At Jack & Joan's today on a frosty morning. A pleasant get together with everybody in seemingly a good mood or was it me because my story was voted the best?
I started the ball rolling by reading Sally's out as she was unable to make it due to getting a seasonal cold. The story was reflection of times gone by when the local priest held the village community in fear with tales of sinning and its punishment. Brian then told of more vicars with the dilemma of what to do when the confession is of murder. Perhaps you will tell us in January how he solved it?
Rosemary told us about the joys of a school reunion with an annoying successful pupil dismissing all other achievements with a disdainful "How interesting".
Ann read out a story about a cheap caravan holiday that was just that cheap and nasty but gave amusement in later years by the laughter at the funny side.
Joan Read solved giving Christmas presents by giving to Oxfam. John told of a pushy mother who ended up by being a victim of matricide.
Sheila took us on seaside holiday with ice creams and play for the OAPs. Sue's was a romantic tale about meeting an old school fiend and finding out how they now liked each other. Pat left us in the air about what happened to the money left in the tree.
Joan E told of the renovation of a derelict cottage for community use
Here is my masterpiece, well it did make them laugh.
The Rest
Writing can be a dangerous pastime for some authors with too much imagination. I was warned many years ago of this and I have to tell you it is true. I'm just glad I do not write satanic novels. I began the following story as I normally do with little thought about how it will end.
I wrote.
John Smith smiled as he looked out of the window of his semidetached 1930's house at the sight of the postman making his way briskly up the street towards him. Stopping at the neighbours house first with a bundle of letters. John went to the front door and waited but he was disappointed, just the gas bill and an advert for generating your own free electricity for 25 years came through the door flap. "It didn't come Jean," he called out to his wife who was working in the kitchen. "Never mind love," she called, "it will, you just have to have patience." John was not the man to have patience though and felt depressed at not receiving the expected package from Amazon. "You should have paid for first class delivery then you would have got it yesterday." "Yes I know," John mumbled, "but we can't throw away money like that, as he looked down at the threadbare carpet."
"I don't know why you wanted it really" she said, "there so many other things we want, to spend a £100 on books is a bit daft." "I'm not" he protested "it will save me money with a Kindle book Reader I can download hundreds of books, many for nothing. It will save me money over a year or so." Jean was not impressed. "If you bought me a knitting machine I could save even more by knitting jumpers for everybody. The girls get through so many where they keep growing."
"Yes but the machines cost hundreds and anyway you can buy pullovers, woollen things cheaper in Primemark's a lot cheaper than you can knit any."
"It's not the same though" Jean replied drying her hands from having washed all the morning breakfast things. Both of the girls had already left for school, the Crampton school for girls at the end of the road. Jean didn't mind really, John loved all electronic gadgets and as he rarely spent money on himself an occasional outlay that kept him happy was fine by her.
It was November and John a fireman had worked extra shifts during the last week and now had two days off to make up He enjoyed the break from work.
That was as far as I got with the story, still with no clear idea of the plot when something staggering happened . In my mind the scene became real Jean and John were together in the hall both looking at me as if they knew I was creating them and they were waiting for me to continue to give them life. I stared at them and I could hear their tiny voices shouting what do we do now? Even Benji the terrier awoke from his basket in the kitchen to join in with shrill barking towards me. It's big eyes imploring my attention.
I can't remember anymore some say I smashed the typewriter and tore out the page. That is all I can tell you for now, you will have to wait for the rest as the nurse has come with the pink pills.
Monday 28 November 2011
Monday 24 October 2011
24th October
Two guests today Carol and Ann who are the second Creative Writing Group. They came to see how we did it not sure if they were impressed with our little attempt to produce works of literature. Pat was voted the best and her story appears at the end of this writeup.
John's offering was a girl choosing to be a model rather than train as a doctor. Sheila about inventions. Joan R recounted a chilly tale of murder and a physic who dreamed about it. Brian an historical story about the Saracens. Mine was about the madness of power seeking. Joan E about the detail of care needed to prepare an animal for a County Show. Rosemarie of bones left in the garden might incriminate. Ann B a Guy Fawkes dressed in old clothes. Carol a Christmas blessing of a turkey. Ann's tale was a major story about a scheming wife who killed off her two husbands.
The Body
They watched her -with sideways glances as she withdrew her ancient plastic needles with large wooden knobs from her battered bag.
It was the beginning of winter, and Mrs. Biscuit had decided to join the a knitting group. Now, these ladies had been knitting for many years, almost professionals.
Mrs. Biscuit had not taken up her needles in many a year. She bustled in, hair flying, coat flapping and sat down. "Mrs. Biscuit" one of the ladies asked "why, as your name is Charlotte, are you called Choc "? She gave her a blank stare, the others giggled. There was no answer, so she didn't.
The tattered pattern was barely legible. Cast on 6sts, increase each row until you have 26sts. Right...cast off, cast on, cast off again, it was most peculiar. After an hour she cast off the final stitches and spread the unruly shapeless piece on the table. It rather resembled an octopus. No comments from the "professionals ". Match the markings the pattern commanded and stitch carefully together. Begin stuffing evenly. This she did and spread it on the table, this time it resembled a worm and there were stifled snickers all around, "and this is? " someone asked. Why, its the body she replied.
The next week they all gathered at the appointed place. The needles flashed and many items were produced, the object being an early Christmas sale for their chosen
charity.
Choc Biscuit plodded onward. She now had the body, 2 feet, 2 wings 1 beak, 2 eyes and a bonnet. The cape had yet to be completed. It was a beautiful shade of pink and she idly thought about knitting a jumper when this was all behind her. Finally, the feet were attached to the body and the other odd shapes were stitched in their appointed spots. It was finished! She proudly stood it on the table and immediately it fell forward on its beak, pushing it sideways with the larger eye staring upwards. There were chuckles all around. Oh no, it refuses to stand up. What's to be done?
" Weights ", her husband said later. Old curtain weights were duly stitched somewhere we won't mention, on went the fringed cape, hey presto, all was well.
It was the day of the sale and heaps of beautifully knitted items were displayed on a table. Choc's Jemima Puddleduck was proudly standing up right in front. Although the beak was off kilter and it had a lop sided grin, it wasn't bad.
Then, in walked a lady she hadn't seen before and took the most perfectly executed
Jemima Puddleduck from her bag, and stood it next to Chocs. How could she?
The crowds of shoppers entered as soon as the doors opened. A little red headed girl with braces on her teeth cried "Mummy, Mummy " I want that one, and took hold of Choc's Jemima around the neck. "Look" she cried " its not beautiful like all the others, its just like me ".
John's offering was a girl choosing to be a model rather than train as a doctor. Sheila about inventions. Joan R recounted a chilly tale of murder and a physic who dreamed about it. Brian an historical story about the Saracens. Mine was about the madness of power seeking. Joan E about the detail of care needed to prepare an animal for a County Show. Rosemarie of bones left in the garden might incriminate. Ann B a Guy Fawkes dressed in old clothes. Carol a Christmas blessing of a turkey. Ann's tale was a major story about a scheming wife who killed off her two husbands.
The Body
They watched her -with sideways glances as she withdrew her ancient plastic needles with large wooden knobs from her battered bag.
It was the beginning of winter, and Mrs. Biscuit had decided to join the a knitting group. Now, these ladies had been knitting for many years, almost professionals.
Mrs. Biscuit had not taken up her needles in many a year. She bustled in, hair flying, coat flapping and sat down. "Mrs. Biscuit" one of the ladies asked "why, as your name is Charlotte, are you called Choc "? She gave her a blank stare, the others giggled. There was no answer, so she didn't.
The tattered pattern was barely legible. Cast on 6sts, increase each row until you have 26sts. Right...cast off, cast on, cast off again, it was most peculiar. After an hour she cast off the final stitches and spread the unruly shapeless piece on the table. It rather resembled an octopus. No comments from the "professionals ". Match the markings the pattern commanded and stitch carefully together. Begin stuffing evenly. This she did and spread it on the table, this time it resembled a worm and there were stifled snickers all around, "and this is? " someone asked. Why, its the body she replied.
The next week they all gathered at the appointed place. The needles flashed and many items were produced, the object being an early Christmas sale for their chosen
charity.
Choc Biscuit plodded onward. She now had the body, 2 feet, 2 wings 1 beak, 2 eyes and a bonnet. The cape had yet to be completed. It was a beautiful shade of pink and she idly thought about knitting a jumper when this was all behind her. Finally, the feet were attached to the body and the other odd shapes were stitched in their appointed spots. It was finished! She proudly stood it on the table and immediately it fell forward on its beak, pushing it sideways with the larger eye staring upwards. There were chuckles all around. Oh no, it refuses to stand up. What's to be done?
" Weights ", her husband said later. Old curtain weights were duly stitched somewhere we won't mention, on went the fringed cape, hey presto, all was well.
It was the day of the sale and heaps of beautifully knitted items were displayed on a table. Choc's Jemima Puddleduck was proudly standing up right in front. Although the beak was off kilter and it had a lop sided grin, it wasn't bad.
Then, in walked a lady she hadn't seen before and took the most perfectly executed
Jemima Puddleduck from her bag, and stood it next to Chocs. How could she?
The crowds of shoppers entered as soon as the doors opened. A little red headed girl with braces on her teeth cried "Mummy, Mummy " I want that one, and took hold of Choc's Jemima around the neck. "Look" she cried " its not beautiful like all the others, its just like me ".
Monday 19 September 2011
19th September
Full attendance today at John and Sheila's with diverse stories. Brian told of the deafening sound of the space shuttle leaving planet Earth. Joan Read's heroine saved by a spirit stag who blocked the way and saved her life. Sue wrote poetry and it was very good about the one. Sheila a story about the trouble writing one. Rosemary recounted a tale of a guide dog and its replacement. Ann told of all the fairies working in the garden. Sally wrote about a Boys Own story of adventure in the desert. I wrote about a tycoon who had it all and was about to lose it. Joan loss of the father and joining the U3A. Pat with creepy crawlies.
John won this week with.
THE ONE.
