Issue 433 15th April 2016

RBW workshops are starting

their new storyline plotting

RBW Workshops have a temporary ‘home’

during April at Rising Brook Baptist Church Centre Cafe

Monday at 1.30pm start

Page

12

Upholstery

Blog.

FLASH FICTION: manners, beauty, wallow, leader, umbrage, heartache,

deer, dog, lemonade, cataclysm, substitute, book binder (150 words)

Assignment: Bridges (400 words)

A warm welcome awaits. COME to WORKSHOP ... Temp home: Rising Brook Baptist Church Cafe

until 25th April. Workshops same time 1.30 Monday.

Here‟s a jolly wheeze ... F.F.F.

Fast Flash Fiction:

Write a story in SIX words ...

Many Authors join public protests against

library closures. Over 400 libraries gone so

far. 8,000 library jobs gone.

RBW „star baker‟ Nigel

produced this tasty

carrot cake

for our workshop

this week.

Nice One Nigel!

Delicious ...

Recipe Page 10

Observation: The trouble with holidays, apart from all the dirty

clothes which need washing, is that within a day of your return,

you need another one.

www.issuu.com/risingbrookwriters

www.risingbrookwriters.org.uk/DynamicPage.aspx?PageID=15

Notice of the Open Annual General Meeting of Stafford Old Library Trust (registered charity number 1166001)

AGM - Friends of the Old Library (Stafford) are inviting the public to the AGM of the Old Library Trust at Stafford Gatehouse Theatre on Monday 25th April at 7pm. They say, please come along and: - give your support, - find out more about the campaign, - give your ideas and opinions, - nominate yourself or someone else for selection to become a trustee to help take this important campaign forwards or - sign up as a Friend of the Old Library

Stafford Old Library Trust is now a registered charity. They want to see Stafford Old Library repaired and restored to its former glory. They want it to be used once again to its full potential for the benefit of the people of Stafford and sur-rounds. They invite the public to please come along to our AGM on 24th April to give support to this campaign and let them know what Staffordians want. They say they think that the Old Library should be registered by the council as having Value as a Community Asset. Let them know what you think by emailing: oldlibrarytrust@gmail.com

The Stafford Borough coat of arms, which is positioned over the stage in the theatre. Gifted by Carnegie to the people of Stafford in 913, the Old Library has now been sold into private ownership. Stafford Old Library Trust want to re-purchase the building which retains many of its original features and to open it for the benefit of the public.

Random Words: strange, angel, potage, pheasant, technician, sky, holiday, wallet, drinking

Waking up in A&E, with some fool yattering. “It is never a good idea to go out on a drinking

binge with a credit card in your wallet. Any fool knows that.” Any fool expect Tristram.

“You must have strange ideas about the kindness of strangers.” There wasn‟t much kindness

being shown in the Gate and Angel public bar. Its clientele were a potage of miscreants

according to tubby Constable Metcalfe whose experience with muggings in, or around, the

surrounds of that particular public house was legend at the nick. “Now, Mr. Hattock, you say

you‟re in Skegness on holiday and originate from Manchester, where you‟re employed as a

nail technician at the Blue Sky Massage Parlour and Beauty Salon.” Tristram nodded, he

wasn‟t going to give this moronic ‟pheasant plucker‟ any real personal information, was he,

if he hadn‟t been knocked out he wouldn‟t have even reported the crime. The lads in CID

would never let him hear the last of it. “Chief Inspector rolled for his rolex.” He could hear

them laughing now.

A Load Of Manure And A New Compost Heap!

This is my second year on the plot and I was told by an old gardener, “It‟s easy for

anybody to grow good vegetables on a new plot the first year, it‟s the second year that

separates the men from the boys.”

So, I decided I would have to do something to enrich the free draining soil. Whenever

I plant things I have got into the habit of adding a liberal scattering of processed

chicken manure pellets, because it is an organic site and we are not supposed to use

chemical fertilisers. However, this season I am also making a determined effort to dig

in lots of humus as well to help retain the moisture. My over wintering compost heap

from home was dug into the soil under the beans and sweet peas before they were

planted and many bags of horse manure were dug under the Asparagus, but when I

came to plant the tomatoes I hadn‟t got any more compost and couldn‟t get any more

manure. Another, near by plot holder had been given a load of cow manure for free

by a local farmer and he offered me some. I thought about it for a bit and went away

to dig up some Josta Berry cuttings that had been in all winter. Every single one had

rooted well, giving me more than I wanted, so I swapped two nice big healthy ones,

for two barrows of cow manure, which seemed a fair swap and he thought so as well!

