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You're welcome to read it.
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Our address is:
Neil and Gerlinde Jones
1563 Agnew Ave
Victoria,
BC
V8N 5N4

Ballet Shoes

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The old ballerina sat back in her arm chair and daydreamed. She remembered the places she’d danced in; Moscow, London, Paris, New York, Toronto, Vancouver. “Ah, such wonderful days." Glitter. Cheers. Flowers. Friends. Conductors.”

She picked up her two pairs of ballet shoes. “Ah, my friends” she said, “When I was quite young I wore you.” She looked at the smaller pair of ballet shoes.

“Then when I grew older and started on my career, I spent all the money I had saved and bought a professional pair of ballet shoes,” she then picked up a well work pair of silver coloured ballet shoes. “If only I could wear you again! Maybe you’re lonely too for the stage, the ballet….Swan Lake.”

Just about this time, a little girl was speaking to her own ballet teacher. “Joan, you’re doing so well. You have promise. You have a great love of the art. What you need now is a better pair of ballet shoes.”

“Madam Romanov, we’re so poor. It’s just Mum and me and Mum’s lost her job!” Joan said, with a tear trickling down her eye.

“Give me a day or two and I’ll see what I can do,” said Madam Romanov.

After Joan left, Madam Romanov picked up the phone and spoke to the old ballerina. She told her Joan’s problem and also told her that Joan had great skills, even at her young age.

“Send her to me. I must meet her. Maybe I can solve her problem,” smiled the old ballerina.

Joan met with the old ballerina and they talked on and on for hours about the joyful and demanding life of a professional ballet dancer.

“Joan, I need your help. I have two friends who are longing to dance again. Will you help them dance?” asked the old ballerina.

“Yes, Madam, I’m happy to help your two friends.”

“Here they are,” said the old ballerina and she pout the two smaller ballet shoes in Joan’s hands, and smiled and smiled.

“Oh Madam, you’re so kind!” Joan smiled.

“Come and see me often and bring my two old friends to visit,” said the old ballerina happily.
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Wake up Grandpa!!

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Wake up, Grandpa!

Many years ago, our three granddaughters visited us for the afternoon. Grandma and I always enjoyed their company. Their names are Hannah, Robin and Madeline.

One visit they said, “Grandpa, let’s do some magic tricks.,”

“OK. Let’s get out some rope. Cut it in pieces. Then put it together again.”

It was a great trick and we all practiced it.

“Grandma, Grandpa, I know how to make a coin bounce off the walls and end up under my foot,” said one of our granddaughters.

“Really!” we said!

“Yes. Here it is in my left hand. Now I’ll slip it into my right hand. Now I’ll throw it around the room…….Now, I’ll lift up my foot and what do you see there?”

“The coin!! How did you do that?” Grandma and I were amazed.

“That’s my secret!” she laughed.

Grandma said, “Now it’s time for some special cookies I’ve just baked,”

The girls all chatted away. My eyelids felt heavier and heavier. Finally, I fell asleep!

After a while, I heard three voices calling out, “Wake up, Grandpa! Wake up Grandpa! Wake up, Grandpa!”

“What’s that, what’s that?” I said, opening my eyes and pretending to be very surprised.

Hannah, Robin and Madeline all laughed.

So from then on, whenever they came by, I made sure I’d pretend to fall asleep. And they’d all call out, “Wake up, Grandpa! Wake up Grandpa! Wake up, Grandpa!”

I’d pretend to wake up …surprised…and say: “What’s that? What’s that? What’s that?”.

Maybe you’d like to play the “Wake up, Grandpa!” game…. Or call it the “Wake up, Grandma!” game. Pretend to be Grandpa or Grandma and wake up with a pretend surprise.
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Grandchildren are like gold, aren’t they!
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Peas and Qs

“Let’s turn TV off and sit around the fire,” I said to our grandchildren.

Gerlinde, their Grandma, said, “That’s a great idea. I’ve made some hot chocolate and we can turn the lights off and enjoy the warm glow of the burning logs.”

“Yes, let’s do that,” our Grandchildren called out.

“I’ve got a puzzle for you to solve,” I said. “When I was a little boy, my mother would say to me: ‘Neil, watch your peas and Qs’. What do you think she meant?”

