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!
Monday, 23 January 2012
Monday, 28 November 2011
28th November
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.
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, 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“.
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