YesBut those were the days

For YesBut’s Image on 11th August 2007, the following captions were posted -

david mcmahon 's suggested caption - See gulls and Pigeon pair

Pope Terry 's caption - bird on left: "Oh man... four hours getting ready and someone turns up in the exact same outfit!"


Chewy 's suggestion - How do you like your new job at air traffic control?

ozlady 's caption - Ready, aim... FIRE! and

I can do a triple backflip with a half twist... and you?

Doug 's suggestion - You flew up here? So there is another way up other than using a ladder!

Siddharth Khandelwal's caption - Good you came.. two of us have a better chance of getting a passer by than me alone.

The photo suggested the following story to me:

“Tell me Dad the story when seagulls used to live on rocks and fly over the sea.”
“Well that, if it is true that is, happened a long long time ago.”
“Even before Granddad was a chick?”
“Yes even before then”.
“Were there rubbish dumps in the sea”.
“Well I’ve never seen the sea myself, but I don’t think so”.
“But if there are no rubbish dumps, where did they get food?”
“Now that is a mystery to me. I did hear about them fishing”.
“Fishing? What’s that Dad?”
“Well I’ve seen men sit by a river for hours and hours, and they call that fishing. But I don’t see how that gets them food like we get.”

“But what did they do for fun Dad?”
“Ah in those days seagulls didn’t have fun”.
“So they didn’t sit on posts so they could poop on people walking underneath.”
“No back then Town Councils had no consideration for seagulls. Its only in the last twenty years that they’ve provided posts for us to sit on”
“It must have been boring”.
“I guess so son, I guess so.”

YesBut the price is right - Part 5

Continued from yesterday

For YesBut’s Image posted on 23rd July 2007, David McMahon suggested the caption -

“Triple art bypass”

While Doug suggested -

"Cindy's art class were so low on funds that the sidewalk was their only canvas. That is until the rains came."

The photo suggested the following story to me, (continued from yesterday): -

Was there a clue in the painting itself? She didn’t have to look at the painting, she had an image of it seared in her brain. It was a painting of two Frenchmen, Jean de Winterville and Georges de Selve, standing either side of shelves which display a number of objects, the most intriguing, but at first not the most noticable feature, is a long whitish elongated object in the forefront of the painting. Viewed from the side the distorted perspective corrects itself and is seen to be a skull - a sign of mortality. Was the skull the reason for the commission?

In February she phoned him to say the painting was finished. His secretary informed her he was in the USA and he would contact her on his return.

She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t informed the other members of the artist group of the commission, and now that the painting was finished she wanted to show it to them, but felt embarrassed that she hadn’t told them about the painting; and especially who had commissioned it. So she said nothing.

Two months later he came to view the work, he was pleased with the finished painting and immediately wrote a cheque for £10,000 and arranged for the painting to be collected the next day. She banked the money, and was relieved by the sense of security it provided.

She didn’t think about the painting. She continued to try and find and develop her own painting style, but all in vain. The summer would again be spent on the South Bank, painting a copy of an “Old Masters” work, and collecting money from tourists.

One evening she was in the flat of the artist who had introduced her to the Artist Group, the other members of the group were there sharing a couple of bottles of red wine. One of them got up and walked over to the TV,

“Do you mind if I put on the box, there’s a review on of the Damien Hirst’ retrospective exhibition”.

She turned towards the screen, and involuntarily blurted out “That’s my . . .”.


Her words were drowned by cries and hoots of laughter, as the artists heard the art critic justify the price tag of £7.5 million for Damien Hirst’s copy of Holbein’s “The Ambassadors” mounted in a diamond studded platinum frame.

YesBut the price is right - Part 4

Continued from yesterday

For YesBut’s Image posted on 23rd July 2007, David McMahon suggested the caption -

“Triple art bypass”

While Doug suggested -

"Cindy's art class were so low on funds that the sidewalk was their only canvas. That is until the rains came."

The photo suggested the following story to me, (continued from yesterday): -

Seeing her looking at him, he approached her.

“I’ve been looking at your work, I’d like to commission you to paint a copy of Holbein’s ‘The Ambassadors‘, exhibited in the National Gallery.”
“I don’t know, I’m committed to working here for the summer, and I was planning to spend the winter working on my own work”.
“I’ll make it worth your while”.
“What did you have in mind?”
“£20,000”.
“Twenty thousand pounds, when do I start!”. They both laughed.