Tomatoes like a rich soil as is shown by the fact that they always used to be seen

growing in the riverbanks near to the outlets of sewage treatment plants, so I thought

I would dig some of the manure under them. It is always horse manure that gardeners

traditionally use and not cow manure that is a little different in texture. Maybe it‟s not

used because it is too rich and not fibrous enough, or maybe it is on health grounds,

but with all the testing and heath inspection of animals that is done now, why should-

n‟t it be used? Farmers have always spread farmyard muck on their fields, so I

thought if they can use it and it is free I will give it a try while I can get it this season.

With the loss of my compost heap at home that has been made into a raised bed and is

now planted with Rhubarb, I decided I did need a compost heap on my allotment af-

ter all. So, I moved about 100 old house bricks from home up to my plot in my poor

little abused car that serves me well as a motorised wheelbarrow!

The part of my plot where I wanted the new compost heap actually overlapped my

row of runner beans, but I did start to lay out the bricks in place, straight away, as

best I could, because I wanted to put some rubbish in it as soon as possible. For a few

weeks now I have been simply storing all the weeds and tops from the harvested

vegetables, in old compost bags that has started to kill them and started the rotting

process. Unfortunately this type of composting usually causes Anaerobic bacteria to

develop and produces a slimey, smelly, mess unlike the sweet smelling compost re-

sulting from Aerobic bacteria that live in ventilated and loose compost that is well

turned. Tipping out all these smelly bags of waste into the new heap will get the air

into it and encourage more Aerobic bacteria that will sweeten it up to finish off the

composting process turning it into a usable material that I should be able to dig in

with later plantings in my plot.

This is a purchase that we made at a sale room, it's about a clock, I'm sitting in front of the blady thing now, it ain‘t as if we were short of clocks. There's seven I can see now in the sitting room three in the kitchen, one in the hall, five in my bedroom, two in the next bedroom and two in the small bedroom, oh yes and one in the garage come workshop, 21 all together. They were well spread out when were in the big old farm house, but now om in a small retire-ment house (thank goodness) they look a bit crowded. We loved to go to the Sale Room

The Clock

Some years ago we loved to go, to a sale room down the town, It was Hall & Lloyds the furniture place, for nick knacks was renown, Ya could go down the day before, and see what brought in for sale, Never know what would be in there, a jumble of household regale.

Hundreds of lots, all in lines, and picture on the walls,

Tables, chairs, cupboards, sideboards, sold when the hammer falls, Whole house furniture shuffled in there, from beds and tools and saws,

To the carpets and mats and the contents of the kitchen drawers.

A clock we spotted, a mantle clock, brass with a nice glass dome, We hadna seen it before the sale, we‘d love to take it home,

The auctioneer took some bids, there was no time to back out, A bid we put in and then another, it was knocked down with a shout.

The clock was handed, hand over hand, to the back of the crowd, The last one who handed the clock turn to me and said reet loud,

―It only bloody plastic ya know,‖ and tis true it had no weight, We‘d paid through the nose, an imposter, but easy to cremate.

So now I watch it, with three weights, moving round and back, But when it‘s touched it stops agen, od love to give it a smack, With a two-pound lump hammer, the pleasure that would give,

But I‘m stopped, om told it looks the part, let the bloody thing live.

It‘s now bin twenty years, still sitting on our shelf, --- Amen, Don‘t touch it, don‘t dust it, a new battery every now and then, If left to me, find it a new home, its weight is no use for scrap As soon as I first touched it, I knew the damn thing were crap.

It has to stand perfectly level and has two screw feet at the front to get it absolutely plumb, and they have to be re-set every time you touch it, it stops, or when you change the battery. It isn‘t as though it gets a violent vibration on it, that rattles the screw feet down but it does keep good time, when it is going.

As the river springs

From the well so deep

Creating rainbow rings

As the water it doth seep

Seeping into river flows

On its way down stream

No one knows where it goes

Within river full of bream

A colourful rainbow trout

Is frequently often seen?

Sometimes even brown trout

These keep the water clean

DID YOU KNOW?

