Issue 381 3rd April 2015

Pages

14 & 15

2

A single swan flew over, above my head, and

the wing beat sounded for all the world like someone sawing a piece of wood.

Grass is amazing stuff; the ultimate survivor!

Feeling very righteous: bought PEAT FREE compost at the garden centre

How could a garden supplier have sold out of

the big buckets of chicken poo pellets al-ready? Poor planning I say ...

It was on my fifth birthday that papa put his hand on my shoulder and said, ‗Remember

my son, if you ever need a helping hand, you'll find one on the end of your

arm. 'Sam Levenson. (1911 - 1980) Why are the road especially wet and muddy

when a car has been cleaned? Why does it rain while I am out and the washing is on the

line?

Dug up a peanut cache when planting a Camellia. The squirrel won‘t be happy!

Meaning something was all stuff and nonsense

the saying, ―All my eye and Betty Martin‖, was in common usage in the 1950s.

Whatever does this phrase actually mean? Is it a corruption of a Latin phrase: ―Mihi et beate Martini?‖

If so what does that translate as? ... Who was Bishop Martini and what was to be given and

by whom? It seemed a good idea to do some investigation ...

Random Words: trip, steal/steel, ridiculous, souvenier, heater, hol-

low, fey, fair, barrage, master

Assignment: Betty Martin

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It's all too much It was cold. It was too cold to snow, and far too cold for hail, and the fog that

should have been rain sulked, and hid in the clouds. It was so cold that the trees in the forest, whose narrative convention turn it

was to explode due to the low temperatures, failed miserably. It was, as they said, too cold to talk. They had to say things and then thaw

the words out over a candle to hear what was being said. Despite all this there appeared in the town square a bubble of light from

which rode someone who, except for: a pair of fashionably ripped denim pants, a T-shirt claiming 'Librarians do it with a book mark', a knitted hat and scarf, a

heavy duffel coat, and being mounted on a horse, was on foot and totally na-ked.

―That T-shirts has got to go,‖ said the horse. Even calling it a horse was over-

stating the case. An approximately horse shaped bag of bones untidily shrink wrapped to size was nearer to the truth. ―I can live with the denims; and the

trainers, even if they are Brilliant Orange and Screaming Blue, but that shirt isn't something I can take too.‖

―Well, as we're on the subject of sartorial excellence, I don't like the way you've got those ribbons in your tail and mane either!‖ The rider replied. ―Stop

nagging me, Dobbin!‖ ―Dobbin!? Dobbin! I'm not a dobbin. I am a trained warhorse by the name of

… errm … Reginald, but you can call me Reg. That's who I am, and I didn't put those ribbons in anyway. my last owner did it. It's a bit of a problem is plaiting ribbons with hooves.‖

―And you talk too much,‖ the rider reposted, ―whose ever heard of a warhorse that could talk?‖

―Well,‖ she sighed, ―I suppose it's my own fault for buying you at that 're-homing sale', I looked in your mouth and at your feet, but I never thought to

listen to you.‖ ―My last owner that was.‖ Reg explained. ―He was a wizard and got fed up

with talking to himself. A quick spell and 'bingo', speech and sentience in one swell foop. Not that it did me much good. He got drunk one night, fell in the

castle moat and was eaten by the guardian tadpoles. He didn't do them much good either, they all died from terminal indigestion. Now what are we here for?

A feat of daring do? Rescuing fair maidens, slaying dragons, exterminating wicked magicians?‖

―Derring-do isn't my scene,‖ he was told. ―Anyway, Dragons are out of sea-

son, Wicked Magicians are dealt with by the Magicians Guild Enforcement Branch, and any Maiden, fair or otherwise, who skipped the self-protection les-

sons and needs rescuing has run out of luck. I'm Collecting Fines for Overdue Books.‖ The rider sounded fed up. ―It's my turn to be Martha the Carrier, the Late Book Collector.‖

The horse turned to look over its back, ―You mean,‖ he said, ―that you inter-

rupted my nap in that nice warm stable, ran me through a displacement spell

and everything, just to collect books? Oh no, it's all too much!‖

5

SPRING, THE SWEET SPRING From SUMMER'S LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT

BY THOMAS NASHE (1600)

Spring, the sweet spring, is the year‘s pleasant king, Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing: Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! The palm and may make country houses gay, Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day, And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay: Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit, In every street these tunes our ears do greet: Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

Thomas Nashe (November 1567 – c. 1601) is considered one of the greatest

English Elizabethan pamphleteers. He was a playwright, poet and satirist. He was born the son of parson William Nashe and Margaret (née Witchingham).

