Issue 362 14th Nov 2014

Rising Brook/Holmcroft/

Baswich/Gnosall

Libraries are under threat.

Could a travelling Wild West showman stay at the Nasturtium Hotel? E.g. Buffalo Bill Cody was in England in the 1890s: his Wild West show was put on in Salford for five months.

Miranda Barclay: Star Songstress of the Winter Gardens falls for a Russian Prince ... Ahhh, star-crossed lovers how sad ... Opportunity to join in the joint project ... Take a room number and book your characters in ... We haven‘t got any sportsmen yet ... Or arch criminals ... Or merchant venturers ... Or explorers ... Or big game hunters ... Or ... WHO? You‘re the writer ... You tell us ...

2

The wonderful bright silver foliage of some of the trees on the field behind my house, highlighted by the autumn sunshine cheered my day last week.

Words go in and out of fashion. Take the good old-fashioned one ‗sturdy‘ by way of example. When did you last hear that used? Everything today is ‗robust‘; even non-tangible things like laws

and actions. What happened to November the 5th fireworks? I‘ve never heard such a quiet Bonfire Night ...

Perhaps folks haven‘t got spare tenners to be shot into the sky for a moment of flash bang spar-kles anymore.

Is there no ending to warfare and slaughter simply because destruction is so profitable and feeds insatiable corruption: is there no profit in peaceful existence?

Looking after a one-year old for a full nine and a half hours is exhausting! However did I manage

as a parent of three?

Random words : Tudor, Wednesday, grief, police, announced, help,

short, light, bright, song

Assignment : Clichés (the record is 64): how many clichés can you squeeze into a story on one page of A4?

Cover image

Wikipedia

http://

en.wikipedi

a.org/

wiki/1880s

_in_Wester

n_fashion#

media-

viewer/

File:Toulm

ouche_Lov

e_Letter_D

etail.jpg

Poet Laureate CAROL ANN DUFFY

To visit Stafford next March Friends of St Mary’s Church event

21st March 2015 (Source Express & Star 06.11.14)

www.issuu.com/risingbrookwriters

NEW: 2015 poetry collection

“Defying Gravity” Submissions now open

“The Sumcaester Coach, Rail, United Ferry & Yacht Company” NEWS BRIEF (2) (Fasten your safety belts Dear Reader ... here‘s another dose of Clive Hewitt‘s blog)

As our faithful readers will realise the front office has, in a unique, not to say shocking, departure from the usual 'Don't admit anything' policy, revealed to a crowded press conference attended by your reporter, that the S.C.R.U.F. & Y has actually acquired the new wagon promised earlier. This expansion of its rolling stock fleet will,

we are solemnly assured, allow the delivery of a vastly improved service. When asked where the funding arose the Chief Engineer and Chief Accountant admitted that it came from, ―Scrabbling around down the backs of the settee and arm chairs and raiding the kids piggy bank‖, and that it is

expected that the new unit will be on the rails shortly; after they've worked out which way around the wheels go and how they're fitted.

He also revealed that the spin-off in terms of lost sweets, tea spoons, apple cores, assorted cutlery, biscuit crumbs, chocolate bar wrappers, half eaten sandwiches, paperback books, dog biscuits, overdue bills and other goodies was sufficient to put a stop to the proposed floor strengthening project.

On the Engineering front it was revealed that the loco being built in the workshop has hit a snag that will fur-ther delay the re-railing, but, that once with the problem with the wiring has been resolved - ―the lad what

knows‖ has been sent for and should be here as soon as he can get off school - that the painting and enhanced decoration will ―continue apace‖, he wasn't sure what 'a pace' was but thought that it was ―probably about 800mm‖.

It was further reported that the Sumcaester Council‘s call to ―brighten up the lives of the summer season visitors‖, which sparked the idea of festooning the rolling stock with glass reflector 'jewels' is also proceeding apace; the Managing Director thought that his pace was smaller than the Chief Engineers pace, and that it was

probably nearer the 500mm or 18 inch mark. This, your reporter can confidently state, has made a definite impact on the appearance of the coach and loco.

What the summer visitors think about it will need to be decided, although screaming and running away has been suggested. On a positive note we can report that the industrial accident that resulted in injuries to the loco driver has al-

most been resolved. The hospital says that a new head is well on the way to being fixed. However, they are still having severe problems with the haircut and the hat, but once they can get the hat off then the hair cut should

easier. Sadly, no suitable candidate has come forward for the NEW position of lady driver. Those that came forwards had strenuous objection to certain parts of the job. As one candidate said, ―How can I do me Strict Time Dancing

with only one leg? And anyway that hat doesn‘t suit me!‖ The post has, temporarily, been put on hold. In a surprise announcement the Chief Clerk revealed that the latest technology to deter those ―with a propen-

sity to relocate goods to their own advantage‖ is now to be employed. A new dog to ride on the goods wagon has been bought and is in process of being trained. The current philosophy of rolling over and playing dead, or licking

them to death, is to be aban-

doned. A vastly improved cul-ture of widdling up their legs is being taught.

It is expected that this will seriously deter those with

criminal intent. A heavily disguised spokes-person for the local disorgan-

ised crime underworld told your reporter. ―Gettin' that

outa your trousers is real seri-ous stuff, mate, real serious. I mean you'd have to work in

shorts, and that'd get yer looked down on, and laughed at. Don't mind tellin' yer, any-

body who thinks like that is evil, mate, real evil. They

should be locked up fer it!‖

―The lad wot knows‖ and new guard dog assessing the new

wagon

Random words : river, Pinocchio, anti, cliff, circle, lollipop, fort, discover

Pinocchio, the poodle pup, was adorable but mischievous, and literally gave his owners the run-around. When Tom and Kathy tried to catch him, he‘d tear round in a circle, giving them the slip. One day, they went to a local beauty

spot, where there was an Iron Age fort, but the pup made a beeline for the river and shook water all over them. Then, he went perilously close to a cliff edge, keen to discover what was at the bottom, and not aware of the dan-ger.

―That‘s the last straw!‖ Tom insisted, putting him back on his lead. ―He needs to go to puppy training classes. ―I‘m not anti the idea,‖ Kathy said, ―but I don‘t want to crush his free spirit!‖ She licked her lollipop, and gave the dog the stick to chew on.

