Issue 325 28th February 2014

DULCE ET DECORUM EST Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind. Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!---An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; But someone still was yelling out and stumbling, And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime... Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light, As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--- My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.

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A dry day is a blessing. I hate it when commentators at the Olympics say ―when she medals‖. Medal is a noun,

NOT a verb!

It must be Thursday. I could never get the hang of Thursdays. ~ Douglas Adams

The phenomenon of the TV series Box Set is truly the most undervalued art form of recent years. This provides a visual story told in far greater depth of plot and characteri-sation than any single novel could hope for and way beyond the experience provided in

a two hour film.

It is so annoying to see security lights on public building burning away 500watts each in

bright sunlight. We, the tax payer, are paying for this incompetent waste caused by tim-

ing errors on automated systems. Schools in particular are often at fault. Can anyone

explain why all public buildings globally are not required to be retro fitted with solar pan-

els and/or wind turbines?

―Me and Harry went into town‖. Almost everyone these days commits this grammatical

horror. Are they no longer taught that the other person is always put first, and that logi-cally ‗I‘ is correct, because we‘d never say ‗me went into town‘? My old English teacher would be turning in her grave.

Isn‘t it a shame for big energy companies when nearly half a million of their angry cus-

tomers voted with their feet and left after savage price rises were imposed so that their

outrageous profits dropped by a huge percentage ... Trying not to laugh out loud, really

am ...

Every ‗normal‘ is different.

Random words : weave, Ricardo, harpsichord, never, bystander, brilliant, crocus, danger Assignment : bullying WORD for today: scry verb, to predict the future using a crystal ball or some such

http://www.womenslandarmytribute.co.uk/ Staffordshire Women‘s Food and Farming Union are fund raising for a memorial to the WWII Land Girls http://www.womenslandarmytribute.co.uk/about-us/

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Make Over: Assignment (SMS) Sylvia had always thought Trespass House, standing alone on top of the promontory, was a personification of loneliness. Its high gables, built sideways on to winter gales blowing in off the bay, seemed resigned to their fate. The narrow slits for windows on the seaward side obviously were built by those who knew and respected the ferocity of the sea. She hesitated at a bend in the steep path skirting the cliff face. Her face bathed in sweat, she must hurry. The sun was already climbing, thrusting skywards across the moor. She imagined the chaos of the cot-tage now left behind and Ma trying to do everything herself now her eld-est had been sent off into service — at eight, young Lucy would be no help at all. All good intentions and head full of daisies and songs. How different things could have been if only the ‗Winds of Newlyn‘ hadn‘t gone down in that tropical storm off Jamaica taking Jed and Pa along with it. So much for making over their fortunes and a new start in life. A tear was whipped away on the breeze as out in the bay she watched a trawler entering the harbour furl-ing its sails. If only she‘d been a boy. A boy going to sea to have adventures with Pa, not a girl destined to be scrubbing pots and pans for the rest of her days. Ten minutes later, it was with trepidation the girl pushed open the gate to Trespass House home of Customs Officer Captain Marshall and his family, lugging her box behind her. At her knock the kitchen door was opened by a boy, not much younger than herself, in one hand clutching a dry crust. ―Sylvia Trewiffic,‖ she whispered. ―Ma sent me.‖ A woman‘s voice called out from inside, ―Come in girl, don‘t stand there letting in all the draught. I‘ve enough to do without the range go-ing out again this morning.‖

-o0o-

―It‘s monstrous!‖ George complained. He‘d been cast as Bottom in the local Am Dram‘s production of ‗A Midsummer Night‘s Dream‘. George was a bit of a peacock

and it was well-known that the producer didn‘t like him much. ―An unpleasant, pompous individual‖, he‘d been heard to call him behind his back.

―He has no concept of teamwork. A producer and his cast should be interdependent. He is a prima donna!‖ ―I expected to get Oberon,‖ George continued. ―After all, I already know all his lines,

and by way of proof continued, ‗I know a bank where the wild thyme grows……with sweet musk roses and with eglantine‘. The words spilled from his lips like a waterfall.