THE ONLY WAY TO DESCRIBE HER WAS "THE ONE"
SHE WAS VERY MUCH THE SPOILT ONLY CHILD OF JACK AND HIS WIFE LIL, AND THEY SHOWERED THEIR LOVE AND AFFECTION UPON LITTLE PRIMROSE IN ANY WAY THEY COULD. SHE WAS GIVEN THE BEST OF EVERYTHING, NOTHING WAS TOO MUCH FOR THEIR LITTLE DARLING. AS SHE WAS GROWING UP PRIMROSE WAS BLISSFULLY UNAWARE OF THE MANY PITFALLS SHE WAS GOING TO ENCOUNTER, FOR THE SIMPLE REASON THAT MUMMY AND DADDY KEPT HER COCOONED, IN HER OWN LITTLE WORLD. OF COURSE SHE DID HAVE CONTACT WITH OTHER CHILDREN OF HER OWN AGE WHEN SHE STARTED SCHOOL, BUT IT WAS AVERY TOUGH REALISATION FOR HER TO KNOW THAT WHAT SHE WANTED WAS NOT NECESSARILY GOING TO BE ABLE TO ACHIEVE ALL THE TIME. IT MADE FOR A VERY TOUGH AND RUDE AWAKENING FOR THIS YOUNG LADY WHO HAD AND INDEED GOT HER OWN WAY MOST OF THE TIME. THERE WERE TRIPS TO THE SCHOOL BY LIL, WHO WAS MOST INDIGNANT THAT HER ONE AND ONLY LITTLE DARLING WAS NOT HAVING THINGS ALL HER OWN WAY. SHE LET THE STAFF KNOW THAT THEY HAD TO PROTECT AND CARE FOR THE PRECOCIOUS PRIMROSE AT ALL TIMES. NEEDLESS TO SAY LIL BECAME A FAIRLY REGULAR THORN IN THE SIDES OF THE SCHOOL WHO LOST ALL THEIR RESPECT FOR THIS ARROGANT DEMANDING PARENT, AND UNFORTUNATELY COLOURED THEIR FEELINGS FOR THE CHILD, WHO LIVED UP TO THE REPUTATION SHE AQUIRED, WITH A REGULAR SHOW OF PETULENCE, THAT BECAME UNACCEPTABLE. THE HEAD DECIDED THAT PRIMROSE WAS NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO CARRY IN THIS TOTALLY UNACCEPTABLE WAY ANY LONGER, AND CALLED IN THE PARENTS FOR THE INEVITABLE SHOWDOWN. BE REMOVED FROM THE SCHOOL. WITH THIS MUMMY AND DADDY TOOK LEAVE OF THEIR SENSES AND WHAT WAS A VITRIOLIC WAR OF WORDS, SUDDENLY TURNED INTO A PHYSICAL CONFRONTATION, WITH JACK AND LIL ATTACKING THE HEAD, AND TOTALLY TAKING LEAVE OF THEIR SENSES.
THE POLICE WERE CALLED AND THE PARENTS ENDED UP AT THE POLICE STATION, WHERE THEY WERE BOTH CHARGED WITH ASSAULTING THE HEAD.
WHEN THE CASE CAME TO COURT, IT CREATED LURID HEADLINES AND NOT A LITTLE SENSATION. THERE IT WAS FOR ALL TO SEE. " LOCAL VICAR AND HIS WIFE CHARGED WITH ASSAULTING SCHOOL HEAD" IT SAID. WHAT SHAME FOR THE LOCAL DIOCESE.
NOT ONLY WERE THEY BOTH CONVICTED, BUT JACK NOW AWAITED A CONFROTATION WITH HIS BISHOP, AND AN UNCERTAIN FUTURE AS A MEMBER OF THE CLOTH. LITTLE PRIMROSE WOULD NOT REALISE FOR MANY YEARS HOW HER BEHAVIOR AND HER PARENTS STUPIDITY, HAD BEEN SO CATASTROPHIC FOR THEM ALL
John won this week with.
THE ONE.
THE ONLY WAY TO DESCRIBE HER WAS "THE ONE"
SHE WAS VERY MUCH THE SPOILT ONLY CHILD OF JACK AND HIS WIFE LIL, AND THEY SHOWERED THEIR LOVE AND AFFECTION UPON LITTLE PRIMROSE IN ANY WAY THEY COULD. SHE WAS GIVEN THE BEST OF EVERYTHING, NOTHING WAS TOO MUCH FOR THEIR LITTLE DARLING. AS SHE WAS GROWING UP PRIMROSE WAS BLISSFULLY UNAWARE OF THE MANY PITFALLS SHE WAS GOING TO ENCOUNTER, FOR THE SIMPLE REASON THAT MUMMY AND DADDY KEPT HER COCOONED, IN HER OWN LITTLE WORLD. OF COURSE SHE DID HAVE CONTACT WITH OTHER CHILDREN OF HER OWN AGE WHEN SHE STARTED SCHOOL, BUT IT WAS AVERY TOUGH REALISATION FOR HER TO KNOW THAT WHAT SHE WANTED WAS NOT NECESSARILY GOING TO BE ABLE TO ACHIEVE ALL THE TIME. IT MADE FOR A VERY TOUGH AND RUDE AWAKENING FOR THIS YOUNG LADY WHO HAD AND INDEED GOT HER OWN WAY MOST OF THE TIME. THERE WERE TRIPS TO THE SCHOOL BY LIL, WHO WAS MOST INDIGNANT THAT HER ONE AND ONLY LITTLE DARLING WAS NOT HAVING THINGS ALL HER OWN WAY. SHE LET THE STAFF KNOW THAT THEY HAD TO PROTECT AND CARE FOR THE PRECOCIOUS PRIMROSE AT ALL TIMES. NEEDLESS TO SAY LIL BECAME A FAIRLY REGULAR THORN IN THE SIDES OF THE SCHOOL WHO LOST ALL THEIR RESPECT FOR THIS ARROGANT DEMANDING PARENT, AND UNFORTUNATELY COLOURED THEIR FEELINGS FOR THE CHILD, WHO LIVED UP TO THE REPUTATION SHE AQUIRED, WITH A REGULAR SHOW OF PETULENCE, THAT BECAME UNACCEPTABLE. THE HEAD DECIDED THAT PRIMROSE WAS NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO CARRY IN THIS TOTALLY UNACCEPTABLE WAY ANY LONGER, AND CALLED IN THE PARENTS FOR THE INEVITABLE SHOWDOWN. BE REMOVED FROM THE SCHOOL. WITH THIS MUMMY AND DADDY TOOK LEAVE OF THEIR SENSES AND WHAT WAS A VITRIOLIC WAR OF WORDS, SUDDENLY TURNED INTO A PHYSICAL CONFRONTATION, WITH JACK AND LIL ATTACKING THE HEAD, AND TOTALLY TAKING LEAVE OF THEIR SENSES.
THE POLICE WERE CALLED AND THE PARENTS ENDED UP AT THE POLICE STATION, WHERE THEY WERE BOTH CHARGED WITH ASSAULTING THE HEAD.
WHEN THE CASE CAME TO COURT, IT CREATED LURID HEADLINES AND NOT A LITTLE SENSATION. THERE IT WAS FOR ALL TO SEE. " LOCAL VICAR AND HIS WIFE CHARGED WITH ASSAULTING SCHOOL HEAD" IT SAID. WHAT SHAME FOR THE LOCAL DIOCESE.
NOT ONLY WERE THEY BOTH CONVICTED, BUT JACK NOW AWAITED A CONFROTATION WITH HIS BISHOP, AND AN UNCERTAIN FUTURE AS A MEMBER OF THE CLOTH. LITTLE PRIMROSE WOULD NOT REALISE FOR MANY YEARS HOW HER BEHAVIOR AND HER PARENTS STUPIDITY, HAD BEEN SO CATASTROPHIC FOR THEM ALL
Monday 15 August 2011
15th August
Chez Nous oops not French today but creative writing at Cadnam. Varied stories again and hard to chose the winner but Ann gained most votes.
Rosemary told of a sister's early death, Joan E a short bio of a woman who raised a family and loved animals. Brian told us about what is known about Gypsies. Pat an 85yr old going to China. John hating music lessons kills tutor, Sheila dreaming of skates. Sue Good old Bill looking after girls. Joan R cockney slang. My effort was about the young Elizabeth who became E.II
Next month "the one"
Young Elizabeth
As she finished dressing, Betty thought how lucky it was that the weather was once again dry and warm. She enjoyed her trips to the shops and the chance to meet and speak to someone. Living as she did in a small terraced house in the city, she was in the centre of a hive of activity, but everyone was in such a rush, they hadn't the time to stop and talk. However, the friendly shop assistants at the small corner shop at the end of the road would always find the time for a little chat. If the weather was really nice, she would often walk down to the town centre to sit in the park and watch life pass by and sometimes someone would come and sit down on the bench and strike up a conversation. These were really good days. It was a different story though when it was wet and cold. Time seemed to almost stand still. Alone at home with just the radio and the television for company she often found herself talking to the presenters, but found little benefit from these non productive conversations. As there was very little cleaning and tidying to do, the housework was usually done in no time at all. Then the time seemed to drag interminably. Sometimes she would tidy a drawer or cupboard that was perfectly tidy, just for something to do. If the phone rang her spirits rose, thinking it was someone calling her for a chat, but more often than not it was someone with a foreign accent that she could hardly understand who soon rang off when she tried to strike up a conversation with them. She often watched the children's programmes, as they were colourful and cheerful. The evenings were the worst time though, especially when she drew the curtains and shut the world outside. She would worry about what would happen if she should fall and hurt herself. Would anyone miss her? She had a son, who only lived about ten miles away, but he and his wife were always busy and her grandson never had been very close to her. She used to phone them up each week to ask how they were and invite them over, but they always found an excuse for not coming and in the end she stopped phoning. Since then she had the odd occasional call just checking she was still in the land of the living. Today however, she had been to the park after her visit to the shop and had spent a lovely morning chatting to various people. When she arrived back home, she decided to spend some time in her little back garden. She enjoyed pottering about in it and tending to the flowers and shrubs. It was the one thing she had always enjoyed and she continued to indulge herself. As she deadheaded the roses, she heard a little voice and looked up. She saw a young girl peering over the fence. "What are you doing lady?"
"I'm cutting off the dead flowers so some new ones can grow. Your name
is Libby isn't it?"
"How did you know that?"
"I heard your mummy calling you the other day".
"My mummy is very sad today. My daddy is in the army and he has gone to
Afghanistan. I don't know when he is coming back".
"Would you like a bunch of flowers for your mummy to cheer her up?"
"Oh yes please. What's your name lady?"
"I'm called Betty Maggs".
Betty picked a bunch of flowers and handed them over to Libby and
finished her deadheading before going back indoors.
The following day there was a knock at the door and when she answered it she found Libby and her mum standing there. Betty invited them in and was presented with a small tin.
"Libby and I were doing some baking today and thought you might like a few small cakes for your tea. It was very kind of you to send over those flowers. They really cheered me up"
They stayed and had some tea and biscuits and Betty enjoyed the company so much. She was quite sad when they said they must go, but ventured to suggest that maybe they would like to come to tea again soon. The friendship grew and Libby and her mum adopted Betty as their surrogate grandma and mum. Betty would baby sit for Libby when her mum had to work late and they would spend many hours readings stories, playing games or just talking about times when Betty was a young girl. Libby was quite surprised when she discovered that she and Betty were actually both called Elizabeth and delighted in calling them the Young and Old Elizabeths. Now thanks to Young Elizabeth, the hidden disease Betty had been suffering from for many years, loneliness, was now well on the way to being cured.
