RBW Online

ISSUE 265 Date: 30th November 2012

HOUSE OF BREAD CHARITY TRINITY CHURCH, MOUNT STREET, STAFFORD

FREE HOT MEAL CENTRE EACH WEDNESDAY EVENING DONATIONS OF WARM WINTER CLOTHING WELCOMED

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Issue 265

Page 2

The Magna Carta, Latin for "Great Charter", literally "Great Paper"), also known as 'Magna Carta

Libertatum, is an English 1215 charter which limited the power of English Monarchs, specifically King John, from absolute rule. Magna Carta was the result of disagreements between the Pope and King John and his barons over the rights of the king: Magna Carta required the king to renounce certain rights and respect certain legal procedures, and to accept that the king could be bound by law. Magna Carta is widely considered to be the first

step in a process leading to the rule of constitutional law.

Neither we nor our officials will seize any land or rent in payment of a debt, so long as the debtor has movable goods sufficient to discharge the debt. Clause 9 No man shall be forced to perform more service for a knight's 'fee', or other free holding of land, than is due from it. Clause 16 For a trivial offence, a free man shall be fined only in proportion to the degree of his offence, and for a serious offence correspondingly, but not so heavily as to deprive him of his livelihood. Clause 20 No constable or other royal official shall take corn or other movable goods from any man without immediate pay-ment, unless the seller voluntarily offers postponement of this. Clause 28 No sheriff, royal official, or other person shall take horses or carts for transport from any free man, without his consent. Clause 30 In future no official shall place a man on trial upon his own unsupported statement, without producing credible witnesses to the truth of it. Clause 38 No freeman shall be taken, or imprisoned, or outlawed, or exiled, or in any way harmed, nor will we go upon him nor will we send upon him, except by the legal judgement of his peers or by the law of the land. Clause 39 To none will we sell, to none deny or delay, right or justice. Clause 40 All merchants may enter or leave England unharmed and without fear, and may stay or travel within it, by land or water, for purposes of trade, free from all illegal exactions, in accordance with ancient and lawful customs. This, however, does not apply in time of war to merchants from a country that is at war with us. Any such merchants found in our country at the outbreak of war shall be detained without injury to their persons or property, until we or our chief justice have discovered how our own merchants are being treated in the country at war with us. If our own merchants are safe they shall be safe too. Clause 41 To any man whom we have deprived or dispossessed of lands, castles, liberties, or rights, without the lawful judgement of his equals, we will at once restore these. Clause 52 IT IS ACCORDINGLY OUR WISH AND COMMAND that the English Church shall be free, and that men in our kingdom shall have and keep all these liberties, rights, and concessions, well and peaceably in their fulness and entirety for them and their heirs, of us and our heirs, in all things and all places for ever. Clause 63

LIFE OBSERVATIONS Facebook friends: I felt desperately sorry for the young woman bemoaning her £30.00 food shopping money until I realised per-mouth-to-feed it was £10.00 a week more than my own. Facebook friends: It is a powerful thing when real people start talking about how the recession is personally affecting them and how they are facing pov-erty. Knock on: When a local woman had her disability benefits taken away in the ‘DLA clawback programme’ she also lost her bus pass and her blue badges which left her in fuel poverty and isolated and still just as disabled as she was before when she was being fully supported by the previous administration. What did I do wrong? Where is the justice? she asks. What a chuckle ... According to The Telegraph newspaper a secondary school has advertised for a ‘proof reader’ to correct teachers’ grammar in school reports etc. You couldn’t make it up ... Ofsted inspections are a pain ... so is the rain ...

Issue 265

Page 3

Retainer noun fee for reserving professional services (lawyer accountant) fee for reserving hotel accommodation — holder a device for holding some-thing in place — dentistry a device for holding teeth in place Continent noun mainland Europe— land mass seven continuous land masses Africa/Europe/Antarctica/Asia/Australasia/ North and South America Continent adj able to control bowel and bladder — moderate or celibate Spry adj agile and energetic — brisk and active Sprightly adj lively active agile alert nimble supple Artificial adj made by humans rather than occurring in nature, synthetic made in imitation, insincere without sincerity or spontaneity, created by culture Mandarin noun former Chinese official, civil servant, member of elite group Standard noun level of quality or excellence, ac-cepted as the norm, distinctive flag, flag/banner de-vice used as military rallying point , long tapering flag, unit of measurement, proportion of metal in coinage, commodity as a basis of currency value, upright pole or post, botany: plant with a bare stem e.g. Rose, item in usual repertoire (music), large up-per petal of a pea

The Royal Standard used in England, Northern

Ireland, Wales, and overseas Wikipedia image

CLIVE’s three FREE e-books

NOW PUBLISHED on RBW and issuu

http://www.risingbrookwriters.org.uk/DynamicPage.aspx?

