Issue 397 24th July 2015

Don’t let your light be hidden alone In the dark ... Come to workshop and let your creative spark start to shine ...

2

What The … Bugbear words that make you want to scream at the TV:

“I‟m liking it”; “We‟re all in this together” Observation: My dog‟s vets bills are expensive! I would have been off better having a budgie. What is it with cats? Humans have built this web of interconnection which could change the future of the planet and they fill it with cat videos …

FLASH FICTION: Random Words: basic, comma, canyon, verbatim,

spa, double, mystic, inglenook, armadillo

Assignment: Merry Christmas

A warm welcome awaits. COME to WORKSHOP ... Every Monday 1.30 start Rising Brook Library

Complicated things bananas ... There are so many choices ... free trade ... checking country of origin to

see if you like their govt ... Organic ... and price and degree of greenness ... If you buy ripe yellow it‟s an „eat today‟ : once those little brown spots appear ...

kids won‟t touch them. Some folk won‟t eat them until the brown spots are huge as they claim the fruit is sweeter then ... So many things to consider ... Is it any

wonder folk stand staring blankly at the rows of bananas on display in supermarkets.

Credit where it is due: The wood-land walks around Stafford Castle

are a delight.

Is the theme for the 2015

NATIONAL POETRY DAY.

2015 is the 21st anniversary of

National Poetry Day.

Thursday 8th October 2015.

www.issuu.com/risingbrookwriters

Barren

Sliced like cold liver on a butcher’s slab,

Ripped from its moorings

By blue-gloved hands,

This pod of creation.

Sacrificed to prolong bearer’s life.

Tattered reminder:

Torn and shredded by attempted

Foetus. Parasitic growths

Taking all and leaving

Nothing but devastation.

The quick and the dead,

Both leaving their bloody mark.

Now a void, a distant memory.

Strange webs of knotted strings,

Distorted digestive pathways.

The moon holds no dominion

The flood, too, passes into memory

Becomes buried in reminiscence.

These barren depths which

Duty fulfilled again and again,

Like unseen medal ribbons,

Hanging from an old man’s coat.

Creation more worthy than any badge of honour,

Quietly define matriarchal status

on the road to oblivion.

SMS Dec 2012

5

Gardening Tips for August ... Frances Hartley

All shrubs should be clipped by now to give the ends time to heal before the Win-

ter starts. Large leaved bushes like Laurel should be cut with Secateurs to save

leaving ugly cut leaves showing, whereas small leaved hedges can be done with

hedge trimmers. Some of the garden centres have packets of seeds left which they

are selling at half price. Most seeds of flowers like marigolds and other bedding

type plants will germinate well next year as will most vegetables, so it can be a

cheap way of buying seeds for next year.

Early fruiting Raspberries should be cut down as soon as the fruit have finished.

Cut the old stems back to ground level and then new canes will grow ready for next

year which should be tied in to support wires for the Winter. After the flowers of

Lupins, Delphiniums, Red Hot Pokers and most other strong growing, perennial, or

hebaceous plants have died, or been harvested, cut the stems right down and you

should get another flower spike. It may be a bit smaller than normal, but is a good

bonus. Lavender flowers will be faded now so they should be cut back to just above

the old wood to keep the plants bushy. Do not cut in to old wood though as it rarely

shoots again. I like to cut small bunches of Lavender to stand in a little glass vase.

It smells lovely - especially if the room has been closed up all night. It is a good

smell to wake up to for breakfast. Alan brought back from the Allotment a lovely

bunch of Monarda today. They are a perennial and if grown from seed this year will

flower next year. They are not very pretty with the flowers spread out on the plants,

but the flowers look much nicer when cut and pushed together in a vase in the

house and they also smell Minty. So, we have Lavender smells in the Dining Room

and Mint in the Lounge. This year we didn’t grow annual Sweet Peas that are an-

other smelly flower, but we did put in some perennial ones that seem to be a bit of a

flop, so far. If they do come up next year maybe they will be better.

Alan is busy on his allotment clearing the ground of the Potatoes and getting winter

plants in. He is also supplying us with Beetroot, some lovely French Beans and

Courgettes at present. We like Courgette sliced about one inch thick and done on a

flat tin in the oven. Then at the last minute a thin slice of cheese should be just

melted on the top, or the slices can be roasted in the juices round the meat.