Assignment : anger is more positive than apathy

Ralph Hosea Chaplin (1887–1961) was an American writer, artist and labour activist. At the age of seven, he saw a worker shot dead during the Pullman Strike in Chicago. He had moved with his family from Kansas to Chicago in 1893. During a time in Mexico he was influenced by hearing of

the execution squads established by Diaz.. On his return, he began work in various union posi-tions, most of which were poorly paid. Some of Chaplin's early artwork was done for the Interna-

tional Socialist Review and other Charles Kerr publications. For two years Chaplin worked in the strike committee for the bloody West Virginia strike of coal miners in 1912-13. These influences led him to write a number of labour oriented poems, one

of which became the words for the oft-sung union anthem, "Solidarity Forever". Chaplin then became active in the Industrial Workers of the World, or "Wobblies" and be-

came editor of its eastern U.S. publication Solidarity. In 1917 Chaplin and some 100 other Wobblies were rounded up, convicted, and jailed under the Espionage Act for conspiring to hinder the draft and encourage desertion. He wrote Bars And Shadows: The Prison Poems while serving four years of a 20-year sentence.

The black cat of the Industrial Workers of the World, also adopted as a symbol by anarcho-syndicalists Although he continued to work for labor rights after his release from prison, Chaplin was very disillusioned by the aftermath of the Russian Revolution and the evolution of the Soviet state and international communism, particu-

larly its involvement in American politics and unions in 1920-1948, as he details in his autobiography, Wobbly. Chaplin maintained his involvement with the IWW, serving in Chicago as editor of its newspaper, the Industrial

Worker, from 1932 to 1936. He became active in the cause of preventing communist infiltration in American unions. Eventually Chaplin settled in Washington, where he edited the local labor publication. From 1949 until his death he was curator of manuscripts for the Washington State Historical Society. He is credited with designing the

now widely used the black cat image, designed to suggest wildcat strikes and radical unionism. I discovered the following poem by Chaplin, printed in his book ―Wobbly‖, in the 1980s, and immediately re-

lated to it, and its sentiments. So much so, that I have left instructions that it be read at my funeral. Mourn not the dead that in the cool earth lie--

Dust unto dust-- The calm, sweet earth that mothers all who die As all men must;

Mourn not your captive comrades who must dwell--

Too strong to strive-- Within each steel-bound coffin of a cell, Buried alive;

But rather mourn the apathetic throng--

The cowed and the meek-- Who see the world's great anguish and its wrong And dare not speak!

Ralph Chaplin, "Mourn Not the Dead". Chaplin was a conscientious objector during World War I when it was pun-

ishable by death, even in the US. "Solidarity Forever", written by Chaplin in 1915, is perhaps the most famous union anthem. It is sung to the tune of "John Brown's Body" and "The Battle Hymn of the Republic". Although it was written as a song for the In-

dustrial Workers of the World other union movements have adopted the song as their own. and It is still commonly sung at union meetings and rallies in the United States, Australia and Canada, and has also been sung at confer-ences of the Australian Labor Party and the Canadian New Democratic Party. This may have also inspired the hymn

of the consumer cooperative movement, "The Battle Hymn of Cooperation", which is sung to the same tune.

Further reading: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ralph_Chaplin

THE RICH GET RICHER, THE POOR, POORER ACW austerity blog ...

People rabbit on about cutting the over-bloated welfare state, cost-ing hard working tax-payers a lot of tax money. Rubbish!

The government whine on about benefit cheats and the unsustainability of the state pen-

sion, portrayed as a benefit when it is not. Another set of being economical with the truth by politicians by all parties in the public eye.

The state pension was not paid out to women turning 60 from 2013 and to men turned 65, with women having to wait 6 years for payout. It is a fact in law (Pension Bill

2014 that brought in the Flat Rate Pension 2016 for women born from 1953 and men born from 1951).

More detail on who suffers a 100 per cent cut in state pension, when for many it is

their sole income in old age, and who suffers less state pension than even the smallest state pension of rich nations of the world, please see:

https://you.38degrees.org.uk/petitions/state-pension-at-60-now

The Truth is that politics is the art of the possible and a piece of amazing creative

work of fiction.

The denied state pension payout to women for 6 years and men for 1 year, has

gone for an 11 per cent pay rise to wealthy and privileged MPs in 2015. Benefit cheats are not even 0.08 per cent of all benefit paid. Criminals never starve and have no need of

food banks. Quote: The working poor are the overwhelming majority of those on benefit, that

include pensioners, many of whom only have the state pension as income in old age. (Dame Anne Begg, Select Committee on Works and Pensions).

Benefit sanctions mean no universal access to food vouchers to food banks: access

means only 3 vouchers are allowed per year.

No benefit and no state pension means no access to Winter Fuel Allowance. Sanctions equally happen to a man turned 60 with health issues or a young family

with a new baby, with no other income, for many months. When it takes a month to starve to death medically. While doctors keep trying to tell government of the huge rise in

malnutrition hospital admissions. Benefit Sanctions happen for such examples as, during the 45 minute long interro-

gation in assessment interviews, you suffer a heart attack for fear of being left with no

food money. And then they still ring you for a phone interview whilst you awaiting life-saving heart surgery in a hospital bed, when medical advice is no stress.

This is why I did not pursue my disability / chronic sickness claims after 2 years of trying. But I am not a non-taxpayer burden on working taxpayers, even though my tiny

works pension pays no income tax as far, far below the basic tax allowance. The Tories have sent out a tax audit to the rich telling them of the huge burden on

them as income tax payers of welfare. The TUC debunked the entire pie chart depicted in

the leaflet. I still pay tax, as does everyone in or out of work, within the poorest who pay a 90 per cent tax rate, from the 75 per cent of tax coming from stealth indirect taxes em-

bedded on the most basic of needs, even on food, as is VAT. Again the poor pay more stealth taxes and VAT as a percentage of their sparse income, than the rich as a percent-age of their money.

There are tens of millions who struggle to make ends meet each and every day in the UK. And now we are told through the media, that research has found that inflation on

basic staples of life is more for the poor than for the rich.