PageID=52

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Issue 265

Page 4

Steph’s two FREE poetry e-chapbooks now published on www.issuu.com/

risingbrookwriters

and on RBW main site

http://www.risingbrookwriters.org.uk/DynamicPage.aspx?PageID=52

Next exhibition Oddfellows Hall 30th Nov—1st Dec

Random words: pudding, despondent, holly bush, gravity,

romantic, Gnu, anniversary, bauble, nook, granny

Assignment: Flood

2012: RBW FREE e-books NOW

PUBLISHED on RBW and issuu.com

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Issue 265

Page 5

8,000 extra elderly deaths for every 1 degree drop in average

temperature every winter : Age UK report.

The charity Age UK claims cold homes are costing the NHS £1.36 billion every year due to cold temperatures having a

devastating impact on older people‘s health, says a new analysis by Age UK.

Their report ‗The Cost of Cold‘, warns of a hidden public health scandal as thousands of older people continue to die

prematurely from cold-related illnesses because their homes are too cold. Hypothermia is not the biggest killer

Each year there are around 27,000 winter deaths, amongst older people caused by respiratory problems, strokes and

heart-attacks due to cold temperatures. Many more older people who become seriously ill, need hospitalisation in the

short term and social care in the longer term.

Yet public awareness is low: Age UK‘s findings show that two-fifths of people see hypothermia as the biggest threat to

older people in winter. However, the biggest risk factor is cardiovascular diseases – strokes caused by blood-clotting

or heart attacks – which account for 40% of winter deaths in the elderly.

Even in mild winters, there are around 8,000 extra deaths for every one degree drop in average temperature. Cold

homes are dangerous to older people‘s health and a major contributing factor to excess winter deaths. People in the

coldest homes are three times as likely to die from a cold-related illness compared to those in warmer homes.

Poorly insulated homes and sharp increases in energy prices have exacerbated the growing fuel poverty issue, forcing

older people to cut back on heating in a bid to control costs. Age UK says this scandal can be stopped. Their new re-

port argues that much colder countries (Finland) have significantly lower death rates than the UK due to better insu-

lated homes and greater awareness of the importance of keeping warm.

Through its Spread the Warmth campaign, Age UK is calling on the government to:

make excess winter deaths a national health priority to drive funding into preventative services

Tackle the problem of cold homes with a rigorous programme of home energy efficiency improvements;

To remove 87 per cent of households from fuel poverty over the next 15 years

Michelle Mitchell, charity director general at Age UK said: 'It‘s an absolute scandal that tens of thousands of older peo-

ple will become ill or die this winter because they are unable to keep warm. Not only is this resulting in an incalculable

human cost, but the NHS is spending more than a billion pounds on treating the casualties of cold every year. At the

root of the problem are badly insulated homes, which together with cripplingly high energy prices, are leaving millions

of older people having to choose between staying warm and energy bills they can afford. Age UK is calling on all local

authorities to recognise the issue as a major health priority and make sure they are doing everything they can to keep

older people warm.‘ Mitchell continued: 'The government must also invest in a major energy efficiency programme to

help insulate older people against the cold weather and the high cost of energy.'

Advice to keep older people healthy in winter:

Age UK is promoting simple steps to help older people understand how to keep warm in winter: It‘s harder to judge

temperatures as you get older. Use a thermometer to detect changes and act quickly. Keep your living room at 70°F

(21°c) if possible. Exposure to the cold during the night puts you at greater risk of a heart attack or a stroke. Keep

your bedroom at 65°F (18°c). It‘s a common misconception that sleeping with the window open all year round is

healthy. Keeping windows open on a winter night puts you at greater risk of a heart attack or a stroke. Keep your bed-

room windows closed at night. Protect your fingers, mouth and head – these parts of your body are more sensitive to

changes in temperature. Breathing in cold air can increase your chances of becoming seriously ill. Wrap up well when

you go outside.

Older people and their families can call Age UK Advice for free on 0800 169 65 65, where they can also order our

free Winter wrapped up guide (PDF, 733kb), including a free thermometer.

If you would like to help older people this winter, or make a donation, visit www.spreadthewarmth.org.uk or

call 0800 169 87 87

http://www.ageuk.org.uk/latest-news/cold-homes-cost-nhs-1-point-36-billion/

http://ageukblog.org.uk/2012/11/22/the-cost-of-cold/

YE SLIGHTY OBLONG TABLE OF TRENTBY

YE CAST OF CHARACTERS NB: Historical accuracy is NOT encouraged

Nobles and similar Harffa -Ye Kyng. Not ye sharpest knyfe in ye drawer. QUEEN AGATHA (the tight fisted) don Key o’tee -Spanish ambassador to Court of Kyng Harffa .. Wants big toe back Baron Bluddschott (Stoneybroke) Gwenever Goodenough – Wyfe of ye Baron Della BluddschotT - Ugly Daughter of Baron Bluddschott. GalLa of HADNT - A Prince but Charmless Daniel Smithers Constable of Bluddschott Castle and maybe the COrowner of the County Old Maids Vera, Gloria and Bertha husband hunting sisters of Baron Bluddschott Evil Sherriff and Baron Morbidd up to no good MORGAN LE FEY SISTER TO KING - MERLIN THE MAGICIAN

ye KnyghtS [they’re better during the day] Lancealittle, Dwayne Cottavere, Perciver Mailish (Narrator) PAGE to UNCLE BARon Bluddschott (probably Son by Wife’S SiSter)