We have had a marvellous crop of Hazel nuts off our own tree. Alan has picked

them still green and in their husks as otherwise the Squirrels would get them if they

are allowed to ripen on the tree, but we do leave a few nuts on for them. Our small

Apricot tree that is on an East-facing wall had some full sized Apricots this year

that were a lovely treat and the Mulberry bush had a nice crop of berries for the

first time. The Mulberries are quite an unusual taste and texture, but rather nice. It

reminded me of the song we used to sing at school while trying to warm up after a

cold and frosty walk, but I never expected to be able to see one actually growing

and eat the Mulberries!

Well That’s All For Now. Cheerio. Frances Hartley.

“ALL THAT

JAZZ”

Won the vote and

will be the next

RBW farce.

So is flapper, Christiana Aggott

really on the run or is it a

publicity stunt to drum up

sales for her next bodice ripping,

romance:

“The man who shed

Crocodile tears ...”

So where is the runaway romantic novelist?

Who is she hiding from and why?

Is Rooster Pearmain smitten?

Will valet Balsom Fry be happy about that?

So is flapper, Christiana Aggott

really on the run or is it a

publicity stunt to drum up

sales for her next bodice ripping,

romance:

“The man who shed

Crocodile tears ...”

The Roaring Twenties The Age of the FLAPPER ... Research: On the cusp of change at the end of the Art Noveau

age and before the 1925 Art Exhibition in Paris which sparked the Art Deco period Flappers were a "new breed" of young women in the early 1920s who wore short

skirts, bobbed their hair, listened to jazz. Flappers were brash, wearing excessive makeup, drinking, smoking, driving and flouting staid social norms. A liberal period, the Roaring

Twenties, the social, political turbulence that followed the end of World War I and the export of American JAZZ to

Europe was their playground. The word came from a 1920 film, The Flapper, starring Olive Thomas. Other silent movie actresses, such as Clara

Bow, Louise Brooks, Colleen Moore and Joan Crawford would soon become flapper stars In the United States, Prohibition helped the rise of the

flapper. With legal bars and cabaret clubs closed, back alley speakeasies sprang up everywhere. This led to alcohol smug-glers and widespread criminality.

Writers such as F. Scott Fitzgerald popularized the flapper look and lifestyle. Flappers, „Bright Young Things‟, were seen as attractive, reckless and independent. Flappers'

behaviour was outlandish and redefined women's roles. They were stereotyped as pleasure-loving and set to defy convention. The image of flappers was of young women

who went to jazz clubs where they danced provocatively and smoked cigarettes. They were active, sporting, rode bicycles,

drove cars and openly drank booze. Their dance styles were considered shocking, this was the age of the Charleston, the Shimmy, the Bunny Hug, and the Black Bottom.

Flappers began working outside the home and thus challenging women's traditional roles. Increasingly, women discarded rigid ideas about roles and embraced consumerism

and personal choice in an age of social and cultural change. Flappers advocated voting and women's rights. How-ever, many flappers weren't engaged in politics. In fact, Suf-

fragettes viewed flappers as vapid and unworthy of the en-franchisement they had worked so hard to win. Flappers were associated with slang words, including

"junk". Flappers used the word "jazz" in the sense of any-thing exciting. Their language reflected their feelings about dating, marriage and drinking: "I have to see a man about a

dog" meant going to buy booze; and a "handcuff" or "manacle" was a wedding ring. Their phrases to express ap-proval, were "That's so Jake" "That's the bee's knees", and

the popular "the cat's meow" or "cat's pyjamas".

Fashions: Flappers were known for their style, which was

pioneered by Coco Chanel, the spread of American jazz, and the popularization of dancing that accompanied it. Called garçonne in French ("boy" with a feminine suffix), flapper

style made girls look young and boyish: short hair, flattened breasts, and straight waists accentuated it. By at least 1913, the association between slim adolescence and a certain char-

acteristic look became fixed in the public's mind. At this early date, it seems that the style associated with a flapper already included the boyish physique and close-fitting hat,

but a hobble skirt rather than one with a high hemline.