6

Some of the facts below which seem to show the poorer are getting poorer, as the rich get richer,

are from a research report published on Wednesday 5 November 2014, produced by the Institute for Fiscal Studies for the Joseph Rowntree Foundation, about the present method for calculating abso-

lute poverty, which is people living below the breadline. Between 2008 and 2014, energy bills have sky-rocketed 67 per cent, and food costs by 32 per

cent, with lots of other basics in general gone up by 22 per cent. The poorest 20 per cent of people spent 8 per cent on energy and 20 per cent on food. I fol-

lowed an old lady out of a supermarket with 4 small own-brand basics range in her trolley. Some

have not even a tenner left to buy food. But the richest 20 per cent of people spent only 4 per cent on energy and 11 per cent on food.

Also bearing in mind, the poorest have the most expensive means of paying for energy, with the pre-payment meters, who, without benefit, cannot heat their homes nor cook their food nor have a hot drink to save them from hypothermia, as no cash coins at all to put in the meter.

So the poorest families and single people have faced ever deepening poverty over the past decade, on top of which the over half of over 50s within the working poor or unable to work due to

disability / chronic illness have lost state pension payout as well as benefit, after working for 30 to 50 years.

And the rise in employment is not bringing in income tax, as the new jobs are within the work-ing poor, below the basic income tax allowance.

So the poorest just get poorer even though the economy is recovering with higher employ-

ment. And it is the working poor and low income self employed that are the majority of the people visiting food banks, even after 60.

In a nation that will subsidise surplus, still edible food going to private profit making energy from waste firms, but not Fareshare, the source of food banks, so losing over

400,000 tonnes of food to the starving, when these self same companies are not collecting direct from homes themselves, the millions of tonnes of rotten household food waste now going to landfill, so failing abysmally in really being green.

It is no wonder that the United Nations has postponed its investigation into UK's welfare reform until after the 2015 general election, an election that is on

course to have the lowest voter turnout in UK history.

=o0o=

Stafford House of Bread's first Community Garden

House of Bread are delighted to be partners in a new Community Garden in Rising Brook.

For further information http://www.hobstafford.co.uk/community-garden-allotment/

Planting has started

8

The Gardening Tips series was produced by well known local gardening expert Mrs. FM Hartley as monthly gardening items which featured on an audio news-tape produced locally for partially sighted people. (Link To Stafford & Stone Talking Newspaper. Link To R.N.I.B.)

As such the articles are meant to be read individu-ally and not as chapters of a book. The articles were written over a period of some 7 years. RBW is absolutely delighted that Mrs Hartley has agreed to some of her words of gardening wisdom gathered over nine decades being reproduced for our benefit by her son, Alan.

Gardening Tips Week Ending 4th December 2011.

Hello Folks

Shops seem to be busy, but whether it is window-shopping I don’t know, how-

ever the bulbs at some places are definitely reduced to clear them out, so if you want

a few more it is a good time to get some.

There are lots of Poinsettias for sale, but they must be wrapped before you take

them out of the warm shops and Garden Centres. The small Cyclamen on sale look

very bright and cheerful, but unless they are labelled Hardy like “Neopolitan”, they

will not stand the frost. If you want to brighten tubs, there are Winter flowering Pan-

sies and also Ornamental Cabbages. (Sometimes labelled Kale) I know slugs like

them, but if they are in tubs you can stick Copper Tape round the tub and they will

not crawl over it. It is sold in a roll, so you stick it about half way up the tub, un-

winding it as you go. It is a bit sticky to handle, but well worth it and I found it

lasted for about 2 or 3 years. On the subject of slugs, when we cleaned out all the old

Tomato plants from the greenhouse, we gave it a good general clean up to remove

all the slugs, their eggs and all the other pests that would have been hiding in the

spilt compost, dead leaves and other assorted rubbish.

If you haven’t lined the greenhouse yet it is a worthwhile job even if you only

do the roof, but before you do it, it is a good idea to clean the glass to make the most

of the Winter sun. When you put up the polythene, drawing pins can be used in

wooden framed greenhouses to secure it and for metal-framed ones there are special

clips that push into the grooves and twist to lock in place and hold it. Bubble poly-

thene sheeting is quite expensive, so we save ours each year and the bubble poly-

thene we have just used to line our greenhouse is at least 3 or 4 years old already.

When we take it down it is folded and tied up before going back in the garage rafters

ready for the next Winter. If you have to make any joins when you put it up, parcel

tape sticks better than cellotape which soon peels off in the sun and the damp. An-

other worthwhile thing to do is to fill any big gaps in the framework, where it has

moved, with scraps of fleece, capillary matting, old cloths, etc before putting up the

polythene. With Winter coming, Olive bushes, small Figs and many other tender

plants outside can be wrapped with horticultural fleece to protect them. The fleece

should be loosely tied with string to make them look like a snowman!

A little reminder that as leaves are still falling, they should not be left on Herbaceous plants or

they will start to rot and kill them. The leaves of many other plants can be gathered and used as a

mulch between plants, or they can go on the compost heap to rot. It is probably better to rot them

in a dark plastic bag with a few drainage holes punched in it, as leaves will take about 1 ½ to 2

years to rot properly, but they make lovely compost.

The few frosty nights and cold days we had in the middle of November finished all the bed-

ding plants although some seemed to last very well. With winter on us the last of the tender per-

ennials should be protected. If you have grown Dahlias and have light sandy soil you can leave

the tubers in the ground if you like, but do cover them with bark chips, leaves or extra soil to

keep hard frosts off the crowns. If you take them up remove all the soil and dust with flowers of

sulphur powder, then store in a frost-free place in the dark. Nearly all the summer flowers have

gone now, but the Roses have lasted particularly well, and if you have any flowers that have not

been frosted and would like to keep a few for Xmas, cut long stems and stand them in water in

the cool for 24 hours. Dry the flower stems ends and then dip them in melted candle wax. When

the wax has cooled and reset, store the roses in a box in a dry place and when you want them for

your arrangement cut the waxed stem end off and use. By the way, if your roses have had Black

Spot on the leaves, pick off any remaining leaves from the plants and make sure there are no

leaves left on the soil around them as the spores will stay on the soil and infect the plants next

year. An old fashioned remedy for Black Spot was to get soot from a chimney, mix it in water

and spray the bare bushes and soil with it.