While staying in the household of Archbishop John Whitgift at Croydon in October 1592 he wrote an entertainment called Summer's Last Will and Testament, a

"show" with some resemblance to a masque. The plot describes the death of Summer, who, thinking to be dying, reviews the performance of his former servants and eventually passes the crown on to

Autumn. The play was published in 1600. Nashe is remembered for three short poems, all drawn from this play and fre-

quently reprinted in anthologies of Elizabethan verse: ―Adieu, farewell, earth‘s bliss,‖ ―Fair summer droops‖ and ―Autumn hath all the summer‘s fruitful treasure.‖ In 1593 Nashe published Christ's Tears Over Jerusalem, a pamphlet dedicated to Lady Elizabeth Carey.

Despite the work's apparent devotional nature it contained satirical material which gave offence to the au-thorities: Nashe was briefly imprisoned in Newgate. Through the intervention of Lady Elizabeth's husband

Sir George Carey Nashe was released. He remained in London apart from going to the countryside to avoid the plague – a fear reflected in the play Summers last will and Testament, written in the autumn of 1592. William Sommers, whose comments

frame the play, was Henry VIII's jester. It includes the lyric: Adieu, farewell earths blisse, This world uncertaine is, Fond are lifes lustful joyes, Death proves them all but toyes, None from his darts can flye; I am sick, I must dye: Lord, have mercy on us.

In 1597 Nashe co-wrote the play The Isle of Dogs with Ben Jonson. The work caused controversy for its "seditious" content. The play was suppressed and never published. Jonson was jailed; Nashe's house was

raided and papers seized but he escaped to the country. He hid in Great Yarmouth for a time. Nashe was alive in 1599, when his last known work, Nashes Lenten Stuffe, was published. He died in 1601.

Metal Detecting By Lee Fones

Other day went metal detecting

To see what I could find

Was dressed in proper bling

Now ready to unwind

Placed batteries in their slot

Switched on my machine

With the land I did plot

Check signals on me screen

Swooping low, it did bleep

It was an iron sound

I let it continue sleep

Underneath the ground

Iron’s always trash

It’s not worth the dig

You could get extra cash

I’d rather something less big

Like a really nice ping

Usually that’s a coin

Or a pigeon ring

Sometimes leg still adjoin

Sometimes it’s a nickel noise

Old token or some lead

Sometimes I stop and poise

Shout “shotgun cartridge instead”

So many trials and tribulations

Within this fantastic hobby

Digging up old foundations

Maybe hallway or a lobby

Picture Credit: Gaz Williams

Hands of Old (or Old Hands) Hands , they take a lot of rough treatment around the farm, my own father lost two fingers as a lad

in the blade of a horse drawn mowing machine. Another chap who does a bit of my machinery main-tenance, (the sort of jobs where ball bearings are likely to run all over the yard or where its difficult

to get access to), he has lost quite a number of fingers, another lad who left school at the same time as me he lost three fingers on one hand in the first few months of leaving school, and left him with a little finger and a thumb.

Myself I had a bit of a close shave when I had the skin off the end of my index finger ripped off,

about the size of a sixpence, the chunk of skin at that time I thought it would have made a good tap washer, (the old tap washers were always leather) I thought I had lost that finger print for ever.

It‘s taken a couple of years for it to become tough enough to use as normal but now five years down the line its still not as thick skinned as the other nine. And yes I do have a finger print again but do

not know if it is identical to the one that was torn off.

A Hand Can Tell Your Fortune

A hand can tell your fortune, and fingers for the prints,

Nails to stop them getting ragged or they look like splints, To have a scratch or comb ya hair, reach in a bag o mints,

Useful for when ya want to eat, ya shepherds pie and mince.

Everyone has long arms, and what is on the end,

To reach around the corner, in the middle bend, Fingers at the far end, for feel on these depend,

To hold them all together, a hand and palm extend

Hands are thin, hands are fat, some are large or small,

Most are there to match the body, or writing with a scrawl, Picking up and carrying, everything's a bloody maul,

Big hand for goal keepers, to grip and hold the ball.