The producer smiled a mischievous smile. ―Wait till he discovers he‘s been cast as Worzel Gummidge, the scarecrow in our Christmas review. (PMW)

Assignment : Makeovers My garden is not looking pretty. In fact, it’s a bit of a mess. I have to admit, I’ve neglected it. It could do with some work, I confess. I thought I’d had an idea, To write to the BBC

And get that Charlie Dimmock

To come round and do it for me. She might bring that nice Alan Titchmarsh. I think he’s a bit of alright! I do hope the mess won’t deter him. Less ‘garden’ more World War bomb-site. And then again, there’s my parlour. It’s grown really shabby, I fear. I’ll ask ‘Changing Rooms’ Carol Smillie

To bring Laurence Bowen down here. A bucket of paste and some paper And paint will soon do the trick. And while they’re all hard at it, They could give my front gate a quick lick. Now once my house and my garden

Are looking the business once more, It’s time to turn my attention

To me, so I match the décor! The first thing I’ll get is a facelift. Liposuction, to get rid of fat. Then Botox, to smooth out my wrinkles, Yes I’ll put my name down for all that. New clothes, new glasses, new hairdo. All courtesy of the TV. I won’t have to cough up a penny. The producers will pay it for me. Gok Wan is the man for the mission

To pep up my wardrobe and hair, And turn me into a model. I can’t wait to see everyone stare! But wait now, when all this is over, There’s a problem I can foresee. When people meet me in the street, Will they be able to tell that it’s me?

Snowdrop season Peeping out cautiously like fledgling fliers, drops of snow in floral form silently scream;

desperate to be noticed. No one hears but eyes peer down, mesmerised by delicate beauty and smiles burst forth from frosty mouths.

GO ON ... Really ... You’d trust a Government not to lose your medical records when they go online? You’d trust a bunch of Hooray-Henrys, or whoever comes next, with the most personal intimate secrets of your entire life? You’d trust them not to allow data to be left on a laptop on a train, in a pub, in a stolen car? Oh yes, that’s already happened to sensitive data, hasn’t it? Some of the following information is from the cam-paign group 38degrees ...

Breakthrough! NHS England has announced that Care.data - the plan to upload our medical records to a central database - is being postponed for 6 months. On Monday 17.02.14, over 130,000 of us voted to opt out of Care.data because of con-cerns about our privacy and our data being used by private companies. Within hours of the vote, NHS England staff rushed to the 38 Degrees office for an urgent meeting to “understand our concerns”. During the meeting, it was announced they would postpone their plans. This climbdown is proof that people power can make a difference in the fight against NHS privatisation. It comes after a wave of pressure from 38 Degrees members, along with organisations like SumOfUs and medConfidential. NHS England have said they‟ll now try to „build public confidence in the system‟. We can show them that there‟s only one way to win us over: rule out private companies making money from our medical records, and protect our privacy. Thanks to this breakthrough, we‟ve got six months to stop care.data from handing more of our NHS to private companies. Here are some of the things we can do together:

Pay for expert lawyers to find out how our data could be used to help research with-out falling into the hands of private companies

Organise a series of public meetings across the country with 38 Degrees members and NHS England so that they understand how we want them to fix the scheme

Deliver leaflets to people across the UK explaining the problems with Care.data and how they can pressure NHS England to fix them It‟s clear that our work had a big impact and helped force the delay in the Care.data plans. On Tuesday, at the meeting with NHS England, they agreed to meet 38 Degrees members during the six month pause. If NHS England are going to listen, we need to keep up the pressure and show we care. If we all chip in, we could invite them to public meetings across the country and tell them how we feel face-to-face. PS: Over 130,000 voted „Yes‟ to staging a mass opt-out. When the news came through, tests were almost complete and the online opt-out tool ready to launch. Right now that‟s on hold because we need to see what NHS England decide to change. We‟ve got six months until data starts being uploaded. So if the plans aren‟t significantly changed, we still have time to carry out the mass opt-out which we voted to support this week. If you‟re keen to opt-out right now, you can do so using https://www.faxyourgp.com/ or http://medconfidential.org/.