If you have a Fig tree you will find many small fruit left on it now the leaves have fallen.

All of these undeveloped fruit are best taken off and discarded as they will do no good now and

only spoil your fruit crop next year. Many reference works say that these will develop in the next

season, but this is not true, only the tiny fruit bud eyes will develop. Every year we regularly re-

move half a bucket of these undeveloped fruit as the winter comes from our own tree and put

them on the compost heap.

We also have a Medlar that has done very well and produced it’s first real crop. We picked

about 60 fruit and has put them in the cool garage in a large plastic crate to slowly ripen. The

crate is suspended on large nails away from any mice who may shelter in there and take a fancy

to the fruit. Now is a good time to buy all sorts of trees to plant, but if you don’t have a large

garden always find out if any fruit trees are grafted onto a dwarfing rootstock. If not, or if in

doubt, there are some new large bag pots that you put the tree in and then bury in the ground.

They are said to keep the trees roots in check, but allow it to naturally take the water from the

surrounding soil. This in effect Bonsais the tree and makes it fruit at a smaller size. One special

sort of pot was featured on one of the gardening programs, but on the Internet can be found sev-

eral manufacturers offering many similar products. They vary in price and size from about £5 to

£15 and are available by mail order or over the Internet.

Hyacinths that have already been started in pots for Christmas flowering should be put in a

light, cool place now with the flower buds well up, but not open yet.

Well that’s all for now.

Cheerio. Frances Hartley.

RBW FICTION PROJECT FOR 2014/15 NOTES: ( CHANGES )

Story so far. Plotlines are developing ...

This is a listing of what we have so far ...

Place: Sometime in the 1890s The Grand Cosmopolitan Shipping Line Chain: The Nasturtium Hotel (GNH) in Trentby-on-Sea a place that has a similarity to Southampton, twinned with Murmansk and has a decided international flavour. Despite recent squabbles with Russia, France and certain other countries all rich spending foreigners are welcomed

Time Span: Between the arrival and departure of the steamship The Star of Coldwynd Bay. About 3 weeks.

Hotel: The GNH is owned by The Cosmopolitan Shipping Line and is the usual Victorian Hotel. It has three classes of accommoda-

tion, that are roughly: Suites [1st floor] for those with money and the POSH nobs. Rooms [2nd and 3rd floors] for the not so well off. Accommodation [tiny attic rooms, top floor back] for staff

Staff: Basil Bluddschott (70's) – Manager Mrs. Cynthia Bluddschott (20's) - 2nd (trophy) wife of Basil

Daniel Bluddschott (40) – Son of Basil by 1st wife Miss Marian Bluddschott (35) – Daughter of Basil by 1st wife Mrs. Natasha Bluddschott (34) – wife of Daniel — gambling debts up to mischief

Roberto Manchini - Italian chef; has the hots for Marian & Cynthia Mrs. Bertha Buckett – Breakfast Cook in Charge Peter the porter

Nancy the Scullery maid, Betty the Chambermaid Guests:

Lady Vera Accrington and Lady Gloria Stanley – a couple of old biddies with a chequered past who are enjoying themselves their Ward Dorothy ... much admired by the Maharajah and every other red-blooded male Major Martin – May be the ADC to the Prince of ??

The Russian Prince of ?? Referred to as Mr. Smith; even tho' everybody know who he is. Daphne Du Worrier - Writer Capt. Toby Fowlnett – Recently appointed skipper of the clipper ship The Star of Coldwynd Bay. He may be a little short on

experience as his last job was skipper of the IOW ferry. [Hey! How difficult can it be to find India or China?] St. John Smythe – Tea planter with holdings in Assam. The Maharajah of Loovinda and his wife and valet George (apologies to Shakespeare, you‘ll see why immediately)

The Sheik of the province of Kebab. (It‘s a farce!!) Walter Wales – hack writer for Capt. Thaddeus Hook travel books Murray Durrisdane (currently a Boots)— Jade Buddha/Stone of Kali seeker — (Jamie Burke — Alexander Mulrose — baddies)

Russians? in room 212 Russian Agent Capt. Wild Will Body and his travelling Wild Rodeo Show, Missy Clementine Jane, Big chief Light–in-the-Sky and Texas Jim

McGraw the shootist (may be subject to change) Graf Hubrecht Walther Falscheim, the Graf von Jagerlagerberg involved with Ward Dorothy Kugyrand Rippling South African diamond dealer nasty piece of work

Music Hall turns playing at 'The Winter Gardens', Also staying the GNH some in suites some in the accommodation class.

Miranda Barkley – maybe mistress of the Prince of ?? Dario Stanza – singer Vesta Currie – cross-dresser hot stuff on the stage - Miss Maple piano-playing-Temperance Sister Cystic Peg – Medium / Seances Dan Fatso – Charlie Chaplin type

ALSO listed: Diamond dealer — Boniface Monkface

Jade - A rare Jade Buddha with a Kali Stone is specifically noted. A golden laughing Buddha also appears. NOTES:

CHECK THE DATE! Q. Victoria is Empress. Osborne House IoW is her fav. des. res. 1. Gas lighting or oil lamps – no public electricity supply about for another couple of decades; unless the hotel has its own generator, electrical lighting is out.

2. Horses and carriages in the streets, steam trains for long distances and on the dockside. Trams in some areas. 3. Limited number of phones, usually locally between ministries or business offices. Messengers or Royal Mail normally used.

Telegrams are available.

RBW Library Workshop group are working on a script for the next book. The ideas so far include a hotel in

the 1890s with as diverse a mix of travellers about to de-part for the far east as it is possible to squeeze into the

plot. Obviously the action will take place in Trentby-on-Sea, twinned with Murmansk, and

the establishment will be man-aged by Basil Bluddschott and his new wife Cynthia. If you‘ve ever watched a Carry On film you will have had all the training you‘d need to join in.

The annual joint project ...

The joint comedy is good practice in group co-operation, character building, plotting, dialogue, storyline arc etc and

besides it‘s hilarious to write an un-PC plot which pokes fun at everybody. Here outrageous stereotypes are encouraged!