The next day he was back with a contract for her to sign. She undertook to complete the painting by 31st March, and to relinquish all intellectual or copyrights for the work. In return she got a down payment of £10,000, the balance to be paid on completion. She was more than happy to sign.

She started copying the painting in early November, she made frequent visits to the National Gallery to check on details of the painting, and to ensure she was matching the colours. But as she worked, she had the nagging thought at the back of her mind, why had he chosen her to do the painting, why this particular painting and most puzzling of all what possible reason did he have to want a copy of the painting?

To be continued tomorrow - Bookmark this page

YesBut the price is right - Part 3

Continued from yesterday

For YesBut’s Image posted on 23rd July 2007, David McMahon suggested the caption -

“Triple art bypass”

Doug suggested -

"Cindy's art class were so low on funds that the sidewalk was their only canvas. That is until the rains came."

The photo suggested the following story to me, (continued from yesterday): -

At his studio he unrolled onto the floor a number of large canvasses, each a copy of an “Old Master” painting. There was Leonardo Ad Vinci’s “Last Supper”, Monticello’s “The Birth of Venus” and Goya’s “The Execution of the 3rd of May 1808”.

He explained there were a group of artists who to assist each other use the paintings to collect money which is shared amongst the group. He said if she joined the group he would lend one of the paintings to her while she painted her own. She was delighted as this would allow her to collect money from tourists visiting London in the summer, and she could then devote the winter to her own work.

Within days she had found a suitable pitch on London’s South Bank. Each day she taped the borrowed painting on the pavement, and set up a new canvas to paint a copy of Rembrandt’s “The Night Watch”.

She was so happy to be able to give up working at the hamburger joint, and to be earning good money each day, in addition it allowed her to do what she wanted to. Also the tourists were so nice, they stopped to take her photo and talk to her. There was one person she saw on several occasions, he appeared to be taking a great deal of interest in her work, but made no effort to speak to her. After a few weeks she realised the man wasn’t merely showing a passing interest, he quite obviously had an ulterior motive, but what? The next time he passed she took particular notice, then she realised who he was. She was shocked, why should he, of all people, have an interest in her work?

To be continued tomorrow - bookmark this page.

YesBut the price is right - Part 2

Continued from yesterday

For YesBut’s Image posted on 23rd July 2007, David McMahon suggested the caption -

“Triple art bypass”

While Doug suggested -

"Cindy's art class were so low on funds that the sidewalk was their only canvas. That is until the rains came."

The photo suggested the following story to me, (continued from yesterday): -

At work late one night, she became annoyed with a young man who just sat at the corner table, nursing an empty coffee mug. She wanted to go home, but she couldn’t finish until she had cleaned all the tables. She got hold of a wet mop and started washing the floor getting closer and closer to the corner table, suddenly he looked up.

“I’m sorry, I’m keeping you . .”.

When he turned to speak to her she recognised him. She had seen him at the Atlantis art material store.

“No problem, its just I need to close up”.
“Haven’t I seen you at Atlantis?”.
“Yes, I only work here part-time . . .”
“Ah a fellow artist, what gallery are you with”?
“I’m not”.

“No it’s not easy at the start”. “Look let me get out of your way, and perhaps after you’ve finished you could meet me at the pub opposite”.
“OK, see you in half an hour”.

That chance meeting was to change the direction of her life.

They met at the pub, taking their drinks to a quiet corner table they settled down for a long talk. She felt such a relief to be able to talk to someone who would understand her problems, and perhaps provide some advice.

She told him about her lifelong desire to become an artist, and the difficulty she was experiencing creating original work. He explained he had had the same problem, but had found a solution.

“Look I’m not promising anything until I see your work, but I might have a solution.”

He arranged to visit her studio the next day to look at her work.

“You’re certainly a talented painter, given time I’m sure you’ll develop your own style.”
“Yes but in the mean time I have to live, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life cleaning tables at a hamburger joint”.
“Don’t worry you will not”.
“Let’s go across to my studio and I’ll show you the solution.”

This sounded to her like a “come up and see my etchings type invitation!”. Should she trust him?

To be continued tomorrow - Bookmark this page.

YesBut the price is right - Part 1

For YesBut’s Image posted on 23rd July 2007, David McMahon suggested the caption -

“Triple art bypass”

While Doug suggested -

"Cindy's art class were so low on funds that the sidewalk was their only canvas. That is until the rains came."