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NOTES [1] In their coverage, the Daily Mail, the Independent, the Telegraph and the Guardian all credited 38 Degrees members for keeping up the pressure on NHS England. The Daily Mail, NHS delays plan to harvest your details: Victory for the Mail as database is shelved for six months: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2562296/Controversial-plan-share-medical-records-NHS-hold-six-months.html The Independent, Victory for privacy as NHS database is delayed: http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/health-and-families/health-news/victory-for-privacy-as-nhs-database-is-delayed-9137136.html The Telegraph, Patients should be warned before NHS shares medical records, doctors say: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/health/healthnews/10646151/Patients-should-be-warned-before-NHS-shares-medical-records-doctors-say.html The Guardian, NHS in England delays sharing of medical records: http://www.theguardian.com/society/2014/feb/18/nhs-delays-sharing-medical-records-care-data [2] 38 Degrees blog, NHS Care.data: 38 Degrees members vote to opt-out: http://blog.38degrees.org.uk/2014/02/18/nhs-care-data-38-degrees-members-vote-to-opt-out/ [3] 38 Degrees blog, NHS Care.data: Our meeting with NHS England yesterday http://blog.38degrees.org.uk/2014/02/19/nhs-care-data-our-meeting-with-nhs-england-yesterday/ [4] Sum of Us: http://action.sumofus.org/a/nhs-patient-corporations/ Medconfidential: http://medconfidential.org/

Is this scaremongering? Or common sense based on a track record of serial govt departments‟ incompetence? Personally speaking, I went into my health centre surgery reception on Monday and filled out two very simple name and address forms which said I was opting out. It took about five min-

utes. Ahhh ... Peace of mind! Priceless ... (SMS)

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It’s All Under Control

Cruising past my window a glorious sight to see, An early evening sunset of great intensity.

There‘s shades of blue and orange, gold and grey and red, Rushing through the sky as if they‘re late for bed.

I wonder if you're looking? Appreciate this scene?

A million muted colours, from a powerful machine!

A moment to stop and wonder They make me realise

That life is for the living No room for compromise.

All still now in the evening sky, Bold fusion fills each space,

And in this crowded universe, I shine in allotted place.

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Winter Crops

Our allotments has a waiting list like all other sites and

sometimes people on it are offered a plot, but turn it down

saying they are not ready for it and they then go to the bot-

tom of the waiting list. This often happens when a plot be-

comes vacant part way through the season and the person

believes that they have missed the planting time and conse-

quently they couldn’t make use of it until the Spring, but

there is always something to plant on an allotment whatever

time of year and early Autumn, especially, is a good time for taking over a new

plot.

Not only is it the ideal time to give you the chance to thoroughly dig your plot,

weed it, get it to a fine tilth and generally prepare it before the spring planting, but

it gives you the ideal opportunity to dig in loads of manure to fertilize it well before

the Winter so that the worms can work on it, spread the goodness and make it even

more suitable for Spring planting. If the plot is fairly tidy there are quite a few

things that can be planted later in the growing season anyway, depending on the ac-

tual month. Late plantings of some vegetables can often be made and the garden

centres sell a whole range of Autumn Planting Vegetables these days. They include

things like Winter Cabbages, Purple and White Sprouting Broccoli, all year round

Lettuce and even Christmas New Potatoes. Japanese Onion sets planted late in the

season will harvest earlier the following year than ordinary Onion sets planted in

the Spring. At home, one year, I had a large Angelica plant that had spectacular

seed heads in the Autumn. I read that the seed does not keep very well and becomes

infertile very quickly, so I sowed some and it germinated well before the Winter set

in. The little seedlings went through the Winter outside and grew away in the

Spring to give lots of big plants the following year. We are fond of Garlic and Jeru-

salem Artichokes which both also need to be planted in the late Autumn/early Win-

ter for best results. Other seed that can be put in through the Winter, if the weather

permits, include a variety Broad Bean called Aquadulce and Onion seed is tradi-

tionally sown on Boxing Day.

