26th Nov 2012

Everybody there today and all stories were exceptionally good as I stayed attentive throughout the morning without drifting off. Ann started with a widow who seemed to get a new life when she lost her husband - should you be worried Bert? Sue recounted a story that could perhaps come from a previous life when a young squaw finds a protector for herself and her baby. Brian had s Black Monk running errands to set up a meeting for some mysterious goings on at Runnymede - I wonder what that was? Pat was still thinking of the turmoil in having a new carpet with all the other purchases to go with it. Hope no one spills the tea on our next meeting there. Joan Read got lost in a dictionary and the different meanings to words. Rosemary got tickled by a feather. My effort involved a horse and memories. Joan Devon wanderings as a child. John had us in tears with a death stalking a young woman. Sheila remembered riding a bike as a child. Sally scared us all with such a horrible description of an abused young girl by a smelly, stained teeth rapist who held her captive but she went to heaven in the end with a young brave. Rosemary and Sue won and as Rosemary hasn't mastered a computer and the typewriter is defunct here is the two page image of the story. Rosemary says sorry it is not in her best handwriting but she hadn't expected to win.

Next meeting 28th January "uneasy feeling"

Click image to make bigger

 

Gently

I lay Two Feathers gently on the springy turf, tickle his tummy and smile at him as I tuck the bright blanket more closely around his warm, soft body. He wriggles as he opens his mouth wide and gives me that heart-stopping toothless smile, then blows bubbles through his pursed lips as he kicks his legs in their confining wrappings and waves his podgy fists in the cool mountain air. He’s five months old now and thankfully healthy, with no sign of the ailments often suffered by young children in our village. I must make sure he gets plenty of nourishment as he grows. My milk is still plentiful and I must gather nuts, berries and roots to keep me healthy. This is difficult for me as my husband, Little Eagle, was killed before Two Feathers was born and I have to rely on handouts from other members of the tribe until a new brave, probably an older man without a squaw, who has children needing a mother’s care, will step forward and make me his woman. One or two are already eyeing me speculatively, but I don’t want them; I want to give all my time to my own baby until he is at least walking and able to look after himself a little.

I hum as I start gathering the ripe berries from the surrounding bushes. The trees are already clad in their fiery Autumn colours but the air is still warm in the sun, although it turns chill once it slides behind the mountains. I must hurry so I can return to the lodge before it gets too cold for Two Feathers. I continue to hum as I work, perfectly content in this peaceful setting.

I set the full basket of berries down and take up another to start gathering nuts. These are also a good source of food and will sustain us during the Winter months to come. As I work I glance up and there in front of me, screened by the bushes, is a deer, watching me but seemingly without fear. Her soft brown eyes regard me steadily for some minutes before she lowers her head and commences feeding, seeming to enjoy the companionship of our joint endeavours, accompanied by birdsong from the trees above.

I have almost filled my basket when my companion jerks her head suddenly, looks fearfully around, then turns and plunges into the denser forest, but not before looking into my eyes with an urgent message, it seems to me. I immediately glance all around, scrabbling at the same time to collect my baskets and lift Two Feathers into my arms. As I turn to flee I hear the dreaded sound of pounding hooves and the ear-shattering noise of the hated bugle of the men in blue.

I dart along the narrow trail leading to the village, then hesitate as another thought screams in my head – “Not that way. They must be at the village already. I can hear the awful noise of battle and screaming of the women and children.” Where can I run? I instinctively turn and plunge into the forest after the deer. Yes, there is the narrow track she must have followed. I run on, my breath coming in uneven gasps. I drop the baskets and concentrate on keeping my baby close, hoping he will not cry out, but he seems to think this is a new sort of game and crows in his cocoon of blankets as I race on.

The heart-wrenching sounds from the village begin to fade as I draw further away, but I am now climbing more steeply and my breath is tearing at my chest as I try to draw more air in. I risk a glance behind me, but no-one is following. It is as I turn to face uphill again that the huge figure carrying a rifle steps onto the trail in front of me and an arm shoots out to grab me. I let out a despairing cry, half scream, half moan, and know my fate is sealed.

It is now many moons later, I muse, as I sit on the stoop at the front of the cabin, gazing contentedly out upon the vista spread before me. We are high up in the mountains and it has been a harsh Winter, but Spring has arrived at last and the trees below me are wearing their new green leaves like featherlight cloaks which sway gently in the warm breeze. Two Feathers is crawling towards me and struggles to stand upright at my knee, burbling his nonsense as he does so. His smile now shows several even white teeth but is still a delight.

He turns as he hears the soft footfalls behind him, looks up at the tall man stooping to swing him aloft and gurgles happily, “Papa”.

22 Oct 2012

Only eight of us today I started with a story of the lost opportunity to change history. Joan told of Margaret looking back on her life. Sally's true story of very bad DIY. John A bank employee regretting a well planned robbery gone wrong. Sheila post war playing in dens. Rosemary dreaming of falling through the sky. Sue went for a ride on a broomstick.

Next month at Sue's "gently" Ann got most votes with this ghostly tale.


