Prehistoric Oyster Ring - family story

Any group of three or more people will have its own jargon.
I love shellfish.

These are not edible.
I snagged these specifically for Cousin Linda to share with her incredible mama, Aunt Gertrude. (That's her in-family name.) 

One of Gertrude's stories involves all the aunts and uncles on a family outing of one sort or another, and it included the oldest brother (Bailey, WW-II Air Corps Navigator, with a penchant for "colorful" language). Bailey didn't have any qualms about expressing exactly how he felt about any thing. 

At any rate the group decided to follow a park sign advising of a "prehistoric oyster ring," and they figured this might be kind of interesting. Bailey had fallen behind the lead elements while in conversation with someone else in the conversation. Aunt Gert and some of the others got to the pile of oyster shells that remained after a Stone Age feast and -knew- Bailey's temper and mouth would erupt when he caught up with them at the prehistoric oyster ring.

With the way the lady laughed telling this story, and the way I remember Uncle Bailey . . . I almost wish I had been there.

So, Aunt Betty, "Gert," this one's for you.

The Brits use the little white folder to hold the electronic prepaid card to pay their bus and underground fares.

Kind of a let-down, actually.
But each of us carries one.

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