Put ya hands together, and in appreciation clap,

With ya hand closed tight, on a front door tap, To congratulate a friend, on the back you slap,

Sitting in ya armchair, hand clasped in ya lap.

You hand in your home work, but it‘s hand outs that ya like, It‘s hands that you steer with, when out on ya bike,

And it‘s hands that you sing down, holding a black old mike

When you look at them together, they both look alike.

There's a left hand and right hand, and each has it‘s own side, When ya want to rest them, in ya pockets hide,

Writing's only done with one hand, to the pen applied, Other holds the paper, only there to guide.

Hands you hold each others, a helping hand to give, Sharing out and a caring, with your hand relive,

A whole lifetime together, whole lifetime we live, Holding hands together, each other must not outlive.

I have lost count on how many finger nails and big toe nails went black and dropped off after being pinched or hit with a hammer, or in the case of ya foot, trod on by a cow. Talking about finger nails

and toe nails, you often get a ridge across your nails growing out of the cuticle (if that's the right word) after some deep emotional shock.

You see it some weeks after calves have been dehorned, they get a ridge growing out round the top

of the hoof, the same with horse's hooves, it marks the time of stress and you can tell how long ago it happened by how far to the end of the nail or hoof it is. Stress marks can be seen on cattle with

horns, and you can always tell how many calves a cow has had by the number of rings or ridges round the base of the horn.

The first numbering of cattle that father did was with a set of branding irons, not the ones the cowboys used on the hides, but smaller ones to burn the number into the

horn or when we started to dehorn the cattle they were branded on the hoof. Hoof branding was okay, but the hoof grows and the number had to be re-branded in

again each year, and not only that you could only read it when the hooves were clean.

The first ear tags we had that had the herd number on as well was when we went TB tested and got an all clear herd, and every cow had a tag. The boundary fences had

to be double fenced, and we got a bonus on the milk produced on top of the farm gate price. The milk cheque came around the 20th of the following month, as it did for

everyone, and was a long strip of type written paper, with only one line with the milk delivered and the price given and the total, now we had a second line on the chit with the bonus for being tested.

It bore no resemblance to the milk chits that come now all spit out of a computer with

a couple of lines for additions and umpteen lines of deductions and penalties.

So have a good look at ya hands, see all the calluses, the scares, the ragged nails, the lines across the palm of your hand, the lumpy knuckle and crooked thumbs, the hard skin, and appreciate all the work and abuse that they have been used for over

the years. Burnt and scalded, cold and frozen, they are electrocuted on the fence, and are ripped on the barbed wire, they scratch when you itch and they comb ya hair,

they write your cheques, and are put forwards to receive, they lift your pint, and they feed you, what more could you expect from a loyal pair of hands.

This is Winston the bull, no he

never did have a ring in his nose,

and you would not want him to

treading on ya toes.

10

Gardening Tips for April

I hope we have seen the last of the snow, but I do remember that a long time ago,

when we had the garden centre, we did have snow late one year and it killed off all

the Runner Bean plants in June in gardens and allotments all over. Every one was

rushing round trying to buy some more plants, or seeds. Lets look on the bright side

though and hope for a good Summer.

My Cosmos and tomato seeds are doing alright, but it is too early to put them out-

side yet, although they should be alright in a cold greenhouse now. If you only need

a few bedding plants of things like Geraniums, Begonias, or Impatiens, it is quite

cheap to buy modules of small plants in their own little cells and pot them on into 3

½ inch pots. With some of them this is often easier than trying to sow and germi-

nate tiny seeds and then having to prick out tiny seedlings.

In a previous year Alan planted Beetroot seeds individually in small modules as an

experiment and when they were planted out in a bed there was no root disturbance.

It was always said that there might be, so for that reason root vegetables should

never be transplanted. I don’t know whether it would work with Carrots, or Pars-

nips, but some of the garden centres seem to think so because we have seen Carrots

for sale in little trays ready to transplant. It is fine with all the other vegetables like

Onions, Leeks and of course Cauliflowers, Cabbages, etc, but it does save a lot of

seed sowing and thinning out and it might even work out cheaper for you in some

cases. By the way Onion sets can be put in now as well as Spring Onion seed and

Runner Bean seed can be put either in trays, or directly in a Bean trench that you

should have prepared earlier, but don’t put ready grown Bean plants outside yet.

