Welcome to the December 2009 edition of Chatline - it has been a very long time coming, but we have finally made it [just]. This is a winter edition full of contributions from new and old friends. We hope you enjoy it and will want to see us again, articles for publication on any subject except political please to [email protected]or [email protected]or leave them at the Health shop at the Norman centre marked ‘Chatline’ thank you. Available on the web at www.milecross.ik.org CHATLINE THE MILE CROSS NEWSLETTER December 2009 December 2009 December 2009 December 2009
Transcript
Welcome to the December 2009 edition of Chatline - it has been a very long time coming, but we have finally made it [just]. This is a winter edition full of contributions from new and old friends. We hope you enjoy it and will want to see us again, articles for publication on any subject except political please to [email protected] or [email protected] or leave them at the Health shop at the Norman centre marked ‘Chatline’ thank you.
Available on the web at www.milecross.ik.org
CHATLINE THE MILE CROSS NEWSLETTER
December 2009December 2009December 2009December 2009
Milecross Memories - Anthony Watson
During the summer of 1970 a few of us took to missing dinners so we could spend more time
exploring the delights [not] of the sewer pipe that ran under Sloughbottom Park, in time others
became curious and would join us on the odd jaunt.
The usual culprits including myself would take those unaware to where the outlet pipe en-
trance was, one of us, Johnny would lead the way, then the new ones with myself and a kid
called Rodney at the rear. In we would march with Johnny giving instructions, ‘Keep up there,
mind your heads and keep who’s in front within site because we don’t want to lose anybody’.
Me and Rodney at the back were giggling away, and as we moved along us two at the back
slowed our step until we lost sight of the kid in front of us, slowly we made our way back to
the entrance.
By this time Johnny would have had enough of the dark-
ness and the smell, he would scream something, then
everybody would also scream as they turned and rushed
back towards the entrance.
Rodney and I knew to stay out of the way as four yelling
hysterical boys emerged from the darkness.
Johnny would casually wander back into the light, he usually shrugging his shoulders wonder-
ing what all the fuss was about.
We managed to get away with this trick a couple of times but like most things we soon got fed
up with the sewer after a while; especially after one time when while we had made our way
further than normal we heard the sound of rushing water, but in reality only a trickle.
Somehow the green keeper on Sloughbottom Park had found out what we
had been getting up to, and on that day he and another had raised the
man hole cover near the pavilion and put the hose pipe down sending wa-
ter down towards us.
We of course panicked, running for our lives we, four of us I think, fell over
a couple of times in our haste to get out, we were not very happy when we
emerged, as two of our teachers, a Mr Beales and a Mr Gibbons were waiting, on the way
back to school they kept their distance, not that I blamed them.
I suppose to the other kids at school we looked like a right sight, so they made us welcome
as kids do by laughing at us.
For myself it was the day that I first became familiar with the sole of a plimsoll.
The last two periods of that day after the break was split up into two lessons, the first
was with Mrs Sharp, the music teacher.
The second period was spent in one of the classrooms with a temporary teacher, she
was a bit of a ‘ditz’, and the class new it and played up something rotten. I giggled along
like the others, but not being able to sit on my chair because of the pain, I did not enjoy
things as much as the others.
Rodney who was also in the class kept blowing his hands, as he and Johnny had taken
their punishment across the palms of their hands.
The teacher could not keep us kids in order no matter how hard she tried, so in frustra-
tion she left the classroom, leaving her handbag/shoulder bag on the desk.
One of the boys, I remember not, went over and as the bag was partially open he de-
cided to have a rummage, while someone kept an eye at the door. The girls egged him
on as he did the deed. Suddenly he turned around, he had a big grin on his face and
something hanging from his finger.
One of the girls went into the bag and pulled out a partial packet of ‘Dr Whites’, I was
stunned for a moment but knew what they were as I had bought them many a time on
my trips to the shops for my mum, but had not really ‘seen one’ as such.
The ‘item’ was thrown across the classroom a couple of times, with boys and girls put-
ting up hands to shield themselves, afraid it may land on them. Suddenly there was a
shout, the girl dropped the packet back into the bag and the ‘item’ was thrown towards
an open window, the first throw was unsuccessful, the second throw placed it hanging
by its ‘tail’ on one of the trees that ran up the side between the school and the houses
next door.
In the cold damp air, their had been some rain later in the afternoon, the ‘item’ grew.
When the teacher entered the room, it not being the temporary teacher we all sat down
and started to behave ourselves, but could not stop laughing because of what was hap-
pening outside.
The day ended well until I got home and my mother smelt
my clothes and hair, she had a few choice words for me
as well.