Fruit bushes and trees were always traditionally planted in the Autumn/Winter

months when the plants were dormant and didn’t mind being disturbed. In the good

old days this was mainly because everything was bought “Bare Root,” and it would

die if sold like that with leaves on in the Summer months. However, even pot

grown plants will suffer if planted in hot weather and need to be planted in a cool,

or damp spell of weather to give them the best chance. So, Autumn is still the best

planting time for these as well, because they will have no leaves on them then ena-

bling the roots to get better established over the Winter. In the Autumn, you can

even dig up fruit bushes from home and move them on to the allotment to give

them more room. A Gooseberry bush may well have branches that have rooted into

the ground where they have bent down and touched it. These can be cut off in the

Autumn and make ideal free plants to fill up a new allotment plot with as do divi-

sions from an established Rhubarb Crown. In fact it has always been said that Rhu-

barb does best after it has been dug up in the Winter and the Crown has been left

exposed to the frosts!

Not that many Herbaceous plants are grown on allotments, but these are best planted after the

foliage has started to die down as well. They can also be divided and replanted in Autumn when

they will get better established, ready for the new season. Some allotment holders like to grow a

few herbaceous flowering plants for cut flowers for the house and the true Herb Bergamot, or

Monarda is one that we have decided that we like. It produces lovely sprays of purple/mauve/

pink flower heads that fill the room with a minty smell and they last quite well in vases as well.

There are some flowers seeds such as Sweet Peas that are traditionally sown in the Autumn, but

there is much debate over whether Autumn, or Spring planting gives the best flowering plants

for the following year.

Autumn means harvest time to everybody and if you have taken over a plot after the harvest

you may think that all the crops will be gone, but that is not strictly true as many crops can be

harvested later, in the Winter months. It is possible that your new plot may have been planted

earlier in the season with Leeks, Jerusalem Artichokes, Kale, Brussels Sprouts, or Parsnips that

are all harvested in the colder months. Indeed they always say that Parsnips are best to eat after

they have been frosted and Brussels Sprouts are a Christmas favourite. Another crop that might

have been planted is the old fashioned, forcing Chicory that has to be

dug up at the first sign of frost. Chicory is well known to be a little bit-

ter, but we have found that the Summer version, Raddichio, seems

more bitter than the traditional Winter grown type. The Winter Forcing

varieties are planted outside at the same time as the Summer, but are

not harvested until they have been dug up and re-planted inside, in a

frost free place, such as a garage, or greenhouse and then the blanched

“Chicons,” are harvested in the depths of Winter.

Random Words: brine chestnut Thomas fire compact cover water daughter

'Chestnuts in brine!' cried Thomas. 'We can roast them over the fire after dinner.' 'You shouldn't be looking at your presents already,' said his daughter closing her new compact.

'And you can't roast them. They're full of water. Cover them with sausage meat and stick them in the turkey.' (AP)

Holding the powder compact in a huge fist of a hand hardened by work and soaking in brine to toughen the skin, Thomas Grimshaw held back salt water tears: he was a man after all. Shiny sil-

ver and tortoise shell. There was a place for a curl of chestnut hair, still so vibrant and glowing in the fire light after all these years. Thomas was a pragmatic Glaswegian he knew his daughter was gone, covered in the mist of time. Time doesn‘t heal, time only destroys all things. (SMS)

Thomas drained the brine from a tin of tuna, and made himself a sandwich. He poured a glass of

whiskey and topped it up with water. Then he settled into his chair by the fire, and picked up his book. He gazed at the picture on the cover. It showed a beautiful woman holding a compact. She

was checking her long, chestnut hair in the mirror. Yes, another lonely night at home for Thomas, with just ―The Policeman‘s Daughter‖ for company. (PMW)