The photo suggested the following story to me: -

Even before she could talk she felt a need to express herself through art. She would sit on her fathers knee as he worked at his desk, and with a crayon draw on scraps of paper. She would draw her father’s face, the view from the window, or even still-life. She was puzzled why her father didn’t recognise her images, he would say such stupid things, “Whose a clever girl, is that a picture of mammy?”, it was obviously a drawing of her pet cat.

As she progressed through the school system her love of art intensified. It was a consuming passion, not for her toys or books; she was contented with a box of water colour paint. When she entered Art College she felt she was in heaven. Unfortunately while she was excited by all the new techniques she was being taught, her tutors were not so impressed by her. Undoubtedly she possessed artistic skills, but unfortunately she was devoid of a creative imagination - necessary to be a success in the contemporary art world. At the end of her course she was advised to seek employment as a commercial artist at an advertising agency. She was devastated by the suggestion, she knew she had been born to create great works of art, not draw breakfast cereal boxes. She ignored the advice.

With a loan she obtained from her parents she set-up her studio in East London. It wasn’t through the lack of effort, but alone in her studio facing a blank white canvas she didn’t know what to paint. She visited exhibitions in an endeavour to obtain inspiration, but in vain. She could copy the works but couldn’t think of anything original to paint. She was running out of money, she didn’t want to ask for more from her parents so she took a part-time job in a hamburger joint.

To be continued tomorrow - Bookmark this page.

YesBut is that fate walking by - Part 2

Continued from yesterday

For the photograph posted on YesBut’s Images on 14th June, Doug suggested the caption -

“See that guy in the brown coat walking past? I got his wallet!”.


The caption inspired me to write the following story (continued from yesterday) :

That night Peter and his wife decided they would drive across to Sevenoaks at the weekend, though they had no idea of what they hoped to achieve. Saturday was sunny, when they walked around Sevenoaks, they showed the photo to some shopkeepers and in the restaurant where they had tea. All to no avail; except that is for the children who thought “it was the best time ever, just like detectives on the TV”.

As the kids had enjoyed themselves, and as it was particularly difficult to keep them amused, they paid a number of return visits; all with the same lack of success. It was late October and the kids were getting a bit bored with the game; they decided they would make the last excursion of the year. The kids weren’t all that keen, so to please them they decided, for a change, to go by train. They were just coming out of the railway station when Peter recognised a man’s walk. There was nothing particularly distinctive about it, but he knew the man walking before them was the owner of the wallet.

He ran forward and tapped the man on his shoulder. “Excuse me is this yours?”.

The man looked down at the photograph in the stranger’s hand, “yes, yes, its my’n, where did you get it?”. Peter had no time to answer, for the man was now staring at Peter’s wife. He held head in his hands as his face went ashen white, “No it can’t be”. He collapsed on the floor. They helped him up, and went into a nearby café. Sitting the kids at one table, they huddled over cups of tea, the man introduced himself as Dave Wallace. He explained it was a photo of his wife, she had died three years before in a road accident. When he saw Peter’s wife he thought he was seeing a ghost.

It was Peter’s wife’s turn to be shocked when she heard Dave talk about his wife. Like her she had been adopted. Like her she had trained as a nurse. Like her she was 43 years old. Like her she was born on 15th March. Like her she was born in . . .

Click here to see what pictures and captions might suggest further stories. Better still leave your own caption.

YesBut is that fate walking by. - Part 1

For the photograph posted on YesBut’s Images on 14th June, Doug suggested the caption -

“See that guy in the brown coat walking past? I got his wallet!”.


The caption inspired me to write the following story:

After opening the wallet Barry was shocked when Peter snatched up the photograph that fell out of it. Without saying a word Peter turned around and walked away. Barry looked at his two colleagues “what was that all about?”, equally mystified they just shrugged. Meanwhile Peter was equally perplexed, “what was a total stranger doing with a photo of his wife in his wallet?”. “Should he go home and confront his wife?”. He returned to his office, threw his day-glow coat on his desk and went home.

His wife was surprised to see him home early, he seemed quieter than normal, as if he had a problem on his mind. It was only after the children had gone to bed she confronted him, “what’s wrong?”. He took the picture out of his pocket and handed it to her.

“I don’t remember having this photograph taken”. “Where did you get it?”.
“I found it in his wallet”.
“His, who?”
“Don’t act innocent”. She was about to respond when looking at the photograph again, she realised it wasn’t her.

“This isn’t me, look this woman hasn’t a scar over her left eye”. As a child, she had cut her brow falling off a bicycle.

“God, you’re right, I’m sorry”. “But she’s your double”. “Who is she? A relative?”.
“Not that I know of”.
“Then who?”.