Rosemary told of a sister's early death, Joan E a short bio of a woman who raised a family and loved animals. Brian told us about what is known about Gypsies. Pat an 85yr old going to China. John hating music lessons kills tutor, Sheila dreaming of skates. Sue Good old Bill looking after girls. Joan R cockney slang. My effort was about the young Elizabeth who became E.II
Next month "the one"
Young Elizabeth
As she finished dressing, Betty thought how lucky it was that the weather was once again dry and warm. She enjoyed her trips to the shops and the chance to meet and speak to someone. Living as she did in a small terraced house in the city, she was in the centre of a hive of activity, but everyone was in such a rush, they hadn't the time to stop and talk. However, the friendly shop assistants at the small corner shop at the end of the road would always find the time for a little chat. If the weather was really nice, she would often walk down to the town centre to sit in the park and watch life pass by and sometimes someone would come and sit down on the bench and strike up a conversation. These were really good days. It was a different story though when it was wet and cold. Time seemed to almost stand still. Alone at home with just the radio and the television for company she often found herself talking to the presenters, but found little benefit from these non productive conversations. As there was very little cleaning and tidying to do, the housework was usually done in no time at all. Then the time seemed to drag interminably. Sometimes she would tidy a drawer or cupboard that was perfectly tidy, just for something to do. If the phone rang her spirits rose, thinking it was someone calling her for a chat, but more often than not it was someone with a foreign accent that she could hardly understand who soon rang off when she tried to strike up a conversation with them. She often watched the children's programmes, as they were colourful and cheerful. The evenings were the worst time though, especially when she drew the curtains and shut the world outside. She would worry about what would happen if she should fall and hurt herself. Would anyone miss her? She had a son, who only lived about ten miles away, but he and his wife were always busy and her grandson never had been very close to her. She used to phone them up each week to ask how they were and invite them over, but they always found an excuse for not coming and in the end she stopped phoning. Since then she had the odd occasional call just checking she was still in the land of the living. Today however, she had been to the park after her visit to the shop and had spent a lovely morning chatting to various people. When she arrived back home, she decided to spend some time in her little back garden. She enjoyed pottering about in it and tending to the flowers and shrubs. It was the one thing she had always enjoyed and she continued to indulge herself. As she deadheaded the roses, she heard a little voice and looked up. She saw a young girl peering over the fence. "What are you doing lady?"
"I'm cutting off the dead flowers so some new ones can grow. Your name
is Libby isn't it?"
"How did you know that?"
"I heard your mummy calling you the other day".
"My mummy is very sad today. My daddy is in the army and he has gone to
Afghanistan. I don't know when he is coming back".
"Would you like a bunch of flowers for your mummy to cheer her up?"
"Oh yes please. What's your name lady?"
"I'm called Betty Maggs".
Betty picked a bunch of flowers and handed them over to Libby and
finished her deadheading before going back indoors.
The following day there was a knock at the door and when she answered it she found Libby and her mum standing there. Betty invited them in and was presented with a small tin.
"Libby and I were doing some baking today and thought you might like a few small cakes for your tea. It was very kind of you to send over those flowers. They really cheered me up"
They stayed and had some tea and biscuits and Betty enjoyed the company so much. She was quite sad when they said they must go, but ventured to suggest that maybe they would like to come to tea again soon. The friendship grew and Libby and her mum adopted Betty as their surrogate grandma and mum. Betty would baby sit for Libby when her mum had to work late and they would spend many hours readings stories, playing games or just talking about times when Betty was a young girl. Libby was quite surprised when she discovered that she and Betty were actually both called Elizabeth and delighted in calling them the Young and Old Elizabeths. Now thanks to Young Elizabeth, the hidden disease Betty had been suffering from for many years, loneliness, was now well on the way to being cured.
Monday 18 July 2011
18th July
Varied stories today despite the seemingly restricted meaning of the word orbit, all quite interesting.
Sue dreamed of being a French lady of high standing awakening to reality in rain soaked Paddington Station. Joan Read told of a builders family and their house that needed repair. Rosemary debated the meaning of orbit and its possible connection to obit. Brian told of a husband and son retreating to the garden shed and making a Guy Fawkes. Pat told of her plans to count the butterflies in the garden.
Sally story was way out, a science fiction story where men were wimps. Joan E told of the disastrous ride on a roller coaster never to be repeated.
I related the trip to feed the hens and other events.
Ann was voted best with her description of the solar system as a slice of confection.
Orbit
I wondered how I came to be here, but I know exactly how I came to be here. There was a small group of us who always went about together. I'd always fancied Paul like crazy and when he asked me if I would like to go to a talk with him, I was so made up that he had chosen me that I readily agreed. It wasn't until later that I discovered it was a lecture about the solar system. So here we are sitting in the lecture hall waiting for it to begin. The speaker is introduced and the lights are dimmed. He starts of by saying that the Sun moves smoothly on its path around the Galaxy or Milky Way. My mind immediately turns to food. I'll have one of each please as I'm quite peckish. I should have thought to put in some sweets to suck.
bid I hear him mention Mercury? I understood that was the silver stuff in thermometers. I remember my mum taking my temperature and giving the thermometer a flick with her wrist to make sure the mercury had gone down before she stuck it under my tongue. Once I remember one being dropped and the long stick of silver turned into hundreds of tiny balls that slithered everywhere on the wooden floor. It seems that he's talking about Venus now. I know she's supposed to be the goddess of love, but she's not much to look at with no arms. I suppose she must have been a looker once, but she looks rather careworn now.
Oh no he's talking about food again. This time it's Mars. Now I really fancy one of those, but not those tiny fun size things. You just get the flavour and it's gone. Even the big ones are not as big as they used to be, but they are something you can get your teeth into and I can just taste that silky, sticky filling as it tries to escape your mouth. What was that he said about Jupiter and Galileo? Didn't Queen sing about Galileo? Yes, I think it was in Bohemian Rhapsody. That was a weird song, about killing a man, but it was very catchy and proved very popular. I loved the sound and flow of some of the words as your tongue twisted around them. " Galileo, Galileo" and "Scaramouch, Scaramouch, will you do the Fandango". I liked it despite the contents. I'm suddenly aware that Paul is looking at me and turn towards him. He smiles and gives my hand a squeeze.
When I turn back I catch sight of the slide as Saturn comes into view. This is the one with the rings around the middle. However do they always manage to stay in place and not wobble off centre, as they don't appear to be attached to the planet at all? I settle back to try and understand what the speaker it talking about, but up pops Uranus and its satellites, Ariel, Umbriel, Titania, Oberon and
Miranda. Gosh, what a lot to take in. I can't help but stifle a snigger, as
Uranus is the perfect answer when someone annoys you. As for the
satellites, I use Ariel to do my washing and it sounds as if the rest have
all stepped out of a Shakespeare play.
Now he's talking about Neptune. Well if my memory serves me right, he
is the King of the Sea. I can picture him sitting on a rock surrounded by
the sea with long strands of seaweed as hair and holding a toasting fork.
Well I suppose it would correctly be called a trident.
I didn't know that Disney featured in the solar system, but Pluto has just
been mentioned. He would be lolloping everywhere, bumping into things. I
wonder if Mickey, Minnie, Donald, Goofy or any more of his friends are
around? It could be quite entertaining.
Here we go again. Starbursts. I don't need reminding that I'm hungry. I
hope we can go out for something to eat when this is over. Oh, I think it
must have finished as everyone is clapping. I'd better join in I suppose.
As the lights come up Paul turns to me and says, "That was great. Did you
enjoy it?
"Once I got into orbit, it was a voyage of discovery", I reply.
Next month "Young Elizabeth" at John's
Sue dreamed of being a French lady of high standing awakening to reality in rain soaked Paddington Station. Joan Read told of a builders family and their house that needed repair. Rosemary debated the meaning of orbit and its possible connection to obit. Brian told of a husband and son retreating to the garden shed and making a Guy Fawkes. Pat told of her plans to count the butterflies in the garden.
Sally story was way out, a science fiction story where men were wimps. Joan E told of the disastrous ride on a roller coaster never to be repeated.
I related the trip to feed the hens and other events.
Ann was voted best with her description of the solar system as a slice of confection.
Orbit
I wondered how I came to be here, but I know exactly how I came to be here. There was a small group of us who always went about together. I'd always fancied Paul like crazy and when he asked me if I would like to go to a talk with him, I was so made up that he had chosen me that I readily agreed. It wasn't until later that I discovered it was a lecture about the solar system. So here we are sitting in the lecture hall waiting for it to begin. The speaker is introduced and the lights are dimmed. He starts of by saying that the Sun moves smoothly on its path around the Galaxy or Milky Way. My mind immediately turns to food. I'll have one of each please as I'm quite peckish. I should have thought to put in some sweets to suck.
bid I hear him mention Mercury? I understood that was the silver stuff in thermometers. I remember my mum taking my temperature and giving the thermometer a flick with her wrist to make sure the mercury had gone down before she stuck it under my tongue. Once I remember one being dropped and the long stick of silver turned into hundreds of tiny balls that slithered everywhere on the wooden floor. It seems that he's talking about Venus now. I know she's supposed to be the goddess of love, but she's not much to look at with no arms. I suppose she must have been a looker once, but she looks rather careworn now.
Oh no he's talking about food again. This time it's Mars. Now I really fancy one of those, but not those tiny fun size things. You just get the flavour and it's gone. Even the big ones are not as big as they used to be, but they are something you can get your teeth into and I can just taste that silky, sticky filling as it tries to escape your mouth. What was that he said about Jupiter and Galileo? Didn't Queen sing about Galileo? Yes, I think it was in Bohemian Rhapsody. That was a weird song, about killing a man, but it was very catchy and proved very popular. I loved the sound and flow of some of the words as your tongue twisted around them. " Galileo, Galileo" and "Scaramouch, Scaramouch, will you do the Fandango". I liked it despite the contents. I'm suddenly aware that Paul is looking at me and turn towards him. He smiles and gives my hand a squeeze.
When I turn back I catch sight of the slide as Saturn comes into view. This is the one with the rings around the middle. However do they always manage to stay in place and not wobble off centre, as they don't appear to be attached to the planet at all? I settle back to try and understand what the speaker it talking about, but up pops Uranus and its satellites, Ariel, Umbriel, Titania, Oberon and
Miranda. Gosh, what a lot to take in. I can't help but stifle a snigger, as
Uranus is the perfect answer when someone annoys you. As for the
satellites, I use Ariel to do my washing and it sounds as if the rest have
all stepped out of a Shakespeare play.
Now he's talking about Neptune. Well if my memory serves me right, he
is the King of the Sea. I can picture him sitting on a rock surrounded by
the sea with long strands of seaweed as hair and holding a toasting fork.
Well I suppose it would correctly be called a trident.
I didn't know that Disney featured in the solar system, but Pluto has just
been mentioned. He would be lolloping everywhere, bumping into things. I
wonder if Mickey, Minnie, Donald, Goofy or any more of his friends are
around? It could be quite entertaining.
Here we go again. Starbursts. I don't need reminding that I'm hungry. I
hope we can go out for something to eat when this is over. Oh, I think it
must have finished as everyone is clapping. I'd better join in I suppose.
As the lights come up Paul turns to me and says, "That was great. Did you
enjoy it?
"Once I got into orbit, it was a voyage of discovery", I reply.
Next month "Young Elizabeth" at John's
Monday 20 June 2011
20th June
Ten of us at Joan's house met up for our monthly story telling. General opinion our stories are improving - could be vanity.
