a dear man.. Vertically challenged, genial, and balding, he had a penchant for sucking an empty pipe. When speaking, he would stand and rock backwards and forwards: stretching on the forward roll to elevate his height. (Shades of newspaper cartoon character Mr. Bristow). His manner was friendly, unlike male secretary, Mr Marvin’s – whom I grew to dislike intensely. Physically, he was small-boned: scrawny-necked as a vulture, fair-haired, with bum-fluff on his chin. When summoned to attend Mr Sapte, he appeared with the speed of a rocket, rubbed his hands in an ingratiating manner like Dickens’ Uriah Heap, and sometimes fell over his own feet in his eagerness to open doors for his boss. I, however, was treated like something on the bottom of his shoe…He was an obnoxious little man; while Miss Pigg (truly) – Mr Sapte’s female secretary – a confirmed Ms – tall, angular and rather unfeminine – was patient and pleasant. I ‘deciphered’ and typed up court notes and Wills – fascinating stuff. However, having grown weary of Mr Marvin’s disdain and attitude, I left to work temporarily for an agency; eventually plumping for a secretarial role for the American Philip Morris cigarette company in Soho. What an eye opener!! At seventeen, I peeped into the dingy window of prostitution. In Soho and down to Piccadilly, they came out of the woodwork! Their mode of dress varied: ‘tarty’ or ‘mock-lady-like elegance.’ Fascinated, I ear-wigged their ‘chat-up’ lines on my way home from work: “’Allo darlin’, fancy a good time!” was popular, or “’Allo ‘andsome, not in a ‘urry are yer?”(The high-class ones were in Mayfair!) Many a bowler-hatted, pin–stripe-suited man, peered furtively around before succumbing to an offer….It was somehow decadent and exciting at the same time. Low-life lessons writ large!

Meanwhile, I had a future mother-in-law to humour?! Not easy…She suggested in a ramblng letter that I was a gold-digger (?!) …and commented that my dear father probably wore ‘brown boots’ (an insult!) His succinct reply had her flummoxed…But then: malleable and idealistic, I started learning Hebrew (parrot fashion) and attending synagogue – and gradually – she thawed.

©Joy Lennick 2014

About Joy Lennick

Having worn several hats in my life: wife, mum, secretary, shop-keeper, hotelier; my favourite is the multi-coloured author’s creation. I am an eclectic writer: diary, articles, poetry, short stories and five books. Two books were factual, the third as biographer: HURRICANE HALSEY (a true sea adventure), fourth my Memoir MY GENTLE WAR and my current fiction novel is THE CATALYST. Plenty more simmering…

A selection of books by Joy Lennick

One of the reviews for My Gentle War

I found this book totally enchanting, not just for the way it was written (which was completely original being unfettered by any rules on writing and therefore delivered with great feeling). It evoked some long lost memories from my childhood, of family forgotten or misplaced by faulty memory. I thought of my grandmother clasping a homemade loaf of bread under her arm, giving it a good buttering, then with a large bread knife, sawing it off and setting a ‘doorstep’ sized slice free for jam or honey to follow. I wasn’t born at the time of the war, which doesn’t spoil any of this account and although I know it from history books and oft heard tales, was not a good time to live through, yet I’m left thinking there was another side to these times, told here with great fondness. Sometimes I think we’ve lost a great deal for all our modern ways. This is a lovely book and worth a read. Pat McDonald British Crime Author.

Read the reviews and buy the books: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Joy-Lennick/e/B00J05CJLY/

And on Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Joy-Lennick/e/B00J05CJLY

Find all the books, read other reviews and follow Joy on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3124773.Joy_Lennick

Connect to Joy

Blog: https://joylennick.wordpress.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/joy.lennick

My thanks to Joy for permitting me to share more of her wonderful posts from her archives and I hope you will head over to enjoy many more…Thanks Sally.

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Smorgasbord Posts from Your Archives – #PotLuck – Thumbnail sketches of the past – 1949 (2014) by Joy Lennick


Welcome to the  Posts from Your Archives, where bloggers put their trust in me. In this series, I dive into a blogger’s archives and select four posts to share here to my audience.

If you would like to know how it works here is the original post: https://smorgasbordinvitation.wordpress.com/2019/04/28/smorgasbord-posts-from-your-archives-newseries-pot-luck-and-do-you-trust-me/

This is the first of the posts from the archives of author and poet Joy Lennick, although certainly not the first post that we have enjoyed here on Smorgasbord from this entertaining writer. This week Joy shares the wonderful moment she met her husband Eric, who sounds, in her recent posts, not to have lost an ounce of his charm or humour.

