My Admin and Financial Manager recently told me a sorry tale of a bloke who for years had run the local scout troop. He delighted in teaching his boys the “backwoods” skills that scouts were taught in the days when they used to wear those lovely broad brimmed hats and khaki “shorts” that ended just below the knees.
Over the years however, PC and the dreaded “Health and Safety” have taken their toll. Scouts were always proud to wear their sheath knife on the belt; after all, they were very useful for separating sausages before confining them to the camp fire frying pan. But sorry chaps – knifes not allowed any more.
Camp fires? Sorry, they are dangerous as well; something/someone may get burnt! And so it went on!
This chap had enjoyed years of passing on skills to his young charges but eventually he decided that onerous rules and regulations were spoiling the big plan so he jacked it all in. How sad and what a loss society has suffered from losing the likes of him and others like him.
So here I am in my mid sixties reflecting on my time in the cubs. I never made the scouts. Scouts? Big hard boys they seemed then.
Once a week us nine year olds would dress in cub uniform (make sure the woggle was adjusted correctly) and assemble at the wooden hut down by the gas works. We learnt essential skills – tying knots, singing songs, first aid and respect for Akala,
The end of the session was always a game of some sort. Far and away the favourite was “British Bulldog”. To play this game the entire troop minus one gathered at one end of the hut. "Minus 1" remained in the middle of the hut and on the command of “British Bulldog 123” the troop would run to reach the opposite end of the hut. It was the job of the bloke in the middle - Minus 1 - to “bring down” someone, anyone, any way. It often involved pain but nobody cried. So now there were two in the middle and “British Bulldog 123” led to another charge ending with perhaps three or four in the middle.
Eventually, most of the troop would end up in the middle and the final charge would be of a suicidal nature with the runner/s ending up beneath a pile of bodies. We got bruised and bloodied but we thought it the most enormous fun. How sad it is that today’s kids cannot experience the rough and tumble of life as we knew it in the fifties because the powers that be consider it dangerous.
And while we are on the subject, Wednesday afternoons at my school was sports afternoon. If it was wet the rugby match was cancelled and we had boxing in the school gym. We all took turns at wearing the communal boxing gloves and knocking seven bells out of each other. Bullies often had their covers blown at these sessions and suffered the humiliation they deserved.
By present standards this sort of upbringing would be deemed barbaric but it hardened us kids for what life had in store and gave us an edge that seems sadly lacking in today’s kids.
I would love to bash on about the decline in educational standards since those days and compare the requirements of university entrances then to those of now but no………….I must leave a little gristle to chew on for later.
Byeeeee
Wednesday, 16 June 2010
Monday, 31 May 2010
310510 - A trip to Kent
As we get older we are both becoming more reluctant to fly so we decided a few years ago to seek out and discover more of the UK. Neither of us knew Kent particularly well so we decided to go and investigate. For the first few days we based ourselves in Canterbury. We strolled round the city in the spring sunshine and admired the quaint streets and historic buildings but undoubtedly the highlight of our stay was the cathedral itself.
In the grounds of the cathedral we found these ruins.
I think these remains maybe part of the original Augustine priory which pre-dates the cathedral. Whilst touring the cathedral we struck gold. I was chatting with a guide who told me that a visiting choir would be performing within the hour. At the prescribed time we made our way to the Quire (like a vast nave with stunning acoustics!). For the next hour we were bewitched by the angelic voices of the Concordia University concert choir from Edmonton, Canada led by Joy Burke. They were nearing the end of a performing tour in the UK and we were very lucky to be at the cathedral when they sang. Lumps in throats? – Of course!.......A very moving experience and I feel privileged to have had this wonderfully unexpected experience. I took the opportunity of switching on the movie cam for much of the performance and I have included a video clip of the first item in their concert. This is hosted by Youtube and if the video is juddery you should be able to hover your cursor over the Youtube movie screen and get a popup tab that offers to download the video for you - way to go! Here is the link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-2vYntnfVfQ
Before checking into our second hotel in Dover we called in at Whitstable to get a flavour of the area.The town is very picturesque and old plank clad buildings particular to this area can be seen in every street. I snapped this one while standing on a board walk with my back to the Swale estuary.