Joan being the host kicked off all about chasing a hat that fell in a river that turned out not to be the hat it was thought to be. Ann story was about aliens from space with their flying saucer and memory loss. John told us about a two timing husband who got his comeuppance what ever that is. Sheila, memories of a better time. Brian played poo sticks. Pat all about Radio Four and very classical music. Joan told of Mark losing his lego man. I wrote about my past as sleepily remembered.
Two winners Sue And Sally.
Sue's first
DRIFT WITH …’
How had the row started, he wondered? They’d enjoyed their walk along the wild shore, the only activity they could afford as he was now out of work. He supposed Janice was fed up with the gloomy prospects as her eagerly anticipated wedding day now seemed further away than ever. The row had started over nothing really. He could tell she was worried about the future and not happy at the idea of continuing to work in that dead-end job of hers, so she kept on about him having left his job in the docks. No matter how he tried to explain that the owner had a bad reputation as an employer and there were rumours of dodgy deals, she had been adamant that at least he would be working.
Now he was angrily shouldering his way along the pavement, glowering at everyone in his path, when he noticed the sign over a building in front of him - Recruiting Office - and before he could really stop and think, he found himself inside. In no time, it seemed, he had signed up and was a member of Her Majesty’s forces. He’d always wanted a life of adventure; anything to get away from his humdrum life and make something of himself.
He went round to see Janice that evening, full of his news, expecting her to be as excited as he was at the prospect of a good wage coming in and the chance of learning a trade. Janice’s face was stony when she answered the door and said sulkily, “You’d better come in, I suppose.” He followed her into her Mum’s tiny kitchen and greeted Mrs Jones cheerfully before sitting down at the table. Mrs Jones folded her arms and gave a cold, “Evening” in return. Janice said, “I suppose you want a cup of tea?” “Oh, ta love, that’ll be grand”, Rob said enthusiastically.
Once he had his tea in front of him, he continued stirring it round and round in the cup, suddenly nervous at what he was about to say. He realised it would come as a bit of a bombshell and Janice might not think it was an ideal solution to their problems. “Well, here goes”, he thought and launched into the events of the afternoon, ending, “I’m off to barracks at the end of the month for basic training, then maybe I’ll be able to learn a trade. It’s a grand opportunity.”
Janice’s face had drained of colour as he had been speaking and now a flush spread slowly up her neck and she leapt up from the chair, shouting, “You crazy fool; what did you go and do that for? I don’t want you gallivanting all over the place, never having a life of your own, being told when you can come home or when you can’t.” No matter how much Rob explained they could still marry and live in married quarters, Janice stubbornly refused to entertain the idea of becoming an Army wife. In the end, she opened the door and said, “You’d better leave now – and don’t come back. You’ve ruined everything.”
Before he knew it, Rob was out on the street once again, so he hunched his shoulders and turned miserably for home in the fine drizzle. On the way, he tried to analyse his feelings and suddenly realised he was not devastated by Janice breaking off their engagement; in fact, there was an overwhelming feeling of relief and he continued to walk along the wet pavements, deep in thought. He came to realise during those long hours of walking and thinking, that he had been content to drift with the flow of his colourless job and his relationship with Janice ever since they had been going steady – and how had that happened anyway? He had met her at a dance and she had been waiting at the dock gates the next day, eager to pursue their relationship. He was an easy-going sort of bloke, he supposed, so he just went along with her plans, suddenly finding himself engaged to be married. As he turned in at his gate, he felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and he climbed the stairs to bed with a wonderful tingling feeling of anticipation at what the future might hold.
That had been a couple of years ago now, he thought, as he waited patiently in the queue of men disembarking from the troop plane. He’d done his basic training and been lucky enough to train as a mechanic on Army vehicles before being posted abroad. Now he was home on leave and looking forward to seeing his folks again.
He came to the exit at last where there was quite a crowd of relatives and friends waiting. Young Mums with their children, eagerly scanning faces to see who could spot Daddy first, older parents anxiously looking for young sons back from their first tour of duty – and there were his parents, waving excitedly as he made his way eagerly towards them. And of course, there she was too, her warm, infectious smile enfolding him and giving him that well-remembered feeling that he was the most important person in the world. Funny, he’d felt like that ever since he’d seen Mary across the canteen at the base, soon after he’d arrived. She’d looked so smart and pretty in her uniform and she’d helped and encouraged him ever since. They’d got married just before he’d gone overseas six months ago and as he wrapped his arms round her he knew he was really home at last.
Drift With
I was all alone in the world until I found the dirty green bottle that was to change my life, it had become imbedded in the mud at the edge of the estuary. At the time, the tide was on the turn and coming in fast. I was searching for something, anything really, that could be of interest and be useful to me. I saw a plank of wood drift with the swirling tide, if lady luck was on my side it would be washed up on the beach later. It would prove very useful for my home in the cave. The tide crashed over the rocks thundering with strength and power urging the seagulls flying overhead to scream with their excited eerie cries as they swooped into the waves below, in their quest for food. I glanced again at the green bottle and watched the water curl around it, moving it ever so slightly. Something compelled me to step into the mud and retrieve the bottle before it was lost forever. The mud sucked around my feet and ankles, making it difficult to move. I grabbed the bottle and luckily I was not too far from the shore and I managed to crawl onto the rough bank.
I lay there gasping and wondered what kind of fool I was by putting myself at risk.
I rubbed the bottle expecting a Genie to pop out and change my life. “Some hope“, I thought. So then I strolled over to a rock pool and rinsed the bottle clean. “My God!” There was a note inside. I was wild with excitement as I made my way over to the cave. Once inside I sat on my makeshift seat made out of an old wooden crate and began my examination of the bottle which was well sealed and it took a little while to remove all the wrappings. The note would not come through the neck of the bottle, a voice in my head said “Smash it, smash the bottle but somehow I did not want to. Looking in my collection of handy oddments that I had found while beach combing I took out a piece of wire with a thin hooked end made out of an old wire coat hanger and gently retrieved the note.
It read: To whom it may concern please obey these instructions as they will be to your benefit.
1. Please note the date and time and place where you found this bottle.
2. Please ring the following telephone number without delay and
a substantial sum of money could be yours.
Reverse the charge to:-01 23106976.
P.S If you did not break the bottle there could be a bonus for you.
This is bound to be a hoax I thought but nevertheless I went to my makeshift calendar scratched on the cave wall. It was June the 20th 2011. Then I read the time by the sundial. This was a contraption made from bits and pieces. It was almost noon and the sun was high in the sky.
My thoughts were racing. I loved my hermit like lifestyle. It was all that I had known for the past two years after living on the streets and sleeping in shop doorways, penniless alone and afraid. I had taken to the roads as a tramp and lived out of dustbins that stood outside the back of roadside cafes. I asked the owners for work, some chased me off their premises but others gave me handouts, an old coat or a pair of boots. On cold days
a hot pie or some soup was thrust into my hand and a word or two like “ Keep moving on mate you’ll scare the customers.”
Eventually I had found my way to the sea, I remember the thrill of my first sighting and the roar of the ever moving waves, the splendour of the bleak coastline with its jagged rocks and the rock pools.
There were notices along the coast that said UNSAFE FOR SWIMMING that was because of the river that flowed into the sea causing severe currents as the two forces met only to be appeased by the receding tides.
I looked around the beach there was no-one in sight so I had stripped off and bathed in a rock pool . I felt invigorated, and my spirit was renewed as nature had caressed my body and the sun had warmed and dried me.
I gazed around in wonderment. Then I saw the cave that has been my haven for the last two happy years.
But it was time to move on. I knew of a telephone box about two miles up the road towards the next village. The two miles seemed never ending and eventually I had arrived. I picked up the telephone and rang the number and a voice replied, “Brown and Son Solicitors“. I have found a green bottle I replied. The receptionist screamed in delight “Someone has found the bottle”
It wasn’t a hoax after all because two gambling millionaires had launched the bottle from a bridge in Scotland. In order to win the bet Nigel had bet his friend Glen that it would be found whole. Glen had stipulated it had to be found within a certain time period of 2 years. This was registered with a Solicitor at the time. There was only six weeks to go before I had found it.
The receptionist said, “Let me know your address and we will send a car for you to come and claim your prize.
I replied. “I am John Wheeler and I live at Sea View, Haven Crest Road, near the mouth of the river Haven and the village of Haven Crest. make your way down to the beach I am the only one on the block“.
Joan being the host kicked off all about chasing a hat that fell in a river that turned out not to be the hat it was thought to be. Ann story was about aliens from space with their flying saucer and memory loss. John told us about a two timing husband who got his comeuppance what ever that is. Sheila, memories of a better time. Brian played poo sticks. Pat all about Radio Four and very classical music. Joan told of Mark losing his lego man. I wrote about my past as sleepily remembered.
Two winners Sue And Sally.
Sue's first
DRIFT WITH …’
How had the row started, he wondered? They’d enjoyed their walk along the wild shore, the only activity they could afford as he was now out of work. He supposed Janice was fed up with the gloomy prospects as her eagerly anticipated wedding day now seemed further away than ever. The row had started over nothing really. He could tell she was worried about the future and not happy at the idea of continuing to work in that dead-end job of hers, so she kept on about him having left his job in the docks. No matter how he tried to explain that the owner had a bad reputation as an employer and there were rumours of dodgy deals, she had been adamant that at least he would be working.
Now he was angrily shouldering his way along the pavement, glowering at everyone in his path, when he noticed the sign over a building in front of him - Recruiting Office - and before he could really stop and think, he found himself inside. In no time, it seemed, he had signed up and was a member of Her Majesty’s forces. He’d always wanted a life of adventure; anything to get away from his humdrum life and make something of himself.
He went round to see Janice that evening, full of his news, expecting her to be as excited as he was at the prospect of a good wage coming in and the chance of learning a trade. Janice’s face was stony when she answered the door and said sulkily, “You’d better come in, I suppose.” He followed her into her Mum’s tiny kitchen and greeted Mrs Jones cheerfully before sitting down at the table. Mrs Jones folded her arms and gave a cold, “Evening” in return. Janice said, “I suppose you want a cup of tea?” “Oh, ta love, that’ll be grand”, Rob said enthusiastically.
Once he had his tea in front of him, he continued stirring it round and round in the cup, suddenly nervous at what he was about to say. He realised it would come as a bit of a bombshell and Janice might not think it was an ideal solution to their problems. “Well, here goes”, he thought and launched into the events of the afternoon, ending, “I’m off to barracks at the end of the month for basic training, then maybe I’ll be able to learn a trade. It’s a grand opportunity.”
Janice’s face had drained of colour as he had been speaking and now a flush spread slowly up her neck and she leapt up from the chair, shouting, “You crazy fool; what did you go and do that for? I don’t want you gallivanting all over the place, never having a life of your own, being told when you can come home or when you can’t.” No matter how much Rob explained they could still marry and live in married quarters, Janice stubbornly refused to entertain the idea of becoming an Army wife. In the end, she opened the door and said, “You’d better leave now – and don’t come back. You’ve ruined everything.”