OUR HOUSE 2014 02 20 Well at last the floods seem under control. Not over, of course, for the water must finish its journey to the sea and there are plenty of people still in the way, but at least there seems to be a break in the storms. No fresh problems forecast at the moment. My friend Julie came round this morning positively exultant. 'It's just like spring!' she cried. 'Look at your little crocuses, all open and smiling at the sun.' Which they were, of course. Even the snowdrops seemed more force-ful than of late. 'I won't want my brolly,' said I. (We were going to choir practice.) 'Nor my parka. I'm sick of that thing.' It is, in fact, a very good parka, keeping the weather out and the warmth in with the best, and I was being most ungrateful, but it is stultifying and I yearned for my little red jacket which I haven't worn since goodness knows when. It's like you feel in pregnancy when frocks with a waistline become the most desirable thing in the world. Anyway, we set off merrily, warbled for a couple of hours, and when we came out it was pouring. 'Your magic power,' said Julie. And I am known for this. Friends have often said I should sell my services to farmers during a drought – just going on holiday is all that would be needed. 'I'll have to buy an umbrella,' I said, for the jaunty jacket possesses no hood, and, followed by Julie I dived into an adjacent shop. As we all know, out-of-town shops are never cheap, and this one was crowded with locals chat-ting to each other and the girl on the till. We waited

10 minutes to pay £12 for a £1 brolly and when we got out the sun was cracking the flags. 'Did you never think of offering your services to poor Mr Cameron?' asked Julie. 'It would have saved him no end of embar-rassment on the Somerset Levels.‘ (Anne Picken)

Reminder: Words for the Wounded Writing Prize (raising money for the recovery of wounded troops) closes to entries on 11 March. Up to 400 words of fiction, memoir and poetry. Prize money totalling £400 and publication in Writers' Forum. Entry fee £4.50. Details can be found on www.wordsforthewounded.co.uk 100% of entry fee goes to the wounded.

YOU CAN FOOL ALL THE PEOPLE SOME OF THE TIME AND SOME OF THE PEOPLE ALL OF THE TIME

BUT YOU CAN’T FOOL ALL OF THE PEOPLE ALL OF THE TIME ...

Some folks have woken up ... Here’s a message sent in to us from one such campaigner ...

Energy companies have been bleating about a fall in their profits from 2012 to 2013, but as the profits for 2013 for one of the big

six come in at 2.7 billion pounds: do they have any reason to be crying all the way to the bank? Those profits come at a very high

cost to the rest of us.

If you have any old energy bills, dig them out - I did, and discovered that since October 2004 my gas charges have in-

creased by a whopping 279.36% and electricity charges by 69.89%. The energy companies sneakily changed their billing

methods a few years ago and charges are now shown in units, as opposed to kWh, so I contacted my supplier and asked what I

now pay per kWh, and the three emails I had to send to produce a result were well worth it to expose the truth about how much

charges have risen in just over 9 years.

So, please, keep supporting the campaign (to renationalise energy companies) and passing on the word. It should be even easier to

do now, as the campaign finally has an official website and Facebook page, both of which link to the petition. I'll be posting the

same content on both, so if you're not on Facebook, you'll be able to view posts on the website.

Here are the links:

Website: http://www.turntheheaton.org.uk

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/turntheheaton.org.uk

You can still pass on the direct link: https://you.38degrees.org.uk/p/renationalise

Assignment – Ghost Town Gone are the familiar names; High Street favourites we‘ve known from our youth. Only banks and charity shops remain. Shut up and locked are the rest. Tired and boarded up. Town centre unloved and unlovely. Once bustling and busy, We congregated there to socialise. Now deserted and silent, its heart torn out.

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Year 1589 : The Cast : The Queen‘s Men : a group of strolling players thrown out of London where the theatres have been closed due to an outbreak of plague. Elizabeth I was on the throne. Kit Marlowe (wordsmith/detective), Harry Swann (the murderer of the-first victim who first found the chal-ice) Samuel Burball (Owner), Peter Pecksniff, Daniel Alleynes, young Hal who plays a girl‘s role very badly. Vesta Swann, Rosie Ripp-sheet. The Boar‘s Head Tavern, Trentby: Bertha landlady, Molly Golightly, Martha Goodnight wenches. Ned the bear keeper. The Trentby Abbey of St Jude : Abbot Ranulf knows something about the missing Roman hoard of silver plate/chalice etc The Manor of Bluddschott : sodden Squire Darnley Bluddschott, wife Mis-tress Anne, daughter Penelope about to be sold off into matrimony, Mis-tress Hood seamstress, sister to Penny, Mistress Tatanya