Whitstable is to oysters as Cheddar is to cheese so while there I had a fishmonger open a half dozen for me. Sitting on some fishy pallets at the side of the harbour I enjoyed one of the finest marine delicacies that this country can provide. They were delicious with a piquantly bitter aftertaste not found in the normal supermarket offerings.
I can never pass a charity shop without checking out the books (and waistcoats???) and in one (an ex bakery) this beautiful old bakers oven had been retained as a feature.
Next stop was our Dover hotel – Hubert House. We liked this place very much. The young owners were very helpful and friendly and we were intrigued to discover that this hotel has a long tradition of accommodating visiting channel swimmers from around the world. The best thing though was our room – posh it most definitely was!
The next day we decided to visit Broadstairs but enroute I spotted a sign pointing to RAF Manston Spitfire & Hurricane Memorial. We spent the next hour enjoying what turned out to be a museum and memorial to the fighter pilots who operated from here in the last war. A smashing old bloke called Ron performed his role as guide and answered all my questions with an infectious enthusiasm. Thank you Ron.
Eventually made it to Broadstairs where this bird was determined to be the centre of attraction.
On the way back to Dover we decided to go and have a look at Reculver. The twin towers have always been a navigation landmark and are all that remain of a medieval church.
The church was built on the sight of a Roman defensive shore fort and the ruins of the fort can still be seen behind the towers.
Next day and we are at the cinque port of Sandwich. We were quite taken by this lovely historical town and spent some hours just moseying around and soaking up the atmos. This old toll gate adjacent to the river bridge was known as a barbican.
Another historic feature is the Fishergate circa 1384.
Imagine all the sandwiches in the world. Imagine all the countless variations of fillings possible – all the types of bread used. Where would you expect to find them? Why here of course:-)
I have always been interested in steam power and have made several steam driven models so I had been looking forward to visiting the Romney, Hythe and Dimchurch Railway. The trains are narrow gauge and the locos are about half size. The little carriages are just wide enough to allow two people to sit side by side. We decided to stay on the train until it reached its furthest limit – Dungeness. We passed through several little stations on the journey and finally we were on the last leg to Dungeness. On its way the little loco hauled us across a vast desert of pebbles and scrubby vegetation. This is a strange, surreal wilderness where people have contrived to make homes in what for the most part looks like sheds and huts. The day was grey and very cold and seemed to emphasise the isolation of the place. The brooding colossus of the nearby nuclear power station only served to cast a pall of melancholy over the area. I was beginning to feel quite sick at this point and reflected that this place had been aptly named.
We chose our visit to coincide with a 40’s weekend. Lots of folk in 1940’s civilian and military costume dressed to provide the authenticity of the period – spats and fur stoles anyone?
At one of the stops on the return journey we were treated to a dance display by the “LindyHoppers”. See'em here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aaXjbTpiRD4
And three young ladies in American military uniform - The Clover Sisters - wowed everyone with renditions of popular wartime hits. Get a load if this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1fd2fK5N6O8
I should have loved to have recorded our visit to Dover Castle here. Unfortunately, at this point a very dodgy packet of Marks and Spencer’s egg sandwiches laid me low with food poisoning. Back soon though – byeeeee!
In the grounds of the cathedral we found these ruins.
I think these remains maybe part of the original Augustine priory which pre-dates the cathedral. Whilst touring the cathedral we struck gold. I was chatting with a guide who told me that a visiting choir would be performing within the hour. At the prescribed time we made our way to the Quire (like a vast nave with stunning acoustics!). For the next hour we were bewitched by the angelic voices of the Concordia University concert choir from Edmonton, Canada led by Joy Burke. They were nearing the end of a performing tour in the UK and we were very lucky to be at the cathedral when they sang. Lumps in throats? – Of course!.......A very moving experience and I feel privileged to have had this wonderfully unexpected experience. I took the opportunity of switching on the movie cam for much of the performance and I have included a video clip of the first item in their concert. This is hosted by Youtube and if the video is juddery you should be able to hover your cursor over the Youtube movie screen and get a popup tab that offers to download the video for you - way to go! Here is the link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-2vYntnfVfQ
Before checking into our second hotel in Dover we called in at Whitstable to get a flavour of the area.The town is very picturesque and old plank clad buildings particular to this area can be seen in every street. I snapped this one while standing on a board walk with my back to the Swale estuary.