Before he knew it, Rob was out on the street once again, so he hunched his shoulders and turned miserably for home in the fine drizzle. On the way, he tried to analyse his feelings and suddenly realised he was not devastated by Janice breaking off their engagement; in fact, there was an overwhelming feeling of relief and he continued to walk along the wet pavements, deep in thought. He came to realise during those long hours of walking and thinking, that he had been content to drift with the flow of his colourless job and his relationship with Janice ever since they had been going steady – and how had that happened anyway? He had met her at a dance and she had been waiting at the dock gates the next day, eager to pursue their relationship. He was an easy-going sort of bloke, he supposed, so he just went along with her plans, suddenly finding himself engaged to be married. As he turned in at his gate, he felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and he climbed the stairs to bed with a wonderful tingling feeling of anticipation at what the future might hold.
That had been a couple of years ago now, he thought, as he waited patiently in the queue of men disembarking from the troop plane. He’d done his basic training and been lucky enough to train as a mechanic on Army vehicles before being posted abroad. Now he was home on leave and looking forward to seeing his folks again.
He came to the exit at last where there was quite a crowd of relatives and friends waiting. Young Mums with their children, eagerly scanning faces to see who could spot Daddy first, older parents anxiously looking for young sons back from their first tour of duty – and there were his parents, waving excitedly as he made his way eagerly towards them. And of course, there she was too, her warm, infectious smile enfolding him and giving him that well-remembered feeling that he was the most important person in the world. Funny, he’d felt like that ever since he’d seen Mary across the canteen at the base, soon after he’d arrived. She’d looked so smart and pretty in her uniform and she’d helped and encouraged him ever since. They’d got married just before he’d gone overseas six months ago and as he wrapped his arms round her he knew he was really home at last.
Drift With
I was all alone in the world until I found the dirty green bottle that was to change my life, it had become imbedded in the mud at the edge of the estuary. At the time, the tide was on the turn and coming in fast. I was searching for something, anything really, that could be of interest and be useful to me. I saw a plank of wood drift with the swirling tide, if lady luck was on my side it would be washed up on the beach later. It would prove very useful for my home in the cave. The tide crashed over the rocks thundering with strength and power urging the seagulls flying overhead to scream with their excited eerie cries as they swooped into the waves below, in their quest for food. I glanced again at the green bottle and watched the water curl around it, moving it ever so slightly. Something compelled me to step into the mud and retrieve the bottle before it was lost forever. The mud sucked around my feet and ankles, making it difficult to move. I grabbed the bottle and luckily I was not too far from the shore and I managed to crawl onto the rough bank.
I lay there gasping and wondered what kind of fool I was by putting myself at risk.
I rubbed the bottle expecting a Genie to pop out and change my life. “Some hope“, I thought. So then I strolled over to a rock pool and rinsed the bottle clean. “My God!” There was a note inside. I was wild with excitement as I made my way over to the cave. Once inside I sat on my makeshift seat made out of an old wooden crate and began my examination of the bottle which was well sealed and it took a little while to remove all the wrappings. The note would not come through the neck of the bottle, a voice in my head said “Smash it, smash the bottle but somehow I did not want to. Looking in my collection of handy oddments that I had found while beach combing I took out a piece of wire with a thin hooked end made out of an old wire coat hanger and gently retrieved the note.
It read: To whom it may concern please obey these instructions as they will be to your benefit.
1. Please note the date and time and place where you found this bottle.
2. Please ring the following telephone number without delay and
a substantial sum of money could be yours.
Reverse the charge to:-01 23106976.
P.S If you did not break the bottle there could be a bonus for you.
This is bound to be a hoax I thought but nevertheless I went to my makeshift calendar scratched on the cave wall. It was June the 20th 2011. Then I read the time by the sundial. This was a contraption made from bits and pieces. It was almost noon and the sun was high in the sky.
My thoughts were racing. I loved my hermit like lifestyle. It was all that I had known for the past two years after living on the streets and sleeping in shop doorways, penniless alone and afraid. I had taken to the roads as a tramp and lived out of dustbins that stood outside the back of roadside cafes. I asked the owners for work, some chased me off their premises but others gave me handouts, an old coat or a pair of boots. On cold days
a hot pie or some soup was thrust into my hand and a word or two like “ Keep moving on mate you’ll scare the customers.”
Eventually I had found my way to the sea, I remember the thrill of my first sighting and the roar of the ever moving waves, the splendour of the bleak coastline with its jagged rocks and the rock pools.
There were notices along the coast that said UNSAFE FOR SWIMMING that was because of the river that flowed into the sea causing severe currents as the two forces met only to be appeased by the receding tides.
I looked around the beach there was no-one in sight so I had stripped off and bathed in a rock pool . I felt invigorated, and my spirit was renewed as nature had caressed my body and the sun had warmed and dried me.
I gazed around in wonderment. Then I saw the cave that has been my haven for the last two happy years.
But it was time to move on. I knew of a telephone box about two miles up the road towards the next village. The two miles seemed never ending and eventually I had arrived. I picked up the telephone and rang the number and a voice replied, “Brown and Son Solicitors“. I have found a green bottle I replied. The receptionist screamed in delight “Someone has found the bottle”
It wasn’t a hoax after all because two gambling millionaires had launched the bottle from a bridge in Scotland. In order to win the bet Nigel had bet his friend Glen that it would be found whole. Glen had stipulated it had to be found within a certain time period of 2 years. This was registered with a Solicitor at the time. There was only six weeks to go before I had found it.
The receptionist said, “Let me know your address and we will send a car for you to come and claim your prize.
I replied. “I am John Wheeler and I live at Sea View, Haven Crest Road, near the mouth of the river Haven and the village of Haven Crest. make your way down to the beach I am the only one on the block“.
Monday 23 May 2011
23rd May 2011
Another creative session with no outright winner as they were all good stories but two of them did gain two votes each. Ann's story of the liberated wife when her husband went away and Brian's personal story of his early childhood in a hostel. Both stories will be added to the blog.
Rosemary wished for blond hair and to be a fuller a figure when young. Joan Read knew a lot about slimming diets. Sheila left food on a kitchen table instead of at the picnic. John on how indifferent we are when young to other events that do not affect us. Pat spoke of the comforting effect of imbibing sherry when doubtful of the menu when cooking. Joan told of Margaret burning the custard and I wrote of meeting a desperate neighbour.
Next Month 20th June "Drift with"
Ann's story
I Wished That
When Gordon told Jean that he had to attend the conference in Birmingham and would be away for a week, she made all the right noises and said she was sure he would find it very interesting, while all the time was planning how she would spend the break herself. It wasn't that she didn't care deeply for Gordon, but he was a stickler for routine and always expected his meal on the table at a set time each evening and had a set routine every morning. Sometimes she felt like throwing a spanner in the works and dishing up everything in the wrong order, but the trouble that would provoke just didn't bear thinking about. Her mind was in a whirl as she thought of all the things she would like to cram into the week. She would be able to eat when she felt like it and in the evenings she and their daughter Megan would be able to have their meals on a tray while watching the TV or a DVD if they wanted to. As soon as Megan heard about her dad's trip, she said she would take an afternoon off work and meet Jean for a shopping trip and meal out.
The business trip duly arrived and Gordon had planned it to allow himself to arrive in plenty of time for his evening meal with everything having been checked and double-checked into his car. He told them to behave themselves as they waved him off. Coming back into the house they felt like two naughty schoolgirls and when Megan produced a bottle of wine, they giggled as they settled down to an evening of their favourite films.
The following morning set the pattern as Jean had a leisurely breakfast and read the paper. She had decided she would try to sort through some of the old photographs and put them in to albums. It was a job she never seemed to have the time to do and now she could spread them out all over the table and not have to worry about clearing it away for the evening. It was a trip down memory lane that was for sure and the day passed so quickly. She had kept herself well refreshed with cups of coffee during the day and had stopped on one occasion for a sandwich, but before she knew it Megan was home again. They had a laugh over some of the photos as they recalled little incidents relating to them and ended up with a meal thrown together from odds and ends. The next day it was the turn of a cupboard to be sorted. As she turned out the long forgotten items, she thought every home probably has a cupboard or drawer like this where items with no specific home get put with the idea of being sorted at a later date. Of course that date never seems to arrive and as the items emerged she couldn't think why she had kept most of them. Being keen on recycling, a big bag was bundled up for the charity shop and an equally big bag was bundled up for the dustbin. As she tied the last bag up she felt a sense of achievement, although there was that niggling feeling that it wouldn't be long before someone asked for an item and the awful realisation would hit her that it was one of the things either destined for the charity shop or the dustbin. It always happened - still it gave her a good feeling to think that was another job off the list.
The day arrived that she had arranged to meet Megan. They had both overslept and there was a frantic rush as Megan grabbed things to rush for the bus. She called out to Jean where to meet her as she dashed out of the house. Jean had a cup of coffee as she settled to read the paper and then had a long, leisurely bath, before getting ready to drive into town. She suddenly thought, "Where did Megan say, was it The Old Mill or Mill Street? I wished that I had taken more notice." She decided to phone and check, but as she dialled the number a phone rang in the lounge. There sitting on the coffee table was Megan's phone. Choosing to try the Old Mill complex first, she parked the car and waited at the entrance. Time went by and Megan failed to appear, so she decided to make her way to Mill Street. Just as she was leaving Megan rushed up. "Thank goodness you're here. I tried Mill Street first and as you weren't there guessed it must have been The Old Mill. I couldn't remember what we decided this morning. I wished that I hadn't been in such a rush and had taken more notice. I tried to phone you only to find I'd left my phone at home and grabbed the remote control instead! Still now we've found one another let's go and have a good girlie afternoon and evening". Jean smiled to herself as she thought, "She really is turning out to be her mother's daughter".
From Brian
I WISH THAT
There are one or two things that I wish that, but the first wish that I had known my father, NO, mother was married to him.
His name was Arthur Frederick Lacey Osborne, he was born in 1900, his father was a butler, mother was a housemaid, and they were married the day before he was born in a village called Blockley in the Cotswolds. He had two brothers and three sisters; I never met any of them, or my grand parents.
Let me explain.
My father left home in Blockley at the age of 18, went to London to find a job, there he signed on a ship as a Galley boy on a ship that sailed to New York. This was his first trip to sea; this was to last most of his life.
In 1926 he met my mother, who at that time was working at the Sussex Hotel, which was on the high street in Southampton. A year later they were married, ten months after the great event my eldest brother was born, my father at that time was away on the Edinburgh Castle on the way to South Africa, as 1st cook.
From August 1928 to June 1930 he worked ashore at the South Western Hotel, Southampton as head cook.
Then on the 6th June 1930 he went back to sea on ATLANTIS as a sauce cook, cruising the Mediterranean for two months,
My second brother was born 1931 again father was away cruising the Mediterranean still a sauce cook.
I was born 1934 this time my father was aboard the ARLANZA, which sailed between Southampton and Brazil and the River Plate, around trip of about six weeks.
In the days before the Second World War, no English cook ever made it to the head chef, on the ocean liners. French or Italian chosen, also you had to pass a medical each time you signed on.
He signed off his last trip in November 1937 as a Larder cook. They found that he had TB, so he could no longer work.