What is more people actually read our free e-books ... Some brave souls even give us LIKES on Facebook

OPPORTUNITY: Take a room in the hotel ... Who is waiting to go to India? Why are they going? What are they running away from or towards?

It’s the wrong Buddha ... Sweating profusely Boniface Monkface sank into an overstuffed sofa in the window

bay of the salon. Normally guests who sat here enjoyed the view of the harbour where

the ferry to the Isle of Wight sailed out on the hour every hour when the tide allowed. Sights of ships of all descriptions loading and unloading mixed gaily with the jolly shouts of the fishermen whose raucous banter fortunately was lost on the stiff breeze and hardly every reached the delicate ears of the paying guests.

‗George, a moment,‘ he called after spotting the Maharaja‘s valet crossing the foyer. George ever one with an eye to business opportunities slunk into the bay: ‗What can I

do you for?‘ he grinned. Monkface ignored the impertinence: ‗Have you heard of a man called Burke?‘ George considered: ‗No. Can‘t say I have?‘ ‗Have you seen any other dealers in my line of business?‘ He mopped his chin with a

damp handkerchief. ‗Anyone offering something unusual for sale?‘ ‗How unusual?‘ asked the valet as the clink of sovereigns began to accumulate in his

frontal lobes. Monkface voice lowered to a whisper: ‗Very unusual. Specialist. Far Eastern. A Bud-

dha!‘ George paled. He‘d seen a Buddha. That limp moustachioed

travel bloke had one. He‘d seen it on a table in his room when he‘d helped Nancy with an ash bucket. Hideous thing with a wide-mouthed grin. Surely that couldn‘t be worth the sort of money that made Monkface sweat buckets.

‗I‘ll see what I can find out,‘ he said. ‗But it‘ll cost you more than a finder‘s fee. I want half.‘

‗Half?‘ squeaked Monkface. ‗Half? Are you mad? Ten per-cent. Not a penny more and be quick the buyer is already

here.‘ It was at this point that both men noticed an angry faced

man with a carpet bag attached to his wrist by a chain strid-ing across the foyer having just booked in. Monkface knew him. Rippling, nasty piece of work drove a hard bargain but scrupulously fair in paying up promptly.

‗That‘ll be two buyers,‘ said George rubbing his hands. ‗Twenty percent ...‘ and with that he slunk away leaving Boniface Monkface sodden of cheek and ever more flatulent from nervous excitement. Two potential buyers: life didn‘t get much better.

Fowlnett and the lost ship 2

As he sat at breakfast in the Grand Nasturtium's Green Dining Room, the one over-looking the railway cattle-yards, Tobias Fowlnett, Captain of the S.S. Star of Coldwynd Bay, thought to himself; It stands to reason that if you need a chart ON a ship, you need a chart to FIND a ship. You can't go wrong if you've got a chart and to find a chart you ask a native! I'll ask that Bloodclot fellow behind the desk. Behind the reception counter Daniel Bluddschott was feeling very sorry for himself. Peering, as he was, out at the world through filmy bloodshot eyes: a malaise com-pounded from the haze of the remnants of the contents of last night‘s gin bottle, a head that was thumping like an unbalanced steam engine at full speed, and a prac-tised, generalised, disinterest of all things to do with his position in life, he blearily re-alised that the saying, ―Drunk for a penny, dead drunk for tuppence‖, meant him as well! He resolved, for the second time that week, to give up drinking altogether. This time he decided that he'd go on the wagon for good, do the whole thing: sign the pledge, join the Band of Hope, or the Sally Ann, or the Methodists, or something. If his courage held out. But his current focus was hatred directed at the clown in front of him, the one wearing a cheap, badly fitting, company uniform, who was asking him how to get to Berth 25! The very clown who'd done him out of his just dues – half of which was off-the-books and which he pocketed - by taking one of his remaining accommodation rooms as a Company room! He wanted a map and directions in writing too! Daniel was definitely NOT in the mood for saying, 'Yes, sir. No, sir. Three bags full, sir,' today and, 'Clear-off you horrible little twit,' didn't seem to be as direct as he'd like. Briefly he entertained the idea of just hitting the clown and then; claiming that he'd been attacked, throwing him out as a brawler. But, amongst other things, there were too many other guests in the lobby to make that a good idea. Then a better idea

dawned on him. 'Berth 25, sir? Certainly, sir!' He said in a spritely reply, 'I'll get one of the porters to write out directions and draw you a map. I believe that the Head Porter has some maps of the district that would help in that respect.' His brisk ring on the brass 'ships bell', marked PORTER hanging by the desk, cut through the babble of conversation, did no good to his throbbing head, and sum-moned Peter the Porter from his cubby by the door. In his best impression of the rabbit-out-of-a-hat trick, Peter popped out of his cubby, cramming a shabby, slightly off-white, top hat onto his head as he did so. Basil instructed him to, 'Write out directions to Berth 25 for the Captain and draw a map to go with it. Show him the shortest way there,' he winked as he said that, 'then start the gentleman on his way. Is that clear?'

'Yes, Mr. Bluddschott, sir.' Peter replied, 'Draw a map and write down directions to berth 25. Then start the Captain on his way.' He turned to Tobias saying, 'If you'd like to foller me into th' readin' room, sir, we c'n get started.' The rabbit hutch sized reading room was full to excess of ladies all, apart from those who were sheltering from men in general, intent on perusing the daily papers provided by a 'grateful' management.

'Ah, perh'ps th' Palm Court would be better, sir.' Peter was nonplussed. 'Not norm'lly much call for that at this time o' th' day.' He was wrong. The Palm Court was being used as an impromptu venue for several other activities, including a dozen, seriously minded and behatted, missionary ladies conducting an off-key hymn singing session.