Peter told here about Barry finding the wallet. They talked late into the night, but couldn’t identify who the woman might be.

Next morning, Peter was first in the office. When Barry came in he demanded to know what had happened to the wallet.

“I handed it into the police station”.
“Who did it belong to?” “Don’t know, there was no identification, apart from the photo you took, two £20 notes the only other thing was a return train ticket to Sevenoaks, Kent”. “Why? What’s your interest, and why did you rush off yesterday afternoon?”

Peter explained about the photo. But Barry didn’t know his wife and couldn’t comment on the likeness.

To be continued tomorrow - Bookmark this page.

Click here to see what pictures and captions might suggest further stories. Better still leave your own caption.

YesBut was she there? - Part 3

Continued from yesterday


For 26th June 2007 YesBut’s Image Doug suggested the caption –

”What a nice view...wait, isn't that the bridge that Uncle Bill jumped off last year?”


The photo suggested the following story to me (continued from yesterday) : -

David looked around the room as he waited for the old lady to return with coffee. The furniture was old but well kept, original paintings hang on the wall each illuminated by its own light. The room itself was lit by four matching table lamps. He was struck by the number of books in the room, on shelves on tables. He loved books, he knew he would like the old lady.

She shuffled back into the room carrying a tray with cups, saucers spoons, cream, sugar and a large pot of coffee. After she had poured out the coffee, she questioned him about his meeting with Elaine. After he had told her about his encounter and her request for him to help her. She saw a tear appear in the corner of her right eye.

“You might never find out how, but my dear you’ve been very lucky.”
“What’s happened, where’s Elaine?”
“Elaine died seventeen years ago. She was killed in a train crash. It was the same express train you took today. It was derailed when it collided with a truck at a crossing, seven people were killed, Elaine was my only child, she was one of them”.

He stared uncomprehendingly at the old woman.

“I don’t understand, I met the girl in that photograph this morning”.

She smiled. “Your not the first one who has visited this house expecting to meet Elaine, there have been six others previously”. “All I can tell you is, and I have no evidence, is she intervened for a purpose to delay your journey home”.

He sat talking with the old woman. She seemed genuinely interested as he related his journey around Europe, and the minor adventures he had had. He judiciously avoided giving an account of his more amorous encounters. It was the chiming of the ornamental clock that reminded him of the time, and he had a flight to catch. At the front door he thanked her for her hospitality, and promised to keep in touch. She smiled, the others had said the same think, but she had never heard from them again.

To him he seemed to wait for ever for a bus to take him back to the city centre. It had started to rain again and there was nowhere to shelter. Finally the bus arrived. He climbed aboard, but has the bus drove off he realised he had left his bag in the old woman’s house. Turning quickly he jumped off the bus. Under those conditions there was no way the motorcyclist following the bus could have braked in time.

The old lady picked up the strangers bag and carried it upstairs, she opened the door of her daughter’s bedroom and placed the bag with the others. She smiled, it was nice for Elaine to have friends.

YesBut was she there? - Part 2

Continued from yesterday

For 26th June 2007 YesBut’s Image Doug suggested the caption –

”What a nice view...wait, isn't that the bridge that Uncle Bill jumped off last year?”


The photo suggested the following story to me (continued from yesterday) : -

When the train had finally stopped, she stood up and looked at him,

“You’ve been staring at me”.
“Yes, sorry . . . Very rude, sorry”.
“It doesn’t matter. Will you help me?”
“Sure, help with the luggage . . .?”. He looked, but unlike the other passengers she had no bags.
“No, not that, something else”.
“Sure, what?”
“Let’s go for a coffee and I’ll tell you”.

He pull his bag down from the rack and followed her out of the train and into a café in the station concourse.

“Coffee?”.
“No, tea please”.

She returned to the table with two cups.
“What do you want?”
“Not here, can you meet at this address?” Handing him a slip of paper.
“I’m due to catch a flight to London at 07.0pm.”
“Ho, I thought you said you’d help”.
“Yes, No problem I’ll change my flight. By the way, I‘m David”
“Hi. I’m Elaine, I‘ll see you at 8”.

With that she got up and left. He sat there with half a cup of cold tea trying to workout what had happened. Had he agreed to cancel his flight home to meet a total stranger, had he gone mad? “What on earth was that all about“?