The seaman’s union found a place for him at the Hollybrook Hospital, were he stayed, until he died in 1941.
December 1937, at the age of three, I was placed at Nazareth House in Southampton that was run by nuns, my mother could see no other way to keep three boys, and no income coming in.
Later one of my Aunts told me a little about my father, he was about 5ft 8ins tall, brown eyes and hair, always clean shaven, he was a very dapper (that was the word she used) dresser, soft spoken. Every one called him Ossie.
As I have said, I was only three when it was said that I last saw him. Part of my life seemed as if something was missing. If he had lived, I wonder how different my life would have been, would he have taught me to ride a bike, play football, or cricket, fly a kite, go fishing, and all those sorts of things that fathers share with their sons??
I WISH THAT HE HAD…..
Rosemary wished for blond hair and to be a fuller a figure when young. Joan Read knew a lot about slimming diets. Sheila left food on a kitchen table instead of at the picnic. John on how indifferent we are when young to other events that do not affect us. Pat spoke of the comforting effect of imbibing sherry when doubtful of the menu when cooking. Joan told of Margaret burning the custard and I wrote of meeting a desperate neighbour.
Next Month 20th June "Drift with"
Ann's story
I Wished That
When Gordon told Jean that he had to attend the conference in Birmingham and would be away for a week, she made all the right noises and said she was sure he would find it very interesting, while all the time was planning how she would spend the break herself. It wasn't that she didn't care deeply for Gordon, but he was a stickler for routine and always expected his meal on the table at a set time each evening and had a set routine every morning. Sometimes she felt like throwing a spanner in the works and dishing up everything in the wrong order, but the trouble that would provoke just didn't bear thinking about. Her mind was in a whirl as she thought of all the things she would like to cram into the week. She would be able to eat when she felt like it and in the evenings she and their daughter Megan would be able to have their meals on a tray while watching the TV or a DVD if they wanted to. As soon as Megan heard about her dad's trip, she said she would take an afternoon off work and meet Jean for a shopping trip and meal out.
The business trip duly arrived and Gordon had planned it to allow himself to arrive in plenty of time for his evening meal with everything having been checked and double-checked into his car. He told them to behave themselves as they waved him off. Coming back into the house they felt like two naughty schoolgirls and when Megan produced a bottle of wine, they giggled as they settled down to an evening of their favourite films.
The following morning set the pattern as Jean had a leisurely breakfast and read the paper. She had decided she would try to sort through some of the old photographs and put them in to albums. It was a job she never seemed to have the time to do and now she could spread them out all over the table and not have to worry about clearing it away for the evening. It was a trip down memory lane that was for sure and the day passed so quickly. She had kept herself well refreshed with cups of coffee during the day and had stopped on one occasion for a sandwich, but before she knew it Megan was home again. They had a laugh over some of the photos as they recalled little incidents relating to them and ended up with a meal thrown together from odds and ends. The next day it was the turn of a cupboard to be sorted. As she turned out the long forgotten items, she thought every home probably has a cupboard or drawer like this where items with no specific home get put with the idea of being sorted at a later date. Of course that date never seems to arrive and as the items emerged she couldn't think why she had kept most of them. Being keen on recycling, a big bag was bundled up for the charity shop and an equally big bag was bundled up for the dustbin. As she tied the last bag up she felt a sense of achievement, although there was that niggling feeling that it wouldn't be long before someone asked for an item and the awful realisation would hit her that it was one of the things either destined for the charity shop or the dustbin. It always happened - still it gave her a good feeling to think that was another job off the list.
The day arrived that she had arranged to meet Megan. They had both overslept and there was a frantic rush as Megan grabbed things to rush for the bus. She called out to Jean where to meet her as she dashed out of the house. Jean had a cup of coffee as she settled to read the paper and then had a long, leisurely bath, before getting ready to drive into town. She suddenly thought, "Where did Megan say, was it The Old Mill or Mill Street? I wished that I had taken more notice." She decided to phone and check, but as she dialled the number a phone rang in the lounge. There sitting on the coffee table was Megan's phone. Choosing to try the Old Mill complex first, she parked the car and waited at the entrance. Time went by and Megan failed to appear, so she decided to make her way to Mill Street. Just as she was leaving Megan rushed up. "Thank goodness you're here. I tried Mill Street first and as you weren't there guessed it must have been The Old Mill. I couldn't remember what we decided this morning. I wished that I hadn't been in such a rush and had taken more notice. I tried to phone you only to find I'd left my phone at home and grabbed the remote control instead! Still now we've found one another let's go and have a good girlie afternoon and evening". Jean smiled to herself as she thought, "She really is turning out to be her mother's daughter".
From Brian
I WISH THAT
There are one or two things that I wish that, but the first wish that I had known my father, NO, mother was married to him.
His name was Arthur Frederick Lacey Osborne, he was born in 1900, his father was a butler, mother was a housemaid, and they were married the day before he was born in a village called Blockley in the Cotswolds. He had two brothers and three sisters; I never met any of them, or my grand parents.
Let me explain.
My father left home in Blockley at the age of 18, went to London to find a job, there he signed on a ship as a Galley boy on a ship that sailed to New York. This was his first trip to sea; this was to last most of his life.
In 1926 he met my mother, who at that time was working at the Sussex Hotel, which was on the high street in Southampton. A year later they were married, ten months after the great event my eldest brother was born, my father at that time was away on the Edinburgh Castle on the way to South Africa, as 1st cook.
From August 1928 to June 1930 he worked ashore at the South Western Hotel, Southampton as head cook.
Then on the 6th June 1930 he went back to sea on ATLANTIS as a sauce cook, cruising the Mediterranean for two months,
My second brother was born 1931 again father was away cruising the Mediterranean still a sauce cook.
I was born 1934 this time my father was aboard the ARLANZA, which sailed between Southampton and Brazil and the River Plate, around trip of about six weeks.
In the days before the Second World War, no English cook ever made it to the head chef, on the ocean liners. French or Italian chosen, also you had to pass a medical each time you signed on.
He signed off his last trip in November 1937 as a Larder cook. They found that he had TB, so he could no longer work.
The seaman’s union found a place for him at the Hollybrook Hospital, were he stayed, until he died in 1941.
December 1937, at the age of three, I was placed at Nazareth House in Southampton that was run by nuns, my mother could see no other way to keep three boys, and no income coming in.
Later one of my Aunts told me a little about my father, he was about 5ft 8ins tall, brown eyes and hair, always clean shaven, he was a very dapper (that was the word she used) dresser, soft spoken. Every one called him Ossie.
As I have said, I was only three when it was said that I last saw him. Part of my life seemed as if something was missing. If he had lived, I wonder how different my life would have been, would he have taught me to ride a bike, play football, or cricket, fly a kite, go fishing, and all those sorts of things that fathers share with their sons??
I WISH THAT HE HAD…..
Monday 25 April 2011
25th April
Lovely day and where better to enjoy the morning than sitting in Pat and Brian's garden. All good stories today, Brian with his interest in history told us about the defensive shields creating if practised well a deadly machine bringing death to the enemy. Joan Read recounted a daughter's bid for independence. Ann's story depicted terrible conditions suffered by children down the mine. My story was of an event during wartime. Joan told of grandchildren visiting their grandparents. Sheila told of a stroppy teenager growing up. John about a boy with learning disabilities and a gift for horse riding. Pat told of an idyllic day in Hythe watching the liners leaving. But Rosemary was the outright winner.
Next month "I wished that"
SHOW HER: As they entered the Art Gallery she said to her two grandchildren "I actually KNEW this famous artist when I was at University" "Yes, we KNOW Grandma" Toby replied with a sigh and a shrug "You've TOLD us that lots of times already!" Sarah looked at her grandchildren's bored expressions and thought for the hundredth time that maybe she should have travelled up to London alone to view this amazing collection, rather than dragging the children along with her.
It wasn't really the sort of outing they'd expected, and she knew that she'd only brought them with her as a sort of excuse, support and defence mechanism in case she happened to meet her long-ago friend, the famous artist Alex. For if she DID set eyes on him she wasn't sure how her heart would react. Would it turn cartwheels as it used to do all those years ago? She was afraid that it might well do so!
Suddenly Toby said hopefully "There's a cafe over there Grandma. Can we have ice-creams please?" As the children sat enjoying their ice-creams and she sipped her frothy coffee, she let her mind wander back to those heady University days - and ALEX!
All the girls on the Art and Design Course had been madly in love with Alex, including herself. Maddeningly, even though Alex had accepted their adoration, he only ever remained friends with them all, never singling one girl out for special attention, no matter how hard they had each tried to win his heart.
She smiled to herself as she recalled how overwhelmingly THRILLED she had been when he eventually invited HER up to his digs one evening, promising to show HER his latest artistic efforts. She had gone full of hope that at last he had chosen HER to be the one he had decided to date out of all the other girls. But how bitterly disappointed she had been when she'd realized that all Alex intended to do was to SHOW HER HIS PAINTINGS - with NO hidden agenda at all!
Suddenly her memories were interrupted by a muted buzz and a whole new atmosphere in the cafe. She looked up and saw Alex standing in the doorway surrounded by a small group of adoring people. As he entered the cafe Alex's eyes scanned the tables and the various folk sitting at each one. His gaze passed over her with not one shred of recognition, as her heart did the accustomed cartwheels.
Alex made his way to the discreet table in the far corner which had been reserved for him and his Civil Partner Rory. And as her heart stopped doing cartwheels she thought for the umpteenth time of all the girls whose hearts had been broken by him, never realizing that he was gay.
She gathered up her bag with a sigh and asked her grandchildren "Would you like to go on a river trip and up in the London Eye now instead of looking at any more paintings?" "Yes please. Grandma!" was the relieved reply, as she determined to enjoy the rest of the day with her grandchildren, and TRY at least to put the past firmly behind her.
Next month "I wished that"
SHOW HER: As they entered the Art Gallery she said to her two grandchildren "I actually KNEW this famous artist when I was at University" "Yes, we KNOW Grandma" Toby replied with a sigh and a shrug "You've TOLD us that lots of times already!" Sarah looked at her grandchildren's bored expressions and thought for the hundredth time that maybe she should have travelled up to London alone to view this amazing collection, rather than dragging the children along with her.
It wasn't really the sort of outing they'd expected, and she knew that she'd only brought them with her as a sort of excuse, support and defence mechanism in case she happened to meet her long-ago friend, the famous artist Alex. For if she DID set eyes on him she wasn't sure how her heart would react. Would it turn cartwheels as it used to do all those years ago? She was afraid that it might well do so!
Suddenly Toby said hopefully "There's a cafe over there Grandma. Can we have ice-creams please?" As the children sat enjoying their ice-creams and she sipped her frothy coffee, she let her mind wander back to those heady University days - and ALEX!
All the girls on the Art and Design Course had been madly in love with Alex, including herself. Maddeningly, even though Alex had accepted their adoration, he only ever remained friends with them all, never singling one girl out for special attention, no matter how hard they had each tried to win his heart.