Quite an Idea Becky and I had been friends since childhood. We had grown up as next door neighbours and had always done everything together - going to the same school, joining the same youth club, leaving to start work at the same time and both going into office work, although to different firms. I was an only child and loved the fact I had a readymade friend nearby, but Becky had a brother just a couple of years older. We all played quite happily together when we were younger, but as we grew up Chris went off to join his own mates. We always considered ourselves as one big family though and always joined together for any family celebrations or outings. Chris went off to university and met Aimee. He started bringing her home for the odd weekend and we all got along famously. When they both graduated they got jobs teaching near her home in Somerset. No one was very surprised when they announced they had got a flat together and were engaged to be married. She asked Becky to be bridesmaid and we all went to the wedding in the pretty village church at Winford near her parent's home. Her family made us feel very welcome and it was like having another extended family. Over the next couple of years Becky and I went to visit Chris and Aimee several times at their flat in Bristol and it was on one of these occasions that they told us they were expecting. A few weeks before the baby was born they moved into a small house nearer her family. Jessica was born in July and the proud parents brought her down to see her relatives and courtesy aunts and uncle. I was thrilled to bits when they asked if I would be godmother along with Becky when she was christened. The christening was in October and Becky and I arranged to go up for the weekend. Her parents were going up for the week before to give a hand with the preparation for the christening - at least that was their excuse, but everyone knew it would be baby-worshipping week. As we had never been to the new house before we thought it would be quite an idea to make a route map as it was a bit off the beaten track.

Things were going very well until we came to the diversion sign. This would be fine if we could work out where it dropped us back onto the original route. The road was certainly very narrow and winding, although the scenery was very nice. We appeared to be approaching a small village called Moreton. There was a very picturesque water mill and I managed to get a shot of it on my phone as we went by. There was quite a lot of activity further along with everyone seeming to be heading towards a large building. It must be celebration of sorts, as everybody appeared to be in fancy dress. It was almost like being on a film set in the 1940's or 50's. They were all going into the gate of Chew Park house and farm and there was obviously a celebration as we could see tables laid out. Everyone seemed to be carrying baskets of fruit and vegetables. I asked Becky if she could stop while I took a few photos.

A young man smiled and waved very obligingly. We waved back then went on our way. It wasn't long before the diversion ended and we realised we weren't that far from our destination. Later that evening when Jessica was tucked up in bed and we were having a meal with both sets of parents, we got talking about our journey up. We explained that we had been diverted and were concerned we would get lost. When asked where the diversion was we said we had come through a pretty village called Moreton and we'd passed a lovely old water mill. Everyone was all dressed out in 1940's and 50's clothes and appeared to be going to a party at a farm called Chew Park house. There was silence before Aimee's mother said that wasn't possible. Moreton had been flooded in the early 1950's and was at the bottom of the Chew Valley Lake. I said I had taken some photos on my phone and took it out to show her. Again there was stunned silence and a sharp intake of breath as she looked at them before handing the phone to her mother. "This is Moreton and the water mill is Stratford Mill. The celebration at Chew Park is the Harvest Home supper. It was held every year when the harvest had been brought in and that is your Dad waving." "It's not possible," repeated Aimee's mum. Looking at Becky and me, Aimee's grandma said, "You must have slipped into a time warp. That's the only explanation. Grandad would have been so proud to have been here for his first great grand daughter's christening, that he did the next best thing and sent her a phone message."

24 September

Only eight of us at Brian & Pat's on a wet morning. Notwithstanding it was an enjoyable few hours. Pat having won last month started her story first all about the Para-Olympics. Not having watched I'm amazed that there was a blind football team who played with a ball fitted with a bell. Ann's was a sad tale about a family tragedy involving a car crash. Sheila two girls friendship. Joan going to New Zealand and meeting someone they knew. Joan Read talking voices in the head and angelic beings. John an ex unable to let go and sending malicious phone calls. Brian a war story and Lord Haw Haw. My story won this month. Not really a story just a comment on today's changing times.

That Voice Again

 Have you noticed how much speech has changed over our life time? Listen to any sound recording made during the last war and hear the difference from today's offerings. It used to be clipped and energetic spoken with a vigour that is lacking today. You won't hear that voice again. Now you hear regional accents with almost no voice training at all. To get a job in the industry like TV or radio a regional accent is essential. The weather forecasters are some of the worst offenders where even their use of the English language is maltreated. Clouds described as lumps is one of their many linguistic crimes. Does it matter that we don't try to be the best we can be in all things? I notice that in China the government in particular dress in Western suits and ties they have come a long way from the time of Mao when everybody wore a loose fitting standard garment that looked like the normal wear of a peasant.

I some times think about spending money on clothes but then when I get into town making my way to the shops I look around and see what everybody else is wearing, holed dirty jeans and shoddy looking coats and that was just the women. So I put my wallet back until I get tempted again to spend money. Although I'd rather spend it on toys such as Kindles and tablets – not the pill variety.

 Mind you I did see an old TV recording of a BBC announcer Peter Haigh – do you remember him with his well modulated voice – he was interviewing an American actress and an up coming starlet and he was fawning over both of them in such a treacle voice I felt sick. It was embarrassing. He of course was dropped in the sixties when the new fashion of representing the dumb down masses became the norm. This reminds me of McDonald Hobley I wonder what happened to him? Just had to look him up he was still working in the industry in 1987 when at the age of 70 he died. Another remarkable thing is in 1956 he was tempted to leave the BBC for ITV by a salary 5 times greater that the BBC was paying him – a £100. So that means he was getting £20 a week up to then. How can our intelligent betters who run the country allow the £ to be devalued in such a way. To just print paper money disregarding its value or intrinsic worth is a crime against ordinary people and a guaranteed way to make money for those who have control of the banks.