Religiouse Lionel, Bishop of Trentby keeper of the Mappa Tuessdi Abbot Costello of Nottalot, a Nasturtium Abbey where relic abides—desperate for pilgrim pennies Vladimir A monk from far off somewhere — Calligrapher Wyllfa the Druid Sorcerer

Others Big Jock A Welsh poacher and SHORT wide-boy. robbin’ hoodie Another poacher and wide-boy. Peeping Barry member of hoodie’S gang of miScreantS CLARENCE the cook WANDERING TROUPADOUR

None living The Ghostly Sword of Bluddschott Castle The Mappa Tuessdi ... Velum map of the known world bought in A bazaar in Constantinople for a few pennies BY VLADIMERE & COP-IED oft times The toe bone of St. Gastric.

Issue 265

Page 7

St Notwithstandings Day, the day of the Grande Tournament, started fine and

fair or would have done if it hadn't been brass monkey weather and persisting

down.

Then the weather got its second wind - according to Wyllfa's weather forecast-

ing seaweed: NNW force 4 gusting 6 veering NW later and becoming force 5 in

Faeroe‘s, Viking, Trentby, and Ye Newe Golfe Club - and it got wet, and miserable,

and slippy underfoot, hoof, claw, tentacle, pseudopod or other preferred method

of locomotion.

Well, you can never tell who turns up at a tourney! Can you?

Della, the only and much beloved daughter of Leonard, Baron of Trentby, took

one look out of the castle window and thought that, maybe, it would be good idea

to wear something waterproof at the Tournament.

‗It would completely spoil my hair do‘, she complained at breakfast. ‗It's a

shame that I won't be able to wear my prettiest dress and hat.‘ She sighed regret-

fully. Those would really wow the lads... ermm... my friends, but I suppose I've got

to dig my old waterproofs out and go in those. What do you think, Mummy?'

‗Well I suppose it would be sensible dear,‘ her mother replied. ‗Of course it

does mean that you won't be able to wear all that jewellery you've 'borrowed' from

me but you will be dry dear. Yes, you go for it.‘

‗I will, Mummy dear. If you could just get somebody to harness a carriage for

me I'll be going along about mid-morning. I mean if you're going to go you may as

well be SEEN to go; and anyway I want to check out the local talent again. There

was a young blacksmith that caught my eye last time. He had marvellous abs,

pecs and triceps to die for.....According to my friends anyway... Well, having a shel-

tered upbringing I wouldn't know about these things... Would I?‘

Harald the Herald was busy selling trading licences and taking the entrance

money, theoretically.

‗Where are all the traders and local people?‘ he asked himself looking out over

the empty field and non-existent queues trying to force money into his hands.

‗I've posted the proclamation, shouted it aloud in the market places, told all the

inn-keepers and all the local knights about it. The tents are in place, the bunting

strung, the stands for the nobles erected, the monks on standby in case of acci-

dents, the barrier whatnot‘s down the middle, and that 'Skewer a Ring With Your

Spear' effort's in place ready for the warm-up rounds. I've even got the prizes for

the archery contests all wrapped up in pretty paper... It's a pity the paper adver-

tises the local pet food factory... but you can't have everything, can you... And any-

way it was free... And it's the thought that counts.‘

Just then there was a sound and King Harffa splashed up.

‗All ready then, what's your name?‘ boomed the King. He was good at boom-

ing. Harald had noticed that people often boomed and thought that it was proba-

bly something to do with the nattily tailored, all steel, hat, jacket, and trousers

they wore.

He'd also thought that it could be all that crown wearing that did it. Things like

that troubled clever folks, so it was probably best to leave all that reigning and rul-

ing and stuff to people whose eyebrows met in the middle.

‗All ready for the off on a fun filled frolicsome afternoon are we, lad?‘

‗Ermm, yes your majesty.‘ Harald replied. ‗It's a bit slow at present, the weather

and all the other local festivals. St What-sit, the exhibition of the Big Toe of St.

Thingy, and that Mappa whereto, ... begins with a T... Thursday, you know. But it

will pick up later, I'm sure.‘

‗Good lad, that's the spirit I like to see. Don't forget, a tenth for me, a tithe to

the church and something for yourself, after expenses of course.‘

As he went off he sang a little ditty that went something like:-

You gotta

Catch up to the plus-ative,

Elim - inate the infinitive

Atten - uate the minus-ive

and don't forget the cash box in between.

Oh no, and don't forget the cash box in between.