Freshwater fish are those that spend some or all of their lives in fresh water, such as riv-

ers and lakes, with a salinity of less than 0.05%. To survive fresh water, the fish need a

range of physiological adaptations. 41.24% of all known species of fish are found in fresh

water. This is primarily due to the rapid speciation that the scattered habitats make possi-

ble. (Source: image and facts Wikipedia)

Nigel’s Carrot Cake Ingredients

225g/8oz Grated carrot

100ml/4fl oz. Rape seed oil (or your preferred cooking oil) 110g/4oz Soft brown sugar 1 Tablespoon treacle

1 Teaspoon Vanilla essence

1 Tablespoon of desiccated coconut 2 beaten eggs 4 tablespoons milk (60ml) 80g/3oz. mixed fruit 110g/4oz Plain flour 110g/4oz Wholemeal flour 1½ Teaspoonful baking powder

1½ Teaspoonful Mixed spice

1kg/2lb loaf tin lined with baking parchment

Method

Mix together the grated carrot, oil, brown sugar, treacle, vanilla essence, desiccated coconut, eggs and mixed fruit. Sift together the flours, baking powder and mixed spice, then add this to the carrot mixture and mix thoroughly. Spoon the mixture into the lined loaf tin. Bake at 180°C (160°C fan oven) for about 1 hour, test after 50 minutes with a skewer. If the skewer is clean remove from the oven, let the cake cool in the tin for 10 minutes and the turn out on to a cooling rack, otherwise cook for a further ten minutes, or

more, testing with a skewer.

Parkinson's Awareness

Today has been a good day although not over yet, Timing tablets well although it’s easy to forget. Then you’ve gone and blown it, your body takes offence, Knocks you off your feet, no time for self-defence. One minute body fine, doing as it should, Walk, run and dance like you always could. Within seconds it can zap you, ‘ Parkinson’s at-tack’! All control gone and no clue for when it’s back. From confident to dithering wreck takes no time at all, Crawling on the floor instead of walking tall. Feeling very stupid, getting in the way, How long will this all last, difficult to say. Say Parkinson’s, think shaking, a tremor of the hand, Shuffling the feet, muscles tighten and expand. Freezing in a doorway, cannot move at all, Stumbling round obstacles, heading for a fall. Our bodies keep moving when we’re craving rest, Up and down all night puts you to the test. Restless legs and panic attacks can strike at any time, Life becomes a massive wall, impossible to climb! To get up in the morning is like fighting in a sack, One step taken forwards, half a dozen back. By the time household wakes, you’ve crawled a million miles. No welcome for your family, you just ran out of smiles. I’ll ask when I need help and explain when I feel bad, Stuck in public loo, is there anything more sad? I feel a waste of space not the person that I am, Give me time to move and ignore me if you can.

I have to shout for Parkinson’s. I have to do my bit! Find a cure please scientist and let me be rid of it. Then the person I once was will sing and dance and grin, A very happy lady, back to being Lin!

And her name is.....

She is walking slowly towards me I can’t recall her name? We’re bound to meet in a minute, Is she thinking just the same? Is it Annie, Jane or Susan? Where do I know her from? We’ll pass the time of day, But name’s completely gone. Is it ‘Mrs Nextdoor’ or ‘Her Across’? Or Woman With Little Red Car? Does her name begin with ’G’ ? Or perhaps it starts with ‘ R’. Any second now I must stop, She smiles as if she knows, I’m just cursing and swearing, Where all my memory goes. ANDREA! That’s her name, I blurt it out so loud. ANDREA! Yes that is it! I’m really,really proud. I didn’t make myself a fool Remembered just in time, Now her name will not be lost, Immortalised in rhyme

HOBBY BLOG: (SMS)

How hard can it be? ...

Story of my life really ... always having a go at new things ...

I saw an upholstery video on YouTube ...

Hammers, and nails, and glue, and pli-

ers, and knives ... not much different to

picture framing, or so I thought.

Seemed like a good wheeze, so I

bid for two sorry looking antique chairs

(oak, dark stained) at auction with some

simple carved backs. To my surprise.

I actually won them for next to noth-

ing. On closure inspection it was

clear why. The seat pads were rot-

ting: it would take a complete recov-

ery to return them into serviceable

use.

The worst part of this project

was the stripping off the seat frames. They had been partly

revamped four times in their 100 year, or so, life span. But,

the webbing had never been taken off and renewed. Some

bright spark in the 1950s had filled one pad with old nylons.