 How the world has changed I see more and more people are pursuing complaints in the courts against bad Medical practise mostly against GPs. Doctors used to be treated with fawning respect perhaps because they expected it and spoke curtly to patients but no longer although they don't call us mates - well not at the moment. One reason it is changing is due to the help of the Internet we know almost as much as them.

Perhaps despite it all, we do have that, the internet to console us and we can take pleasure in listening to old recordings of how things used to be.

Next month "Quite an idea"

27th August 2012

Brian started off with a widower coming to terms with new fangled things like electric lighting. Ann gave a life time information about a family with dark secrets. Rosemary continued last month's story about the fear of flying. Sally wrote of a spooky passing away in the mountains. Sheila recounted one of the holidays in France. John an adventure story about a naval hero. I told of an intelligent school boy who ended up homeless. Joan Read the man who accepted being best man. Sue all about walking the dogs. Joan E Sam wanting to play with Dan


Pat won again - it's how you tell them Pat.

Next month "That voice again"

He Understood

Its rather hot today, 85+, and the garden has had a lot to put up with. Its the middle of August and the tomatoes are still green, even the plant we left in the greenhouse in a grow bag isn’t happy. Also, the red peppers didn’t bother to set, the runner beans are hopeless...we ’harvested’ three. What a joke. The six tomato plants at the end of the garden have developed potato blight would you believe! Of course they can’t go in the compost so another trip to the tip.

Where are the butterflies? We used to have Peacocks with their wings flat out on the roof of the shed. I creep down the garden to the three Buddleia trees in the late sun and what do I see? Two white cabbage butterflies and a few bees. What's going on.

We managed to pick over four pounds (in old money) of blueberries in three pots. We had covered them in fleece to stop the birds having a feast. They would eat them all in one day. As they have outgrown their pots we intend to plant them in the disastrous tomato bed for next year.

The begonias finally decided to bloom and the hydrangeas are putting on a show. Some of the roses are blooming for the second flush. Its water, water, water.

We are supposed to have one of those new meters, but for some reason part of our road has been done but not ours, so we can water to our hearts delight.

I keep watching for hummingbird moths. No luck. I have spotted them in previous years during a hot spell. Testwood Lakes meadow is a good place to see them, before they cut it down.

Earlier this year, we lost two boxes of blue tits. Apparently, the caterpillars were washed away with the heavy rain so they starved to death. How cruel. Nature doesn’t have a heart.

On the other hand, we have a flock of 40+ house sparrows, a nuthatch, great spotted woodpeckers...one even brought her twins to visit. There's various tits, blackbirds and a robin with two offspring.

We have finally out foxed the squirrels by purchasing a new feeder with bars! They are so entertaining, hanging by their toes and steeling peanuts, lifting lids and chewing at the wire. Now they can only get at the wild mixed seed.

The apple tree isn’t happy either, we will have to take some remedial action next year. We had three peaches and could only eat one. The ‘giant’ sunflowers are only three feet tall. Never mind, the seeds will be welcome.

I will fill up the water bowls now that it has cooled down. Spotted a teeny frog with his googly eye on me , he understood what I was doing, and patiently waited.

This weather seems to attract strange insects. I have been bitten by who knows what. The first bite had me on anti biotics and the second on anti histamines!

Roll on winter.

23 July 2012

A really nice day with the morning spent in Joan's garden sheltered from the sun under several parasols.
I read Sue's story first a retelling of a poor family in the mid west USA. John kicked off next with a faulty kidney saving tourists' lives. Sheila retold how her family were entertained at Eling during the torch ceremony. Rosemary's story was about a young girl about to marry who fell out of her bed. Joan's heroine rebelled against her family taking her for granted. Joan E told how missing a bus stop is scary. I related how going for a walk led to meeting many people. Brian - missing deeds for some land and a murder.
Pat got most votes and her story follows.

GET OFF


That “Go Compare” ad on TV drives me up the wall. I don't know about you, but I can't reach the remote control fast enough! Usually my husband nods off with his hand on it.

The good news is that yesterday, a masked assassin blew him up with a big bazooka! Ha Ha. I'm not the only one then.
The assassin? None other than former tennis star Sue Barker. I do hope she was well compensated. Apparently the ad people do listen. That makes a change. There must be thousands of people like me, who enjoyed the action, and, whats more important actually paid attention to the insurance comparison company message. Maybe they are on to something, in a kind of back handed advertising campaign.

I always believed it was easier to get a message across with humour.

Following that thought, they could string up the bankers in a High Noon type of way, when they go on about their safe banks.

Have you watched our Parliament in action? First off, the House is half empty. They can't all be at very important meetings can they? The only time it seems to be full is Prime Minister's question time or when there is an important vote.

Now its the Olympics. Apart from the security fiasco, the ticket fiasco and the strikes, it will be alright on the night, as they say.

Hooray for Bradley Wiggins. Now, get off your bike and save the Olympics!