The rain stopped and the sun came out, but nothing much else happened. After

a long time a carriage pulled into the arena. From inside a female voice called

out, ‗Hoy, you, fish face. When's this tourney starting then?‘

Ah ha!! thought Harald, a customer at last! ‗After the noon bell has rung. The

entry fee is half a penny per couple, concessions and kids half price,‘ he replied.

‗Know any more jokes then?‘ The driver, dressed in motley, replied. ‗Take it

from me that one's totally lacking in all departments, sunshine.‘

‗Well it's still the same price to come in, Fool.‘

‗Now that's what I want to talk to you about!‘ The Jester came over and spoke

in a conspiratorial whisper. He was quite good at it, for a beginner.

‗The Lady does not pay to attend functions in her own grounds! However, as her

business manager, I have persuaded 'The Lady Della, and her Companion', to con-

sider gracing your small, sad, ill considered and miserable excuse for a tourney

with her beauty. This she is willing to contemplate; for the small consideration of

ten silver pence per person per hour, payable in advance, plus expenses.‘

The lady descended from the carriage, a vision of loveliness. Her hair, done in

the very latest fashion, shone like the sun, her eyes caught the light and sparkled

and her gown was dressmakers delight. Harald, well smitten by her, thought that

even at the full fee she was well worth the expense; and he'd only agreed to half!

Her armoured companion was, he thought, a bit of a letdown. Particularly as

his visor was stuck in the down position.

‗They'll fix that over there,‘ he said pointing to the far side of the field. ‗That

wagon with the crossed yellow tin-openers painted on it. Their motto, 'Big Ham-

mer No Problem', says it all.‘

Turning to the Lady he said, ‗There are some nice comfortable chairs on the no-

ble‘s stand, My Lady Della. If you'd like to use one.‘ He wondered why she giggled;

but his sisters did that all the time. It was annoying.

The warm-up rounds got under way and the crowds continued to flock in; in

ones and twos.

The Ladies‘ Companion, Harald had him listed as Sir Myncealott, won the

'Skewer a Ring with Your Spear' competition by twelve rings to nil, and, from the

tray of a itinerant pie-man, simultaneously scored three meat pies and two bread

rolls with (alleged) meat fillings.

Harald had this, very vague, suspicion that somebody could have cheated -

there'd only been ten rings at the start. But, as his dear old Dad's motto said, 'If

you can't win by cheating it's not worth winning at all. So it isn't!'

Sometimes Harald wondered about that one.

Galla of Hadnt the prince, carefully disguised as an ordinary knight, rode forth - actually he

rode fifth but saying that would spoil the story – and challenged this Sir Myncealot to

break a spear with him. The best of three spears, a surrender or a score of 180 to decide

the winner.

Myncealot hesitated. Then with a nod of the helmeted head; they still hadn't fixed that

stuck visor, put away the lunchtime pie that was being pushed through the slots in the hel-

met, and was helped onto a horse.

The first round went to Galla on a 70/20 points score.

Myncealot had to win the second round to stay in the competition. The tension in the

arena was, not to put too fine a point on it, racketing up to borderline apathetic.

The two charged, the crowd roared and waved their favourite on to victory. Galla missed!

Myncealot didn't and, without quite knowing how, Galla found himself sitting in the mud.

Second round to Myncealot by 100 points and a bonus score of 50 for style. There was

everything to play for at the interval bell.

As the bards later related it:-

There's dreadful hush in the close tonight

with all to score and the last man's in,

the mud.

Then from the stands there came the cry

‗Well what you sitting there for?

Get up and do the same!‘

For some odd reason it never got into the top 40 all time jingles.The third and last round

began with a fanfare of trumpets. Okay, so it was only one off key trumpet and a few bangs

on a drum, but it was all Harald could afford and, being a beginner at this kind of thing, Per-

severe came cheap.

Harald announced the contest:-

‗At the Blue end I give you the challenger. Sir Galla of Hadnt, a knight of great renown in

the Kyng‘s household. At the Red end, Sir Myncealot. A newcomer to the list of knights, cur-

rently domiciled locally. This is the third round of a three round contest with the score pres-

ently standing at one round each. In the event of a tie the points scored will decide the win-

ner.‘

The contestants saluted each other using the secret, two fingered, salute of the Brother-

hood and, as demanded by tradition, the mysterious and ancient battle cry of 'Upyerznawl'.

Then began the charge along the fence.

They started at a gallop, but the horses decided that they'd done enough running about

for one day and stopped in the middle for a rest.

Myncealot slid down from the saddle and poked at Galla with the supplied spear. Galla of

Hadn't hadn‘t poked back, and lost.

Regulation 27A of the 'Parfait Knyghts‘ Handeboke' required the beaten knight to shout 'I

Give Up' or take his steel hat off; Galla didn't so Myncealot climbed over the fence. A furious

fight began; each taking a turn at hitting the other with a sword; in accordance with Regula-

tion 27B.