There was a layer of sacking then the jute webbing (all

rotten), on the top was damp wadding (and nylons) and the

remains of pink, floral, then some curtaining and then the top coating as shown in the top

photo. It was gross stripping all that

rotting yuk off. So gross, I did it out-

side.

It took me four hours to remove

all signs of the jute and undo the

rusty tacks on both frames. I do have

arthritic hands I expect a youngster

could have done it much quicker.

Above: Inner frame (part stripped) positioned on the chair support

before re-webbing and (right) support bracket to take seat pad.

With said knuckled old hands stretching the webbing was tricky

without having a stretcher tool, but I improvised with a weight and managed to make a fair

fist of it. The original webbing had four broad jute straps. I used five woven strips. I inter-

wove them, but this is probably not the a way a professional would do it. Tacks and webbing

can be found on ebay very cheaply. I copied the way the seating had been assembled, to stuff

and attach the top cover (velvet) and finished off with a (hand sewn) dust cover underneath.

First attempt finished.

I expect a professional upholsterer would

laugh their hat off but

it will hold a 15 stone man so it‟s not

that unsuccessful.

I learned a lot on this one, so

now on with seat two,

I might use more stuffing next time and the

hardest part is the corners.

I‟m hoping to find a YouTube video

giving a master class on corners ...

If a complete novice like me

can have a go ... anyone can.

New webbing

tacked at one end

and before stretch-

ing to tack the other

end.

I learned not to tack

in a straight line.

The tacks have to be

staggered to stop the

wood splitting and I

used three tacks per

end, perhaps this

should have been

four, I don‟t know.

Random words: strange, angel, potage, pheasant, technician, sky, holiday, wallet, drinking

It was Jeff and Louisa‘s first wedding anniversary. He worked as a technician in a local company

and Louisa loved him very much, but always said he was ‗reliable‘ and ‗steady‘, which he felt

sure meant ‗predictable and boring‘.

Louisa, on the other hand, was dazzling, clever and beautiful and all the other young men in

Trentby envied him, he knew. Louisa deserved the best and he meant to surprise her.

Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out two tickets. ―Happy anniversary, Angel‖, he told her,

handing her the holiday vouchers. Louisa was thrilled, especially with the destina-

tion….Marrakech. ―How exciting!‖ she said.

The sky was a glorious blue and the small restaurant in the hills so romantic. Delicious aro-

mas came from the tiny kitchen.

―What would you like?‖ Jeff asked his wife.

―Let‘s try the house special‖, she replied, drinking her Moroccan beer.

The waiter placed before them an earthenware bowl containing a strange, grey-coloured

steaming potage of pheasant stew and mysterious herbs.

―This is certainly different!‖ Louisa commented. ―Remind me never to tell people you‘re reli-

able again‖, she smiled approvingly.

Assignment: Rivers, springs and wells

Jonathan was a promising athlete. His school had high hopes that he would take the long jump

crown at the fiercely- contested, inter-school championships. He‘d been practicing hard; putting

in a lot of hours and eating a good diet. But he was still worried about his main rival, James.

James was reputed to have broken the under 19‘s record and may have had the potential to

become an Olympic hopeful. Rumours abounded that Team GB scouts would most likely attend

the next meet, and anyone performing well might be approached to train with the Great Britain

elite squad. That was his dream, and besides, Jonathan wanted to make his parents….and his

school proud. This was what had motivated him to get out of bed on those dark, winter morn-

ings and put in the work. His PE teacher, Mr. Medway, told him to put all the other athletes out

of his mind.

―Your battle is with yourself,‖ he told his young protégé. ―Forget everything and everyone

else and focus!‖

The day of the meeting arrived. Mr. Medway had set up a PA system to give a running com-

mentary on the events as they unfolded .Then, it was James‘s and Jonathan‘s turn and they

lined up behind the long-jump pit, removing their tracksuits and doing jogging and stretching

exercises

―Representing Oakland High, James Rivers!‖ the public address announced. The spectators

held their breath. James rocked back on his heels and sped towards the take-off board, hitting

it perfectly.