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ChristmasChristmasChristmasChristmas Question Question Question Question andandandand Answers Answers Answers Answers Q: If Santa doesn't have to age, then why has he become old?
A: He only appears to be old. He's an undercover kid.
Q: How can a sleigh possibly fly through the air?
A: If you were being pulled by eight flying reindeer, wouldn't you fly too?
Q: Why do we wish people a "Merry Christmas" instead of a "Happy Christmas"?
A: The two are about the same, but with "Merry Christmas" an extra twinkle is seen in the eyes.
Q: Why is a Christmas tree that has been chopped down called a "live Christmas tree"?
A: It's dead but doesn't know it, and yet it's having the time of its life.
Q: Why do we wrap our Christmas gifts with paper?
A: Because we like to see surprise and joy (real or kindly faked) in the recipients.
Q: How many gifts can Santa Claus's bag hold?
A: One less than infinity. Why one less? Because there's a limit to everything.
Q: How could a star that is high in the sky lead the Wise Men to a tiny manger on the ground?
A: Wisely, toward the end of their journey they asked directions from someone on the road. Had they
not been so wise, they might have missed the manger by several hundred miles. (That person on the
road has never been identified.)
Q: Is there really a Mrs. Santa Claus?
A: The best way to know for sure is to ask Santa Claus next time you see him.
Q: Why do we hear so many bells at Christmas time?
A: Because so many people ring them.
Q: Why do so many people ring bells at Christmas time?
A: For the poor, for the joy, and because a bell can say what words can't say.
Q: What can't words say?
A: The moment you wake up on Christmas morning, listen carefully. You may hear then what words
can't say.
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What does Santa bring for daddies?
What does Santa bring for daddies,
Too old to want a toy?
Wallets, watches, ties, and sweaters
Don't make for much joy.
What do daddies want for Christmas,
Really, in their hearts?
So perfect that they'd shriek like kids
Once the shredding starts?
Oh, Daddy! Is there anything
You want beneath the tree?
Other than, of course, to watch
Me open gifts for me?
Christmas Bells
I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men.
"Christmas Bells" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow3
If all were now as it was when If all were now as it was when
Christ came to save us all,
And Christmas Day were Christmas Day,
Not some day we recall;
And in the East we saw a star
Exceptionally bright,
And wondered what was going on
That ordinary night;
If God were walking in our midst,
Saying what He said,
And we were not His followers,
But trod where He would tread;
And we were witness to His word
And looked Him in the eye,
And found His message interesting
But too bizarre to buy;
If we were in Jerusalem
And watched Him bear the cross,
And suffered with His suffering
But feared to share His loss;
And saw Him die in agony,
And wondered at it all,
And this were something we ourselves,
Not printed books, recall:
What would be the difference,
Had we known Him that way,
Between the faith we feared to feel
And what we fear today?
QUICK AND EASY FUN CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS
On these pages we have a couple of templates and easy instructions for you or your children to make a reindeer
and a Santa decoration.
NOTE: Details to follow when scanned - Denise Amos supplying shortly - Editor
Ditto
The Jewel
I know that it’s still there, laid out like a beautiful painting.
A serene yet dazzling piece of heaven that I can recall at will.
Now I walk across the stony beach and sit facing the sea.
Drinking in the clear air I let my eyes take in the turquoise and sapphire
expanse of the Mediterranean.
The warm sun lays gentle heat on my body
and gilds the sea with sparkling gold.
Small calming waves lap onto the shore.
Closing my eyes I let the music of the waves soothe my
mind and soul into an unequalled sense of well-being.
Soon I will have to leave this retreat from life but for the
moment I will rest and let the sea fill my eyes, ears and
mind with its ceaseless beauty.
Sylvia Davies
A painting in words of Jevea, a small town on the Costa
It was terribly cold and nearly dark on the last evening of the old year, and the snow was falling fast. In the cold and
the darkness, a poor little girl, with bare head and naked feet, roamed through the streets. It is true she had on a pair
of slippers when she left home, but they were not of much use. They were very large, so large, indeed, that they had
belonged to her mother, and the poor little creature had lost them in running across the street to avoid two carriages
that were rolling along at a terrible rate. One of the slippers she could not find, and a boy seized upon the other and
ran away with it, saying that he could use it as a cradle, when he had children of his own. So the little girl went on
with her little naked feet, which were quite red and blue with the cold. In an old apron she carried a number of
matches, and had a bundle of them in her hands. No one had bought anything of her the whole day, nor had anyone
given her even a penny. Shivering with cold and hunger, she crept along; poor little child, she looked the picture of
misery. The snowflakes fell on her long, fair hair, which hung in curls on her shoulders, but she regarded them not.