Next month 27th August at John's "He understood"

25 th June 2012

Smaller group than usuual with one guest Rosemary's sister who came to see what we got up to. Sheila started off with a graphic account of her gall bladder operation. Ann described the various reaction to a group of people who were suddenly brought together when the lift got stuck. I wrote about a plane in trouble while flying in Alaska. Joan gave us a run down on our tradional summer weather. Joan Read all about abuse and in this case the fatal revenge of a desparate wife. Sue told us about the trip she just made to an Island bird sanctuary and the gypsies with their horses.

Next month at Joan & Jack's, "get off"

Two winning stories John and Rosemary's.


Rosemary's story
WERE FEW: I guess nobody relishes being robbed, unless of course they are pleased to be rid of the thing that's been stolen! THEN they would surely heave a contented sigh of relief to see the back of it!
But when our home was burgled some years ago we were absolutely devastated to find that precious totally irreplaceable heirlooms such as watches and jewellery which had been handed down the generations, together with my antique engagement ring, eternity ring and other jewellery had all been taken. That day I'd come home from work, walked in the jemmied front door, and quickly realized what had happened. Then I'd heard bumps upstairs and feared that the burglar was still in the house. It was my instinct to run out of the house, but the police told me to stay on the phone until they arrived. My instinct was STILL to run, because the phone was situated in the hallway at the bottom of the stairs, and this would be the burglar's only escape route if he WAS upstairs!
A few minutes later the police came, searched the house including the loft, but no burglar was found. Some weeks later a police woman brought the one and only item recovered from the robbery. It had been discovered in a pawn shop, and led to the burglar being identified, charged and convicted. The unrecovered items were compensated under insurance, but of course no amount of money could replace their sentimental family value.
As I said I guess nobody relishes being robbed - yet when I was about 6 years old I WAS absolutely overjoyed when someone robbed me whilst on holiday with my parents at the seaside. For no longer would I have to wear that awful itchy hand-knitted woollen swimming costume. Even though there were few people on the beach that day, my costume had been stolen from the rocks behind my Dad's deckchair where it was laid out to dry. Oh the joy to be rid of that hated swimsuit which when it got wet in the paddling pool or sea became heavier and heavier until eventually the bottom of it sagged and stretched down to cover my knees, and the top ended well below my waistline!
That for me was a very fortuitous robbery indeed, for when we got home my Mum drew a rough pattern, bought a length of plain green material and several cards of fine shirring elastic, and on her old hand-operated sewing machine made me a waffle-like swimming costume which was the height of fashion back then in the mid 1940s. I guess not many people relish being robbed, but I'll NEVER forget how thankful I was to have that horrible, itchy, woollen swimming costume stolen all those years ago!


