Issue 394 3rd July 2015

2

FLASH FICTION: Random Words: trust, beeswax, college, smart-

phone, experimental, random, infrastructure, colour, bluff

Assignment: what can you buy for 40p?

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

Recognise this window?

Where in Stafford town centre can it be found?

More next week ...

Believe it or not, a pothole isn‟t a pothole any more, but

a „road anomaly‟!!

Observation: Young squirrel in a wooded bank by the M6

Why aren‟t people being

taught that a thing cannot be „very unique‟ or „quite

unique‟? Uniqueness, like virginity, cannot be quali-fied. It is or it ain‟t and you

are or you ain‟t. Hearing about terrorist at-

tacks in the media is bad enough, but it‟s a whole

different thing when you know two of the victims personally.

www.issuu.com/risingbrookwriters

Spearheading the fundraising

is Rising Brook mum, and Sup-

porter of Stafford Hospital, Sue

Wyke, who herself was saved by

a defibrillator three years ago.

This is Sue’s second public

access defibrillator and she says

she is on the way towards rais-

ing the funding for a third.

5

Gardening Tips for July ... Frances Hartley

As you will know there is a shortage of Bees that help with pollinating a lot of the

crops due partly, to bad weather and partly the use of poisonous sprays in gardens

and fields etc. There is no real need for most of the sprays in the garden, because if

birds are encouraged they will help by eating the Aphids. Other things like beetles

and ladybirds will thrive as well if there are no chemicals about and they will eat

even more pests. If you must spray use weak, soapy water. We don’t use any sprays

at all in the garden and have lots of birds flitting about.

Plants for drying, to fill empty vases in the Winter will

soon be ready for cutting. Alliums make a nice head that dries

well - just cut with a good stem and hang upside down in an airy

place. Honesty, or Silver Dollar also makes a nice, silvery show.

I shall try a few Geums, Teasels and probably Cornflowers this

year as well as look for others. Another one that dries well, but

from a pot plant and not from the garden, is Aspidistra leaves.

Herbs can also be cut and dried ready for use in the kitchen in

the Winter. We use herbs instead of sauces to flavour things as it is a lot healthier.

Cut the herbs and place the heads in a paper bag that should then be hung up until

the seeds have dropped out and the store them in small jars. Oregano, Thyme and

Parsley are easy ones, but why not try Mint as well.

Some of our nurseries that grow cut flowers are struggling to keep going now

as there are so many cut flowers from abroad flooding our markets. We should be

asking for English grown ones instead. There is plenty of choice and you can put

some easy ones in the garden that will come up every year: - Margarites, Geums,

Corn Flowers, Pyrethrums and Rudbeckia to name a few. There are plenty of other

plants with flowers suitable for cutting that can be grown and that need only a little

more attention such as Roses, Dahlias, Chrysanthemums and Sweet Peas. There is

also a perennial Sweet Pea and Wallflower that are available now to save re-

planting each year. You just them cut back each year at the end of the season.

In the greenhouse, if Tomatoes are setting, you should start feeding with a Pot-

ash feed such as Tomerite which is on offer at a number of places now and you

must make sure that the plants never get dry, even in hot weather.

If the greenhouse can be watered in the morning it is better than doing at night

as water left on leaves can cause Mildew and then lead to other diseases. If the

weather turns very hot it is better to damp down the floor as well.

Many years ago my husband had a Melon and Cucumber greenhouse built for

me that was half the depth of a normal greenhouse with the roof above the ground

and the other half of the greenhouse below the ground with a couple of steps down

into it. The sides were actually about 2, or 3 feet above ground with the roof above

and the gangway was dug in about 3 or 4 feet below ground level. In the Summer

when it was really hot, I threw a bucket of water down onto the slab floor for hu-

midity and some days you could almost see the steam rise. We did have lovely Mel-

ons and long straight Cucumbers though.

Well that’s all for now.

Cheerio Frances Hartley.