One of our grandchildren said, “Well, Grandpa, I know what peas are. We boil them up and eat them. So she meant you must make sure the peas don’t boil dry and spoil.”

“That’s a great answer…but…I’m afraid it’s not right! But it’s a good answer and has a lot of truth in it,” I smiled.

“I know the answer, Grandpa,” said another grandchild. “I think ‘Watch your peas’ means ‘watch them grow and feed them with water’”.

“That’s also a good answer with some good truth in it,” I said. “But it’s not the right answer. Please all keep trying.”

Gerlinde, their Grandma, went to the kitchen and got some peanut butter cookies and we all munched on them while we looked at the logs burning.

“Well, I’ll have a go at ‘Watch your Qs,” said another grandchild. “I think it means you must’nt push other people away, you should queue up politely and wait your turn.”

“That’s another great answer. You’ve all given me some very good answers, I’m very proud of you,” I said.

“So am I,” smiled Grandma.

“Grandpa, you’ve got to tell us the answer now,” they all shouted.

So I smiled and said,“ You see, ‘Watch your peas’ should be pronounced ‘Watch your please’. And ‘Q’s’ means ‘Thank You”. Thank you sounds like ‘Q’ “

“So my mother was saying to me, ‘Neil always say ‘please and thank you,’” I said.

Everyone laughed!

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How very important it is to say “please” and “thank you”.

Fish and Chips

“It’s so cold! I’ll hide in this shop doorway.” The old man’s torn raincoat slapped back and fore in the cruel wind. He pulled his scarf over his battered hat, and tied it under his chin.

“Ah, that’s better. But what’ll I eat tonight?” He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out all the money he had. “Just a few coins. Oh No! Just a few coins. All I can buy is some chips – and not many at that.”

After he’d huddled in the doorway for a bit, he felt a little warmer. “OK. Now it’s for the Fish and Chip Shop.” He limped out of the doorway, Along Wellfield Rd to the Fish and Chip Shop.

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Just about that time, Mam and Dad and I had gone into the same Fish and Chip shop for a special treat for me. I watched the man behind the counter dip fish into the thick batter, then into the bubbling pan for cooking. Chips: rich, brown, tasty. Sprinkled with vinegar and salt.

Oh, how my mouth watered with the thought of it. “Dad, when I grow up I want to work in a Fish and Chip shop and eat and eat all day!” Mam and Dad smiled at each other and at me.

“You’ll never starve, Neil!” Dad said.

Finally, the next fish and chips were ready and the queue of hungry boys and girls and their parents, cheered!!

I heard the bell ring as the Fish and Chip shop door opened. An old ragged man stumbled in. His scarf pulled his battered hat down onto his ears. He was so ragged, old, and unhappy - I felt sorry for him.

Dad paid for our fish and chips and the man behind the counter wrapped them up in yesterday’s newspaper. Then Dad looked at Mam and she nodded. They didn’t always need to speak; often a glance was enough for them to know what to do.

Very quietly, Dad spoke to the man behind the counter, “A good feast of fish and chips, please, for him. But don’t say who paid for it. I was hungry in the war and someone fed me his last piece of bread,” Dad said.

The man behind the counter said, “Good on you, Sir, good on you.”

Mam, Dad and I walked out of the shop. Outside, I looked through the window.
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The ragged old man said, “ A few chips, please, all I’ve got are these pennies, so I don’t mind some of your burnt ones, you know the ones you throw away.”

“Very good Sir.”

The man behind the counter got out a huge piece of fish, all covered with lovely brown crispy batter. He ladled chips upon chips into a bag.

“But I can’t pay for all that,” said the old ragged man.

“It’s paid for, Sir.

“Who paid for it?”

“A friend who’s also been hungry.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s gone.”

“Please tell him, thank you. And tell him I’m sharing it with some of my buddies.”
The old ragged man felt like a new man. Someone cared for him!

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I walked home with Mam and Dad. We warmed up the fish and chips again in the stove; poured them onto our plates and poured on HP sauce. What a feast!

Far off, three ragged friends also feasted, huddled in a shop doorway.

Now, many, many years later I remember Wellfield Rd; Cardiff; my kind parents; and the old ragged man.
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