Issue 420 RBW Online

Issue 420 15th Jan 2016

2

FLASH FICTION: think, traitor, perceptive, terrestrial, forensic, jitter-

bug, element, indefatigable, diet

Assignment: Book club

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Do you know an elderly person who lives alone?

If so do you have a contact for their next of kin?

Do you know who to contact if there is an

emergency?

Would you know what to do if you knew they

were in their home but you couldn’t raise them

at the door or by phone?

Do you know who their doctor is?

Have they got a contact tin in their fridge?

It’s a trifle damp

in the Radfords.

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Assignment: THE VOICE THAT COULD NOT BE IGNORED

“VENABLES!!!” “Yes, sergeant.” “Stand up straight when you talk to me!” “Yes, sergeant!!” “Number, rank and name?” “22353376 Private Venables, sergeant.” His was certainly a voice that could not

be ignored. Sixty years later when I just think of it I find myself looking to check that my tie is straight and my shoes well polished!

National service was a vital part of my rather peculiar education. Born to a welcoming middle class chapel-going family; Learning, at home- good lessons for life - at Prep School - the reading, the writing, the roots of mathematics and the love of fair play and a lifelong love of the Bible. And then at a rather visionary Public School, learning a respect for a broader range of beliefs and enthusiasms than I had previ-ously known.

And then, “VENABLES!!!” “Yes, sergeant.” “Stand up straight when you talk to me!” “Yes, sergeant!!”

That was certainly a voice that could not be ignored! I was the odd man at the start of my army career. I'm told that when Jeffry

Archer arrived in prison they said to him, “See, you went to a Public School, didn't you. You should be alright in here then!” At Caterham, the basic training depot for the Brigade of Guards I had the same sort of advantage. There were twenty of us raw recruits to each training squad. To each squad one spartan barrack room with ten iron beds along each side and one sergeant who bawled and shouted marching us up and down the barrack square until we were ready to drop.

Most of the squad came from Tyneside - from docker and coal miner families. They talked tough and no doubt some of them were tough. To my innocent ears every other sentence sounded blasphemous. (In those days most swear words were reli-gious rather than sexual) They talked rough and tough about women and booze and everything else though I think that with most of them rough and tough was mainly bluff! But as you can imagine, I who didn't swear, never touched alcohol and 'talked posh', stood out like the proverbial sore thumb.

But of all those twenty men I believe I was the only one who had any experience of living away from home and family. I didn't mind being different and, what's more, I didn't mind them being different either. And so bit by bit we got to know each other and I remember a few weeks on, when I let slip a word which could be construed as a swear word, the whole squad collapsed with laughter.

So there you are - National Service - a vital part of my education. “VENABLES!!!” “Yes, sergeant.” “Stand up straight when you talk to me!” “Yes, sergeant!!” Yes, that, was 'a voice that could not be ignored'.

Doom, Gloom and Daydreams My frown is getting longer,

Something presses on my head. I feel I‘m going under

Pushed by doom and gloom and dread. Every day I pick up paper Where it lays on front door mat,

I read the bold black headlines, Day ruined just like that!

There‘s war, famine and bloodshed, There‘s terror, cruelty, hate.

There‘s poverty and lost causes, Will solution come too late?

Tomorrow let‘s be happy, Great big smiles will fill our day,

News reports exciting, No storm clouds block our way.

Sunshine in the morning, Happy children skip to school, No bad news to grab attention,

This will be our golden rule!

I‘m tired of being dejected, Time to live life to the full,

Paint in glorious colour For time that‘s never dull.

I know that I am a dreamer, but this message help me shout,

Good things make me happy, And that‘s what life‘s about!

Turning Tables

I‘m sitting here dejected but won‘t let it last for long, I‘ll make myself feel better and sing more cheerful song.

My back is aching badly, walking a real strain, But ask me in an hour I‘ll be as right as rain.

Kind people often ask me, ‗How are you today?‘ I try to smile and answer by saying I‘m okay.

They‘d need a couple of hours if the truth be told To hear about my ailments and how they are controlled.

I‘m going down my list, things to lift the gloom, All equipment that I need, close-by in this room.

Perhaps some sort of puzzle will stop me feeling glum, Or drawing, knitting, crochet, banging on a drum. Look at me, I‘m smiling, it‘s the best that I can do

Turn the tables quickly, now tell me, ‗How are you?‘

A New Allotment

The new allotment plot that is actually within my village has finally materialised

after many months and over a month later than planned. The big plusses about

this site are that it has been rotavated, is far less stony than my other site and has

been Rabbit protected, although people do constantly leave the gate open while

on their plots. Rabbits don’t need much encouragement when they can see nice

green plants and unfortunately mine is one of those nearest to the gate, so my

plants are going to be the first to be eaten! I chose a plot next to the parking area,

so that my elderly, partially sighted mother can go up there in the car, get some

fresh air and be near to me. On the down side the site is on a slope, has sandy soil

and seems to dry even quicker than the other allotment site.