―Rivers springs and Wells… Wells is holding his head in his hands, as he realizes that with his

first attempt, James Rivers has pulled a huge jump out of the bag. It will take a gargantuan

effort for Wells to even come close to that, and he will need to exceed his own personal best by

some distance. A miracle aside, I think we already know who the long-jump champion will be.‖

A bit of history about the British not moving about a lot ... ACW

As I see it ... the Anglo-Saxons : came in 500 AD and we were invaded by and became led by the

Normans after 1066AD. The early Anglo Saxon settlers kept to small tribal groups, forming kingdoms and sub-kingdoms in the

5th and 6th centuries. The seven main kingdoms were Northumbria, Mercia, East Anglia, Essex, Kent, Sus-sex, and Wessex. The Saxon times were wrongly often called the Dark Ages: when actually art and craftsmanship flour-

ished especially in jewellery and metal work. Our area of Staffordshire is within the Midlands that was ruled by a kingdom called Mercia. In the late 8th century a great king called Offa ruled Mercia. He built a famous dyke (ditch) to keep out the Welsh. He

also absorbed the kingdom of Lindsey (roughly Lincolnshire). Christian Missionaries also preached in the kingdom of Mercia (The Midlands). In 653 King Paeda of

Merica was converted and baptized and gradually the realm was converted to Christianity. As every school pupil knows the Normans did not come until 1066 AD, and they are the bloodline of our aristocracy, which as can be seen by the DNA (below) many did not intermarry much with the Angle

and Saxon commoners. Lucky old us, as the Normans were of French origin (mixed with a few Viking-Norse genes).

A Daily Telegraph article gave findings of research by Oxford University into British DNA back in 2015, of the past that showed the obvious. The Angles and Saxons came after the Romans left. We knew that!

In the past Brits were born, lived and died in the same village. Travel was only for the well to do with armed guards, mostly. All we had to travel with anyway, mostly was shanks' pony (walking).

So the findings of the research showed that the English and Celts that make up the Britons still mostly live in the same tribal kingdoms that their anscestors did in the 7th century. And despite all the battles and wars between kingdoms, we did not wipe out each other, but inter-married and had kids and had a life of

farming and thatched cottage building. So here we are, having mostly stayed put for 1,415 years. Us Brits are seemingly creatures of habit, with our regional identity based on birthplace and DNA. We see the country split with Britons mostly on left

of England and the Angles and Saxons on the right. Cornwall was Celt. (They have a black Cornish flag to this day and the last all Cornish speaker only died in the last century.)

Danes were on the left but seem to have not inter-married much with us and then left back to nice Denmark, called the happiest of nations today. They did leave behind lots of settlement names ending with ―by‖ ... Rugby, Derby etc..

Only The Orkneys had Norse Viking, Norwegian roots. The research did not mention The Shetland Isles, also Viking.

The Romans did not inter-marry much with us natives and, as we know, they left to go back to far and wide in the world. However, as the Roman army were a very mixed bunch of nationalities, it‘s a tricky one for DNA.

And, many would agree, I'm right when they say there is a divide in South and North Wales. The northern and southern Welsh, being as more DNA difference than between Kent and Scotland. In fact, the Celts are different Celts to each other between Wales, Ireland, Ulster, Cornwall, Scotland.

This history of invasion and tribal peoples in a small country explains the huge differences in dialects throughout the UK and our regional identities.

But, there is a school of thought that Brits could be still older in our regional differences, with the the-ory put forward that when we lived here between 40,000 to 30,000 years ago, that when we left during the many thousands of years of the ice age, and after which from 11,000 years ago we came back from, not

unsurprisingly, the south of France and Spain, we went back to our original areas. We were, after all, back then still walking on dry land (the Dogger Plane) right across to Europe, with no sea between us and the

Belgians, Holland and northern Germany and Scandinavia, who all have languages derived from German. But that's another story.

SOURCEs: Wikipedia and http://www.telegraph.co.uk/science/2016/03/14/britons-still-live-in-anglo-saxon-tribal-

kingdoms-oxford-univers/

“ALL THAT

JAZZ”

Won the vote and

will be the next

RBW farce.

ALL THAT JAZZ. CAST OF CHARACTERS

Many of these characters are two dimensional as yet: where you have a physical description in mind please write it in some-where so that we all know about it. AND check these notes for updates and send in any updates please.

Hotel staff free for all to use - opening gambits by CMH. Nigel Thomas Bluddschott – Manager part owner of ‗Hotel Bluddschott'. Married to Winifred. Tubby, balding, brown hair,

brown eyes, 34, 5' 7‖ tall. Tenor voice but wobbly and hesitant unless using a prepared script. Not good at thinking on his feet. If something CAN go wrong it WILL. Smuggles brandy, fags and other taxable goods as a part time job.