Although the appearance typically associated with

flappers (straight waists, short hair and a hemline above the knee) did not fully emerge until 1926, there was an early association in the public mind between unconven-

tional appearance, outrageous behaviour and the word "flapper". Despite the scandal flappers generated, their

look became fashionable in a toned-down form among respectable older women. Significantly, the flappers re-moved the corset from female fashion, raised hemlines,

and popularized short hair. Among actresses closely iden-tified with the style were Olive Borden, Olive Thomas, Dorothy Mackaill, Alice White, Bebe Daniels, Billie Dove,

Helen Kane, Joan Crawford, Leatrice Joy, Norma Shearer, Laura La Plante, Norma Talmadge and Clara Bow. Beginning in the early 1920s, flappers started ap-

pearing in newspaper comic strips; Blondie Boopadoop and Fritzi Ritz. Flapper dresses were straight and loose, leaving

the arms bare (sometimes no straps at all) and dropping the waistline to the hips. Silk or rayon stockings were held up by garters. Skirts rose to just below the knee by

1927, allowing flashes of leg when a girl danced. To en-hance the view, some flappers applied rouge to their knees. High heels came into

vogue reaching 2–3 inches (5–8 cm) high. Without the re-

strictive corsets, flappers wore simple bust bodices when dancing. They also wore new,

softer and suppler corsets that reached to their hips, smooth-ing the whole frame, giving

women a straight up and down appearance. Boyish cuts were in

vogue, especially the Bob cut, Eton crop, and Shingle bob. Finger waving was used as a

means of styling definition. Hats included the Newsboy cap and Cloche hat. Jewellery consisted of art deco pieces, especially many layers of beaded necklaces. Pins,

rings, and brooches came into style. Horn-rimmed glasses were also popular.

Cosmetics in the 1920s: The evolving flapper look required "heavy makeup". With the invention of the metal lipstick container as well as compact mirrors, bee

stung lips came into vogue. Dark eyes, especially kohl-rimmed, were the style. Blush came into vogue. Origi-nally, pale skin was considered most attractive. However,

a tan became popular after Coco Chanel showed off a holiday tan – it suggested a life of leisure. Women wanted to look fit and healthy.

Being liberated from restrictive dress, the new-found free-dom to breathe and walk encouraged movement. The short skirt and bobbed hair were seen as a symbol of

emancipation. Women started swearing and smoking publicly, using contraceptives, raising skirts above the knee and

rolling their stockings. Women were now competing with men in business and some were obtaining financial inde-pendence. The New Woman was pushing the boundaries

of gender roles, representing sexual and economic free-dom. She cut her hair short and took to loose-fitting

clothing. No longer restrained by long trailing skirts, the modern woman was an independent thinker during the

Roaring 1920s.

Fast cars and fast living: Modesty, chastity, morality and traditional concepts of masculinity and femininity were ignored. The pre-war ideals of the roles of men and women

in society were being challenged.

The bubble had to burst ... The flapper lifestyle and look gradually disappeared after the General Strike of 1926 and the following years of the depres-

sion. High-spiritedness and hedonism were less acceptable during the hardships of the 1930s.

(Research source Wikipedia)

More Background Research: ACW The year chosen for the book is 1923. The one year women's dresses' hemline went back to just above the ankles and the waist dropped to the hips. The jackets were hip length and hips emphasised with a sash. The Paris art deco exhibition was in 1925. But art deco had already begun with Japan building art deco build-

ings to replace ones destroyed by an earthquake in 1923. Claridges, a luxury 5 star hotel in London is another good example of an art deco style hotel: http://www.lexitravels.com/worlds-finest-art-deco-hotels/ It was built during the 19th century, but redesigned in the late 1920s. Basil Lonides designs can still be seen in the hotel restaurant: http://www.claridges.co.uk/about-the-hotel/art-deco-design/ Artist of the art deco period: René Jules Lalique (1860-1945)

In the 1920s Lalique turned his hand to decorating the bon-nets of cars and in line with his love of the human and ani-mal form, Lalique created car mascots in the shapes of fish, horse heads, frogs, dragonflies, shooting stars and St. Chris-topher. Female nudes were also a favourite design. Lalique

glass mascots ornamented the bonnets of the Bentley, Hispano Suiza, Isotta Fraschini and Bugatti. Today, Lalique ornaments are highly sought after by collectors. Lalique is renowned for stunning vases in the amber, plum, blue, opalescent, gray, green, black and yellow hues he ob-tained by meticulously adding pigment to darkened glass. The art deco style in Lalique’s jewellery followed through to his work in glass and distinct geometric designs, smooth flowing lines and vibrant colours.

