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macklingirlAs you can see, we were a cheerful bunch. So please meet from the right to the left, starting with the lady with the wonderful smile (standing next to the stairs)
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firefly1311. At her right side the grinning milomaus, half kneeling on the stairs. Then we have (in the shirt with the slit in the sleeve) the laughing potztausend, followed by me, happy macklingirl.In the shirt with the turtle on it is
siskiou, another lady who had much fun. In the middle the one and only byslantedlight, grinning like hell *g*, followed by roven75 with Little Roven75, who both thoroughly enjoyed the whole weekend. And last, but not least, the lovely Dragonfly (who sadly doesn't have an LJ-account), sitting and smiling in front of us all, playing with the swissroll.
We also did some Pros-y things, strangely enough. We watched "Weekend in the Country" (and had a quiz about it the next day).
We watched "Takeaway" too, and we browsed Pros zines,
and we played darts! Well, we played darts outside in the sunshine with a carpet behind the dartboard because we hadn't had as much practice as Bodie and Doyle, but it was still darts!
No title (Maybe Body Parts) by firefly1311
Written for The Pros Weekend, 22 July 2017
Words: body parts - carpet – sofa – clothes – dinner – shirt – drinks
Clothes scattered in the entrance hall.
A torn, bloody shirt on the sofa.
A drink spilled on the carpet.
Slowly he opened the bathroom door, took one long look at the cuts and bruises on the naked man in the bathtub, and slowly held up a bag with fish and chips. "Dinner is served, you git."
"Perfect. Come on in..."
The End
Written for The Pros Weekend, 22 July 2017
In the holy halls of CI54.5 and 3.7 took a dive
Into a wardrobe to kiss,
And hope Cowley would miss
Their secret agent double life.
Lost in the Forest by macklingirl
Written for The Pros Weekend, 22 July 2017
Words: carpet – breakfast – weather – place to sleep
After a wonderful breakfast, Bodie and Doyle set off for a walk in the forest. It was really bad luck that the weather changed and it started to rain.
Later that day they discovered that they were lost, and didn't know how to get back to their bedside.
"Look," said Bodie, pointing to a little hut in the dark. "There's a place to sleep."
They entered the hut and Doyle took a look around. "Looks like the carpet is the only place to sleep - so get out of your wet clothes, sunshine."
And they lived happily ever after.
The End
No Title by milomaus
Written for The Pros Weekend, 22 July 2017
Words: Together – body parts – carpet – animal – shirt – place to play – trousers
Together they checked out their body parts. Everything was still in its place, just a ripped shirt and a pair of torn trousers.
But the animal was long gone, so they used the carpet as a place to play.
The End
Together by potztausend
Written for The Pros Weekend, 22 July 2017
Words: animal – carpet – place to play – together
There were a lot of places for Bodie and Ray to play.
On the carpet, moving like animals was one of them.
The End
German Limerick by potztausend
Written for The Pros Weekend, 22 July 2017
(Attempted transcription!)
Der Bodie ist heiss auf die Swiss-Roll
Denn Kuchen vertreibt all den Job Groll
Doch Ray ist ein Tiger
Im Bett stets der Sieger
Das Glas ist danach mit dem Malt voll.
Of Aunts and Plants by roven75
Written for The Pros Weekend, 22 July 2017
Words: transport – trousers – sofa – place to sleep – dinner
Scene I
Mgh...
Huh?
Uuugh...
What is it?
My Aunt Ethel wants to come over to dinner.
So? That's lovely. I never knew you had an Aunt Ethel.
She's the black sheep of the Doyle clan really. She always drinks too much and falls asleep on the floor.
Well that sounds like easy maintenance.
That's what you'd think, right? But then she wakes up the next morning and can't move! So she decides to stay at your place three days longer!
Blimey.
Yeah.
So what are you going to do?
I don't know. No, wait. Wait. I know! I'll have to get her a place to sleep! Something very comfy! Cushions... a nice mattress... maybe a new sofa. Yeah, that's it, a sofa.
Ray, I've been telling you for months you need a new sofa. The old one has... suffered somewhat. And those stains... But you'd never listen to old Bodie here.
Yeah, yeah. Stop grumbling.
Let's go buy a couch right now. Cowley will give us the rest of the day off.
He will?
Yeah. Otherwise we'll invite Auntie Ethel to his place and she'll go through his single malt collection.
I like the idea...
But Ray...