Winfred Alice Bluddschott (nee Gray) – Manager part owner of ‗Hotel Bluddschott'. Wife of Nigel. Plump more than tubby, brown hair bleached blonde, brown eyes, 35, 5' 6‖ tall. MUCH more capable than hubby with a hard edge to her speech.

CMH.

Sally Gray. - A MYSTERY WOMAN in any case. Don't know (yet) if she's staff, entertainer (torch singer or fan dancer) or

guest. Youngish woman. Tall, hazel eyes, auburn hair, very capable. I have her earmarked as an ex-QA/WRNS/WRAF

officer who has just completed her time & wants to 'get away from it all'. BUT, she could be something entirely different! Norbert Bunbury. Staff, driver and odd job man at the HB. Was Infantryman – possibly W.O.2 (Sgt. Maj.) or higher. I fancy a field promotion, mid 1918, not a Sandhurst man – with a few gongs to his credit. Tall, brown eyes, dark brown hair. Well built.

Blackleg Bill Bluddschott - the ghost of. AT and CMH Comic relief characters. You never know! These ladies may, possibly, be descended from those who went with Captain Fowlnett onboard 'The Star' in 'Packet to India'. They are middle aged, overweight, often slightly 1-over-the-8 and about to be tented! Vera Accrington -

Gloria Stanley - Dorothy Calcutt (their much younger niece) Ronnie Manservant only lasts a day.

NP Griggleswade (Griggles). Flyboy. Ex-RAF now working for M.I.5 (or something) as some kind of 'Air Detective'. Ch. Supt. Chorlton-cum-Hardy. Previously Colonel. Griggles superior officer in M.I.5

Mossy. Working with Griggles. Windle. Working with Griggles. Jones. Aircraft mechanic works for Griggles.

Wilhelm von Eisenbahn, aka Osbert Lessly or 'Big Shorts'. Khaki Shorts leader. Comrade 'Ironside' aka Joseph. Lenin boys leader. Comrade Plotskie aka Leon. Assistant to 'Ironside'.

ACW.

Christiana Aggott posing as Lady Arbuthnot Christian. Novelist. Actually married to Col. Beaumont Walsgrave but using a nom-de-plume for secrecy; & for advertising purposes about her new book, 'The man who shed crocodile tears'. (This neatly gets the requisite reptile into the plot line)

Arbuthnot Aggott or Uncle Arbuthnot. Head of a Security Organisation (Home Office?) Christiana is working for him.

General Arbuthnot Aggott. Christiana's father and brother of Arbuthnott Aggott. Something in the War Office (as the

MoD (Army) was known then) to do with Counter Espionage. Col. Beaumont Walsgrave. Christiana's sorely missed hubby.

Bright Young Things: Ruby Rawlings, Charlotte Ponsonby-Smythe & Katherine Wallasey. Bright Young Things brothers: Everet Rawlings, Eugene Ponsonby-Smythe & Virgil Wallasey.

Communists et al ACW Comrade St. John. Lenin boys Comrade Bunson-Smythe. Lenin boys

Bro.?? Muckleby. Leader of 'The Workers Party' also something to do with Arbuthnot Aggott. Bruder Wilhelm Bergmann. German trades union leader.

Bro. Kevin Harvey. A Workers Party member. (Changed from Hardy) Ernst Graf von Rockenbaker. Sir John Keithly.

Lord John Markham. Sir Martin Wickham.

SMS. Barnard Hot Sax Player Musician and nice guy. Errol Holiday. Band leader and piano player Tallulah tubby torch singer Errol‘s girl friend, hates Jo-Jo Jo-Jo. Fan dancer from Red Parrot Club, Paris sister of Errol. Hates Tallulah.

Cpt Digby Makepeace — hotel guest Barrington nephew of Makepeace knew Jo-Jo in Paris and knows PoWales.

LF Rooster Pearmaine detective — drunkard

Balsom Fry valet Cpt Hove-Brighton assistant on trail of missing novelist

AP

Boys and Girls Camp‘s characters and storyline Gilbert and Walter

Simon Bligh pack leader Jenny H.B. STAFF LIST. Awaiting names/descriptions and free to use. Head Waiter. Head Gardener. Head Chef. (Unnamed but has been used) Geordie pretending to be a French Chef, as they get paid more. No good at accents. Head porter/Concierge. 'Dell boy'. He knows about the smuggling racket. Wine Waiter/Sommelier/barman. All on the take from the 'duty free' wine.

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