Harald thought that, if clockwork toys had been invented, they looked just

like what they would look like. Eventually Galla, who was never good at sums

anyway, lost count and was disqualified.

His last hit was down onto Myncealot's steel hat, breaking off the stuck

visor.

‗He brogue by does,‘ Myncealot screamed in high pitched voice; kicking

Galla of Hadn't right where it would do his chances of fatherhood the least

good, and removing the head wear.

Wyllfa, the duty Druid, Sorcerer and Standby Wizard, hurried across to

check the damage to his local champion.

Morgan le Fey; sitting in the stands with Harffa and bored to tears with

this amateur display of histrionics – she could do MUCH, MUCH, better with-

out even trying hard - decided to go and see what mischief she could do.

'After all' she said to herself, 'a day without malice is a day wasted and I've

been slipping up on my motto of, ‗Do bad deed a day‘, recently. I haven't

even pushed an old lady into the road for weeks!' A quick disguise spell as a

medical person and she was away. She got there first.

The nose was broken. Mendable, but the tip was almost sliced off.

‗This will hurt me more than it will hurt you,‘ Morgan said, with a com-

mendable saving of truth.

She was a founder member of the 'Save the Truth Campaign' and seriously

worried about the shortage of truth. As far as she was concerned truth was

at least in short supply, possibly an endangered species, and shouldn't be

wasted.

There was a snick as her claws came out and what Morgan herself later

described as, 'a lovely wet, gristly, sort of sound, the sort of sound you fondly

remember for a long time,' as the end of the nose was sliced off .

‗There!‘ she said, ‗A snub nose will suit you nicely, my boy.‘

Fortunately Wyllfa, arriving in the nick of time, was able to forestall any fur-

ther attempts at amateur surgery. At a press conference given later in the

day to 'The Trentby Times, County Currier and the Town Cryers‘ Gazette', he

said, ‗If you're going to get sliced up get a professional to do the slicing.

These amateurs never get it right!‘

After casting one of his fastest 'Instant Heal™ ' spells [he never got any

royalties from them either], he allowed the injured to be carted away.

Harffa was agog to give out the prizes, naturally, he wasn't sure what a Gog

was, but he was quite sure that he was one.

Harald the Herald, in his best tabard, gave a fanfare on his trumpet, al-

though, truth to tell, it wasn't so much a FANfare; more a sort of a, 'Well, I

might get interested a bit later on, fare', then called out the winners‘ names

for the various competitions.

After the lower prizes it was the turn of knights.

‗Skewering a Ring with your Spear contest. A clear winner by 12 rings to

nil,‘ called Harald. ‗ I give you your local champion, Sir Myncealot‘

There was an embarrassed silence as Sir Myncealot failed to appear. How-

ever, a young and very pretty woman, dressed in latest fashion, but whose

hair need some attention, strode forward to claim the prize. ‗Mine,‘ she said!

‗Is your champion still indisposed, my dear?‘ The Kyng enquired at his oili-

est.

‗Oh no, I'm quite alright now, thank you, your Majesty.‘ she replied.

‗And who might you be young lady? I do know you're not the knight who won this prize.‘

‗Oh but I am. I fight under the name Myncealot added to my real name of Della

Bluddschott.‘

‗Impossible. That is Della the daughter of Baron Bluddschott sitting over there.‘ Harffa

pointed.

‗Who says! That isn't me. I'm here and it's my prize! Ask her, or better still ask my parents.‘

‗Good idea, my dear. I will ask the Baron and if he doesn't know you then it's the dungeon

for you and you will definitely NOT like it there! Now who are you?‘

‗As I've said, Your Majesty, I'm Della the daughter of Baron Bluddschott and, today, I fought

under the name of Myncealot. Incidentally your Sir Galla of Hadnt wasn't much competition in

the final round. He doesn't know how to cheat.‘

Turning to the nobles on the rostrum Harffa asked the young woman seated on the most

comfortable of the chairs. ‗Who are you, my dear?‘

She giggled. ‗Well, according to her,‘ the wench pointed, ‗I'm Della; but only for this after-

noon.‘

Harffa was stumped, more likely he was Caught in the Slips, Two over Par, LBW for a Duck,

certainly Offside, or possibly going down Thirty – Love in the first set.

Galla of Hadnt had no such quibble. Clanking down to his knees, he even had armoured

socks and underwear, he declared his undying love for ‗The Most Beautiful Woman in the

World and The Only Who Can Defeat Me In Combat‘ and could they get married tomorrow

please?

Della, who was also attracted to him, said, ‗Not tomorrow. I'm having my hair and nails

done then. We'll have to talk about it first, but I'm free the day after!‘

And so it was decided. Almost.

There were two faces in the crowd not so overjoyed – Baron Morbidd whose seal was af-

fixed to the betrothal document bonding the Bluddschotts and the Morbidds not half an hour

since and Morgan le Fey who had other ideas for the marriage of her son who was after all

the adopted heir to the throne.