Whitstable is to oysters as Cheddar is to cheese so while there I had a fishmonger open a half dozen for me. Sitting on some fishy pallets at the side of the harbour I enjoyed one of the finest marine delicacies that this country can provide. They were delicious with a piquantly bitter aftertaste not found in the normal supermarket offerings.
I can never pass a charity shop without checking out the books (and waistcoats???) and in one (an ex bakery) this beautiful old bakers oven had been retained as a feature.
Next stop was our Dover hotel – Hubert House. We liked this place very much. The young owners were very helpful and friendly and we were intrigued to discover that this hotel has a long tradition of accommodating visiting channel swimmers from around the world. The best thing though was our room – posh it most definitely was!
The next day we decided to visit Broadstairs but enroute I spotted a sign pointing to RAF Manston Spitfire & Hurricane Memorial. We spent the next hour enjoying what turned out to be a museum and memorial to the fighter pilots who operated from here in the last war. A smashing old bloke called Ron performed his role as guide and answered all my questions with an infectious enthusiasm. Thank you Ron.
Eventually made it to Broadstairs where this bird was determined to be the centre of attraction.
On the way back to Dover we decided to go and have a look at Reculver. The twin towers have always been a navigation landmark and are all that remain of a medieval church.
The church was built on the sight of a Roman defensive shore fort and the ruins of the fort can still be seen behind the towers.
Next day and we are at the cinque port of Sandwich. We were quite taken by this lovely historical town and spent some hours just moseying around and soaking up the atmos. This old toll gate adjacent to the river bridge was known as a barbican.
Another historic feature is the Fishergate circa 1384.
Imagine all the sandwiches in the world. Imagine all the countless variations of fillings possible – all the types of bread used. Where would you expect to find them? Why here of course:-)
I have always been interested in steam power and have made several steam driven models so I had been looking forward to visiting the Romney, Hythe and Dimchurch Railway. The trains are narrow gauge and the locos are about half size. The little carriages are just wide enough to allow two people to sit side by side. We decided to stay on the train until it reached its furthest limit – Dungeness. We passed through several little stations on the journey and finally we were on the last leg to Dungeness. On its way the little loco hauled us across a vast desert of pebbles and scrubby vegetation. This is a strange, surreal wilderness where people have contrived to make homes in what for the most part looks like sheds and huts. The day was grey and very cold and seemed to emphasise the isolation of the place. The brooding colossus of the nearby nuclear power station only served to cast a pall of melancholy over the area. I was beginning to feel quite sick at this point and reflected that this place had been aptly named.
We chose our visit to coincide with a 40’s weekend. Lots of folk in 1940’s civilian and military costume dressed to provide the authenticity of the period – spats and fur stoles anyone?
At one of the stops on the return journey we were treated to a dance display by the “LindyHoppers”. See'em here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aaXjbTpiRD4
And three young ladies in American military uniform - The Clover Sisters - wowed everyone with renditions of popular wartime hits. Get a load if this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1fd2fK5N6O8
I should have loved to have recorded our visit to Dover Castle here. Unfortunately, at this point a very dodgy packet of Marks and Spencer’s egg sandwiches laid me low with food poisoning. Back soon though – byeeeee!
Sunday, 2 May 2010
020510
The caravan is to earn its keep this year so we have spent the last fortnight preparing it for a summer season of paying guests. It’s not all been hard work though, we have been out and about between the rain and generally just enjoying Dorset.
We always enjoy Lulworth Cove and today was warm and sunny. We were both surprised by the balmy weather.
On the way down to the cove we passed a house with this out the front. Most houses these days have a lavatory and some houses have a conservatory but this house had a bucketry.
The air was still and the sun shone and the coat came of. Still it was warm so I peeled of my jumper as well. Not to be outdone by the kids in the water I treated myself to a seaside paddle. In March? It was very cold but very, very enjoyable!