The Sheriff‘s Castle : Magistrate Squire Humphrey Pettigrew, Black Knight, the Sheriff Burrowmere Lord Haywood, man-at-arms Richard of Hyde Leigh, a constable Daniel Smithers and a scribe Modern Day: Rick Fallon and Tommy Tip-Tip McGee** Private eyes in Trentby on case for Sir Kipling Aloysius Bluddschott (Sister Christobel) to locate silver chalice and Roman hoard of Trentby Abbey + corpse Jago Swann DI Pete Ferret and Lavender Pomeroy and Rose Rippsheet PLEASE NOTE: It is imperative that those writing for the storyline read what other writers have already written before they add a new piece. AND the year has been changed and Moll Ripp-sheet has become Rosie.

The End of The Millstone Round Harry Swann‘s Neck After the dread fear of having his bell rung, ringing him into the next world, Harry

Swann gathered his wits after the demon wife of the cut purse, Molly Golightly had left him be.

She thinks she has the better of me, does she. Her evil thoughts bethought her murderous callous brute of a mate had reason killing all and sundry for the sheer pleasure of it, as how could he know what chinks could be wrested from victim‘s corpse.

Not he, had stolen church plate nor jewels from clergy. He had given freely the chalice to priest for churching piety.

The jewels had been hidden by someone long since passed away. Had he set upon the cut purse? No. The cur had come as a thief in the night to cut

his throat for plunder. But now he must rid this blackmailer from his life, that would bleed him dry and

spoil his rise in society. And would she not murder him in their marriage bed by poison or sharp dagger, to

gain all his worldly goods? Now he must think of murder most foul. Now he knew again it was kill or be killed. Just then a great clap of thunder intruded on his thoughts. Wild wind screamed

aloft and the ship began to pitch and toss to more wrench his gut into knots. Rain like hurtled stair rods beat on his seaward cabin walls and sharp stones seemed to batter wood, marking great hailstones were in the storm.

I cannot hear myself think. Then, cold inspiration struck him. All would seek safe shelter in shuttered cabin. Crew would be barely able to see

against sharp rain and hailstone, as they fight to keep rigging aright and point the bow into the crashing mountainous waves so not be overturned.

His knife was clenched from his valise, a thin long dagger, that he hid under his oil-skin.

He followed the sound of wailing woman‘s cry and found Molly Golightly in her cabin.

‗I‘ve said all there is to say for now, Harry Swann, begone with you.‘ Not being taken by surprise this time, his soldier‘s ways easily knocked her dagger

from her, and a swift move cut her throat. She gurgled a death gasp and was no more. Wrapping her in bed linen, careful to keep blood off him, he carried her lifeless

body out into the teeth of the gale. Waves crashed over the deck, no moon could shine light and no lightening strike lit

up the unremitting darkness of stormy night. He bobbed up and down the hatch to the deck to look about and saw no-one near. Linking arm to rigging he pitched her, weighed down with broken metalware from

splintered mast, into the forgiving sea, casting her down into Davey Jones‘ locker. The howling wind-driven rain made sight too tearful to smarting eyes and no-one

called out to challenge why or what he was about. The next day the sea was millpond calm. Molly Golightly had not been the only one lost to the sea that stormy night and was

listed merely as such.

Crew and passengers gathered for a brief service to thank God for their deliverance and pray for the souls of the departed.

Yeh, and may she rot in the deepest depths of purgatory, she who had lived from the cruel deaths of a lifetime of nefarious deeds to poor and merchant alike.

Note: This piece is being amended slightly ...

-o0o-

CHARITY DONATION WANTED

Contributor writes ....

We have been trying to sell or just find a home for a

set of Britannica Encyclopaedia's for a few years

now with no luck.

As you may know we are moving house during this

coming summer, and would like to find someone

who would take them in. It would be sacrilege just

to dump them or burn them, but no one wants them

these days with computers about.

All we would like is a donation that would go to

charity, they are in excellent condition, only our

girls used them during their college days.