Clarence the general factotum of Bluddschott Castle and, Percivere, the duty cook, guard

and general man-at-arms sat in the kitchen staring at the ingredients of the next meal for

the inhabitants. Not that there was much to stare at.

―I don't get it, there was a lot more than that last night. What's happened to it all?‖ Perciv-

ere wanted to know.

―Midnight snacks I suppose, Perc. A few handfuls of this, a cup of that, some of the stuff in

the corner, it all adds up you know.‖ Clarence was down in the dumps.

―We can always get some more. Can't we?‖ Percivere enquired.

―Not until Lady G pays the bills for the last lot we can't, Perc. Big Jock, Robbin' Hoodie and

Peeping Barry want paying in advance for the next lot.‖

―But they poach most of it anyway, Clarence! And what they don't poach they pinch and

what they don't pinch they get 'on the slate'.‖

―Yer, our credit's run out with the city traders too, they all want cash in hand as well, so all

we've got left are Jock, Robbin' and Barry.‖

―You'll just have to get some cash off Lady G then, Clarence. A bag of pennies, groats, and

mercks to jingle should do it. ―

―She's dead broke, Perc. We've raided the strong boxes, Della‘s piggy-bank, the Baron‘s

old trouser pockets, felt down the back of all the chairs and come up with nine pennies, two

washers, a dog treat, four well sucked boiled sweets and a gob-stopper that's seen better

days.

Lady G's been down to Trentby, on the quiet of course, and sold some of her mother‘s jew-

els. Let's face it; if we get paid next month it'll be a miracle. A real one, not one of them Little

Finger of the Holy Barmcake ones neither.‖

―The King and Queen are expecting a good nosh-up tonight so what are we going to give

them?‖

―Take a look and tell me, Perc. The only thing I can see is game pie with stir fried cabbage,

mushrooms, parsnips, leeks, and whatever else I can find. Can't see any afters though.‖

―Piece of cake that one, Clarence. We've got lots of stale bread that we can use to make a

Wet Nellie; if we cut the green bits off anyway. A few spoons of honey and some runny cus-

tard should do nicely.‖

―Right, Perc. You do that and I'll make the game pie; with a really, really, really, THICK

crust. About two or three fingers thick should do I think.‖

―I'll do a pea soup for starters, Clarence. We have some peas soaking in that old beer I

can use. If I add enough pepper, loveage, and ginger and make it sticking to your ribs thick,

that lot‘s never going to know the difference.‖

―What about brekky tomorrow then?‖

―Welsh rarebit on toast! We'll have to raid the

mousetraps to get enough, but if we scrape the

green off and grater up all the mouldy old cheese

rinds really fine, then with a bit of milk and a few

eggs we can do it. They'll never know the differ-

ence.‖

―What's all this, 'they'll never know the differ-

ence', then, Perc?‖

―That's easy Clarence! They never have yet, so

why should they start now?‖

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'Oh look,' gasped Mistress Vera. 'He's so beautiful … look at the silk … look at the lace and

the feathers. He's mine …'

Bertha shook her head. What planet was her sister inhabiting today? Surely the glamour of

the joust had turned her head.

'That's the Spanish Ambassador, my child,' said a kindly voice approaching their table in

the feasting marquee.

'Ah, Bishop Lionel,' replied Bertha faintly embarrassed. 'What brings you to the joust?'

'To be honest Mistress Bluddschott, t'was by way of distraction for our illustrious guest the

Spaniard.‘ The Bishop waved and smiled in the direction of the strutting peacock in the feath-

ered plumage who was becoming quite an attraction to the local children. ‗He's been en-

trusted with a mission by the Bishop of Casablanca, who as you may know is the second

cousin of the King of Castile.'

Bertha nodded wisely, even though she'd always thought Castile had something to do with

washing products and had no idea where this Cassa whatever was situated. She did under-

stand Kings and Bishops though. Clearly the over dressed popinjay was well connected in the

Spanish Court. And that meant he was loaded ... loads of silver pennies and golden ducats

and whatever they spent in Cassawhereever.

'And why have you drawn the short straw of babysitting?'

The Bishop smiled his saintly smile. 'Not all things are what they seem my dear. Of late I

have realised our claim to the relic of the dearly beloved saint may not be as secure as I was

always led to believe.'

'Not the toe bone of St Gasteric?' spluttered Gloria who was, as usual, intent in the buffet

tent with her sisters of stuffing her chubby cheeks with more honey cakes than was humanly

possible. 'Is that what he's come for?'

Bertha was impressed, but then Gloria always was the brains in the family – naff all else in

her favour – but she could spot a wooden penny in a pile a mile high.

'I fear so Mistress Gloria. It seems the relic was not in the gift of the Abbot when he

donated it to the Cathedral and received such a large recompense of silver for his inconven-

ience.'

'Gift?' chuckled Vera. 'Abbot Costello's never been one for generosity, has he?'