Thumbnail sketches of the past – 1949 (2014) by Joy Lennick

The year: 1949, the month: September, the day: Sunday; time around twelve noon. My casual friend Pat Fullalove (what an authentic surname to have!) hadn’t turned up at our assigned meeting place. What to do? Go home and read a book – I loved reading but no, my adrenalin was flowing too fast – knit? With my four thumbs! Wash my hair, again!? No, too sunny to stay at home. So, should I catch a District Line train from Dagenham East to Mile End station and walk to ‘The Hayfield’ pub to listen and dance to a Be-Bop group, or not? Shy, but curious about ‘life’ I thought Why not? I had nothing else planned on that day. I do not, now, believe in ‘fate,’ rather siding with ‘chance,’ so am – many decades later – oh so very glad that I did!

Ignoring a nervous spasm in my stomach as I approached the pub, I swallowed hard and walked in. At seventeen, I had already learned that unless you looked like Quasimodo’s sister, most guys (although I called them boys then) looked you over. If you had quite generously formed boobs (like what I did!) there were lingering glances one tried to ignore. (Women didn’t wear skirts up their bums then, so boobs were the lure.) By-passing the bar (drink rarely bothered me one way or the other) I went upstairs. The place was ‘jumping’ – the band’s interpretation of popular songs and tunes (while not quite the standard of the Ray Ellington or Johny Dankworth’s groups), sounded pretty good, and they played with gusto. People were bopping/jiving to ‘Sabre Dance’ – half beat of course, as I slowly sidled in – still unsure of being alone… Surely no-one could keep up with it full tempo, although some, heavily perspiring youngsters, tried…

Sitting there like a spare part, it occurred to me that perhaps I should have bought a shandy: something to concentrate on… Fortunately, it wasn’t long before a pleasant-enough-looking lad asked me to dance. I blushingly (curses!) rose to my feet and was soon scuffing up the floor. I hadn’t tried sex (remember the year!) and was only seventeen, so thought dancing: ballroom and jive, etc., the pinnacle of living. Hypnotised by the saxophone – a favourite instrument – and the drums, our bodies gyrated and twisted with delight.

My first partner danced with me twice before, fanning myself, I begged a break. It was then that I noticed a ‘Tony Curtis,’ black-haired, dark brown – twinkling-eyed – Italian-looking youth giving me the eye. More colour entered my cheeks and I averted my eyes, sliding them back a few minutes later to see if he was still looking. He was: smiling at me this time. Umm…I noticed a friend at his side giving him a nudge, and with pulse-rate quickening, I looked elsewhere, sensing ‘Tony Curtis’ was approaching.

“Fancy a dance?” a voice asked.

“O.K!” I said. And that was the start of it all.

I can’t honestly say that he was the best dancer in the world and had a sore toe to prove it, but he was polite, and just as important, funny in a humorous way! With men and boys easily out-doing the female sex in our immediate family (with Dad and three brothers and no sister), and a bunch of gregarious uncles, I was used to, and appreciated, male banter and humour. Even so, strange males were treated with slight caution!

‘He’ – telling me that his name was Eric; recently demobbed from serving his conscription in the Army – danced with me a few times after that first encounter and we sat and chatted some.

“D’you live far? You don’t sound like a Cockney! “

“Dagenham!”

“Oh, Dagenham!” he grinned and his friend, Gerry laughed.

“A bit posh then…” Gerry kidded. (Hard to believe now, but Dagenham was thought of as slightly ‘up market’ to most Eastenders then.) Soon ‘all danced out,’ Eric bought me a shandy – or was it a ‘Baby Cham’? – and asked if he could walk me to the station.

“The Third Man’s showing at the Barking Odeon. Fancy seeing it in the week?” Eric blurted out enroute to Mile End. Why not? I thought, and said yes. I sat on the train homeward, all aglow, and thought about the tanned, quite handsome, young man I had just met. He told me he had been born in Stepney Green and lived in Bow, so obviously a Cockney. Yet he didn’t drop his h’s or get his th’s and f’s confused…Although I am half Cockney on my Dad’s side – Dad having been born within the sound of Bow Bells – neither did he, or I! But then, I had long ago learned that not all Cockneys sounded like they were assumed to! However, we all knew plenty of Cockney rhyming slang…

Gradually, we learned more about each other, and when I asked if he was Italian, he laughed and said “Did the spaghetti stains on my suit lapels give me away?!” That set me giggling. (He was a natty dresser.) “No! I’m only joking, I’m Jewish,” he added. I had no hang-ups about anyone of whatever religion or colour and had mixed with several Jewish boys and girls at Pitman’s College, so that was fine with me. Apart from an early hiccup – around Christmas time – that was the start of our great big ‘adventure’.