John's story

WERE FEW
JIMMY CAME FROM A LONG LINE OF FISHERMEN, WHO SPENT THEIR LIVES FIGHTING THE ELEMENTS IN THE COLD UNFORGIVING SEAS AROUND THE NORTH ATLANTIC. THEIRS WASN'T A GLAMOROUS LIFE BACK IN THE FIFTIES. IT WAS ALL ABOUT BRINGING HOME THE COD. HE WAS NOT THE BRIGHTEST AT SCHOOL, BUT HE KNEW THAT THE LIFE OF A FISHERMAN BECKONED AND HE DIDN'T REALLY NEED TO LEARN MUCH WHILST HE WAS THERE.
HIS DAD GOT HIM HIS FIRST BOAT, "THE SPIRIT OF THE SEAS", WHEN HE LEFT SCHOOL, AND WHILST IT WAS SUMMER TIME, HE SOON BECAME ACQUAINTED WITH THE HARDSHIP OF LIFE ABOARD. IT WAS TOUGH FOR A BOY OF 15 TO HAUL HIMSELF OUT OF BED AT 30'CLOCK IN THE MORNING, FEELING, AND BEING SEASICK , BUT OF COURSE THAT WAS THE LIFE STRETCHING OUT BEFORE HIM. SURE, IT WAS GRIM, BUT THE COMRADESHIP MORE THAN MADE UP FOR THE HARDSHIPS HE WAS TO SUFFER IN THE FUTURE. COMING HOME AFTER A WEEK AT SEA FELT GREAT FOR JIMMY. HE TOOK PART IN THE UNLOADING, AND SECRETLY, A SENSE OF PRIDE ENVELOPED HIM, KNOWING THAT THEY WERE ALL HELPING TO PUT THE FISH ON THE TABLES OF ENGLAND. BUT THE BIG BONUS FOR HIM WAS WHEN THE CAPTAIN CALLED THEM ALL INTO THE BRIDGEHOUSE, AFTER THE FISH WAS AUCTIONED, AND PAID THEM ALL THEIR SHARE OF THE CATCH. JIMMY COULDN'T BELIEVE, THAT HE WAS HOLDING £200 POUNDS IN HIS HANDS. YES, THIS WAS HIS FIRST BIG PAY DAY. THE TRIP HAD BROUGHT IN A BIG CATCH AND AS A VERY JUNIOR DECKHAND, JIMMY GOT HIS PROPORTIONATE SHARE.
WELL, HE COULDN'T WAIT TO GET HOME TO SEE HIS MUM, AND SURE ENOUGH SHE WAS WAITING, NOT EXACTLY WITH OUTSTRETCHED HANDS, BUT CERTAINLY WITH AN EXPECTATION OF A SHARE OF HIS WAGES. THE BOY SETTLED ON GIVING HIS MOTHER HALF OF HIS EARNINGS, AND THEY BOTH APPEARED HAPPY WITH THAT ARRANGEMENT. HE WAS NOT DUE TO SAIL AGAIN ON THE "SPIRIT" FOR A FEW DAYS SO HE SPENT ALL HIS MONEY ON GOING TO THE CINEMA AND BUYING NEW CLOTHES. MIND YOU, MOTHER MADE HIM SAVE SOME OF HIS CASH, AND THE POST OFFICE BOOK APPEARED FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MANY YEARS.
LIFE COULDN'T BE BETTER JIMMY THOUGHT, AND AFTER A COUPLE OF YEARS, HE WAS CONSIDERED TO BE A GOOD CAPABLE DECKHAND. HE WAS RELIABLE, HARD WORKING AND WAS THOUGHT TO BE ONE OF THE BEST. THERE WERE FEW BETTER THE SKIPPER TOLD HIM. SO WHEN THE CHANCE OF BECOMING A LEADING DECKHAND CAME UP, HE GRABBED IT WITH BOTH HANDS. THE RESPONSIBILITY INCREASED OF COURSE, BUT WITH THAT CAME A MUCH BIGGER PAY DAY AFTER EACH TRIP, AND JIMMY, BEING QUITE AN ASTUTE LAD, STARTED LOOKING TO THE FUTURE, AND HOPED THAT ONE DAY, HE COULD ASPIRE TO SKIPPERING HIS OWN BOAT.
THE COD WAR STARTED TO AFFECT THEM, BUT THEIR SKIPPER WAS A VERY EXPERIENCED MAN WHO MANAGED TO AVOID CONFRONTATION AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE, ANS BY AND LARGE THEY CAME HOME TO HULL WITH PRETTY GOOD CATCHES MOST OF THE TIME.
A COUPLE OF YEARS LATER JIMMY BEING A SENSIBLE CAREFUL LAD, HAD SAVED A SIZABLE AMOUNT OF CASH. HE WASN'T THE SORT OF FISHERMAN WHO SPENT ALL HIS TIME IN THE PUBS. HE TOOK THE PLUNGE AND INVESTED HIS SAVINGS IN A GOOD LITTLE BOAT THAT A FRIEND OF HIS WAS SELLING, DUE TO RETIREMENT, AND WHILST IT LANDED JIMMY WITH A HUGE DEBT, HE CONFIDENTLY WORKED HARD AND MANAGED. HIS BOAT WAS CALLED "THE SUNRISE”, AND WITH A GOOD CREW HE BECAME ONE OF THE TOP SKIPPERS IN HULL. IT WAS FUNNY REALLY BUT HE COULDN'T STAND FISH AND NEVER ATE THE STUFF.

28th May 2012

Nicest day of the year so far very hot and we sat out in the garden until the sun got too strong and we had to move to the shady veranda. Brian started as he won it last time wrote a mysterious unidentified footprints that led a merry chase. Sheila's involved the Chelsea Flower show. Pat poor old Tom with a sore head. Sue youngest daughter. Joan recounted our nature watch. My story where I say I'm no hypochondriac. John dived into the underworld filled with gangsters. Ann about the ending of the world for some Romans. Sally a wife becomes aware of infidelity and plans revenge.

Next month "were few"
Rosemary won with

COULD NOT IDENTIFY

Mary's heart sank as her husband John said "That was Mum on the phone. She's had the 'flu but is still feeling very weak and shaky. I'm sorry love, but I think we really ought to go and spend Christmas with her as she's asked, and help her all we can to get properly well." Mary knew there was no point in arguing. After all it DID make sense to go as John said, but she knew that whatever help SHE tried to give would either be refused point blank or soundly criticised by her dear mother-in-law as not good enough!
Right from the moment 20-odd years ago when John had taken her home to meet his parents, his mother had made it crystal clear that she didn't like or approve of Mary one little bit. John had tried to reassure Mary that his mother had never approved of ANY of his girlfriends, but that beloved HER and was determined to marry her whatever his mother thought or said.
Over the years his mother's animosity, outspoken criticism and downright nastiness had continued, but for John's sake Mary had bitten her tongue and put up with it, despite the deep hurt it caused her. It would have been easy to shrug it off as the typical mother-in-law joke so often used by stand-up comics to raise a laugh. But it was no laughing matter to live with the painful situation year after year.
Even though John's work had taken them to live in another part of the country, his mother had continually demanded John's time and frequent visits for the flimsiest of reasons, and now she was obviously determined to ruin the plans they'd made to spend Christmas with friends. Although Mary was dreading it, she agreed that it was right for them to go and do whatever they could to help John's mother recover from the 'flu. But when they arrived they were surprised to find the patient perfectly fit and well, full of beans, and as cantankerous towards Mary as ever!
On Christmas day it self Mary expected to be forced to eat Christmas pudding which John's mother knew she disliked, yet even so delighted in piling it onto Mary's dish and watching her struggle to eat it. BUT NO! To her amazement John's mother said "I know you don't like Christmas pudding dear, so I've made you a special chocolate mousse. And I've laced it with brandy, because you won't be having the brandy sauce."
Mary thoroughly enjoyed the dark chocolate mousse, VERY generously laced with brandy, and something else which she could not identify. But just a few days later when the pathologist was conducting Mary's autopsy, HE found that he COULD and DID identify that extra ingredient in the mousse as the lethal poison which had killed Mary!