She smiled to herself as she recalled how overwhelmingly THRILLED she had been when he eventually invited HER up to his digs one evening, promising to show HER his latest artistic efforts. She had gone full of hope that at last he had chosen HER to be the one he had decided to date out of all the other girls. But how bitterly disappointed she had been when she'd realized that all Alex intended to do was to SHOW HER HIS PAINTINGS - with NO hidden agenda at all!
Suddenly her memories were interrupted by a muted buzz and a whole new atmosphere in the cafe. She looked up and saw Alex standing in the doorway surrounded by a small group of adoring people. As he entered the cafe Alex's eyes scanned the tables and the various folk sitting at each one. His gaze passed over her with not one shred of recognition, as her heart did the accustomed cartwheels.
Alex made his way to the discreet table in the far corner which had been reserved for him and his Civil Partner Rory. And as her heart stopped doing cartwheels she thought for the umpteenth time of all the girls whose hearts had been broken by him, never realizing that he was gay.
She gathered up her bag with a sigh and asked her grandchildren "Would you like to go on a river trip and up in the London Eye now instead of looking at any more paintings?" "Yes please. Grandma!" was the relieved reply, as she determined to enjoy the rest of the day with her grandchildren, and TRY at least to put the past firmly behind her.
Monday 28 March 2011
28 March 2011
A nice morning in Sue's home. All good stories, John started off by taking us into the jungle and the Island leading to a romance. Joan E told of a childish crush that never came to anything. I wrote of a vicar who found God from his love of motorcycles. Sheila was too busy to write anything. Brian told of a naive recruit from the labouring class who volunteered. Pat told of their travel to the new land good old USA and the cold Pacific ocean. And she never got the photo she wanted of Dean Martin. Sue's story about breaking away from Mothers clutches to get the dog she wanted. Joan R was fascinated with wolves South American and North American. Rosemarie's story was about dogs as well. We finished reading and choosing the favourite a bit early, the rest of the time was a lively discussion about death mainly. Sue was tired of getting funeral plans while I complained I never got any. This went on about the various ways of going and relating incidents from white vans picking up the body to delayed invoices. Ann won the vote and when I get my scanner fixed I'll put it on. Next month Easter Monday "Show her"
Infatuation
It seemed that winter had at last come to an end and spring was beginning to unfold the new season’s fashion. The trees were starting to unfurl their young fresh leaves and the daffodils and primroses were making a splash of sunshine in the gardens and along the hedgerows. The Dando family had moved from the inner city into their new home on the edge of the town at the end of the autumn and were still discovering the joys of being so near to the country. The house was on a well-established estate overlooking the fields of the nearby farm. There was a large garden with plots for vegetables, several fruit trees and a large lawn area surrounded by shrubs and flowers beds. The three children, Robert, Robin and Rachel, collectively know within the family as “The Three R’s”, revelled in seeing what each season brought forth. The family dog was in heaven with all the new smells and things to investigate and spent most of the time outside when the weather permitted. As the weather got warmer and the evenings lot lighter, the whole family started spending time working in the garden. One evening Scamp, the dog, started barking. It wasn’t the usual warning bark or the “pleased to see you” bark, but a “come and see what I’ve found” type of bark. They all went to see what their pet had discovered. Scamp was stood staring at a prickly ball on the lawn. He gently nudged it with his paw, but quickly drew back when he felt the sharp spines. The children were quite excited as they had never seen a hedgehog close up before. They stood watching and eventually it started to unfurl and sniff the air before moving quickly into the flowerbed. It was suggested they put a small bowl of dog food out later and see if it was gone in the morning. They did and it was, so it became a regular ritual. Scamp would wait in the evenings for the visitor to appear and soon they became very tolerant of each other. One could almost say they became good friends, as each night he followed the hedgehog around just watching to see what it was doing. He always knew that the food left in the garden was for the hedgehog, not for him. There was added excitement one evening during the summer when a family of four tiny hedgehogs appeared with the parents. The “Three R’s” felt very special to have this family living in their garden and were very protective of them. By now the parents were quite tame and would stay still for the children to hand feed them. They even were able to very gently rub them on their noses, the only part they could find that didn’t cause them pain! They would love to have cuddled them, but hedgehogs aren’t built for that type affection. Some nights there would be a lot of grunting and squealing coming from under the shrubs and it was assumed the hedgehogs were doing what presumably hedgehogs do very carefully! As the summer came to an end and the autumn approached, the evenings became cooler and the nights started to draw in, the little family continued to come each evening and would dart across the grass catching the daddy-long-legs as they emerged from the lawn. It was quite incredible how fast these little creatures could move. They seemed to really be having great fun chasing around. The family had discovered they lived in an old pile of grass cuttings, so it was decided to leave this well alone to ensure they had somewhere warm to spend the winter. In due course the colder weather came and the visits became less frequent. One day the family were having a tidy up in the garden when the children found an old wooden scrubbing brush in the shrubs. Their father said he thought he had lost it, but must have thrown it away with the dirty water after he had scrubbed the flowerpots and tubs. Was this the cause of the noisy amorous hedgehog? Did it have an infatuation for an old wooden scrubbing brush or was he just having a wash and brush up before having a big night out?
Infatuation
It seemed that winter had at last come to an end and spring was beginning to unfold the new season’s fashion. The trees were starting to unfurl their young fresh leaves and the daffodils and primroses were making a splash of sunshine in the gardens and along the hedgerows. The Dando family had moved from the inner city into their new home on the edge of the town at the end of the autumn and were still discovering the joys of being so near to the country. The house was on a well-established estate overlooking the fields of the nearby farm. There was a large garden with plots for vegetables, several fruit trees and a large lawn area surrounded by shrubs and flowers beds. The three children, Robert, Robin and Rachel, collectively know within the family as “The Three R’s”, revelled in seeing what each season brought forth. The family dog was in heaven with all the new smells and things to investigate and spent most of the time outside when the weather permitted. As the weather got warmer and the evenings lot lighter, the whole family started spending time working in the garden. One evening Scamp, the dog, started barking. It wasn’t the usual warning bark or the “pleased to see you” bark, but a “come and see what I’ve found” type of bark. They all went to see what their pet had discovered. Scamp was stood staring at a prickly ball on the lawn. He gently nudged it with his paw, but quickly drew back when he felt the sharp spines. The children were quite excited as they had never seen a hedgehog close up before. They stood watching and eventually it started to unfurl and sniff the air before moving quickly into the flowerbed. It was suggested they put a small bowl of dog food out later and see if it was gone in the morning. They did and it was, so it became a regular ritual. Scamp would wait in the evenings for the visitor to appear and soon they became very tolerant of each other. One could almost say they became good friends, as each night he followed the hedgehog around just watching to see what it was doing. He always knew that the food left in the garden was for the hedgehog, not for him. There was added excitement one evening during the summer when a family of four tiny hedgehogs appeared with the parents. The “Three R’s” felt very special to have this family living in their garden and were very protective of them. By now the parents were quite tame and would stay still for the children to hand feed them. They even were able to very gently rub them on their noses, the only part they could find that didn’t cause them pain! They would love to have cuddled them, but hedgehogs aren’t built for that type affection. Some nights there would be a lot of grunting and squealing coming from under the shrubs and it was assumed the hedgehogs were doing what presumably hedgehogs do very carefully! As the summer came to an end and the autumn approached, the evenings became cooler and the nights started to draw in, the little family continued to come each evening and would dart across the grass catching the daddy-long-legs as they emerged from the lawn. It was quite incredible how fast these little creatures could move. They seemed to really be having great fun chasing around. The family had discovered they lived in an old pile of grass cuttings, so it was decided to leave this well alone to ensure they had somewhere warm to spend the winter. In due course the colder weather came and the visits became less frequent. One day the family were having a tidy up in the garden when the children found an old wooden scrubbing brush in the shrubs. Their father said he thought he had lost it, but must have thrown it away with the dirty water after he had scrubbed the flowerpots and tubs. Was this the cause of the noisy amorous hedgehog? Did it have an infatuation for an old wooden scrubbing brush or was he just having a wash and brush up before having a big night out?
Monday 28 February 2011
28th February 2011
We met at John & Sheila's on a cold morning after being spoilt by recent warmer temperatures. Only nine of us to tell our stories after a good 20 minutes discussing the latest news. John started off and his story will be below. I followed my story of the Not to Worry about a small crack in the Comet window and the lack of lifeboats for the Titanic. Joan spoke about the reduction of letter writing in the modern world. Joan Read told us about the stress brought about by modern living. Sue a seaside holiday and a decrepit caravanette. Sheila said Not to worry for having such a short story. Rosemary about the cake stand that refused to go away. Ann some unlucky visit to the antipodes. Sally and the gentlemen who tied the shoe lace.
NOT TO WORRY
“This setback will not worry us” I said to my fellow conspirators. We had got this far and anysetbacks we encountered were nothing compared with events so far. Let me tell you how I came to this crazy, dangerous situation.
I admit that my life has been one of criminality, a life that resulted in me being incarceratedfor most of my life as a guest of her majesty, for what has been, in the main, a wasted life. I was intelligent enough, but was living in a shadowy world of crime all the time. I thought I could beat the system, and was always planning the one big heist that would give me the life of luxury, the fast women and all the good times that I craved. Yes, it seemed too be a fairly easy way to achieve all my aspirations.
On some of my hairbrained escapades, I actually got away with a fair amount, but there was always some grass willing to stitch me up, but NOT TO WORRY, I’ll get even with them in the end. I know who they are, and payback will be swift, and evil! I just need to concentrate on the next big job first.
The idea was forming in my mind to bust a huge consignment of bullion which a fellow con had told me about. I was very attracted to the possible fortune awaiting me, but realized that this was going to be a tough assignment. I needed to recruit a dozen tried and trusted mates, but in this game, who can you trust? We are all a greedy bunch of layabouts, noneof whom I could honestly say I really do trust, but there you go, I couldn’t do the job on my own.
We all met down at the local boozer, “The Boxers Ear”, run by an old ex-con friend of mine Reggie. Reggie could be relied upon to shut his eyes and ears to any goings on at his pub. I left the boys in no doubt that I, and one or two of my heavies, would come down like a ton of bricks, on anyone who grassed us up. I spoke at length about the need for secrecy, and of getting the right result. I told them that it would make us very rich. That made a few eyes light up. I said that we could net about 3 million from this one, so, once I had fenced the goods I figured that we would share out 2 million – and I intended to have a million of that for myself!
We had about 2 weeks to prepare for the arrival of the bullion at the warehouse, so I needed to get things organised and it all seemed to be going well. As the big bust approached I started to feel nervous, but I told myself that it was the same feeling every time I was going to do a job. How could anything go wrong?
Well, the day before the event Charlie, my driver went sick with appendicitis. What a blow! I had to bring in a guy who was recommended to me by Reggie at the pub, but who I didn’t know personally. Too bad, I thought , I could do no more than rely on Reggie to vouch for him. When I told my closest mate ‘Strangler’ he just said “Tough! We ‘ve got to run with him”.