©Joy Lennick 2014

I filched a photo of Joy and Eric from facebook.. and still the fabulous looking couple 70 years later.

About Joy Lennick

Having worn several hats in my life: wife, mum, secretary, shop-keeper, hotelier; my favourite is the multi-coloured author’s creation. I am an eclectic writer: diary, articles, poetry, short stories and five books. Two books were factual, the third as biographer: HURRICANE HALSEY (a true sea adventure), fourth my Memoir MY GENTLE WAR and my current fiction novel is THE CATALYST. Plenty more simmering…

A selection of books by Joy Lennick

One of the reviews for The Moon is Wearing a TuTu

This book comprises of a number of unusual poems that certainly force you to think deeply by Joy Lennick and a few poems, limericks and humorous one-liner jokes by Eric Lennick. There are also two, clever 50-word short stories by Jean Wilson.While the entire book was entertaining to read, I really enjoyed some of Joy’s wickedly humorous poems. She uses her words like little knives to cut into the body of a matter and expose its beating heart in a manner that is humorous but sharply to the point. The one that I related to the most was Think Outside the Box:

“I think out of the box
and why not?
(Are you wary your copybook you’ll blot?!)
I’m fed up with sheep
who seem half asleep
individuals they certainly are not.
To say “aab” not “baa”
is OK.
For a change why not try it today!
The fox you could fox –
confusing his “box,”
just say “aab” and get clean away.”

Read the reviews and buy the books: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Joy-Lennick/e/B00J05CJLY/

And on Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Joy-Lennick/e/B00J05CJLY

Find all the books, read other reviews and follow Joy on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3124773.Joy_Lennick

Connect to Joy

Blog: https://joylennick.wordpress.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/joy.lennick

My thanks to Joy for permitting me to share more of her wonderful posts from her archives and I hope you will head over to enjoy many more…Thanks Sally.

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine – Sunday Interview – Human in Every Sense of the Word #Poetry – Loyal Senses by Joy Lennick


Welcome to the new series of the Sunday Interview- Human in every sense of the word.

As humans there are five main senses that we rely on to navigate through this world.  And there is one that we all possess but do not necessarily use all the time…

Sight, Hearing, Touch, Taste, Smell….Sixth Sense.

You can choose to write about one sense or all of them, including that elusive sixth sense we have clung on to from the early days of man. 

If you would like to participate then here are the details along with my take on senses: https://smorgasbordinvitation.wordpress.com/2019/05/23/smorgasbord-blog-magazine-new-sunday-interview-series-human-in-every-sense-of-the-word-starting-sunday-june-30th-2019/

This week my guest is author and poet Joy Lennick. Joy has often entertained us with her tales of her long and very interesting life. Now in her young 80s, she lives with her husband Eric in the warmth of the Spanish sunshine.

Image Pixabay.com

Loyal Senses by Joy Lennick

Oh, how sensitive our senses:
keen soldiers on parade.
One moment near comatose:
patio-lounging (siesta’s cousin)
and then –
Fresh lemon tang on tongue
lingering still,
auditory invasion.
A shutter is lowered,
a featherless crane clicks: whirrs into life;
raucous laughter;
strains of Indian music surprise…
a key leaves a casa lonely;
a cheeky breeze dictates:
reveals ‘Casa Diva’ a poem by Lucy Hamilton,
(wonder what she’s like?)
from a book by my side.
The leaves of the fragrant Stephanotis shiver,
calling the temperature a liar.
My warm skin is cooled,
my nose is in heaven.

©Joy Lennick 2019

About Joy Lennick

Having worn several hats in my life: wife, mum, secretary, shop-keeper, hotelier; my favourite is the multi-coloured author’s creation. I am an eclectic writer: diary, articles, poetry, short stories and five books. Two books were factual, the third as biographer: HURRICANE HALSEY (a true sea adventure), fourth my Memoir MY GENTLE WAR and my current fiction novel is THE CATALYST. Plenty more simmering…

A selection of books by Joy Lennick

One of the reviews for The Moon is Wearing a TuTu

This book comprises of a number of unusual poems that certainly force you to think deeply by Joy Lennick and a few poems, limericks and humorous one-liner jokes by Eric Lennick. There are also two, clever 50-word short stories by Jean Wilson.While the entire book was entertaining to read, I really enjoyed some of Joy’s wickedly humorous poems. She uses her words like little knives to cut into the body of a matter and expose its beating heart in a manner that is humorous but sharply to the point. The one that I related to the most was Think Outside the Box:

“I think out of the box
and why not?
(Are you wary your copybook you’ll blot?!)
I’m fed up with sheep
who seem half asleep
individuals they certainly are not.
To say “aab” not “baa”
is OK.
For a change why not try it today!
The fox you could fox –
confusing his “box,”
just say “aab” and get clean away.”