What?
How will we get the sofa back to your place? We don't have any mode of transport for it.
Mode of transport? Bodie, have you been at the secret whisky stash again?
Ha ha - but seriously, what'll we do?
We'll ask Cowley for the CI5 van. He's used it recently to help the Minister move some flower pots, so if <i>he</i> can use it, we can too.
[Voice from off]: Only if you wash it after and bring it back squeaky clean and smelling of lavender and roses!
The old buzzard! He dirtied it up with the flower pots, and we have to clean it...
Oh come on, stop whinging! We'll do it. Let's go, Ray.
Scene II
[Bodie and Doyle in the car, driving. Lovely new sofa in the back.]
Doyle, I really think Auntie Ethel will appreciate the orange pansy pattern.
I hope she won't get sick on it.
It'd just blend in...
It was very nice of you to have those trousers we found in the back laundered too. I wonder if Cowley's even noticed them missing...
Who'd miss trousers like that?
You know, the second pair we found seem a bit bigger than his usual size...
...
...
The birds and bees and the... flowerpots...
Doyle!
Well I'll be damned. The old bugger. Who'd have thought?
I wondered what was up with the Minister's pink flower hat at the last CI5 picnic.
Maybe when Aunt Ethel is through with it, we can lend Cowley your new sofa. Since the Minister apparently likes flowers...
*evil chuckles x 2*
*fade out*
The End
Maybe by siskiou
Written for The Pros Weekend, 22 July 2017
Words: dinner - breakfast – feet – weather – body parts
They'd planned a day at the beach, taking along a picnic basket, but the weather changed to dreary rain the evening before. Doyle stood at his living room window, watching rivulets of rain run down the pane, his mood as grey as the sky.
He'd hoped to finally find out how Bodie really felt about him, and now his plan was ruined. Somehow, sitting at home, where he and Bodie had spent so much time together, made him change his mind every time he tried to broach the subject. No, Bodie was just a good friend and partner, and his touches were just friendly bantering.
Then he thought back to the day before, feeling Bodie's hands on his bum, pushing him up the stairs, and his hopes rose again.
He threw himself onto the sofa, kicked off his shoes, put his feet on the table, and let his head fall back, staring at the ceiling. Just as he'd decided to get up and brew some tea, the doorbell rang - unmistakably Bodie!
Doyle crossed to the door, relieved Bodie of one of the loaded bags he carried. "What's all this then?"
"Dinner of course. And breakfast, if you'll have me."
Doyle took a long moment to stare intently at Bodie's face, and his hopeful expression.
Maybe he hadn't been wrong after all.
The End
Waiting by byslantedlight
Written for The Pros Weekend, 22 July 2017
Words: breakfast - clothes - dinner - furniture - carpet - together
It was quietest at breakfast, in the warm, comfortable glow of the night before. There were sleep-drenched smiles over tea, the brush of hands as toast was passed from plate to plate, memories of warmth and comfort and the peace of the world being outside, still far away, not yet gooseberrying its way between them.
But it began again, of course it began again.
Too soon towels and bathrobes were strewn over furniture, clothes and holsters donned, pockets loaded with spare clips, with someone’s blood and death to come. There would be traffic jams, car fumes, hissed curses as yet another idiot cut in front of them on the way to work, someone whose life they’d maybe save that day, their oblivious, idiot life.
And then George Cowley, always George Cowley, with the complications of the world at his fingertips.
Lunch was always a rush – perhaps a sausage sandwich at Nellie’s caff, or half-eaten trays of stodgy food, or just a dozen cups of barely drunk tea before they were sent off yet again to this grass, that informer, some poor sod just trying to make their way in a world that didn’t want him, someone who’d not had their breaks, couldn’t make their own luck. Someone who they might have been, without their chances, with other choices.
They came together again when it was over, sometimes even at the end of the day, like any other butcher or baker or candlestick maker. Then they would sit at the table, have dinner, speak low and desultory or in a growl or a grumble about what they’d done, could have done, should have known. It was quiet then too, but it was the exhausted quiet of a hard job, done even harder.
They might go out, they might stay in, there might even be women to take their minds off the day that had come after breakfast, but they both knew that they were waiting. They were waiting for the dark, for fast kisses on soft cheeks, for the slamming of taxi doors as the girls were taken home.
They were waiting for the night before the next quiet breakfast.
The End
Finally, we had a couple of extra visitors
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