-o0o-

Actress Alice Joyce,

1926

Sad to say ... The dalek which has

been on duty in

Rising Brook Library

for so many years is being

recalled to his mothership ...

Err ... to be recycled ...

Err ... retired ...

no human was exterminated during his tour of duty...

Imag

e L

ee F

ones

Character outline. 1 Nigel & Winfred Bluddschott. Work in Progress. Contributor: Clive Hewitt

Background

Nigel & Winifred are part owners and managing partners of The Bluddschott Hotel on a small offshore Island at Trentby-on-Sea.

The hotel is owned by a consortium of: 40% by Winifred's dad, who has 'Retired to the Colonies' [he keeps moving but it's

mainly Canada] on the money from WW1 anti zeppelin barrage balloon pro-duction,

10% by Nigel's family trust. That's so he can't squander it. Winifred has 30% and Nigel has 18% - a minority stock holder & he resents it - the other 2% is owned – they think – by a mysterious company, who only demand a quar-

terly cheque to keep things sweet. Nigel thinks HE runs the hotel, Winifred doesn't BEG to differ, she knows that SHE

DOES! To make ends meet – Nigel is (part time & in a small way) a smuggler. As he

would, no doubt, put it he 'Doesn't want to burden HM Customs with pointless pa-perwork'. Thus, he arranges for brandy, ciggies & other taxable goods to come from France & elsewhere without telling them. Sometimes he arranges for the ex-port of the same to foreign parts, such as Trentby-on-Sea Town F.C., the local Rugby club, the Officers Mess at the local garrison and various other high-class so-cial venues.

Their name is actually Olde Englishe but looks Germanic, and with WW1 just ended, is a decided drawback; but cannot be changed for various legal reasons.

Trentby Island is an outcrop of the local sandstone and is reputed to be: A smugglers haven – well it is, sort of. Haunted – possibly by the ghost of Blackleg Bill Bluddschott who was, according

to legend, hung for Barratry in 1789, but it could be wrong as William was shot, in Grimsby; which is a very painful place to be shot in they tell me, by somebody else’s outraged wife.

Isolated – it's 400 yards offshore and cut-off for an hour at high tide. A runaways haven (or heaven if you're that way inclined). Lawless – the local constable may agree. Hollow – there may be caves.

There used to be a six smallish farms on the island, but, as the last farmer sold up and left in 1912, a few years before the hotel was built, the fields are over-grown.

Draft of an advertising blurb.

THE BLUDDSCHOTT HOTEL TRENTBY-ON-SEA

Opened in August 1920 this newly built hotel has all the facilities one would ex-

pect in the modern world. The hotel is in the very best and latest of the Art Deco style now flourishing on the Continent.

The best craftsmen in the county have constructed a World Class Hotel that stands comparison with any major hotel in London, Paris or New York.

Each room has a dedicated bathing suite fitted with the most modern of bathroom furniture, and a state of the art heating system keeps each room at a comfortable temperature.

Although this is a new hotel the management insist on old-fashioned values when it comes to those services that clients require; thus you will feel at home from the moment you step through the revolving doors.

For those of a sporting nature there are twelve tennis courts, four squash courts, two bowling greens and a clay pigeon shooting range to enjoy.

Evening entertainment is provided by our resident dance band, comedians, song-sters and other artists including a JAZZ Band for the end of the season spectacular.

The staff look forward to welcoming you to this idyllic place.

Telephone: Trentby 212. Telegrams: Bluddschott Hotel Trentby. Nearest Railway Station: Trentby-on-Sea.

Postal address: The Bluddschott Hotel, Trentby Island, Trentby on Sea. Wessex.

**---------**

Character detail sheet

Book/Work Name. All that Jazz Character Name.

Full. Nigel Thomas Bluddschott – after Grandad. Short. Nige never Tom.

Biological. Age: 34 Height. 5' 7” Build. Plump Hair. Brown, what there is of it. Eyes. Brown State of health. Good. Voice. Tenor wobbly

Cultural & Interpersonal. Family Mum and Dad two sisters. Numerous cousins etc Friends Few Colleagues Staff Appearance. When in public; smartly dressed. Speech. Hesitant

Character detail sheet

Character Name. Full. Winifred Alice Bluddschott nee Gray Short. Win or Freda

Biological. Age: 35 Height. 5' 6” Build. Stocky Hair. Brown bleached blond. Eyes. Brown State of health. Good. Appearance; Smartly dressed in public, prefers to slob around in private. Speech. Somewhat hard edged - the one in charge!