'Me'be th' Select, sir.' Peter tried to sound convincing, 'Tha's the small, gentlemen's only, bar off th' Green Dinin' room.' He was wrong again. That was full of men hiding from missionaries, wives, mothers, and other female relatives whilst imbibing the Dutch Courage to enable them to face the world. After the Red Dining room – a faded pink in urgent need of a face lift, possibly via demolition – they tried the billiards room. At least they found the stairs that, according to the signs, lead to the billiards room. But opening the door proved it to be an im-promptu chimney full of tobacco smoke and more men in hiding. After the Ballroom, and several other fruitless tries they ended up, an hour and a half later, in the Porters cubby. This was the porters‘ holy of holies and the hiding place for a number of 'commercial'

activities that the portering staff would prefer never came to the formal notice of the management. That was also the way the management, in the form of the Bluddschott dynasty, preferred things to be. Peter took a, slightly used, sheet of paper and started to write. 'Here you are, Cap-tain, 'ave a butchers at this an' tell me if yer can read me writin'.' He passed the sheet of paper across and followed it with a printed map he'd taken from a pile on a table. 'An a chart to go wi' it, Captain, an' that won't cost you the farthing I usual charges, neither. Come on, sir, I'll point yer down th' road.' At the hotel entrance Peter didn't wave for a cab, he'd interpreted the wink quite well, but said, 'If yer gets on the station 'orse-bus, sir, that'll tek you nearly all th' way an' won't cost yer a farthing.' Ignoring the hint, Toby got on board saying, 'Berth 25 please, driver.'

The driver, well known as Deaf Fred, clucked at his horse and set off on his normal route for railway station platform 5. Outside the station and seeing signs saying : TO THE STEAMERS, he followed them until he found some saying: BERTHS 25A AND 25B. Cracked it Toby! Absolutely bally spot on navigation there old bean, he told himself as he saw the stern of a dirty ship that read ―ind Bay‖, with the gang planks full of dockers carrying cargo off. Nothing to it when you've got the right charts, he grinned. Fighting his way on-board, and asking 'Why are these fellows going the wrong way?' He ducked and dodged boxes and bales on brawny shoulders. Accosting the man at the top, and enquiring after the first mate, earned him an answer that was terse, coarse and inaccurate. After eventually finding his way, he settled into the Captain‘s cabin, wondering why

the previous man hadn't cleared all his stuff out. He'd hardly started to take things from the cupboards when the door was thrown open and two heavily built women strode in. The elder took one look, called him a thief, and they both began yelling and scream-ing and hitting him. By the time the dockside police arrived Tobias Fowlnett was a cring-ing wreck in a corner of the cabin with the women thinking up unflattering names to call him, and taking turns to poke him with umbrellas.

That evening the foyer of the Grand Nasturtium seemed to be heaven. There, at least, he wasn't being violently assaulted by the wife and daughter of the skipper of the newly arrived S.S. Gold Wind Bay in berth 25A.

Fowlnett and the lost ship 3 (this piece is being amended)

Still groggy, not to mention black and blue, from the drubbing he'd received, by accident, at the hands of the wife and daughter of the master of the S.S. Gold Wind Bay, Tobias Fowlnett set out, yet again, to find his very own ship, the S.S. Star of Coldwynd Bay. This time he was full of boundless determination to find it the first time! To do that he'd consulted the papers, even though he doubted it was safe he had used this new-fangled electrical telephone machine to talk to the Harbour Master‘s Office; admittedly he hadn't really understood what the person, it sounded as if it were a young woman, at the other end of the telephone machine had said. He was fairly sure that the faint voice had said, 'The Star is reported to be at crackle, whistle, crackle, howl 20 howl, burble, crackle, whistle but is due to be whistle, screech, crackle across to the whistle, crackle, howl, burble, crackle this morning.' Then he'd spoken to an itinerant policeman, consulted his map, and generally made sure that he KNEW where he was going; as the voice had said, to Berth 20. His purse said; ―A cab?! You must be off your rocker, squire!‖, while Peter the Porter said, 'Station 'orse-bus? Well, yes, sir, yer could, but that only runs 'cording to th' train times, an' it ain't due fer 'bout a hour'. That left being a pedestrian as his only option, not a good option as the soles of his boots showed sign of imminent failure. 'Best foot forwards, Toby,' he said to himself. 'Excelsior old chap. Faint heart ne'er won fair lady and all that!' But the thing that really hit home was the thought, 'Unless you sign on in the next couple of days you'll be flat, stony, broke!' His parents had taught Toy to be polite so when, on his perambulations, he found him-self surrounded by earnest ladies and a few men who could, charitably, be described as

gentlemen, carrying banners and placards he could hardly have pushed his way through the crowd. 'Welcome, Brother,' said one particularly attractive young woman to him. 'You have done the right thing; the Lord will bless you and see to your increase. I see from your poor, rent, garments that you are a sailor ashore here, and that you have found yourself afloat in bad company, and in a sea of temptation and vice. Let us give you succour from the ills that the evil of alcohol has caused through the agents of the devil. ‗As a disciple of Mr. Holmes I can see from the way you are walking the damage to your poor body must be serious and from your poor, damaged, visage that it was it diffi-cult to give up the Demon Drink.' Now that Toby could get a word in, edgeways, he answered, 'No, Miss, not really, it was the wife and daughter of a ship‘s Captain that caused the damage.'

This got the immediate attention of several other ladies in the group. 'Vile deluded creatures no doubt,' said one. 'No better than they ought to be!' was the puzzling remark of another. 'In need of a good thrashing I'll be bound,' enjoined a third. Toby opened his mouth to disagree, but never got the words out, before another, seri-

ous looking, elderly woman, who reminded Toby of his youthful nemesis Great Aunt Beth, shouted to the crowd, 'We must boycott the ship where this poor, poor, man was assailed and assaulted! Brothers and Sisters let us proceed to the steamer berths and campaign for the cause! Down with the Demon Drink!' The reply of, 'Down with the Demon Drink', seemed to settle the matter; although, to

Toby, it did seem to be odd, as that was exactly what you did do with any kind of drink. 'To the steamers!' the elderly lady shouted and promptly set off in the wrong direction. 'It's a short cut,' the young lady told him. 'Sister Martha knows her way around here like the back of her hand.' An hour later, and despite seeing several signs saying TO THE STEAMERS and TO THE FERRY LANDING, they still hadn't arrived at the waterfront, but they had paused for refreshment at 'The Temperance Tavern'. Toby had, by this time, found that the attractive young woman was, 'Miss Maple, Ve-ronica Maple. I'm really a certificated school teacher, but at present I'm between jobs, as they say on the stage.' Looking around, rather furtively, she added, 'Don't say a word, but my Uncle Percy has found me a position as a musician in the Grand Palm Court at the Winter Garden Tea

