For the past couple of days I have been immersed in a project for my other blog; the one I contribute to with the rest of my critique group.  It works out that we each write once every five weeks.  I have really enjoyed the challenges presented by my sisters in writing.  Each of them gives me a prompt and I choose from the four and write anything I want: ten words to ten thousand.  It’s fun and the intervening four weeks each belong to one of the other authors, so it is not too big a time suckage, as opposed to say, Facebook.

It’s just a little piece, but that has been the difficult part, trying to fit a ghost story and young love into the confines of a short story’s limited word count.  My prompt dealt with English gardens and a parasol and I went from there.  To read the finished story, which I’ve called At Last, please click on the link below:

At Last By Erika Gardner

However, once I was done I found that I had summer in England, love and umbrellas on the brain, and that, my friends, is what brings us to this Monday’s blog.  This week’s song is Bus Stop by the Hollies.  It was released on June 17th, 1966 and reached #5 on the Billboard Singles Chart.  Not very metal, but it’s got a great little opening riff and I am a sucker for its storytelling.

Bet you get this stuck in your head- ENJOY!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bxMUiZzWy78

Lyrics for Bus Stop:

Bus stop, wet day, she’s there, I say
Please share my umbrella
Bus stop, bus goes, she stays, love grows
Under my umbrella

All that summer we enjoyed it
Wind and rain and shine
That umbrella, we employed it
By August, she was mine

Every morning I would see her waiting at the stop
Sometimes she’d shopped and she would show me what she bought
Other people stared as if we were both quite insane
Someday my name and hers are going to be the same

That’s the way the whole thing started
Silly but it’s true
Thinkin’ of a sweet romance
Beginning in a queue

Came the sun the ice was melting
No more sheltering now
Nice to think that that umbrella
Led me to a vow

Every morning I would see her waiting at the stop
Sometimes she’d shopped and she would show me what she bought
Other people stared as if we were both quite insane
Someday my name and hers are going to be the same

Bus stop, wet day, she’s there, I say
Please share my umbrella
Bus stop, bus goes, she stays, love grows
Under my umbrella

All that summer we enjoyed it
Wind and rain and shine
That umbrella, we employed it
By August, she was mine.

umbrella-at-bus-stop

This post was written by Erika Gardner.  If you enjoyed it, please sign up to receive updates on this blog.  Or you can follow Erika on Twitter @Erika_Gardner or “Like” her Facebook page Erika Gardner- Writer and Storyteller.  Check out her contributions to the BBB Blog.

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