We decided to have an overnight stop at Oxford on our way down to Weymouth. I wanted to visit the Ashmolean museum but sods law decreed that it was closed on Mondays. Never mind, we had a wander round Christchurch College which is very beautiful.
The statue of a past Dean of Christchurch – Cyril Jackson met us at one point and I was mesmerised by the eyes. Wife suggested it was one of those human statues covered in paint but I dare not touch his knee in case he winked at me.
This is the fellows dining hall and if it seems familiar it maybe because it was used for the shooting of scenes in J.K. Rowling Harry Potter films.
A collection of Christchurch plate was displayed in a glass case and I was quite taken by this splendid chalice & patten. It is inlaid with pearls and is quite a pretty piece.
Out on the streets we passed a traditional albeit posh sweet shop and I had to take a couple of pics even if it was for the colours.
Closer to home I had parked the car and looking up I spotted this startling creation through an upstairs window.
I followed the path round and climbed some stairs and was invited into a shop by a very pleasant young woman. I asked if I might be allowed to take a picture of the dress and she very kindly took it from the window and allowed me to take a photo.
“One good turn deserves another” she exclaimed and asked if I could give her a plug. Here she is:
“Dusk till Dawn”
Dress hire for the special occasion – hire or buy.
Student Prom Nights 10% off.
01234 712200
http://www.dusktdawn.co.uk/
Out on the street I found this lovely old Bentley parked up. It just looked so right in the setting of an old Georgian market square.
Travelled back home the long way through Tyringham estate and stopped to take this picture of Tyringham Hall. Can’t you just smell the port and cigars?
Quite recently visited one of our favourite places – St. Ives. Straddling the River Great Ouse this small, picturesque Cambridgeshire market town is closely associated with Oliver Cromwell who came to live here in 1631. Today “the farmer” stands watch over the shoppers on the market square.
Just a short walk and this lovely old bridge spans the river. The small building on the bridge is a tiny chapel.
On the way home we stopped of at Brampton. I have a keen interest in the diarist Samuel Pepys and I wanted to see the house he grew up in as a child. After a few wrong turns we eventually found it.
Pepys spent a very happy childhood here playing in the surrounding fields and woodland and delighted recording in his diary how he had spent many happy hours “playing with my little bow and arrow”.
Spring has definitely arrived and a slow stroll down to the river at Newton Blossomville in the sunshine was a pleasure. Like floral sunbursts the clumps of huge marsh marigolds shone like gold against their green foliage and the delicately pretty Ladys Smock nodded in approval.
The trees had not yet put on leaf so I was ably to stand on the bridge and get a distant shot of Brafield House at the top of the hill as it looks out over the river valley.
And swivelling round another shot upstream.
We had a day out at Canons Ashby last week. It’s a National Trust place with a lot of work going on but there was still a lot to see. Work is in progress in the gardens but parts of the grounds were awash with spring flowers.
In the orchard underneath the old fruit trees were delicate red fritillaries and something neither of us has ever seen – white ones.
The side view of the house was best and this is it.
In the kitchen we found this. Now that’s what I call a range!
Our poor old country is going through difficult times indeed and spotting this suggests that Bedfordshire County Council are having to cut back on transport costs and use alternative means of transport for their library services.
Pip-pip chaps!
We always enjoy Lulworth Cove and today was warm and sunny. We were both surprised by the balmy weather.
On the way down to the cove we passed a house with this out the front. Most houses these days have a lavatory and some houses have a conservatory but this house had a bucketry.
The air was still and the sun shone and the coat came of. Still it was warm so I peeled of my jumper as well. Not to be outdone by the kids in the water I treated myself to a seaside paddle. In March? It was very cold but very, very enjoyable!
We decided to have an overnight stop at Oxford on our way down to Weymouth. I wanted to visit the Ashmolean museum but sods law decreed that it was closed on Mondays. Never mind, we had a wander round Christchurch College which is very beautiful.
The statue of a past Dean of Christchurch – Cyril Jackson met us at one point and I was mesmerised by the eyes. Wife suggested it was one of those human statues covered in paint but I dare not touch his knee in case he winked at me.
This is the fellows dining hall and if it seems familiar it maybe because it was used for the shooting of scenes in J.K. Rowling Harry Potter films.