Read the reviews and buy the books: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Joy-Lennick/e/B00J05CJLY/

And on Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Joy-Lennick/e/B00J05CJLY

Find all the books, read other reviews and follow Joy on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3124773.Joy_Lennick

Connect to Joy

Blog: https://joylennick.wordpress.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/joy.lennick

Thank you for dropping in today and I am sure that Joy would love to receive your feedback. Thanks Sally

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine – Guest Writer – Joy Lennick – #Shortstory- A Date in the Forties


A welcome back to the entertaining Joy Lennick with a short story about a date in the forties….with an unexpected ending!!  Based on her own experiences I am reliably informed!

A Date in the Forties by Joy Lennick.

Josie looked across at the Heathway cinema where she had arranged to meet Dave. He was there all right, glancing at his watch. If only her parents had a telephone installed, she would have rung him and explained that she had to work late. He was the only boy she knew who had a ‘phone. Lucky sod, she said to herself.

“Hallo! Sorry I’m late…My boss kept me till well after 5.30. I missed the train and had to wait ages for the next one.” She was flushed and out of breath.

“Sall-right,” he said, adding “You look like a ripe peach!” Josie thought that very poetic – even though it made her blush. Dave was clean-shaven and looked as nice as she remembered him when he played his saxophone at her aunt’s wedding the week before. Being a bridesmaid for the second time, had been a groovy experience, and having given her ‘the glad eye’ earlier on, during Dave’s music break, he had made a bee-line for her.

“Hello!” he’d said “Can I get you a port and lemon?” At fifteen, it was her first taste of intoxicating liquor, and it had had the strangest affect – as if she were on a cloud, drifting away from reality – especially after Dave had plied her with a second and third glassful. The next day, still in a ‘floaty haze,’ she just about remembered agreeing to go to the pictures with him the following week.

Josie gave Dave a furtive glance as they approached the cinema; he looked somehow different without his musical instrument she thought – smaller, vulnerable and thinner. He did have attractive, dark, curly hair though…She noticed that he was clutching a brown paper bag filled with something or other. Josie’s curiosity was aroused. People didn’t usually give other people chocolates loose in paper bags, did they?

“Two one-and-nines, please,” Dave asked the cashier at the kiosk, and ushered Josie into the cinema ahead of him, firmly gripping her elbow with one hand – guiding her safely into the twilight zone. She rather liked that. It was polite but masterful…An uncertain beam of torch-light wavered towards them, faltered and changed direction, leaving them to stumble to their seats like blind people.

“The Outlaw” was showing that week, starring the celebrated, sexy and voluptuous Jane Russell. “Mean, Moody and Magnificent” the billboards promised. It suggested unmentionable passion in the straw, and Josie didn’t know if she could handle it…Whatever made her agree to see it! Doubts hovered. The marketing media had done its worst. She felt wicked just sitting there; her virginity somehow threatened by the sight of the actress’s revealing cleavage. The heat from her cheeks flowed downwards, filtering and coursing into every part of her being: more especially into what were called her “erogenous” zones. (Her friend Sheila had told her that’s what they were called only the week before.) The fact that she was seated next to a boy she hardly knew, only heightened her discomfort. Perhaps she had a temperature? She was surely sickening for something!

The anticipation of the action ahead, rather than the reality – wasn’t it often like that? – inflamed Josie until her palms were a sticky mess and she didn’t quite know what to do with her hands. And then, Dave stealthily felt for one of those sticky appendages at the ends of her arms, and she quickly wiped the offensive palm on her skirt and let his hand hold hers. It only made matters worse. Up there on the silver screen, Jane Russell was “smouldering” fit to combust – pouting her lips and casting suggestive glances at her seducer. Suddenly, Josie’s embarrassment was tempered by the proffering of the mysterious brown paper bag. Dave plonked it onto her lap without a word, and she received it with a start.

Ah grapes! (It confirmed her suspicions that she was sickening for something.) At least the thought of devouring them and the overriding problem of what to do with the pips, diluted the promised passion ahead. Still damply clutching Dave’s hand, Josie managed to pass a few grapes to him and also managed – with some difficulty – to lay a handkerchief on her lap, on which to let the grape pips fall. It was a tricky business…

The film played itself out without having quite the impact that Josie had expected. It was enough to steam up your glasses but not enough to crack the lens, she thought – even though she didn’t wear glasses. However, she felt enormous relief when the film ended. Dave turned and gave her a weak smile.