Looking around the station and saw a travel agency where he changed to the last flight that evening. He didn’t know how he knew, but he just did, that whatever she wanted him to do would be accomplished in time to catch the flight. He left his bag in the left luggage office and spent the afternoon idly walking around the centre of the city. After eating a snack he collected his bag and made his way to the bus station. Finally he found the correct bus to take him to Elaine’s home.

It was raining by the time the bus got to his destination, he pulled the anorak hood up over his head as he stepped off the bus. It was a tree lined street, the street lamps reflected in pools of water. A young man passed. “Excuse me number 56?”. The man nodded across the road. He hitched the bag on his shoulder and walked across the road. Number 56 was a well kept two story town house, a slit of light immerged between the drawn curtains of a ground floor room.

He climbed the two steps and rang the front door bell. After a few moments he heard shuffling feet coming towards the door. It was opened by a grey haired stooping old woman. She looked puzzlingly at him.

“Good evening Madam, is Elaine at home“?
“Elaine”?
“Yes, she asked me to meet her at 8pm“
“Are you sure it was Elaine?”
“That’s what she told me”
“You better come in from the rain”.

He followed her down a hall and into a warm elegantly furnished lounge. The first thing he noticed was a photo of Elaine on a side table. At least he knew he was in the right house.

“When did you see Elaine?”
“We travelled on the same train this morning”
“I think you’d better put down your bag, and sit”


(To be continued tomorrow - Bookmark this page)

YesBut was she there? - Part 1

For 26th June 2007 YesBut’s Image Doug suggested the caption –

”What a nice view...wait, isn't that the bridge that Uncle Bill jumped off last year?”

The photo suggested the following story to me: -

“People are so stupid they stand in your way, they leave there luggage in the middle of walkways“.

He cursed all those around him as he rushed, barged his way through to the train.

“What time, what platform?”

He saw a monitor with arrival and departure data, 11.50 platform 5.

“Shit I thought it was 11.55, I’m not going to make it. Platform 5, that way”.

More barging past crowds.

”Stupid foreigners get out of my way”.

He bounded up the stairs to the platform, station staff were slamming the train doors shut.

“Stop wait“ he exhaled.

He dived through the closing door, landing in a heap. He laughed, “close call”. He picked himself up off the floor and unhitched his rucksack off his back.

Having regained his breath he strolled into the carriage and stored his bag on the rack. The train was making its way through the suburbs passed office blocks and car parks. He loved travelling, but this was the penultimate leg on his homeward journey. A few hours stopover at the next city, then out to the airport for the flight to London. Now the train was passing small workshops and garages, soon it would be houses and back gardens before reaching the countryside. He sank back into his seat and made himself comfortable.

It took him some time to see her. He had been looking out of the opposite window and didn’t at first notice her. She sat unmoving in the shadow. As he became more accustomed to the light her features became more discernable. He was embarrassed when he realised he had been staring. But she didn’t move, just stared into space. He was fascinated, there was something ethereal intangible about her. She sat there transfixed waiting for her to acknowledge his presence. But she did not move.

He was brought back to the present moment by the other passengers preparing themselves for the arrival at the terminus.

(To be continued tomorrow - Bookmark this page)

YesBut its so refreshing

For YesBut’s Image on 2nd July 2007

Doug suggested the caption -

"I like this city. Every park bench includes a free girl."

The photo suggested to me the story: -

It became so much easer to travel when Romania joined the European Union. While there wasn’t a significant increase in tourists to Transylvania, it enabled Transylvanians to visit and work in previously restricted countries. Not that he sought employment, he was happy to travel and indulge his requirements in new countries.

He so loved London, the populace was so diverse Africans, Asians, South Americans and Europeans. Like wine, each with its own flavour, which a connoisseur could detect and appreciate. The African was so strong and refreshingly pungent, something new to his taste buds.

In the summer evenings he wandered by the riverside on the South Bank. He would look for a young lady sitting alone on a bench, and join her. Often they were lonely secretaries on their way home to their dreary depressing bed-sitters. They were so grateful for someone to speak to them. With his accentuated accent he would turn on the charm. It worked every time it was so easy, they would almost fall into his arms.

“You must be tired, rest your head on my lap”.
As he leaned forward they expected to taste his sweet lips brush their lips. They were surprised then thrilled when they felt his lips on their neck, followed by an almost undetectable pinch as his teeth broke their skin. There was a swooning feeling as their life blood was drained out.

He was never greedy and overindulgent. He never drained all the blood, not that he was showing any compassion; but getting rid of empties was time consuming and such a tedious bore, not the pursuit for a Count!