Welcome to the Hotel Bluddschott.

„My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention please!‟ The plump, somewhat florid, mid height man, wearing rather crumpled tweeds, and who was growing through his brown hair, smiled

broadly, as standing on the steps of a Cream and Brown open charabanc marked, 'HOTEL BLUDDSCHOTT', he declaimed to a mixed group of people on the railway station forecourt at Trentby-on

-Sea. „On behalf of the Managers and Staff, I welcome you all to the Hotel Bluddschott. For those who have

not been guests on our lovely island before, please indicate your luggage, which will then be placed

onto our dedicated transport. We will then whisk it, and you, off to your destination. From this moment on you are in the capable hands of the experienced staff of the Hotel Bluddschott. Upon arrival, your

luggage will be taken to your rooms whilst you sit back, recover from the train journey, and enjoy a re-freshing cup of tea or coffee in the lounge. Of course, you may also wish to indulge in the odd slice of cake or a few freshly baked biscuits whilst you do so.

Those who may have worked up a real thirst may wish to patronise one of the bar areas where a wide range of wines, beers and spirits are available.

When you have sufficiently recovered, please make yourself known to the Concierge at the reception desk who will hand you your room key and advise you of the meal times. Thank you!‟

There was a genial chatter as the 'Bright Young Things' - even if some of them were neither - con-verged on the coach and found seats. This gave to driver, and the plump man, time to throw most of the luggage onto the lorry, obviously ex-military, that stood alongside the coach.

„Right then Norbert,‟ said the plump man, „I'll get off across the causeway with this lot, you follow as best you can.‟

Norbert touched his cap in salute; not quite the salute that his Sergeant Major had insisted on, but, as he was now a civilian, fairly close. „Right you are, Mr. Bluddschott, sir. Mind you, it'll be tricky if the

tide's in more than we think it is. Could be stuck for half an hour or so, sir.‟ „Just do your best, Norbert,‟ he sighed as if all the worries of the World had descended on his shoul-

ders, „just do your best. We can sort it out when we get there. Phone the desk if there are problems.‟

Norbert saluted again and went to crank the engines over. The bus, coughing oily smoke and sound-ing like a bag of nails, trundled off while he was trying to get the truck started.

His third attempt was interrupted by a polite cough and a voice saying, „Am I too late for the bus to the island then driver?‟

Turning, Norbert found himself distracted by looking straight into the smiling, hazel, eyes of a young-

ish woman of his exact height. In a fraction of a seconds flashing thought he realised that she was his ideal in womanhood and cursed that he couldn't just scoop her into his arms and gallop off on his horse.

Instead, with his heart in his mouth and a catch in his voice, he said, „Yes miss. Only by a few sec-onds though. Still, I've got to go there to deliver this luggage so; if you don't mind awfully that is, you

can ride in the cab with me. Once I can get the engine started that is.‟ The woman looked at the lorry and gave a cry of surprise, „That lorry! It was called 'Sally' wasn't it?‟ Norbert looked along the bonnet and saw the flatter patch in the paintwork where he'd painstakingly

repainted it, hiding the name. „Yes, Miss. It was, before the hotel bought it from the Government. The last army driver must have been allowed to do it.‟

„WAAC driver you mean, Mr. … ? Some force of nature pushed him to say, „Norbert, Miss. I'm called Norbert but not Mister Norbert,

just Norbert. Miss.‟ A laugh tinkled into his ears, „Right you are then, Just Norbert! For your information, I'm the Sally

that the lorry was named after. Corporal Evans, the mechanic then, said it reminded him of me. Good

looking, and as long as you did all the right things, easy to handle.‟ There was a chuckle, „He taught me to drive as well.‟

Norbert nodded and smiled; he couldn't have stopped smiling for all the tea in China. Sally; as he couldn't help thinking of her, carried on, „You set the starting condition and I'll give her a

quick turn on the handle. We can beat that rubbishy bus if we get a move on.‟

Norbert was shocked. It was more than his job was worth to have a lady guest turning starting han-dles! „Well, Miss. I think it would be better if YOU set the starting condition and I give her a wind. She's

difficult to get going.‟ A little tinkle of laughter, somehow, wrapped itself into the words, „Rubbish, Norbert! Easy a pie;