Because of the rabbit protection and the fact that the soil has been finely rota-

vated I am putting all the smaller vegetable plants in this plot. The greenhouse at

home has been full to bursting with young vegetable seedlings that I have grown

in preparation for planting. Almost all of them were desperate to go in because of

the delay in opening the site, so when we got the go ahead I started planting im-

mediately. Unfortunately it was the windiest weekend that I can remember for

many years and it ripped to shreds most of my newly planted dwarf and French

beans that were all special, exotic, fancy coloured varieties and battered every-

thing else as well. Hopefully, the lower buds will shoot again, especially as we

had a heavy shower the day after planting. I didn’t risk putting in the runners

beans with their tall wigwam though as it was just too windy. One or two plot

holders did, no doubt swayed by the fact that one local garden centre was selling

trays of bean plants at half price.

The soil is very soft and deep at the moment, so I want to put in some Celery

and some Leeks as it will be easy to plant them deeply and in blocks where the

soil can later be mounded up for blanching. Kohl Rabbi, Sweet Corn, a few Broc-

coli, Swiss Chard and some more Cape Gooseberries are other vegetables going

in along with a few root crops such as Celariac and Beetroot that will benefit from

the loose, soft soil. A very late and much reduced in price, packet of Onions has

also been planted, but many were going soft, so I don’t think they will be much

good. Many other plot holders are also planting onions and potatoes as well as

pea and bean seeds, because most packets of early vegetables have been reduced

by the shops now as it really is getting late for them. In a normal year you might

get away with it and be able to harvest something from such late plantings, but

this year, unless the weather changes dramatically, it is really too dry to be plant-

ing seeds in the ground without a lot of watering.

6

WAY UP NORTH

Way up north the potato lilies grow and the girls say stop and the boys say go and the sky's all green like a gardener's thumb and the girls say go and the boys say come. Down shines the moon like a plate made of lace and starlight twitches from the murky bits of space. Black loom the mountains, icy rush the streams and fairies ride on glow-worms' beams. In through the window, out through the door down to the valley, up to the moor. Shall we go along with them? No, not I; I'm sure that it would end in tears, don't ask me why.

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“ALL THAT

JAZZ”

Won the vote and

will be the next

RBW farce.

ALL THAT JAZZ. CAST OF CHARACTERS

Many of these characters are two dimensional as yet: where you have a physical description in mind please write it in some-where so that we all know about it. AND check these notes for updates and send in any updates please.

Hotel staff free for all to use - opening gambits by CMH. Nigel Thomas Bluddschott – Manager part owner of ‗Hotel Bluddschott'. Married to Winifred. Tubby, balding, brown hair,

brown eyes, 34, 5' 7‖ tall. Tenor voice but wobbly and hesitant unless using a prepared script. Not good at thinking on his feet. If something CAN go wrong it WILL. Smuggles brandy, fags and other taxable goods as a part time job.

Winfred Alice Bluddschott (nee Gray) – Manager part owner of ‗Hotel Bluddschott'. Wife of Nigel. Plump more than tubby, brown hair bleached blonde, brown eyes, 35, 5' 6‖ tall. MUCH more capable than hubby with a hard edge to her speech.

CMH.

Sally Gray. - A MYSTERY WOMAN in any case. Don't know (yet) if she's staff, entertainer (torch singer or fan dancer) or

guest. Youngish woman. Tall, hazel eyes, auburn hair, very capable. I have her earmarked as an ex-QA/WRNS/WRAF

officer who has just completed her time & wants to 'get away from it all'. BUT, she could be something entirely different! Norbert Bunbury. Staff, driver and odd job man at the HB. Was Infantryman – possibly W.O.2 (Sgt. Maj.) or higher. I fancy a field promotion, mid 1918, not a Sandhurst man – with a few gongs to his credit. Tall, brown eyes, dark brown hair. Well built.

Blackleg Bill Bluddschott - the ghost of. AT and CMH Comic relief characters. You never know! These ladies may, possibly, be descended from those who went with Captain Fowlnett onboard 'The Star' in 'Packet to India'. They are middle aged, overweight, often slightly 1-over-the-8 and about to be tented! Vera Accrington -

Gloria Stanley - Dorothy Calcutt (their much younger niece) Ronnie Manservant only lasts a day.

NP Griggleswade (Griggles). Flyboy. Ex-RAF now working for M.I.5 (or something) as some kind of 'Air Detective'. Ch. Supt. Chorlton-cum-Hardy. Previously Colonel. Griggles superior officer in M.I.5

Mossy. Working with Griggles. Windle. Working with Griggles. Jones. Aircraft mechanic works for Griggles.