A collection of Christchurch plate was displayed in a glass case and I was quite taken by this splendid chalice & patten. It is inlaid with pearls and is quite a pretty piece.
Out on the streets we passed a traditional albeit posh sweet shop and I had to take a couple of pics even if it was for the colours.
Closer to home I had parked the car and looking up I spotted this startling creation through an upstairs window.
I followed the path round and climbed some stairs and was invited into a shop by a very pleasant young woman. I asked if I might be allowed to take a picture of the dress and she very kindly took it from the window and allowed me to take a photo.
“One good turn deserves another” she exclaimed and asked if I could give her a plug. Here she is:
“Dusk till Dawn”
Dress hire for the special occasion – hire or buy.
Student Prom Nights 10% off.
01234 712200
http://www.dusktdawn.co.uk/
Out on the street I found this lovely old Bentley parked up. It just looked so right in the setting of an old Georgian market square.
Travelled back home the long way through Tyringham estate and stopped to take this picture of Tyringham Hall. Can’t you just smell the port and cigars?
Quite recently visited one of our favourite places – St. Ives. Straddling the River Great Ouse this small, picturesque Cambridgeshire market town is closely associated with Oliver Cromwell who came to live here in 1631. Today “the farmer” stands watch over the shoppers on the market square.
Just a short walk and this lovely old bridge spans the river. The small building on the bridge is a tiny chapel.
On the way home we stopped of at Brampton. I have a keen interest in the diarist Samuel Pepys and I wanted to see the house he grew up in as a child. After a few wrong turns we eventually found it.
Pepys spent a very happy childhood here playing in the surrounding fields and woodland and delighted recording in his diary how he had spent many happy hours “playing with my little bow and arrow”.
Spring has definitely arrived and a slow stroll down to the river at Newton Blossomville in the sunshine was a pleasure. Like floral sunbursts the clumps of huge marsh marigolds shone like gold against their green foliage and the delicately pretty Ladys Smock nodded in approval.
The trees had not yet put on leaf so I was ably to stand on the bridge and get a distant shot of Brafield House at the top of the hill as it looks out over the river valley.
And swivelling round another shot upstream.
We had a day out at Canons Ashby last week. It’s a National Trust place with a lot of work going on but there was still a lot to see. Work is in progress in the gardens but parts of the grounds were awash with spring flowers.
In the orchard underneath the old fruit trees were delicate red fritillaries and something neither of us has ever seen – white ones.
The side view of the house was best and this is it.
In the kitchen we found this. Now that’s what I call a range!
Our poor old country is going through difficult times indeed and spotting this suggests that Bedfordshire County Council are having to cut back on transport costs and use alternative means of transport for their library services.
Pip-pip chaps!
Tuesday, 23 February 2010
230210
It’s been a bit quiet just lately – well, it’s that time of year I suppose. We did wrap up well a week or so ago and drove over to Stoke Buerne to look at the canal. Even at this time of the year people were messing about in boats.
One such character at the tiller of a barge offered shouted remarks, ostensibly to his slightly embarrassed wife but in truth, for the benefit of us assembled spectators. She was opening the lock gates to let the boat through. As the doors came open to allow the craft through he bellowed in his best Brian Blessed style “Light, I see light!” I think his wife had probably seen the “light” well before but she loyally put her back to the door and bit her lip. As she heaved on the huge timber gate she surveyed the two dozen or so of us spectators and in a long suffering voice informed us “He’s always like this when he’s got an audience.”
We followed the towpath for a few hundred yards until it ended abruptly at the gaping black maw of Blissworth Tunnel. It was cold and damp and we could hear the receding, echoing voices of the folk on a barge which had just been swallowed up in the darkness of the tunnel.
I turned to wife and remarked that the place had a certain spookiness about it. It was only later that I discovered that the tunnel was a very well known “haunt” of various paranormal entities.
Up to Birmingham today to have a look at the Caravan & Boat Show. Not as good as last year. There were fewer exhibitors and fewer punters as well. Found a decent looking sort of craft which I fancied so we bought it.