The day of the job arrived and we got into the warehouse. The bullion was in a secure area, but I knew about this, so brought in ‘Banger’ Brown - the best in the business, and he had the doors blown open in next to no time, and so there it lay before us, a mass of gold bars. Yes, I had hit the big time. We started to load up, when, all of a sudden, we were surrounded by about 2 dozen cops. Some evil swine had stitched me up, and it soon became obvious who it was. My so-called friend Reggie at the ‘Boxers Ear’ I found out was grassing us to the cops keeping them informed about our plans all along, and providing the driver – a cop of course – an absolute gift to the law.
I’m writing this inside parkhurst whilst I do a long stretch for this job. I don’t think Reggie runs the pub any more and doubt that any of my fellow mates will find him in the area when we get out. He’s long gone from his old haunts I hear. NOT TO WORRY, I’m sat here planning my next big job and that it will make me the rich guy I deserve to be – I hope!
NOT TO WORRY
“This setback will not worry us” I said to my fellow conspirators. We had got this far and anysetbacks we encountered were nothing compared with events so far. Let me tell you how I came to this crazy, dangerous situation.
I admit that my life has been one of criminality, a life that resulted in me being incarceratedfor most of my life as a guest of her majesty, for what has been, in the main, a wasted life. I was intelligent enough, but was living in a shadowy world of crime all the time. I thought I could beat the system, and was always planning the one big heist that would give me the life of luxury, the fast women and all the good times that I craved. Yes, it seemed too be a fairly easy way to achieve all my aspirations.
On some of my hairbrained escapades, I actually got away with a fair amount, but there was always some grass willing to stitch me up, but NOT TO WORRY, I’ll get even with them in the end. I know who they are, and payback will be swift, and evil! I just need to concentrate on the next big job first.
The idea was forming in my mind to bust a huge consignment of bullion which a fellow con had told me about. I was very attracted to the possible fortune awaiting me, but realized that this was going to be a tough assignment. I needed to recruit a dozen tried and trusted mates, but in this game, who can you trust? We are all a greedy bunch of layabouts, noneof whom I could honestly say I really do trust, but there you go, I couldn’t do the job on my own.
We all met down at the local boozer, “The Boxers Ear”, run by an old ex-con friend of mine Reggie. Reggie could be relied upon to shut his eyes and ears to any goings on at his pub. I left the boys in no doubt that I, and one or two of my heavies, would come down like a ton of bricks, on anyone who grassed us up. I spoke at length about the need for secrecy, and of getting the right result. I told them that it would make us very rich. That made a few eyes light up. I said that we could net about 3 million from this one, so, once I had fenced the goods I figured that we would share out 2 million – and I intended to have a million of that for myself!
We had about 2 weeks to prepare for the arrival of the bullion at the warehouse, so I needed to get things organised and it all seemed to be going well. As the big bust approached I started to feel nervous, but I told myself that it was the same feeling every time I was going to do a job. How could anything go wrong?
Well, the day before the event Charlie, my driver went sick with appendicitis. What a blow! I had to bring in a guy who was recommended to me by Reggie at the pub, but who I didn’t know personally. Too bad, I thought , I could do no more than rely on Reggie to vouch for him. When I told my closest mate ‘Strangler’ he just said “Tough! We ‘ve got to run with him”.
The day of the job arrived and we got into the warehouse. The bullion was in a secure area, but I knew about this, so brought in ‘Banger’ Brown - the best in the business, and he had the doors blown open in next to no time, and so there it lay before us, a mass of gold bars. Yes, I had hit the big time. We started to load up, when, all of a sudden, we were surrounded by about 2 dozen cops. Some evil swine had stitched me up, and it soon became obvious who it was. My so-called friend Reggie at the ‘Boxers Ear’ I found out was grassing us to the cops keeping them informed about our plans all along, and providing the driver – a cop of course – an absolute gift to the law.
I’m writing this inside parkhurst whilst I do a long stretch for this job. I don’t think Reggie runs the pub any more and doubt that any of my fellow mates will find him in the area when we get out. He’s long gone from his old haunts I hear. NOT TO WORRY, I’m sat here planning my next big job and that it will make me the rich guy I deserve to be – I hope!
Monday 24 January 2011
24th January
Just nine of us met at J Read's today for our usual mixture of eclectic stories. Sue started us of with her story of the passage of a fallen leaf along a river. Sheila reminded us of the firework display in our childhood compared to today. Ann's story was that of a balloon released in the air brought two people together. Sally's strange affair said to be true of a pair of Wellington's in the trifle. John took us on a trip up the Amazon not to find a mysterious tribe this time but to find a treasure but ended up a disaster. Joan's story told of the difficulty of finding a story for a creative writing group. Rosemary stole out of a hotel in the dead of night to go in a hot air balloon. Joan E recounted the fortunes of Strictly Come Dancing. My story was of a romantic meeting of a village girl and a gypsy.
Next month 28th February "Not to worry"
Sue's story won most votes.
‘AND FLOATED . . .’
It was Autumn once again in the mountains. The air was cool and clear, the sun shone and the trees clothing the steep slopes from the tree line down to the deep streams which tumbled beneath were turning to kaleidoscopic colours of pale green, gold, orange and deepest red. It was breathtakingly beautiful and the animals and birds which abounded beneath and throughout this rich canopy seemed to possess an added joyfulness in their Technicolor world.
Low down on a slope, perched perilously on a rocky outcrop above a clear stream, a small sapling covered in leaves of the deepest red swayed gently in the breeze and slowly one of these leaves shook itself free from the twig it had been clinging to so precariously and gently spiralled down and down towards the babbling waters below, where it touched the cool surface gently and settled before slowly sailing along in the current. It twisted and turned lazily and floated slowly along, passing overhanging boughs and ferns as it went. Here, in this benign and calm world, animals and birds came without fear to drink from the shallows lapping the gently sloping, grassy banks. Here a kingfisher dived from one of the overhanging branches, returning triumphantly to its perch with a tasty morsel for its lunch; a shy doe and her half-grown faun bent their gentle heads to slake their thirst, the faun starting back in surprise as the leaf bumped gently against its nose before twirling gracefully on in the current. The faun blinked its huge, soft eyes and gazed after it before returning its attention to the water.
Now the stream was hurrying a little more and the leaf began to twist more urgently until suddenly rocks appeared at either side of the brook and across its path. The noise grew to a dull roaring sound and the leaf spun abruptly to a halt, caught on one of the half-submerged rocks, before being forced over and tumbling down and down in the cascade of water rushing into the pool below. The pool was deep and clear away from the tumbling waterfall and there was no sign of the leaf which had been mercilessly swept over the edge. Then, some distance from the fall, it appeared, bobbing merrily up from the depths and was swept more hurriedly away into an increasingly large stream. This was more noisy and bustling, and the leaf danced along with blurred images of green and gold overhead, the banks now rocky, precipitous and devoid of thirsty wildlife.
On and on the leaf tumbled and now the banks widened and once again became grassy, but the tumbling waters were now strewn with bigger and bigger rocks and boulders and the noise was deafening. The poor leaf was bumped and jammed against boulders, amongst branches and other debris, but somehow always broke free and tumbled on, sometimes upright but more often upside down or rolling over and over in the rapids.
By now the banks were difficult to see on either side and there was no stopping this merciless body of water which hurtled onwards at breakneck speed. The noise grew and grew and the poor leaf was becoming waterlogged, finding it more difficult to bob up into the sunlight after each encounter with an obstacle in its path. The sun seemed to lose its brightness and it was becoming misty and damp, the noise more intolerable by the second. The poor leaf was struggling along in a damp, cloudy world until abruptly everything vanished as it tipped over the edge and was mercilessly driven down and down for endless seconds until the cascading falls hit the waters below and the leaf was seen no more.
Watchers hadn’t noticed this one small wonder of nature as they bobbed in boats a safe distance from the falls, or stood at the top of this spectacular display, huddled in raincoats to keep the spray off. Their attention was riveted on the huge majesty of the waters and the rainbows they produced, and they had no time to see the end of the journey for one small leaf from the trees so far upstream.
Next month 28th February "Not to worry"
Sue's story won most votes.
‘AND FLOATED . . .’
It was Autumn once again in the mountains. The air was cool and clear, the sun shone and the trees clothing the steep slopes from the tree line down to the deep streams which tumbled beneath were turning to kaleidoscopic colours of pale green, gold, orange and deepest red. It was breathtakingly beautiful and the animals and birds which abounded beneath and throughout this rich canopy seemed to possess an added joyfulness in their Technicolor world.
Low down on a slope, perched perilously on a rocky outcrop above a clear stream, a small sapling covered in leaves of the deepest red swayed gently in the breeze and slowly one of these leaves shook itself free from the twig it had been clinging to so precariously and gently spiralled down and down towards the babbling waters below, where it touched the cool surface gently and settled before slowly sailing along in the current. It twisted and turned lazily and floated slowly along, passing overhanging boughs and ferns as it went. Here, in this benign and calm world, animals and birds came without fear to drink from the shallows lapping the gently sloping, grassy banks. Here a kingfisher dived from one of the overhanging branches, returning triumphantly to its perch with a tasty morsel for its lunch; a shy doe and her half-grown faun bent their gentle heads to slake their thirst, the faun starting back in surprise as the leaf bumped gently against its nose before twirling gracefully on in the current. The faun blinked its huge, soft eyes and gazed after it before returning its attention to the water.
Now the stream was hurrying a little more and the leaf began to twist more urgently until suddenly rocks appeared at either side of the brook and across its path. The noise grew to a dull roaring sound and the leaf spun abruptly to a halt, caught on one of the half-submerged rocks, before being forced over and tumbling down and down in the cascade of water rushing into the pool below. The pool was deep and clear away from the tumbling waterfall and there was no sign of the leaf which had been mercilessly swept over the edge. Then, some distance from the fall, it appeared, bobbing merrily up from the depths and was swept more hurriedly away into an increasingly large stream. This was more noisy and bustling, and the leaf danced along with blurred images of green and gold overhead, the banks now rocky, precipitous and devoid of thirsty wildlife.
On and on the leaf tumbled and now the banks widened and once again became grassy, but the tumbling waters were now strewn with bigger and bigger rocks and boulders and the noise was deafening. The poor leaf was bumped and jammed against boulders, amongst branches and other debris, but somehow always broke free and tumbled on, sometimes upright but more often upside down or rolling over and over in the rapids.
By now the banks were difficult to see on either side and there was no stopping this merciless body of water which hurtled onwards at breakneck speed. The noise grew and grew and the poor leaf was becoming waterlogged, finding it more difficult to bob up into the sunlight after each encounter with an obstacle in its path. The sun seemed to lose its brightness and it was becoming misty and damp, the noise more intolerable by the second. The poor leaf was struggling along in a damp, cloudy world until abruptly everything vanished as it tipped over the edge and was mercilessly driven down and down for endless seconds until the cascading falls hit the waters below and the leaf was seen no more.
Watchers hadn’t noticed this one small wonder of nature as they bobbed in boats a safe distance from the falls, or stood at the top of this spectacular display, huddled in raincoats to keep the spray off. Their attention was riveted on the huge majesty of the waters and the rainbows they produced, and they had no time to see the end of the journey for one small leaf from the trees so far upstream.
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