Wilhelm von Eisenbahn, aka Osbert Lessly or 'Big Shorts'. Khaki Shorts leader. Comrade 'Ironside' aka Joseph. Lenin boys leader. Comrade Plotskie aka Leon. Assistant to 'Ironside'.

ACW.

Christiana Aggott posing as Lady Arbuthnot Christian. Novelist. Actually married to Col. Beaumont Walsgrave but using a nom-de-plume for secrecy; & for advertising purposes about her new book, 'The man who shed crocodile tears'. (This neatly gets the requisite reptile into the plot line)

Arbuthnot Aggott or Uncle Arbuthnot. Head of a Security Organisation (Home Office?) Christiana is working for him.

General Arbuthnot Aggott. Christiana's father and brother of Arbuthnott Aggott. Something in the War Office (as the

MoD (Army) was known then) to do with Counter Espionage. Col. Beaumont Walsgrave. Christiana's sorely missed hubby.

Bright Young Things: Ruby Rawlings, Charlotte Ponsonby-Smythe & Katherine Wallasey. Bright Young Things brothers: Everet Rawlings, Eugene Ponsonby-Smythe & Virgil Wallasey.

Communists et al ACW Comrade St. John. Lenin boys Comrade Bunson-Smythe. Lenin boys

Bro.?? Muckleby. Leader of 'The Workers Party' also something to do with Arbuthnot Aggott. Bruder Wilhelm Bergmann. German trades union leader.

Bro. Kevin Harvey. A Workers Party member. (Changed from Hardy) Ernst Graf von Rockenbaker. Sir John Keithly.

Lord John Markham. Sir Martin Wickham.

SMS. Barnard Hot Sax Player Musician and nice guy. Errol Holiday. Band leader and piano player Tallulah tubby torch singer Errol‘s girl friend, hates Jo-Jo Jo-Jo. Fan dancer from Red Parrot Club, Paris sister of Errol. Hates Tallulah.

Cpt Digby Makepeace — hotel guest Barrington nephew of Makepeace knew Jo-Jo in Paris and knows PoWales.

LF Rooster Pearmaine detective — drunkard

Balsom Fry valet Cpt Hove-Brighton assistant on trail of missing novelist

AP

Boys and Girls Camp‘s characters and storyline Gilbert and Walter

Simon Bligh pack leader Jenny H.B. STAFF LIST. Awaiting names/descriptions and free to use. Head Waiter. Head Gardener. Head Chef. (Unnamed but has been used) Geordie pretending to be a French Chef, as they get paid more. No good at accents. Head porter/Concierge. 'Dell boy'. He knows about the smuggling racket. Wine Waiter/Sommelier/barman. All on the take from the 'duty free' wine.

CMH Helpful ? NOTE 1. If you are going to involve Security Forces (police and military) then please note that there was nothing like the MoD, it was FOUR (4) separate organisations. Admiralty for the Royal Navy. War Office for the Army. Air Ministry for the RAF. The Home Office for the Police. However, Policing was done by County/Borough. The Home Secretary couldn't give orders to the Chief Constable and the Met. was ―Asked to assist‖ if he thought they were required. I would think that Trentby, being a City or Borough would have its own Police force. Just to make things interesting H.M.Customs was – still is - a part of the Treasury. As civil servants, they did NOT have military rank equivalence or titles nor, except for two of the higher grades, dress uniforms. It gets complicated because in 1923 there were a few organisational 'hold-overs' from earlier times and some officers did get working uniforms issued.

NEW YEAR RESOLUTION

I have felt lately rather down, somewhat overcome by an unsettling that prevented a proper eagerness for life. That is, until I visited my friend in her cottage and became engulfed in

peace and enthusiasm. 'Why so?' I hear you cry. 'Did you enjoy a few glasses of left over Christmas Cheer?' No, she had merely tidied up. Carpets stretched unimpeded, ornaments

rose unjostled, and cushions sat exactly where they were meant to be. My own house isn't a bad size. It's the typical 1930s semi beloved of this town and should

be quite adequate for two. However, we are overwhelmed by so much junk that I feel like a

child teetering on the side of his bed while an over-abundance of teddy bears dream comforta-bly on. Our party-semi's dining room – of exactly the same area as ours – could provide a

photo-shoot for Homes and Gardens whilst ours is a sort of tool shed known as The Bike Room. This means we can entertain only really close friends who don't object to raising their

glasses in the kitchen among a clutter of dirty pots and pans . I don't mind entertaining just my best friends, and I wouldn't mind the bike room/tool shed

element either, if it were an efficient bike room/tool shed. If I could say, for instance, 'I need

to hang this picture,' pick up the pack of picture hooks and small hammer which I bought last time such a mood was upon me, and achieve my aim within five minutes. But I can't. I edge