'Actually, technically he donated it, albeit at a cost, to the Cathedral many years ago and

now …'

'Now, the real owner has shown up and wants it back,' nodded Gloria wiping crumbs off her

kirtle with a rabbit skin muffler. 'Got to admire his cheek, the old fraud. More front than Wes-

ton Super Mare.' Gloria has spent her formative years in the Somerset levels, where she

would still have been ruminating with her spinster sisters but for the demise of their late

father, and thus on gaining their freedom from the damp and draughty Manor at Winscombe

where they had long been abandoned as unprofitable for breeding stock, had been at leisure

to descend on their brother, the Baron, for a lengthy stay and the pleasurable activity of hus-

band hunting for themselves.

'What he needs is a distraction,' said Vera her fingers tracing patterns in cake crumbs.

'Something to take his mind off mouldy old bones.'

Bishop Lionel smiled his saintly smile. How could he explain to such innocent maidens that

it wasn't very likely that the Ambassador played by their set of matrimonial rules and cus-

toms. Not many of King Harffa's courtly knights splashed on the lavender water so lavishly

and sported ribbon bows and silver buckles at their knees. If the unlovely Mistress Vera was

to turn the Ambassador's head she'd need divine intervention, or a very potent spell.

At that moment Merlin and Wyllfa came into view arm in arm heading for the row of trestle

tables stacked high with ale barrels ... ‗Ahh,‘ said the three ugly sisters and the Bishop in uni-

son.

Can you remember your first job?

Or ...

Were you ‗called-up‘ to do a stint of

National Service?

If so please send in your memories for

the 2013 memories project asap.

We hope to be able to collect enough

material to produce an e-book of memories.

As we no longer have the funding, or staffing, to go on a com-

munity tour collecting memories then we will have to think

laterally and produce the project in another way.

If you have old photographs that would be great ... scanned

in and sent as jpegs please.

My First Job

Did you work as a Saturday girl, or boy, while still at school?

Did you become an apprentice?

Did you start in the family business?

What princely sum were you paid for long hours?

National Service

Brasso, blanco and bull? Remember all that?

Nissan huts and square bashing, how did that appeal to a

Teddy Boy?

How much of a culture shock was this?

Did you go anywhere interesting?

What did you learn from the experience?

Were you the square peg in the round hole?

In retrospect did you gain anything from the time served?

This book won‘t write itself ... We need your memories! Issue 265

Page 14

There’s a brand new mix of material in The Loop on Radio Wildfire – Now playing 24/7 a completely new selection of stories, satires, poetry, spo-ken word, music and interview @ www.radiowildfire.com - another two hours of live literature and chat. In this edition ... The Loop brings you spoken word, poetry and monologue set to music, soundscape and manipulation from Kenton Field, Modal Roberts, Heather Wastie, Jenny Hope, and Mark Goodwin & Alexandru Hegyesi; plus a post-Armistice Day chat with poet Angela France about World War I war poetry from the French trenches with an example in French and English. The Loop brings you interviews with novelist Will Buckingham, talking about his new book The Descent of the Lyre, plus Will reading from the book which is published by Roman Books. The Loop brings you short stories - get your ears chewed with Louise Gibney's mock-horror The Dawn of The Diners; and, from the Radio Wildfire Archive, Alexandra Roden's The Interivew. The Loop brings you music from Lee Hubbard with the infuriatingly catchy Bobbling Song, Billy & Lozz, Manni, and from singer-songwriter Matt Leo-nard Price from his latest cd Sleeping Pill Mannequin. The Loop brings you drama from Bunbury Banter Theatre Company - this month the play is The Sallow Child by Lee Ravitz. Plus there's Satire with Tony Judge's A Brief and Approximate Guide to Eng-land and the English (and a hidden track from the Hallowe'en Show). So join us and listen by going to www.radiowildfire.com and clicking on The Loop (And don’t forget, you can upload soundfiles of your own work to the 'Submit' page of the Radio Wildfire website. Mp3s are our preferred for-mat. You can also ensure you always get reminders of upcoming shows on Radio Wildfire by following us on Twitter.) The Loop is curated by Vaughn Reeves and will play online continuously for the next month (approximately), except during our live broadcast on Mon-day 3rd December starting at 8.00pm UK time with a full programme of pre-recorded tracks, live studio guests and conversation. WHAT IS RADIO WILDFIRE? Radio Wildfire is an independent online radio station based in the West Mid-lands which blends spoken word, poetry, performance literature, comedy, sto-rytelling, short stories and more with a novel selection of word/music fusion and an eclectic mix of musical styles. www.radiowildfire.com currently broad-casts live 8.00-10.00pm (UK time) on the first Monday of every month.