30 th April 2012

One or two rambling commentaries instead of stories this month perhaps due to the title Tried to Explain. My story was one all about teaching computers to those who could and those who couldn't understand. Joan E was about a housewife under pressure trying to get a job. Pat was using her brain and memory problems. Rosemary on the impossibility to explain especially about the aliens. Joan R and childhood with a cricket theme. Sheila all about Bobby from a child to adult when he married a pretty girl and live ever so happy. John wrote about the crooked players who play cricket. Sally, intake to the military by a young recruit.Ann a broken leg and it wasn't fair. Sue's story involved U3A activities.

Brian won today.

TRIED TO EXPLAIN.
Derek Hobby was sitting in his car with his grand children, over
looking the valley. It had been raining, when all of a sudden the
children screamed, "look granddad, a rainbow, how are they made?
He tried to explain, all about the sun shining through the rain drops, but
they just looked at me with a puzzled look. So I told them a story I had
heard many, many years ago.
A long, long time ago when everything was starting out, and even the
stars were so young that they were still going to school, there was a
special class which was everyone's favourite, and having by far the most
fun.
The class members were a bunch of rather mischievous
Fairies, Leprechauns and colours from Black and White through Red,
and Blue, Yellow and the rest. They hoped to grow up to be wonderful
colours, and this is what they were training for.
As well as funny and joyful, the colours were very naughty
particularly Black and White who were always late for class.
One morning the clouds were up there practising the their raining,
but they had been raining so long that they'd gone and created a
storm so bad that everyone had become so saddened and depressed at
having so little light. The only solution was to appeal, as a last resort to the mischievous
colours.
The authorities went straight to the classroom, it was early, and as
ever Black and White had not turned up. The colours were told to
hurry, they ran down the corridors out of the door and flew up into
the sky where the clouds were waiting. On their way up
RED, ORANGE, YELLOW, GREEN, BLUE, INDIGO, and
VIOLET, left a damp trail behind them. After a while the colours
returned to their classroom, every one was praising them for they had
lifted the gloom from their lives. The fairies asked the colours if they
would look after a pot of gold for them. The colours put it in a corner
of the room.
One day when the colours were out in the sky practising, the
leprechauns hid the pot of gold, and would not tell the colours where
they had hidden it. Even the fairies begged the leprechauns, with no
luck. All they would say it at the end of a rainbow.
So one day some one will find the pot of gold.


Next month's title. "Could not identify"

26th March meeting

Ann's story covered the second world war where Joe spent most of it as a prisoner of war before returning to his family. Rosemary told of all the effort to arrange her mothers beans to find out later it was bind weed. Pat gave an account of being raided while taking a shower. Brian told us of the time when Spaniards raided our coast line kidnapping and killing but not burning down village pubs that supplied them with drink. Sheila all about the pleasure of gardening. John's tale about the bad lad Billy and his horrible fate. Sue cleaning up for the arrival of the creative writing group. Joan Read about a sister named April because she was born on first of that month. Joan all about the delights of gardening.
Two winners this month Sally and yours truly.

Sally's story
Curled around, plenty of scope here I thought but that was two weeks ago when things were different. Since then I had an eye test and the Optician told me my cataracts had
worsened and a nerve from behind my ear was the cause of pain down my jaw and face.
Next day I awoke with a bruised and swollen right eye. I was unable to wear glasses
because they were the cause of the pain.

I looked out of the window and saw this thing on the concrete outside, it was a dirty white
colour and it looked like something a dog had deposited. I cannot cope with that right now and I hoped that one of my sons would visit me later and remove it

Meantime I had to telephone the singers and let them know that one of the songs that we
would be singing in August for the U3A, was going to be on TV later today.
I rang about three singers, no problem. Then the next two the answer phones politely
asked me to leave a message. As it was Sunday morning I knew the next two singers
would be in Church. So I tried the next number and a young man answered and by this time I was struggling with eye strain and I had forgotten who it was that I called.
So I said “Could you please tell me who I am speaking to?” He replied. “Who do you wish to speak to?” There was a long pause and I said,” I don’t know“. There was silence. “Is there someone there that sings?” I said timidly. “Oh do you want Bernard? Dad someone for you” he called.
Oh! We did laugh about it.

I looked out at ‘the thing’ again, this time it looked like a thick stick without the bark curled around it, perhaps a dog had got fed up carrying it and dropped it.. So I got on with my French homework.

When I read out my French homework to the class I was quite pleased with it. I answered any relative questions and I was relieved when it was over. Then one of my friends who adores her cat talked about his lovely little habits and then it came too question time. I asked her if her cat had been muted instead of neutered so consequently I had silenced him instead of asking if he had had the snip. The French teacher was delighted with this malapropism and asked if she could use it. My day was in ruins.

I went home feeling dejected, and looked out of the window at ‘the thing’ and it had changed dramatically. I was keeping a friend up to date with ‘the thing’ so I rang her and said “It looks like an animal foetus I can see three bent legs an ear and two brown eyes. The skin is shredding from it in little patches.”