open the door, blench, and immediately set off on the 60 minute round trip to B&Q for I know that will be far, far quicker and less damaging to the mental health than endeavouring to root through the stack of chaos that looms from every corner. I return with a new hammer and a

pack of 20 picture hooks, for of course one cannot buy fewer, and put everything away in a really safe place. And try to quell the nagging voice that says that's exactly what I did last

time. But sitting in my friend's calm and lovely cottage I vowed that 2016

would end all this. When I got home I ordered a set of wall-hung racks and cute little boxes designed to hang from further racks and told my husband they were part of his Christmas present, which meant he had to put them

up. Then I girded my loins and got started. With a ruthlessness reminiscent of historical despots I flung out bin bag

after bin bag of empty cartons, ancient magazines, rusty bits of this and that, over-painted plumbing tubes, ancient burglar alarms, rigid brushes,

punctured footballs, holey wet-socks, oily rags and worn out sandpaper. I found 23 ordinary screwdrivers, two electric ones, three electric drills and more picture hooks than are stocked in any DIY store. Drill bits, screws and

rawlplugs filled an entire wall when hung on the Christmas racks; I found three pairs of pliers and a couple of pristine chisels still in their plastic packing. I also discovered the floor, and was

amazed at its dimensions. My friend came round in the middle of all this. 'What on earth..?' she said, taken aback by

the grime-encrusted person I glimpsed in the mirror.

'Just in time for a cup of tea!' I cried, and led her through my immaculate room. 'Good grief!' she said. 'You must be exhausted. Sit down, I'll do the honours.'

But I was by no means exhausted. I was elated. And I have continued elated. I have cleared the turmoil known as the side hall, the muddle known as my bookshelves, and am half

way through the mayhem known as my wardrobe. If anyone wants a cure for feeling down, I can recommend tidying up. I only wish I'd tried it years ago.

THE CHERRY HAT SOCIETY by

Pauline Walden

Available on Amazon Books: £5.99 Paperback, £1.99 Kindle download.

Free to Prime subscribers.

Storyline: When Adele and her friend Poppy become widows within a year of each other, Adele resurrects an idea

she had suggested many years previously: The Cherry Hat Society, for single ladies of a certain age to set up house together - and she didn't mean a three bed semi....!'

Emma Fothergill has inherited Fothergill's Folly, a crumbling ancestral pile, from her late - not so la-mented - husband, together with his gambling debts, and is keen to implement Adele's scheme. Together, they muster a disparate group of women, all of whom realise that for The Cherry Hat Soci-ety to survive, Fothergill's Folly must be turned into a successful business enterprise. Faced with totally unexpected problems, including dealing

with smugglers in the antiques trade, dubious horticultural practices among the tomatoes and grisly remains unearthed during the restoration process - not to mention mayhem

created by the animal contingent - the women reluctantly accept assistance from the male of the species; thus creating

a whole new set of problems....

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Pauline Walden was born in Cardiff, reared in London, finally coming to rest in Birmingham from where she escaped to

marry a fighter pilot. Having studied music she became a classical musician and later married an opera singer. A grammar school girl she studied at University College

London where, as a mature student, gaining an honours degree in Psychology, after which she discovered a natural

ability in the visual arts, becoming an accomplished painter and sculptor before a chance incident on an aircraft triggered the desire to write... but that's another story!

IF YOU CARE, SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL COMMUNITY CAFE ACW

Something that should be in very town and city in the UK, is the social cafe with sus-

pended meals and hot drinks donated by paying customers.

Zero hour contracted workers with long stretches without work, stagnated part time

low wages, sanctions lasting months, ever greater loss of disability and chronic sick

benefit, mean adults and children suffer ever growing hunger, that means Food-banks are not enough.

There are many ways to feed the poor.

One is to go to your local church if they

offer a social cafe help to the poor of all ages.

Rising Brook Church is offering just such a means to help your own local community in

Stafford.

Remember the poor may not have the money to travel by bus into town for the Foodbanks, which anyway are only 3

vouchers in a year and then cannot help any further, as Foodbanks are emergency food only. Charities cannot cope with the huge hundreds of thousands of tonnes of surplus food from the

food industry in collection, storage and delivery. So most of it ends up in landfill tips despite be-ing still edible.

The EU has these social cafes in abundance open 7 days a week. Only the UK does not feed its hungry, ever increasing in number, and will increase ever more as Tories have stated they will

continue with austerity. And, bearing in mind that when Universal Credit is nationally rolled, it will inflict permanent sanctions on those in work, part time as well as the unemployed. And the

threatened Working Tax Credits last year, become taken over by Universal Credit at a future date, which means less money. Source: Rising Brook Church having a social cafe is on the Facebook page - A small piece of Stafford.

https://www.facebook.com/SmallPieceOfStafford/photos/

a.1430394107250017.1073741827.1430392083916886/1657672797855479/?type=3&theater

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