The theme for the RBW

2016 Poetry

Collection will be

LINKS

Submissions Open NOW

once you get to know her quirks. Full choke, half throttle and 20 degree retarded ignition will do it every

time.‟ Following her words, she hopped up into the driver‟s seat and fiddled with some controls that Nor-bert had never touched. „Just give her a quick tickle, Norbert. Flood the carb and it'll help.‟

„Err ... tickle, Miss Sally?‟ Sally nodded firmly, „Tickle, Norbert, tickle! Don't tell me that you haven't been told how to do it? Lift

the bonnet and pull the lever under the carburettor until it goes free.‟ Norbert, who had never had proper driving lessons, opened the bonnet and looked in dismay at the

pipes and things hanging off the engine.

There was a waft of perfume and a voice he could have listened to all day said, over his shoulder, „That knobbly thing's the carb, Norbert.‟ An arm clad in silk pressed his against him and a gloved finger

pointed. „Just underneath it there's a lever you lift with one finger. Three or four lifts should do it.‟ Norbert, dumbly, complied. „Right then, now onto the hard bit. Give her a twirl on the handle and we'll be off.‟ There was no

doubt about the commanding tones in that marvellous voice as Norbert walked to the front of the bon-net and duly 'twirled'. There was a cough and a bang and the engine settled into a gentle purr.

„That's fantastic, Miss Sally.‟ An astounded Norbert had never known it be so easy. „Err … you don't mind me calling you Miss Sally do you?‟

There was a chuckle, „Well, Mr., Just Norbert, we can talk about that on the way. But you'd better get moving before the tide cuts us off.‟

Monster Truck

Big mighty monster Cranked up engine roared

Cars destroyed did conquer

Audience wasn‟t bored

Its gigantic enormous tyre Big enough to fit in child Truck cost a bit to hire Five quid drove me wild

People sat upon back

Kids excited, crushing car As truck did thud and

thwack Glass splattered asphalt

tar

So alas stood by fence

Feeling pretty sad As I‟d only forty pence

Good though I must add

Image Phil Hodson

My husband is a rock star, He plays on local stage, The members of his group, Add up to half his age. He has a really good time Belting out those chords, A satisfying rhythm, So his audience applauds! I think that I‟m a rock-chick, Although I‟m not too sure. Should I be understanding Or continue as before? Do rock chicks have large budgets, When fame and fortune calls, „Here‟s two hundred quid!‟ Forget the market stalls! Take me to the best shops Where I can have a spree, Sorry just remembered This poem‟s not for me! My husband is a rock star, He plays on local stage, Forgets he's got arthritis He's at that' funny' age! But when he plays that old guitar, Big Mike's a happy man. Whether folk or blues or rock and roll I am his greatest fan.

The Emperor Tiberius on Capri

Tiberius (born 42 BC, reigned 14-37 AD) was the second Roman Emperor, in succession to his stepfather, Augustus. He was not originally intended as the heir. He was kept busy on imperial duties from 20 BC, and showed talent as a soldier and administrator. In 6 BC, being fed up or merely tired, he withdrew to the island of Rhodes for several years to study with the Greek philosophers; but was recalled to Rome when the deaths of Au-gustus's grandsons left the succession open. In his early years as Emperor he showed republican traits, scornfully rebuffing any obsequiousness or flattery, but he seemed to find personal relationships difficult, and he was never popular. In 26 AD he withdrew again, this time to Capri. From there he continued to conduct the bureaucratic side of governing the empire, but he never returned to Rome. In his ab-sence the city fell under the control of two ambitious police chiefs: Sejanus and then Macro, who conducted brutal purges of the senatorial aristocracy; whether on Tiberius's direct orders is not clear. After his death at the age of 79 the imperial title passed to his young great- nephew, Gaius Caligula, whose behaviour soon proved to be insane. At some stage, either during Tiberius's lifetime or later, stories began to circulate about grotesque orgies being held on Capri, involving the aged Emperor and swarms of very young children. It was also said that anyone who angered him was flung over the cliffs. It is obviously impossible today to assess the truth of such stories, but Tiberius's critics ever since have gleefully combined them with the cruelty of his police chiefs to paint a picture of the Emperor's all-round wickedness. The Villa Jovis was just one of many residences that Tiberius built for himself on Ca-pri. It occupied a spectacular site on the extreme north-east tip of the island, looking precipitously down to the sea. It is quite a slog climbing up to it from the town below in the heat of summer, but well worth the effort. In amongst the text are some pictures I took, showing the huge extent of the Villa Jovis, and the amazing views.