There are numerous offers on bags of compost about now, but watch the sizes as

different makes vary a lot on the bag sizes and you will also get some containing

better mixes of compost that have water retaining crystals in them. These are ideal

for hanging baskets and tubs and they really do hold on to water better in a dry

Summer. I have used the water crystals since they first came into use and were sold

for commercial use only in about the 1980s. Now they are sold in small packs eve-

rywhere, so that you can mix your own compost if you prefer.

There was a lot of trouble with Potatoes a few years ago and Potato

Blight because of all the wet, so it is best not to grow them in the same

place as the spores will remain in the soil for many years. If you have

to grow Potatoes in the same spot you must choose a Blight Resistant

variety. Some of the “Earlies,” that weren’t resistant grew alright last

year though, as they matured before the Blight took hold. Alan grew

Pink Fir Apple and they were fine, although the tops did get infected

just as the Potatoes were ready to dig. They look very odd as a potato

and are a bit knobbly, but the taste is good.

Well that’s all for now.

Cheerio. Frances Hartley

Random Words: Wheel, painter, woodland, competent, spoonerism, pernicious, strictly, sent.

―Wheel in the easel,‖ said the painter to his assistant, on it was a competent painting, in oils, of a

woodland scene. The picture was painted in a strictly pre-Raphaelite style. The artist thought a pernicious imposition to force him to paint in a style he did not like, still it paid the rent. The paint-

ing had been finished and now was being varnished. The painter and his assistant chatted about this and that, the subject drifted on to spoonerisms. ―Poor old Daisy Crosser has a bad time with them you know,‖ said the assistant.

―What about the baker, Phil Tart,‖ replied the artist. ―I feel sorry for the vicar, Sam Dinner,‖ laughed the artist.

Solution for the hard of thinking: Daisy Crosser – Craisy (Crazy) Dosser Phil Tart –Til Phart Sam Dinner – Dam Sinner

Assignment: It’s all been too much (the writer is nine years old and it is in the 1950s)

This week has been all too much. I went to stay with Grandma at the seaside, my bedroom was

what she called the ‗Box Room‘. She was right there, in the room were boxes of all sizes and shapes full of goodness knows what. My bed could just fit in next to the wall and under the win-dow. When I when I wanted to get into bed it was like mountaineering, I climbed over boxes of old

women‘s magazines, ―they will be valuable one day‖. I reckon they will be valuable when there is a paper shortage or someone is building a bonfire. Still with a bit of ingenuity I re-arranged the

boxes into a sort of medieval castle wall with holes in to shoot out of and those bits of the top of the wall to hide behind. I even managed to build a sort of tower.

In the day time I was allowed out to go to the beach. At one end of the beach were some rocks and rock pools. I used to catch green crabs with a pebble, a bit of string and a limpet. Gran stayed behind and ran her bed and breakfast business. She called the residents her ‗guests‘ even

though they paid 7/6 for the privilege. Sometimes they took me to the swimming pool and bought me ice cream, not Gran she was tight with her money. I had a great time freedom and no responsi-

bility. Everything was going well until one evening when I was Robin Hood or sometimes Ivanhoe in my bedroom castle. What was the problem? Well Grandad came back from the pub having won on the

horses. He reverted to his childhood and we had a great time. He besieged the castle and I hit him with a rolled up newspaper and he did the same to me. We were having a great until the great

dragon arrived. Gran was not pleased at having her magazines trampled, she shouted a lot and used words I only had heard in the playground. Grandad and I were in the doghouse. All would

have been well if the tower had not collapsed on her. She weighed at least 20 stone, what with the books and stuff there was a lot of weight there. The floor collapsed and she fell through on to the guests‘ bed.

That is why I am now on the train going home and Grandad is sleeping in the shed.

Are you a Poldark fan? I loved it last time and I'm loving it this time! Sunday night at nine o’ clock, I know just where I’ll be,

Wine and chocolate by my side curled up on the settee.

I’m waiting for a handsome man to enter my front room,

Good looking in a rugged way, lifts spirits from the gloom.

Of course, I’m talking Poldark, long black curls and brooding eyes,

In tricorn hat and great coat, along Cornish coast he flies,

Astride his strongest stallion, he really looks the part,

A sad and lonely hero, home to break the female heart.