Just then a knock came to the door and the warden came in to have a chat. So I told her
about ‘the thing’ on the step and as she went out to look at it. I offered her a bag as protection for her hand. “What is it?” I asked. “A rather large piece of grubby tissue“ she replied as she picked it up. “How long have you been worried about that?
Sure enough where it was twisted and dirty in places it did look as if it had legs and two eyes. It is not my fault I am getting old.

My Story
Curled Around
Liz's finger curled around her wedding ring and gently moved it up and down as she studied the flour spotted recipe book open at a menu for making little frosty iced cakes. "Butter, for greasing 1 quantity Easy apple fruit cake, uncooked, 2 tbsp apricot jam 500g pack natural marzipan 500g pack ready-to-roll white icing 16 fresh cranberries, bunch rosemary , broken into small fronds". "What did that mean, never mind all will become clear" she thought., "50g caster sugar 1 egg white 50g icing sugar approx 1m gold ribbon".. She had all the ingredients. Just then a groan came from the lounge followed by another even louder groan of despair. Liz dusted her hands and went into the other room. Her husband John was lying on the sofa where he had plonked himself down after a terrible night of discomfort. He certainly looked unwell and his face pinched from the pain and his colour a tinge of yellow. "I've called for an ambulance" he said dropping the phone onto the floor. Liz picked it up and put it on the sideboard. "What did the doctor say" Liz said. John cursed aloud "I said I called for an ambulance I didn't speak to the doctor."
"I don't expect they will be long then" Liz said and went back into the kitchen tomorrow the grandchildren were coming around for tea. That was Lucy and Miranda and her mother Lilian so she would need a lot of cakes. "Heat oven to 180C/fan 160C/gas 4.Done that now what next Butter eight 150ml ramekins and line the bottoms with circles of non-stick baking paper. Divide the cake mix between the ramekins, transfer to a baking sheet and slide into the oven. Bake for 30 mins until springy and dark golden brown". A loud knocking on the front door interrupted her work. "Who could that be?", she thought. "Let them in Liz" John moaned, " I can't get up."
Liz made her way to the front door brushing her hair back as she went giving her a rather dusty appearance.. The two burly ambulance men moved swiftly in carrying a collapsible stretcher. "Where is he? "In there on the settee." Liz left them and returned to the kitchen.
"Melt the jam with 1 tbsp water and brush over the top of the cakes. Lightly knead the marzipan and shape eight golf ball-sized pieces." Liz was not familiar with this recipe and it was hard concentrating especially with the interruptions.
One of the men called out for her to come to the lounge where they were about to take John who was now almost comatose out to the ambulance. "Are you coming with him" they asked. "No I can't I have cakes to cook the grandchildren are coming for tea tomorrow." Both paramedics looked at each other and one said "OK Mrs we'll be off then. I expect you'll see him later then." "Oh yes I'll come later tell him I'll bring some of the cakes ."
She closed the door after them and returned to the kitchen her fingers absently plucked at her wedding ring she glanced at the offending object and then smiling she pulled it off her finger and placed it on the drainer. It was such a relief.


Next month "Tried to explain" 30th April

27th February

At John's today all 10 of us, 9 with stories and one with a joke as he could not think of a story even though he had a whole month to do it. Still it was a good joke if I can remember it.

A husband thought his wife didn't care much for him, when he suffered a heart attack she wrote off for an ambulance.

Nil points in a French accent.

Sue being last month's winner started the ball rolling with memories of horrific bloodshed and ambulances during the war. Joan Read a second start for Christopher. John fresh back from far distant lands recounted a story about Arabs and black gold. Ann's story involved a fallen tree. Sheila a boy who felt proud when he let an ambulance go by.
Pat was seeing fairies in a river clinging for their lives from rising flood water and a large dog's mouth. Joan gave us brief history of ambulances.

Sometimes I think I'll win this month as my story seemed so good to me and then get no votes today when I wasn't impressed and almost started another story I win outright.

Next month 26th March and the story is about "curled around"

The ambulance
Jim hated flies, he killed them with a well aimed blows of a rolled newspaper if he didn't have a fly spray handy or his fly swatter. Never did know why he was so fixated and nor did he know. The first time I met him was when sitting in the college food hall I felt a blow on my back I turned in surprise to find a red faced over weight youngster swatting a fly that had flown near my neck. He did apologise for hitting me so I forgave him and asked why was he worried about one fly. One fly is too many he said still determined to finish off the now downed flyer. Whack he hit once again and gave me a triumphant grin. He introduced himself I told him my name was Dave and we hit it off right away. He had the same interests as myself mostly into sport and despite his seemingly over weight appearance he was good at most sports although football was his main one.
He seemed normal enough in most things except for his intolerance of flies. I met his family later on when we went to his house, a large mansion compared to my own home. His parents who were both accountants were very up tight and the house was spotless even when I unexpectedly went with Jim so perhaps that is why he had this quirk in his personality.
It wasn't the last time he caused chaos chasing a fly. We went together to a bowling alley once for an afternoon's entertainment and that turned out different to what we expected. We met up with some other lads from the college, not ones I would normally keep company, they were to say somewhat quick to take offence and as we were beating them it looked as though things might turn rough. Jim by then had worked up a sweat and became a target for a persistent house fly turning Jim from being laid back to a volcano of action as he swiped and swatted like an angry desperate twirling dervish. The meanest of the other players took umbrage and pushed Jim over and that led to a real brawl as I joined in. It was quite good fun until the manager and two burly stewards ushered us out of the premises with the instructions never to set foot in there again.
Today I was outside Jim's house I came over to see him as he hadn't gone to school and I heard that he was sick. I was in time to see an ambulance with the doors open parked in the driveway. Just then the ambulance attendants brought out a very sick Jim on a stretcher followed by both parents who looked desperately worried
What happened to Jimmy I asked is he going to be all right.
His mother gave a hurried explanation, she explained her son had gone down with a fever two days ago and it had got worse during the day and the para medic had confirmed that his fever was caused by a septic bite from a horsefly.