Tiberius's reputation for wickedness derives from the writings of the two great Roman historians Tacitus (born 55 AD) and Suetonius (born 69 AD). Now it is immediately obvi-ous from these dates that neither man could have spoken to many people with direct personal knowledge of Tiberius; and the more contemporary sources which survive are much less critical of the Emperor. Yet Tacitus assails him in the first six books of the "Annals", stressing his cruelty, his morbidly suspicious nature and the immorality of his personal life. Why Tacitus chose to do this is unclear: modern historians tend to think that his description of Tiberius is actually a coded attack on Domitian (reigned 81-96

AD), a tyrant-emperor from Tacitus's own day.

As for Suetonius, his book "The Twelve Caesars", though a splendidly entertaining read, is best seen as an early exercise in sensational tabloid journalism (in the case of Tiberius, "Paedo Emperor in Capri child abuse horror!"), and the sources for his salacious anecdotes are not known.

Modern readers know Tiberius mostly from Robert Graves's historical novel "I, Claudius", and from the TV series it engendered in the 1980s. The stories which Graves relates with such relish mostly come from Suetonius. Tiberius is portrayed as a flawed yet tragic person-ality, always conscious that the imperial family used his services but did not like him, and with his personal happiness ruined when Augustus forced him, for political reasons, to di-vorce his beloved wife Vipsania. The tangled and incestuous family tree of the Caesars was such that Julia, whom he was now ordered to marry, was simultaneously his sister-by-adoption and his step-mother-in-law! The two of them did not get well. One would have thought that all this, together with the later death of his son (possibly murdered; according to the scandal-mongers, no member of the imperial family ever died a natural death!) would have been enough to make anyone embittered!

Also worth a trek on Capri, though it is on the opposite end of the island from the Villa Jovis, is the Villa San Michele, created by the Swedish-born doctor Alex Munthe. It is celebrated in his entertaining but grossly sentimental autobiography "The Story of San Michele"; a world-wide best-seller ever since its publication more than eighty years ago. On the very first pages, Munthe discovers that Tiberius still has an unsavoury reputation on Capri, when he stumbles over a chunk of marble from one of the ancient villas and a peasant girl exclaims, "Timberio camorrista!" - "Timberio" being the local dialect version of the emperor's name, and "camorrista" referring to the Camorra, the much-feared Neapolitan equivalent of the Ma-fia (still very active today!); the implication being that Tiberius lived on in folk-memory as a thoroughly evil man. But later on, Munthe comes to sympathize with the grim old emperor, conscientiously carrying out his administrative duties into extreme old age, yet resentfully aware that no-one appreciated his work but that everybody hated him. We know of politicians with that problem today; though hopefully they do not seek relief from the stresses of office in the same way as is alleged against the Emperor Tiberius!

Random Words: Susan, chaps, small-town, translation, robots, scaffolding, gloom, purple, bar-room Susan Wood surveyed the scene before her. Scaffolding supported the façade of a small-town, Mid-Western street, complete with bar-room, hitching posts and swinging doors. The director shouted “Cameras roll!” and in strode two purple robots, clad in leather chaps; Smith and Wessons swinging from holsters at their metal hips. Susan was filled with gloom. She loved her job in Hollywood, but she just couldn‟t see how this particular project could be pulled off. A sci-fi spaghetti western had never been tried before, and she couldn‟t imagine how the translation from space visitors and star wars to cowboys and the mid-west was going to work.

Assignment : Sheds I have a little doggy; And love her such a lot, But when I got her as a pup, There was something I forgot; She sheds her coat: - a lot of hoovering! I bought a lovely sweater. It was a mohair mix, But when I went to wear it, I got into a fix,- It shed everywhere: - on all my clothes! My brother had a special pet;

A rattlesnake, no less. When I went round to visit, I was leery, I confess,- It shed its skin: - that‟s creepy! Humans are a funny lot. They‟re clad in miles of skin, And as Alan Sherman told us, “It keeps your insides in”. You shed a million cells a day: - disgusting! “Amazing Spaces” is a weekly show

On Channel Four TV. George Clarke is the presenter If you have ever seen it, I‟m certain you‟ll agree, it‟s great: - it‟s about sheds!

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