Lights were shining from every window, and there was a savoury smell of roast goose, for it was New-year's eve—
yes, she remembered that. In a corner, between two houses, one of which projected beyond the other, she sank down
and huddled herself together. She had drawn her little feet under her, but she could not keep off the cold; and she
dared not go home, for she had sold no matches, and could not take home even a penny of money. Her father would
certainly beat her; besides, it was almost as cold at home as here, for they had only the roof to cover them, through
which the wind howled, although the largest holes had been stopped up with straw and rags. Her little hands were
almost frozen with the cold. Ah! perhaps a burning match might be some good, if she could draw it from the bundle
and strike it against the wall, just to warm her fingers. She drew one out—“scratch!” how it sputtered as it burnt! It
gave a warm, bright light, like a little candle, as she held her hand over it. It was really a wonderful light. It seemed
to the little girl that she was sitting by a large iron stove, with polished brass feet and a brass ornament. How the fire
burned! and seemed so beautifully warm that the child stretched out her feet as if to warm them, when, lo! the flame
of the match went out, the stove vanished, and she had only the remains of the half-burnt match in her hand.
She rubbed another match on the wall. It burst into a flame, and where its light fell upon the wall it became as trans-
parent as a veil, and she could see into the room. The table was covered with a snowy white table-cloth, on which
stood a splendid dinner service, and a steaming roast goose, stuffed with apples and dried plums. And what was still
more wonderful, the goose jumped down from the dish and waddled across the floor, with a knife and fork in its
breast, to the little girl. Then the match went out, and there remained nothing but the thick, damp, cold wall before
her.
She lighted another match, and then she found herself sitting under a beautiful Christmas-tree. It was larger and
more beautifully decorated than the one which she had seen through the glass door at the rich merchant's. Thou-
sands of tapers were burning upon the green branches, and coloured pictures, like those she had seen in the show-
windows, looked down upon it all. The little one stretched out her hand towards them,
and the match went out.
The Christmas lights rose higher and higher, till they looked to her like the stars in the sky. Then she saw a star fall,
leaving behind it a bright streak of fire. “Someone is dying,” thought the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only
one who had ever loved her, and who was now dead, had told her that when a star falls,
a soul was going up to God.
She again rubbed a match on the wall, and the light shone round her; in the brightness stood her old grandmother,
clear and shining, yet mild and loving in her appearance. “Grandmother,” cried the little one, “O take me with you; I
know you will go away when the match burns out; you will vanish like the warm stove, the roast goose, and the
large, glorious Christmas-tree.” And she made haste to light the whole bundle of matches, for she wished to keep
her grandmother there. And the matches glowed with a light that was brighter than the noon-day, and her grand-
mother had never appeared so large or so beautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, and they both flew upwards
in brightness and joy far above the earth, where there was neither cold nor hunger nor pain, for they were with God.
In the dawn of morning there lay the poor little one, with pale
cheeks and smiling mouth, leaning against the wall; she had been
frozen to death on the last evening of the year; and the New-
year's sun rose and shone upon a little corpse! The child still sat,
in the stiffness of death, holding the matches in her hand, one
bundle of which was burnt. “She tried to warm herself,” said
some. No one imagined what beautiful things she had seen, nor
into what glory she had entered with her grandmother, on New-
year's day.
The Little Match Seller a Christmas Story by Hans Christian
IN PICTURES - THE CHANGING FACES OF FATHER CHRISTMAS
CHRISTMAS—TIME FOR A COMMERCIAL?
REAL HEALTH ACTION
still in ACTION
since its official launch in 2005
(situated next door to The Norman Centre)
All welcome to drop in for a chat and take part in the action!
“Stop Smoking” � For those who want to break the habit we have a drop-in service Thursday mornings
where Alison is on hand to offer support. Just ring 0800 8790 098 for details. No smoking allowed!!!
Creative Writing Group � Anyone who has a longing to have a go at writing poetry and/or stories why not come
along to our newly formed Creative Writing Group. We meet weekly on Thursday afternoons 1.00-3.00pm.
Pre-school Music � Musical fun takes place Tuesday mornings for pre-school children accompanied by
their mums/dads with Kerry banging the big drum! Arts for Health Group � On a softer note Marcus tutors a popular Arts for Health Group Tuesdays and Fridays
all at varying levels. Remedial Massage � Why not make an appointment with Robin who offers remedial massage to help get rid
of those aches and pains. Just phone or call in for an appointment. These are just a few of our activities, but there is more, so come on in and meet Margareth and Jackie for a chat.