However, I have never been one for taking unnecessary risks so we went back ten minutes later and ordered a second one just in case the first one breaks down :)
Have you ever tried to write a story? I find that trying to write creatively is like constipation – I know it’s inside me but getting it out is agony. So I am quite pleased that after a lot of effort I have managed to squeeze out the first chapter of my first story. Read it if you will and pity my pain!
Being Little – Chapter One
The gathering gloom of dusk descended over the trees but some light still remained. A small human-like figure stood on a tree stump at the side of the track that wound its way through the darkening wood. Patiently he waited. From the ground the smell of rotten wood and mould rose on the cold dank air. It seeped into him like an icy finger. He shivered; but he shivered even more in anticipation as the sound of a ghostly shriek drifted on the air over, and through, thickets of oak and beech.
Again, and nearer now this time, came the wail; a sound which caused the little creature great excitement. He jumped from one foot to the other and clutched himself tightly as another shriek (now closer still) quivered through the cold, misty air. He wrapped his cloak closer round his thin, shivering body and waited.
Straining, his eyes searched for a sign of the source of the noise. He did not have to wait long. His heart missed a beat as he caught a glimpse of silvery vapour wafting over the tops of distant trees. “She’s coming, she’s coming”, he whispered under his breath; he farted nervously and his bladder threatened mutiny.
There was no mistake now; something really was coming, something large and noisy. He could hear the barking chuff-chuff as it got nearer.
A beam from a powerful lamp sliced through the gloom and a loud shrill “shweeeeee” echoed over the woodland. The twigs and leaves at the distant bend in the track were suddenly and violently swept aside. The little creatures face lit up as the most beautifully illuminated showman’s engine this side of Isambards kingdom, burst into view.
The throbbing, straining monster resplendent in maroon and gold towed a matching romany vardo equally fantastically decorated. The driver of the engine, a young woman clad in wind tossed flowing silk, brought the pumping, panting, shunting, hissing machine to a shuddering halt beside the tree stump and hollered loudly and plumily, “ Caccus m’duck – get up here and give us a kiss”
Almost unable to contain his excitement Caccus farted again….noisily, “nearly a trouser event there” he thought. His two inch tall body, big for a Nan, rose on a small cloud of glowing pink plasma to land fragrantly on the palm of the womans hand. She planted a warm kiss on his cheek and the little Nan blushed furiously. “Look at you”, she teased, “the glow from the firebox is making your face red”. His heart raced for her and her kindness at saving his embarrassment. Her nose wrinkled though as she caught his whiff and she wondered, not for the first time, how such a charming little fellow got to smell like a flatulent ferret.
She looked fondly at the little chap and he lowered his gaze shyly.” Now then you little bugger, take me to your leader”. She laughed happily and he giggled excitedly as he squatted down beside her onto a folded potato sack. She opened the steam regulator on the giant Burrell Dreadnought 3211 and yanked on the whistle chain. The magnificent chugging monster lurched forward and away they went in a clatter of spinning steel and swirling swathes of steamy smoke “shreeeeee – eeeeeeeee – eeeeeeee!!!
© Grampy
One such character at the tiller of a barge offered shouted remarks, ostensibly to his slightly embarrassed wife but in truth, for the benefit of us assembled spectators. She was opening the lock gates to let the boat through. As the doors came open to allow the craft through he bellowed in his best Brian Blessed style “Light, I see light!” I think his wife had probably seen the “light” well before but she loyally put her back to the door and bit her lip. As she heaved on the huge timber gate she surveyed the two dozen or so of us spectators and in a long suffering voice informed us “He’s always like this when he’s got an audience.”
We followed the towpath for a few hundred yards until it ended abruptly at the gaping black maw of Blissworth Tunnel. It was cold and damp and we could hear the receding, echoing voices of the folk on a barge which had just been swallowed up in the darkness of the tunnel.
I turned to wife and remarked that the place had a certain spookiness about it. It was only later that I discovered that the tunnel was a very well known “haunt” of various paranormal entities.
Up to Birmingham today to have a look at the Caravan & Boat Show. Not as good as last year. There were fewer exhibitors and fewer punters as well. Found a decent looking sort of craft which I fancied so we bought it.