Anyone who could give these a home please contact

RBW in the usual way and we will pass on the

message.

Stafford Arts Festival - Get involved - Apply Now 17 February 2014 Publicity Release

Opportunity to take part in The Stafford Arts Festival 2014 Stafford Town Centre Partnership seeks a wide range of artists and performers to take part in the 4th Stafford Arts festival, a

community event. The historic County town of Stafford is home to many events held throughout the year. Stafford Arts Festival is organised by

Stafford Town Centre Partnership, a not-for-profit organisation, whose key aim is to ensure we have a vibrant town centre. Where: Stafford Town Centre When: Saturday 6th September 2014

Who: Musicians, Dancers, Artists, Performers, Authors, Poets What: Stafford Town Centre Partnership are looking for people/groups to take part in this year's Stafford Arts Festival. The festival takes place in various venues and locations, both indoor and outdoor, around the town centre, with the main

performance area being in Market Square. Above all we want this festival to add life and vibrancy to our town centre and be fun and accessible for all visitors to enjoy! To apply:

Please fill in the application form available at: www.stafford-towncentre.co.uk. Return by email to lclemson@stafford-towncentre.co.uk, along with an image of your group. The closing date for applications is Monday 14th April 2014

GHOST TOWN - assignment

You can turn anywhere into a ghost town if you concentrate. Sit still for long

enough, in a café for example, and you will see first of all a blur. Traffic be-comes hazy, sound dies away, it is just you and the wind of change blowing backwards. Then the road surface might become apparent. Cobbles, mud, skirts just clearing boots that creak down towards the river. She is wearing a hat, high crowned, broad brimmed, plain. And a dark coat. She moves among others like her. She is carrying something.

Men lounging on corners call out but she ignores them. She stops as a horse drawn tram clatters past, lifts her skirts as she crosses the road. St George's Hall never fails to bring back her own ghosts – ghosts of mother and father and sisters at its opening. They'd come over on the ferry – mother had been putting pennies in the holiday pot for a whole year so they could stand in the crowd, eyes like saucers, mouths agape, staring at crim-

son and emerald blasts bursting the night sky. It's a bitter sweet memory, for within the year her mother was dead and she herself in an industrial school. How could a man be expected to cope with five daughters? Aunt Vio-let could manage Mary and sweet little Ellen, Agnes had gone to Aunt Sophie, Rebecca had always been Grandmother's favourite, but she, Maggie, had been nobody's choice. 'Too wayward,' they said. 'Too wild.' 'She needs taking in hand.‘ Well, she hadn't cared, and look at her now. Her own house and a man who loved her. In spite of Clara.

'I'll bring her up as my own, if only you'll say yes,' he'd pleaded. So she had. She goes down the side of the Hall, past the great library and the museum. Fainter ghosts strut though her now, men in powdered wigs and satin

waistcoats. They have quite obviously paid for this library, this museum from the industries they have religiously built. Generations have paid them homage.

As they knew they would. Their ships have sailed to Africa and returned with sugar, tobacco, cotton from the West Indies. They have paid for these goods with black gold. But in this town the only ghosts of the black gold are in lintel carvings of lotus flowers.

She passes Thomas Rigby's pub, the Town Hall. Top hatted men in shiny shoes cluster on the steps of the Cotton Exchange. She glances sideways. Perhaps Mr Duckworth is among them. But she can't see him. He had been a kind man, a good employer, but she quite saw why he had to dismiss her. Anyway, look at her now.

She is at the river now. Brunswick dock he'd said, today. He likes her to be there. The masts of the ships crowd against the quay, she tightens her mouth at the great blinkered horses. 'They won't hurt,' he'd said to her often.

'Gentle giants they.' It was all right for him, coming from farming, but for her... But, as usual she takes a deep breath and steps forward with her hus-band's dinner.