Rooms, I play the piano in the orchestra. It's very select, respectable and safe you know? They don't allow anyone of low morals in there.' Toby found it difficult to accept that statement at face value. He'd then introduced himself, 'Miss Maple. I apologise for my appearance. That is due to forces totally beyond my control. I am Captain Tobias Fowlnett of the S.S. Star of Cold-wynd Bay currently somewhere in these docks. I've been trying to find her for the last few days, but something always stops me.' 'A sea Captain!' Miss Maple was thrilled to the core. 'How positively super! I've never met a real sailor before, well not an officer anyway. Now! We must help you find your boat. Where did you put it when you came to town? We've absolutely lots and lots of these docking, planky, wooden things here you know. Uncle Percy says there's over a hun-dred scattered about.'

Without pausing for breath she carried on, 'I know! My cousin Bert works at some of-fice or other to do with where you tie up these boats, or fasten them down, lower the an-chor or whatever it is you do. We'll ask him, he's bound to know. Now what do they call it?' By this time Toby was getting used to the way that Miss Maple spun, half-finished, ideas out of her head. 'You mean the Harbour Master‘s Office, Miss Maple?' He offered. 'Clever old you, Captain Tobias. Fancy you knowing about things like that! That's the very name he called it.' She looked around getting her bearings. 'Now - I think – yes - it's there,' she pointed in the general direction of inland, 'over by the clock tower on the Ca-thedral. You can't miss it, not really! We'll just toddle along over there and get him to show us the way to your little boat. You see; it's easy when you know how. Why didn't you do that before? Well come along then, it's no good you just standing there is it? Quick

march!' There was a grabbing of arms and they walked away at a route march tempo. Three hours later, via luncheon at another Temperance Tavern and getting his coat mended by 'A good tailor' that Miss Maple happened to know, the whole thing costing his increasingly slim wallet tuppence three farthings, they sauntered up and found the Har-bour Masters office. The sign on the door said:

On this month's re.Lit we'll be lighting up the airwaves with more firewords than you can shake a slow fuse at, including:

A selection of tracks newly uploaded to the Submit page of the www.radiowildfire.com web-site, with work from Huw Parsons (UK), H.C.Turk (USA) and an exclusive preview track from the new album by New York singer-songwriter and poet David Francis. Themed contributions around

some obvious and some not so obvious November topics. Together with his month's play from Bun-bury Banter Theatre Company - From Venus with Love by Bruce Shakespear, a refreshing mix of comedy and philosophy and, ultimately, a story of hope - and a great story to listen to.

And we'll be delving back into the Radio Wildfire archive to remember some of the great tracks we

played during October during previous years. Plus comment, chat and more ... The show is presented as always by poet and performer Dave Reeves. Join us: Monday 3rd November from 8.00 pm UK time at www.radiowildfire.com

Radio Wildfire: wildfireworks of a literary nature re.Lit Live! is produced by Vaughn Reeves with back-room support from Ali McK.

Why not send your own tracks to Radio Wildfire by going to the Submit‘ page of our website and uploading MP3s of your work. Spokenword and music, comedy, storytelling, poetry, song and aural art, they

are all part of the eclectic mix we are looking for when we create Radio Wildfire Live! Follow Radio Wildfire on Twitter @radiowildfire

WHAT IS RADIO WILDFIRE? Radio Wildfire is an independent online radio station which blends spoken word, poetry, performance lit-

erature, comedy, storytelling, short stories and more with a novel selection of word/music fusion and an eclectic mix of musical styles. www.radiowildfire.com broadcasts live 8.00-10.00pm (UK time) on the first Monday of every month.

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

CLOSED. THIS OFFICE RE-OPENS AT 7 O-CLOCK TOMORROW

'Never mind!' Miss Maple consoled him in a manner that Tobias quite liked, 'Come and meet me in the Winter Garden Palm Court tomorrow at ten-o-clock. We'll have you in your boat by twelve at the latest.' As he handed his suite key in at the reception counter the man behind it said, 'Mr. Hunter-Hill, sir. I hate to bother you with small details but may I remind you, sir, that your hotel account remains unsettled. The company would appreciate sir, it if you could find your way to settle it by lunch time tomorrow.'

It was insufferable that such a low class person had the gall, the brass nerve, to demand payment from a member of the aristocracy. But, Walter reminded himself, this was England, the MOST powerful nation in the world, and he was incognito. He'd just have to suffer such indignities as best he may.

'Here, Mr. Bloodclot, is £10 on account,' he said as he handed his last ten pound note over to the man. 'I am on my way to my bank to draw more cash to settle your account. I shall settle up this evening, after dinner.'

Looking in his wallet as he handed the bank note over, Walter found that he had al-most run out of money. Apart from a few odd Half Crowns, and some other loose change that didn't add up to much, he was down to a single gold £5 coin. That visit

to his bank was long overdue, however much he disliked the oily, cringing, manager. 'A ten pound NOTE sir? I'm afraid, sir, that the company has a firm rule of not accept-

ing bank notes of such a high value, sir. Five pound coins are eminently satisfactory, sir, but not a note of this value. If sir could see his way to have it changed into coin of the realm we can conclude the matter.'

Walter, or rather the Herr Graf Hubrecht Walther, exploded in rage, grabbed the man by his lapels and dragged him across the counter.

'That bank note, you little toad,' he screamed in his face, 'is valid in any part of the world ruled by Her Majesty, which includes this hotel.' He shook the unfortunate man as he said it. 'Now you either accept it or I shall take steps to put you out of business. Am I making myself quite clear? Little. Man!'

A tap on his arm and a voice saying, 'Walter, do put him down please. And make sure that you wash your hands very thoroughly afterwards. You never can tell where that type has been, can you?' Brought him, unmoving, back to earth.

'I suppose your right, my dear Petronella.' Walter replied. 'Are you sure that I can't shake him, just a little bit? I mean he does deserve it for in-sulting my … er … Her Majesty like that.'