23rd January 2012

Full house eleven in all and many different stories but four votes for Sue made that the best story.
John started with a story of Abdul coming to the UK and serving us ready meals as an alien. This was prompted by the recent story of the main Chinese restaurant in Lyndhurst found to be employing five aliens and being fined.
Joan Read related the confusing instruction with computers, My story was about an Eureka moment. Joan, a tale told about the end of war as experienced in the country. Rosemary a sad story of a girl's father committing murder - that wasn't as it seemed. Brian his early adventures as a merchant seaman. Ann a life time story and the retirement present of the reunion of his brother. Sally continued with the childhood sweethearts and their forbidden romance. Pat recounted the story of a girl going missing in a foreign country. Sheila about her early experience of starting work and how older workers ignored her. Sue's story is here:

‘YOU GET THAT …’

“You get that, you loser? I’ll be back for the cash at closing time, so you’d better tell your old man to have it ready.” With these threatening words, he turned and thrust his way out of the shop, kicking over one of the displays of tins as he went, leaving them scattered over the floor.

Gerry stared, mesmerised, at the rolling tins. What was he to do – they didn’t have the money Ginger had demanded for so-called protection? He wasn’t too bothered about Ginger, but he knew he was only collecting for the Big Man – and he was scared to death of him. He’d seen what he’d done to his Dad when he’d tried to stand up to him. Dad now sported a scar down one side of his face, pulling his eye down at the corner, and walked with a permanent limp. He wasn’t much good in the shop since then, either, so here Gerry was, in the front line, so to speak.

The more he thought what he should do, picturing his Mum and Dad in their flat above the shop, trying to make ends meet, the angrier he became. As he served his regular customers, speaking cheerfully to them and wishing them a “Good day”, he seethed inside until, during a lull at dinner time, he let out an explosive breath and used a swear word his mother would have blanched at, then spun about, put the closed sign on the door and lifted the receiver of the phone at the back of the shop. He’d cook their goose, he would!

He dialled the Big Man’s number and when he answered, put on his most intimidating voice and, after saying who he was, continued, “If you want to do a deal, you’d better come down here yourself. I’ll only deal with the organ grinder, not his pet monkey!” It’ll be in your best interests and’ll be the turning point in your life, I can assure you.”

Much to Gerry’s amazement, the Big Man agreed and a time was set, just before Ginger was due to return.

Gerry set about laying the groundwork for this momentous meeting, meticulously rehearsing what he would say and do. He hadn’t much time and the shop remained closed while he made his preparations. Eventually, all was ready to his satisfaction and he reopened the shop, everything returning to its normal routine.

As closing time approached, Gerry saw a large black car draw up and a burly man levered himself out. He had on a long camel coat and a black homburg hat. He sported a black moustache and puffed on a huge cigar as he strolled towards the shop door. One hand was thrust into his coat pocket, which bulged ominously. Fortunately there were no customers, so Gerry rushed to the door, flipped the sign to ‘closed’ once more and ushered the Big Man in, closing the door behind him.

Then Gerry proceeded to bow and scrape his way backwards to the counter and the till, stuttering and stammering as he went. The Big Man just said, “Don’t mess with me or you’ll be sorry. What was your wonderful plan for making me more money, then, punk? Come on, give me the money first, then we’ll see whether you’re just as much a loser as your old man.”

Gerry saw, out of the corner of his eye, that Ginger was now approaching the shop door, so he stuttered and pointed, edging round the counter once more, to open the door. He then closed and locked it, returning again to the back of the shop and opening the till which gave its customary “ping”.

This was the signal everyone had been waiting for. The door into the back room flew open and three men charged out, two of them police officers, truncheons at the ready, and the third in plain clothes. The latter shouted, “Okay boys, grab them,” to his men, then addressed the Big Man.

“We’ve been trying to catch you for the past three years.” He waved a small recording machine at him as he said, “Now we’ve got the proof we need and I think you’ll be behind bars for a pretty long stretch. We can shut your whole operation down now and leave the local shopkeepers to make an honest living without your so-called protection.” The Big Man and his accomplice, looking angry, disbelieving, then crestfallen by turns, were handcuffed and led away by the two policemen, as Gerry held open the door for them, starting to shake as the full implications of what he had done and what might have happened sank in.

Turning to Gerry, Detective Green thrust out his hand. “Well done young man; we’d never have done it without your help. Everyone else was too scared to take any positive steps to end this protection racket. You’ve shown them how it’s done. You were very brave, young man. I’m glad you were helping your Dad out during the holidays. Good luck with your 11+ next term!