AP

15

16

Love in Leamington and all that Jazz - on Radio Wildfire Recordings of the recent Love in Leamington and all that Jazz event are now play-on-demand at www.radiowildfire.com/loveinleam

On 12th February, at a sold out event at Leamington Spa library, seven poets performed seven commis-sioned poems to an original soundtrack by the composer and musician Steve Tromans. Based on an idea

by poet Julie Boden, currently poet-in-residence to Birmingham Symphony Hall, Love in Leamington and all that Jazz featured commissioned poems from Roz Goddard; Jonathan and Maria Taylor; Roy McFarlane; Spoz; Julie Boden; and Charlie Jordan. Musicians Steve Tromans on keyboards and Lydia

Glanville on percussion were joined by vocalist Alison Symons who performed new arrangements of jazz standards between the poems.

Funded by Warwickshire Libraries and Poetry on Loan, these excellent recordings are now available to listen to at your leisure at www.radiowildfire.com/loveinleam

Our normal transmission of The Loop is still playing an excellent selection of spoken word and music 24/7 at www.radiowildfire.com/listen and our live transmission will occur as usual on the first Monday of the

month between 8-10pm (UK time). Love in Leamington and all that Jazz Twitter #loveinleam

Listen to Radio Wildfire at www.radiowildfire.com where The Loop plays 24 hours a day. Twitter @radiowildfire

(71 out of 98) 81% of GPs said No or Chose Not to return their prepaid

Ballot paper to the MP and Council. For Cannock only 10 out of 77 - 13%

Support the plans.

Press Release from Support Stafford Hospital Campaign Group

Of the 98 GPs in Stafford and Surrounds, only 19 responded in support of the downgrading of acute services at

Stafford Hospital and proposed changes to Cannock Hospital. Of the 77 GPs represented by Cannock Chase

Clinical Commissioning Group, only 10 responded supporting the Trust Special Administrators' recommendations.

It is very concerning that only 19% of Stafford GPs and only 13% of Cannock GPs chose to support their CCGs'

official position on the matter. What is even more concerning is our understanding that the Local Medical Com-

mittee, which represents individual GPs, actively advised its GP membership to consider not responding to the

ballot.

If the CCGs truly represent the views of their local GPs, why was this necessary?

Could it be that the CCGs do not accurately reflect the views of their membership when it comes to the future of

Stafford and Cannock Hospitals?

Until the CCGs can clearly demonstrate, with supported evidence, that they fully represent the views of the

membership, we do not believe the Secretary of State for Health can legally approve the recommendations within

the framework of the tests that need to be met before any reconfiguration can proceed.

Doctors snub MPs' vote on hospital plans

STAFFORD MP Jeremy Lefroy said he was disappointed after doctors snubbed a vote on plans for Stafford Hos-

pital. Just over a quarter of the borough's doctors...

Read more: http://www.staffordshirenewsletter.co.uk/news#ixzz2tbLZwpYj

WHAT passing-bells for these who die as cattle? Only the monstrous anger of the guns. Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle Can patter out their hasty orisons. No mockeries for them; no prayers nor bells, Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,— The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells; And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all? Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes. The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall; Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds, And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds. Anthem for doomed youth by Wilfred Owen "Anthem for Doomed Youth" by Wilfred Owen depicts the horror of war. There could be a concealed meaning that 'Anthem' means 'And them', thus soldiers are always doomed. The poem is a traditional Pet-rarchan sonnet, using the rhyme scheme of an English sonnet. The second part of the poem is dedicated to

funeral rituals suffered by soldiers‘ families and following the sorrow in the wake of the bloodiest battles. Written between September and October 1917, when Owen was a patient at Craiglockhart War Hospital in Edinburgh suffering from shell shock, the poem is a lament for all young soldiers and possibly also a com-

ment on Owen's rejection of religion in 1915.

While in hospital, Owen met and became close friends with, Siegfried Sassoon. It was Sassoon who report-

edly named the poem "anthem", and who also substituted "doomed" for "dead"; the famous epithet of "patient minds" was penned by Sassoon. The amended manuscript copy, in both men's handwriting, still ex-ists at the Wilfred Owen Manuscript Archive (available online).

Born 18 March 1893 Oswestry, Shropshire,

England

Died

4 November 1918 (aged 25)

Sambre–Oise Canal, France

Wilfred E.S. Owen

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