WAYS TO HELP FOOD CHARITIES TODAY AND THE HISTORY OF STAR-

VATION IN THE UK …. ACW

Wikipedia inform us that in the 20th century, poverty was viewed as a crime, from such law

as the Vagabonds and Beggars Act 1495 that imprisoned beggars. During Elizabethan

times, the old English Poor Law depicted the poor as morally degenerate (our term

‘scroungers’) and were expected to perform forced labour in workhouses.

Today this is called Workfare.

During his childhood, Charles Dickens lived only nine doors away from a work-

house, seeing the comings and goings in the street in front of it. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1369746/Dickens-darent-tell-truth-real-Oliver-Twist-workhouses.html

Today the forced labour of our young people deprived of benefits, is them being

forced onto Workfare which is but a replay of Charles Dickens’ day.

In Dickens’ day his horrendous experience working in a factory, was nowhere near

as bad as that of the unpaid apprentices in enslaved servitude sent out from the workhouse to

the cotton mills.

Memoirs of survivors show they were treated like animals and fed on scraps, many

dying of starvation as a result.

Worse than that, they were flogged with belts and shaken violently. To get them to work

harder, pain was inflicted by filing their teeth and their ears put in vices in the belief this

improved their productivity. Some dying or maimed for life.

Proper forensic proof of how the workhouse killed people and the community around them was published in 1866, in the

medial journal The Lancet, after it appointed a Sanitary Commission of three well-known doctors to investigate the state

of London’s workhouses.

One of the workhouses visited was the one that Charles Dickens had had lived opposite. Their report made horri-

fying reading and further enraged the public, showing that Charles Dickens had not exaggerated the horrendous work-

house conditions in his book, Oliver Twist.

Dr Thomas Wakley, a founder of the medical journal, said in The Lancet report, that he foresaw around 145,000

dying every year in the workhouse because government ignored medical and statistical evidence. The Editor to the

Lancer further wrote in 1841 that the workhouses were the ‘antechambers of the grave’, caused by the following:

Poor diet of gruel of watery porridge.

Perception of shame by society of the inmates.

Sheer mental depression of being incarcerated in the workhouse.

All this made them more vulnerable to disease.

The workhouse medical facilities were poor at best and could not deal with disease effectively.

So epidemics happened in them and spread out into the surrounding community, as it did from Victorian prisons.

(Lancet, 1 May 1841, pages 193 – 196). http://www.thelancet.com/journals/lancet/article/PIIS0140-6736(02)97179-5/abstract?cc=y= and

http://www.theguardian.com/science/the-h-word/2012/nov/27/history-science

This is happening again today, shown in The Lancet signed by around 150 doctors saying the most basic human need and

right is food, but today starvation admissions to NHS hospitals in England and Wales had double since 2008 – 2009.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2517898/Hunger-Britain-public-health-emergency-number-people-turning-food-banks-feed-families-soars.htmland

http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/health-and-families/health-news/malnutrition-cases-in-english-hospitals-almost-double-in-five-years-8945631.html

HOW WE CAN HELP?

ESPECIALLY NOW WHEN SCHOOLS HAVE CLOSED FOR THE SUMMER HOLIDAYS AND ABOUT OVER

143,000 CHILDREN NATIONALLY DO NOT HAVE ACCESS TO SCHOOL BREAKFAST CLUBS

Either by volunteering, or donating as an individual, or as a company.

Ways to make contact with food charities if you, as a company, have surplus food. https://plus.google.com/collection/ML8EU

Included, is the charity that helps schools provide breakfast when they re-open in the

autumn – Magic Breakfast. And for more information on child poverty ... CPAG.

http://www.cpag.org.uk/ Fighting the injustice of poverty ...

Wikipedia

The garden is responding to a bit of loving care,

If only it was warm enough to sit out in my chair.

It’s from behind a window, I can admire the view,

Of peonies, geraniums, lobelia, white and blue.

The herring gulls are circling, what an awful noise

they make,

They scream and call all day and make my poor ears

ache.