Some say he’s like Mr Darcy or Heathcliffe playing rough,

How many stared wide eyed as he swam out in the buff?

Yes! Tonight I will be waiting, a glass of wine in hand,

To see the bloke on screen, high definition and on demand.

I’ve had my own Ross Poldark, sadly now just a print on the wall,

He was bought as a Jack Russell puppy, but on long legs he grew rather tall!

We bought him in Morley Market , about forty years ago,

The name of our little black puppy same as man in a T.V. show.

Once again, I’m talking Poldark, long black curls and brooding eyes

A handsome man on the telly, who reminds me how quickly time flies.

Aidan Turner (born 19 June 1983) is an Irish actor. He is best

known for his roles as Kíli in the three-part The Hobbit and John

Mitchell in the supernatural drama series Being Human. Notable

television roles include playing Dante Gabriel Rossetti in Desperate

Romantics, and Ruairí McGowan in The Clinic. He also portrayed

Luke Garroway in the film adaptation of The Mortal Instruments:

City of Bones in 2013. Turner also portrays Ross Poldark in the 2015

BBC adaptation of The Poldark Novels by Winston Graham.

Publicity Image Wikipedia

Random Words: pendulum, asphodel, ladder, languid, perfect, indication, morph, gated, belief, danger It‘s odd how the pendulum of life can swing from calm and pleasant to disaster, and suddenly everything is turned upside down, - quite literally in Gerald Small‘s case. It had been his belief that the role of Bunthorne in Gilbert and Sullivan‘s comic operetta, ―Patience‖ would catapult him into the big time. He was so full of this thought that he failed to see the danger that awaited him on stage right. Act One: - a garden, fenced off and gated. Enter one Reginald Bunthorne, aesthetic youth, carrying an asphodel and absorbed in one of his own poems. Swooning young women watch him approach the picket and try to open the gate. It sticks. He wrestles with it. Suddenly it gives. Gerald lurches forward, his tights laddering from top to toe. The flower flies up in the air, along with Gerald. Off comes his long blond wig and in an instant, he morphs from a handsome young poet to a middle-aged, balding bank clerk. The newspaper headlines the next day proclaimed the following:- ‗Comic opera given a new spin by lead man‘.

www.forwardpoetry.co.uk

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Writing a Short Story ... some thoughts ...

What are the basic building blocks of a short story? Where do you

start? Are short stories linear? Do they have to start at the begin-ning?

In some ways short stories are like writing a novel they, too, need:

An introduction: to include characters, milieu, season, weather A trigger: the point of a story that sets off the action — this doesn‘t have to be in the first sentence ... But, it could be. Action: things happening leading to the top of a climactic arc: the crunch point

Dialogue: characters need to interact verbally — stories happening in the head of one character are seldom easy to write or read The focal point: the most intense moment of the story Aftermath: the story winds down to a natural resolution — or perhaps not Always remember short stories don‘t have to be linear. You can chop your story in half and start from that point for impact. You can move backward or forward from any point. The best stories often start slap bang in the middle of the action. Readers like to work things out for themselves, they don‘t

need to be spoon fed. Short stories come with space issues — every word has to earn its place. E.g. For Sale: A baby‘s first shoes, never worn.

RBW Short Story e-Collection 2015: Theme: Time and Tide Submission deadline is April 30th 2015 Submission Guidelines: Font : Times New Roman 12pt No fancy formatting, no attachments, no tables, use black ink. Single spaced. Do not leave a line between paragraphs. Spell and grammar check your work in English UK, not English US. First line indent 0.5 do not tab in. Use ‗ not ― for speech. Jpgs accepted only if the writer owns the copyright. Length 2500 words absolute maximum ... anything over 2500 will be deleted. This is not a competition, rather it is an opportunity for our short story writers to showcase their work and there is no fee to submit. Only one submission per person: there is no guarantee that all pieces submitted will be used and pieces will be subject to editing if necessary — they will not be returned for prior approval. RBW Contributors should submit in usual way. GOOD LUCK!

A warm RBW welcome to short story editor Anne Picken. Anne is an experienced writer, poet and accomplished playwright

PLEASE

Don’t leave it until the last

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Get a wriggle on and

send your story in asap.

Thanks ...

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