However, I have never been one for taking unnecessary risks so we went back ten minutes later and ordered a second one just in case the first one breaks down :)
Have you ever tried to write a story? I find that trying to write creatively is like constipation – I know it’s inside me but getting it out is agony. So I am quite pleased that after a lot of effort I have managed to squeeze out the first chapter of my first story. Read it if you will and pity my pain!
Being Little – Chapter One
The gathering gloom of dusk descended over the trees but some light still remained. A small human-like figure stood on a tree stump at the side of the track that wound its way through the darkening wood. Patiently he waited. From the ground the smell of rotten wood and mould rose on the cold dank air. It seeped into him like an icy finger. He shivered; but he shivered even more in anticipation as the sound of a ghostly shriek drifted on the air over, and through, thickets of oak and beech.
Again, and nearer now this time, came the wail; a sound which caused the little creature great excitement. He jumped from one foot to the other and clutched himself tightly as another shriek (now closer still) quivered through the cold, misty air. He wrapped his cloak closer round his thin, shivering body and waited.
Straining, his eyes searched for a sign of the source of the noise. He did not have to wait long. His heart missed a beat as he caught a glimpse of silvery vapour wafting over the tops of distant trees. “She’s coming, she’s coming”, he whispered under his breath; he farted nervously and his bladder threatened mutiny.
There was no mistake now; something really was coming, something large and noisy. He could hear the barking chuff-chuff as it got nearer.
A beam from a powerful lamp sliced through the gloom and a loud shrill “shweeeeee” echoed over the woodland. The twigs and leaves at the distant bend in the track were suddenly and violently swept aside. The little creatures face lit up as the most beautifully illuminated showman’s engine this side of Isambards kingdom, burst into view.
The throbbing, straining monster resplendent in maroon and gold towed a matching romany vardo equally fantastically decorated. The driver of the engine, a young woman clad in wind tossed flowing silk, brought the pumping, panting, shunting, hissing machine to a shuddering halt beside the tree stump and hollered loudly and plumily, “ Caccus m’duck – get up here and give us a kiss”
Almost unable to contain his excitement Caccus farted again….noisily, “nearly a trouser event there” he thought. His two inch tall body, big for a Nan, rose on a small cloud of glowing pink plasma to land fragrantly on the palm of the womans hand. She planted a warm kiss on his cheek and the little Nan blushed furiously. “Look at you”, she teased, “the glow from the firebox is making your face red”. His heart raced for her and her kindness at saving his embarrassment. Her nose wrinkled though as she caught his whiff and she wondered, not for the first time, how such a charming little fellow got to smell like a flatulent ferret.
She looked fondly at the little chap and he lowered his gaze shyly.” Now then you little bugger, take me to your leader”. She laughed happily and he giggled excitedly as he squatted down beside her onto a folded potato sack. She opened the steam regulator on the giant Burrell Dreadnought 3211 and yanked on the whistle chain. The magnificent chugging monster lurched forward and away they went in a clatter of spinning steel and swirling swathes of steamy smoke “shreeeeee – eeeeeeeee – eeeeeeee!!!
© Grampy
Wednesday, 27 January 2010
Our holiday in Gran Canaria was lovely. I will not go on to much about our lovely hotel as I have already written a review about it which if you are interested can be found here:
But here are a few photos of the grounds:
with resident ratter “Bruiser”
and his apprentice, “Gizmo”.
The beach and dunes are a pleasant twenty minute walk – warm though in the 70F temperatures - but a taxi either there or back is cheap at 2.8 euros. You would likely feel a bit out of place on one stretch of the beach if you wore a swimming costume and did not speak German – that’s right folks – it’s the nudey bit. There’s nothing quite like an old and wobbly naked hausfrau to turn a man of his knackwurst!
We took a short bus ride along the coast to Puerto Mogan on one day. A really beautiful little port with neat houses and flowers everywhere. The resort is approached by a precipitous mountain road and wife was visibly moved as she held her breathe and gripped my arm as we negotiated one particular hair pin bend with a four hundred foot drop. I had wondered why the bus driver had signed himself with the cross at the start of the journey – now I knew!
We wanted a relaxing holiday so we were not to ambitious about doing a lot of travelling but what we did see was smashing – much nicer than Lanzarote.
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