Peg nodded, firmly. 'I know he does, Walter, but shaking people, even if they do deserve it, does get one so looked down on in the modern world. Sad but there it is. Now let him down gently and we'll go along to this bank of yours and get some money out to settle the account.'

Much shaken Basil was released as Peg said, 'Now I'm sure that there won't be any more fuss over accepting that lovely ten pound note! Will there Mr. Bluddschott?'

A speechless, trembling, Basil shook his head, the implications of Mrs. West leaving the desk were all too obvious to him.

'Good, good!' Peg sounded almost motherly. 'Now! I've witnessed the handing over of, how much was it again? I believe it was ten pounds, towards the settlement of Mr. Hunter-Hill's account. So, all you have to do is just see to it that that is the amount de-ducted from his bill. I shall check up on it later.'

Basil also heard the threat in the ―I shall check up on it later‖. Mrs. West was a resi-dent in one of the nicer Accommodation rooms, a noted checker-up on things, had friends in high places, and was not someone to get on the wrong side of either. He was not having a nice morning, and his not at all a nice morning looked to be getting worse.

Turning towards Walter she said briskly, 'Right then, Walter, which bank is it? It's a nice day so we may as well walk to get up a nice appetite for lunch.'

The pair went out past a puzzled Peter, who had witnessed the whole thing from the safety of the porter‘s cubby. 'Blimey', he said to Murray, the 'new boots', who had come to him for some advice on supplies, 'Not a bloke to get on the wrong side, that one.'

The 'new boots' nodded as he replied, 'You know I think I've seen him somewhere be-fore.' His face slid into a mask of stillness, 'Somewhere on the Continent or India maybe. I'll give it some more thought.'

'Good man, Murray. Me'be we can use it t' get us a few bob. Wha‘d‘ you say?' Murray didn't answer, but a quick nod was taken to be agreement.

Random words: jamb tea light bland pickle charity artichoke whistle/whistling repetition advantage

Charity Jones was an aspiring designer, and so she was thrilled to be accepted to take part in the BBC

TV series, ―The Great British Interior Design Challenge‖ She was up against two other competitors, but hoped she would have an advantage over them, having bought an old property, in a bad state of repair

and completely renovated it, single-handed. The room she had to makeover was bland in the extreme, and she decided to paint the walls artichoke green, with one feature wall papered with a large flower print. She got into a pickle when painting the door, only to discover

Charity used colour repetition in her soft furnishings, to bring unity to the whole scheme, and hap-pily whistled as she completed the look with tea lights and carefully chosen ornaments. (PMW)

Assignment: No turning back - (Research Wikipedia). (PMW)

The Rubicon is a shallow river in northeast Italy south of Ravenna, about 80 kilometres long, running from the Apennine Mountains to the Adriatic Sea through the southern Emilia-Romagna region, between

the towns of Rimini and Cesena. The Latin word rubico comes from the adjective rubeus, meaning "red". The river was so named because its waters are colored red by mud deposits.

The idiom "Crossing the Rubicon" means to pass a point of no return, and refers to Julius Caesar's army's crossing of the river in 49 BC, which was considered an act of insurrection. Because the course of the river has changed much since then, it is impossible to confirm exactly where the Rubicon flowed

when Caesar and his legions crossed it, even though most evidence links it to the river officially so named. The river is said to be the place where Julius Caesar uttered the famous phrase "alea iacta est" – the die is cast.

Poppy Red Field The sorrow, the pain, the heartache, the grief,

knock at front door, a message quite brief.

Soldier missing, feared captured or dead,

from battlefield absent, over parapet fled.

Whichever it was, fate firmly sealed,

no longer to fight on poppy red field

Pictures I’ve seen, stories I’ve heard,

to understand or explain can’t think of right word!

Gratitude and thanks and poems prevail,

of sacrifice and loss on infinite scale.

Young men in battle, mud to the knees,

I try to imagine times such as these.

Horrendous conditions, numb fear, constant dread,

long rows of graves, try counting the dead.

A century has passed since the Great War began,

a huge debt of thanks we owe to each man.

The message is clear, grateful prayers we send,

enjoying the freedom, you fought to defend.

If you are a subscribing email recipient to leave RBW Online is easy just email and say ‘unsubscribe’ and you will be immediately removed from the list. If you have any suggestions for improvement to this service please let us know. You don't have to take an active part to receive this workshop bulletin you can just sit back and enjoy the ride, but if you could send feedback, it is greatly appreciated. RBW Privacy Promise: A few simple contact details are all that are required and they will only be used for this bulletin service. RBW promise to:

Only send you details via the newsletter.

To never pass on your details to anyone else.

To always allow recipients to opt-out and unsubscribe at any time.

www.risingbrookwriters.org.uk

To contact RBW please use the website contact box.

PATRON Ian McMillan www.ian-mcmillan.co.uk

Present and Previous Memberships and Funders.

Rising Brook Writers strives to be compliant with the requirements of the Data Protection Act. RBW strives for accu-

racy and fairness, however, can take no responsibility for any error, misinterpretation or inaccuracy in any message

sent by this mode of publishing. The opinions expressed are not necessarily in accordance with the policy of the char-

ity. E-mails and attachments sent out by RBW are believed to be free from viruses which might affect computer sys-

tems into which they are received or opened but it is the responsibility of the recipient to ensure that they are virus

free. Rising Brook Writers accepts no responsibility for any loss or damage arising in any way from their receipt, open-

ing or use. Environment/ Recycling: Please consider carefully if you need to print out any part or all of this message.

To the best of our knowledge and belief all the material included in this publication is free to use in the public domain,

or has been reproduced with permission, and/or source acknowledgement. RBW have researched rights where possible,

if anyone’s copyright is accidentally breached please inform us and we will remove the item with apologies. RBW is a

community organisation, whose aims are purely educational, and is entirely non-profit making. If using material from

this collection for educational purposes please be so kind as to acknowledge RBW as the source. Contributors retain the

copyright to their own work. Fiction: names, characters, places and incidents are imaginary or are being used in a ficti-

tious way. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is entirely coincidental.

This bulletin is produced by volunteers. The editor’s decisions are final and not open to discussion.

© Rising Brook Writers 2014 — RCN 1117227 A voluntary charitable trust.