Tale Weaver No 128 – 13/7/17

Today’s nonsense word is Banjoher.

Although I take part in the Tale Weaver every week, I think I’ve only written on the nonsense theme once (OK, I hear you shouting that’s a matter of opinion and admit some of my postings can be a little bizarre 🙂 )

So, my take on Banjoher follows.

It was magic. Totally magical in fact.
She had never played an instrument before in her life, not even as a kid, yet she’d picked up this tatty discarded stringed apology of a guitar in the junk shop and was producing the most wonderful music from it.
‘You have to have it,’ the proprietor said. ‘ It obviously likes you.’
Lela grinned.
‘How much?’
‘For you little lady, nothing. I’ve had people in this shop try to get a tune out of it, but none have. Mind you, the fact that they were all men may have had something to do with it if the story is true.’
‘Oh do tell,’ she said. ‘I love a good yarn, it’s so much more interesting than a sales pitch!’
‘I’ll put the kettle on then!’

Over an hour later, Lela was going home with the instrument in her possession.
Lawrence, the shop owner, had told her that it was actually a five-stringed banjo from the early 19th century. It had remained in the Kestrel family for years, always a favourite with the female members who enjoyed making music for their men to dance to, instead of the other way round.
According to the guy who’d sold it to the shop, only women could play it. Should any male try, they would end up with cut fingers and broken strings, without so much as a single melody between them. It had therefore been named as The Kestrel Banjoher, and as the last remaining member of the family, he had decided to get rid of it which is how it came to be in Lawrence’s shop for three years!
As if to prove his point, he picked it up and tried to strum. It came out as a tuneless noise sending the cat for cover, and a drop of blood oozed out of his thumb for his trouble.
Lela of course didn’t believe a word of it, but it had been a good cup of tea and he’d also rustled up some biscuits.
As she took her prize out of its casing, a single piece of paper fell out.
Though faded with age and worn fibrous against the creases where it had been folded, she could just make out the words ‘Her Banjo’ and settling down on the bed, began to play.
She may not be George Formby, but she and her Banjoher were going to be famous.


About pensitivity101

I am a retired number cruncher with a vivid imagination which extends to short stories and poetry. I love to cook and have a terrible sweet tooth. Best friends are Hubby, our dog Maggie, Bro in NZ, MSM and MOH (and his dog). I am also a bit of a dog whisperer as I get on better with them than people sometimes! Due to a nightmare of a house sale in 2014, 'Home' was a 41 foot narrow boat until April 2017. We made strong friendships both on and off the water, and enjoyed swan and duck families for neighbours. Sadly times change and we were once again house hunting until September. We now reside in a small bungalow a short distance from the beach on the Lincolnshire coast.
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5 Responses to Tale Weaver No 128 – 13/7/17

  1. Michael says:

    Fabulous piece of musical nonsense Di, loved your take, and of course, an instrument only for women, what a great idea….thanks so much for contributing to this week’s Tale Weaver…

  2. joyroses13 says:

    Great job! 🙂 I am always up for nonsense! LOL!

  3. weejars says:

    Fabulous! Well done 💜

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