Issue 265

Page 15

Old Classic : Apple and Ginger Pudding

This is what you need 110g/4oz stem ginger in syrup (8 big pieces — comes in a jar)

175g/6 oz self-raising flour

Half level tsp ground ginger

Half level tsp ground cinnamon

Half level tsp baking powder

Three quarter level tsp bicarbonate of soda

2 eggs

Warm water to mix about 5 to 6fl oz

75g/3oz soft butter (margarine is fine too)

110g/4oz dark brown sugar

1 tablespoon black treacle

175g/6oz cooking apples, peeled and chopped

This is what you do Pre-heat oven to 180C. Chop up stem ginger and apples.

Sift the flour, spices, baking powder and bicarbonate of soda

into a bowl, add the eggs, butter and sugar. Add treacle then

whisk everything together gradually, adding warm water until

comes to a smooth mixture, fold in the chopped apple and

chopped stem ginger.

Bake in the centre of the oven until the pudding feels firm and

springy to the touch – time depends on the type of pudding

basin used – this mixture can be split into individual pudding

basins which take about half an hour to bake.

Serve warm with cream or custard – a nice touch is to spoon

warmed brandy over the puddings especially if the stem ginger

syrup is added as well. The smell of this pudding cooking is

something to be remembered ...

Not one for any dieters ...

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Debut Dagger Update 1 November 2012 - 2 February 2013

Bulletin No. 2 – The Thrill of the Chase

10 weeks to go

Now at the end of November it is Advent Sunday, and it‘s before this date is when

you are meant to make your traditional Christmas puddings.

At home when we were kids we all helped on the mixing of all the ingredients in-

cluding the insertion of the silver thrupenny piece into each pudding

basin, then we knew they were actually in each of the puddings that were made.

It encouraged us to eat the pudding at Christmas time always hoping to be the

one that finds the coin, but alas at times it got swallowed accidentally.

Mother never lost any, she watched carefully the following day, and the coin was

recovered. I don't know how many times those coins had been through our guts,

but they were recycled and used the following year no matter what. (I still have

some of those same coins in the cupboard)

Our puddings would be double the size in this picture, rarely did it ever have time

to put holly on top, and it was deemed to be too dangerous to fire with four young

lads to keep an eye on, and a waste of good brandy.

Issue 265

Page 18

Part of the secret of success of life is to eat what you like and let

the food fight it out inside.

Mark Twain (1835-1910)

Mother‘s Christmas Puddings

Mother made her Christmas puddings, well before Advent,

Got to be stored and maturing, a month or more to ferment,

All the ingredients were ready, along the pantry shelves,

Big bowl for mixing fetches out, for a wooden spoon she delves.

Raisins, currants, sultanas, beef suet, sugar and flour,

Nuts, eggs, lemon juice n' peel, stale bread too hard to devour

Then to the bottles, Guinness and the Brandy,

A mixture of spices, everything's on the table ready and handy.

Thirteen ingredients there is said to be, to mix all in the bowl

To fill four big basins, keep us going, till New Year was her goal

We all had a stir, with the wooden spoon, and to make a wish,

Four silver thrupeny pieces added, one to each basin she'd pitch.

Puddings tied down with a cloth, corners pulled up tied on top,

Steamed for a good two hours, stored on top shelf she'd pop,

Cool it was would store for months, in fact its only one,

Exiting it was to see who, gets the thrupeny piece be-gum.

The thrupeny pieces mother kept, safe from year to year,

Same ones boiled every time, occasionally swallowed I fear,

She watched so closely following day, lose them she would not,

These were rare when we were kids, and dug it out the pot.

It had been a long tradition, for these puddings that she makes,

Made them every year the same, not long does it take,

Save one for Easter time, another special day,

See who's got the thrupeny piece, the one who shouts hooray.

Countryman (Owd Fred)

Issue 265

Page 20

Deception ‘Solanum dulcamara’, oh, such A pretty name for a pretty flower, Turk’s caps of purple Over small yellow faces, Delicate stems lean Confidingly for support Among the grasses, Shiny leaves turn to catch the sun. Autumn beads of green and red Thread the hedgerow, Tiny tomatoes, enchanting, Enticing. Ah, beware, For nightshade is its English name, Or, as rural sages have it, ‘Bittersweet’.

Atropa belladonna or Atropa bella-donna,

commonly known as Belladonna or Deadly

Nightshade, is a perennial herbaceous plant

in the family Solanaceae, native to Europe,

North Africa, and Western Asia. The foliage

and berries are extremely toxic, containing

tropane alkaloids. These toxins include sco-

polamine and hyoscyamine which cause a

bizarre delirium and hallucinations, and are

also used as pharmaceutical anticholinergics.

The drug atropine is derived from the plant.

Wikipedia image Illustration from Köhler's

Medicinal Plants 1887

Joy Tilley

Forget-Me-Not

In Memoriam S.T.

A tiny blue flower in the garden grows wild, Each petal a memory.

In Springtime it gently unfurls its buds, And every one whispers low, ‘Remember, forget-me-not’.

Each flower is the colour of faraway sky,

Each leaf is the shape of a heart. In cloud and in sunshine, this plant seems to say

‘Remember, forget-me-not.’

Remember, forget-me-not.

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