‘Okay.Not bad, was it? Thought it would be different!’

‘Was all right, I s’pose’, Josie replied without enthusiasm.

Dave propelled her to the exit. On the train journey home, Josie chattered away like an over-wound magpie, more to cover up her shyness than anything else. As a conversationalist, Dave wasn’t! Perhaps he too was shy, she mused; but he had acted like a gentleman, not like a few other octopuses (pi?) she could name. She still thought him rather nice. As the front gate clicked open, the curtains of the house next door parted. Nosey old whatsit…Josie felt a sweep of affection for the bushy Old Man tree screening off a portion of the doorstep.

‘Thanks for taking me to the pictures, Dave. It was…’she paused and frowned, searching for a suitable adjective, and came up with ‘er…unusual.’ She gave him a warm smile. In return, he gave her a weak grin, and said ‘Sall-right.’

There followed a long silence in which Josie could have knitted a tea cosy (if she’d had the wool and needles that is). The silence grew awkward, and she was aware of the clip-clop of a shire horse pulling an empty coal-cart down the nearby hill – the lull in the stunted conversation giving her time to wonder why the coal-man was out so late… Dave didn’t attempt to kiss her like she hoped he would, but put an arm around her waist and pulled her roughly towards him.

Then he put what – even in her innocence she knew was not his hand – into hers. It may as well have been a hot chestnut, only it was the wrong shape! With a funny, strangled sort of shriek, she dropped it with alacrity, pushed him into the Old Man tree; showered him with the grape pips from her hankie, and called him ‘A creep!’

Frenziedly rummaging in her handbag for her door key, she then made a hasty retreat. What was that her mum used to say about still waters running deep?! Josie never forgot “’The Outlaw”or Dave…

© Joy Lennick

My thanks to Joy for sharing this entertaining story…… I will have to watch “The Outlaw” again to see if my glasses steam up…..

About Joy Lennick

Having worn several hats in my life: wife, mum, secretary, shop-keeper, hotelier; my favourite is the multi-coloured author’s creation. I am an eclectic writer: diary, articles, poetry, short stories and five books. Two books were factual, the third as biographer: HURRICANE HALSEY (a true sea adventure), fourth my Memoir MY GENTLE WAR and my current fiction novel is THE CATALYST. Plenty more simmering…

A selection of books by Joy Lennick

One of the reviews for The Moon is Wearing a TuTu

This book comprises of a number of unusual poems that certainly force you to think deeply by Joy Lennick and a few poems, limericks and humorous one-liner jokes by Eric Lennick. There are also two, clever 50-word short stories by Jean Wilson.While the entire book was entertaining to read, I really enjoyed some of Joy’s wickedly humorous poems. She uses her words like little knives to cut into the body of a matter and expose its beating heart in a manner that is humorous but sharply to the point. The one that I related to the most was Think Outside the Box:

“I think out of the box
and why not?
(Are you wary your copybook you’ll blot?!)
I’m fed up with sheep
who seem half asleep
individuals they certainly are not.
To say “aab” not “baa”
is OK.
For a change why not try it today!
The fox you could fox –
confusing his “box,”
just say “aab” and get clean away.”

Read the reviews and buy the books: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Joy-Lennick/e/B00J05CJLY/

And on Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Joy-Lennick/e/B00J05CJLY

Find all the books, read other reviews and follow Joy on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3124773.Joy_Lennick

Connect to Joy

Blog: https://joylennick.wordpress.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/joy.lennick

Thank you for dropping in today and I am sure that Joy would love to receive your feedback. Thanks Sally

 

Smorgasbord Laughter Lines – Guest Comedians D.G. Kaye and Eric and Joy Lennick.


I have two guest comedians today…some funnies that were spotted by D.G. Kaye Writer Blog and Eric and Joy Lennick Amazon have contributed the joke..

First some funnies from Debby Gies…

D. G. Kaye – Buy: http://www.amazon.com/D.G.-Kaye/e/B00HE028FO
Blog: http://www.dgkayewriter.com – Goodreads: D.G. Kaye on Goodreads

And to finish a limerick from Eric Lennick

“FROZEN REVENGE”

A lady whose name was Theresa
shut her old man in the freezer.
By playing the field…
he got himself killed,
and he’s now with the sprouts and the pizza.”

Joy Lennick, Buy: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Joy-Lennick/e/B00J05CJLY/
Blog: https://joylennick.wordpress.com/

I hope you have enjoyed these funnies and if you have any you would like to contribute, new material is always welcome… send your favourite jokes to sally.cronin@moyhill.com and get a mention for your books and blog too..