As I peg out Monday washing they gather on a roof

eyeing up my line, but if I tell the truth,

they scare me with their wicked shouts,

I have to run inside,

leaving my full basket, I was hoping to get dried!

The sun is out and shining but a dark cloud hovers too

Behind the safety of a window, I will admire the view.

Random words: - trade, piece/peace, by-way, promptly, paddle, banger, sedative, fortune, carefully,

sausages, right

My pedigree cocker spaniel, Millie cost me a small fortune when I bought her as a pup six years ago. Cockers are meant to love water and be great swimmers: - she doesn‟t and isn‟t. She won‟t go near wa-

ter, not even to paddle, and walks very carefully right round any puddle we might encounter on the high-ways and byways during our morning walk. She also hates being clipped and groomed, especially her feet, and promptly runs off as soon as she

spies the brush, bath or trimmers. There‟s peace for neither man nor beast when she spots them. The vet suggested a sedative, which I hid in some sausage; - bangers being one of her favourite foods.

It didn‟t work, so I may trade her in for a canary.

Assignment: - Less is more

“You can‟t have too much of a good thing”, Or so they used to say.

It may have been so in my younger days, But it doesn‟t ring true today.

“Men,” they said “like cuddly women, Rubenesque and with curves,” I was told.

It may have been true in the sixties, But it isn‟t the case when you‟re old.

Now I fear there‟s just too much of me, And this is the reason, I‟m sure,

Why the gentlemen give me a wide berth, for When you‟re sixty or so, less is more.

Ranunculus is a large genus of about 600

species of plants in the Ranunculaceae. Members of the genus include the butter-

cups, spearworts, water crowfoots and the lesser celandine. The petals are often

highly lustrous, especially in yellow species. Buttercups usually flower in the spring, but flowers may be found throughout the sum-

mer, especially where the plants are grow-ing as opportunistic colonizers. (Here by M6

woodland bordering Shannon Road.)

Thanks for sharing ... Uploaded to FACEBOOK by Mark Morford ... Wonderful words ...

www.dictionaryofobscuresorrows.com The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows is a compendium of invented

words and definitions written by John Koenig. It’s a real treat for word lovers and worth a look.

Take it with a pinch of salt Clichés Assignment We decided open a café and wanted help. It needed some work doing to it and we brought every-

thing but the kitchen sink, it had one already. We all helped because many hands make light work. We cleaned the place from top to bottom, cleanliness is next to godliness or so the vicar says. We

worked hard and missed meals but we tightened our belts. We were soon in the kitchen cooking with gas. Unfortunately the chef was unhappy because too many cooks spoil the broth and shouted

at us. We all left in high dudgeon, he said if you can‟t stand the heat keep out of the kitchen. Be-sides that he was built like a brick outhouse and fat as a butcher‟s dog. The chef chased us out of the kitchen and all was quiet, surely it was the piece of cod which passeth all understanding. The

restaurant next door started undercutting the café, they said all‟s fair in love or war. So we went all hands to the pump worked nineteen to the dozen. Our motto was: “Always look on the bright

side”. Our meals were cheaper than chips and served faster than a speeding bullet. Our customers said the café was the best thing since sliced bread.

The next door‟s restaurant owner, dressed up to the nines, came into complain, he was cool as a cucumber. I told him to put a sock in it that, seemed to fan the flames of his displeasure. I had opened a can of worms. I spoke more kindly to him and that poured oil on troubled waters. It

was a storm in a tea cup there is no point in making mountains out of molehills Unfortunately, we had a chip pan fire and the café had to close for a week. In that time we

refurbished the kitchen. Soon everything was in apple pie order. It seemed as though every cloud has a silver lining or as my mum says it‟s an ill wind that blows nobody any good. We had grand re-opening and every one ate like a horse. However, troubles rarely come alone and our chef decided

to leave. We were desperate and grasped at straws. Eventually, we dangled a carrot in front of him in the form of increased wages. He swallowed his pride and came back, after all he knew

which side his bread was buttered. His cooking improved and customers started queueing out of the door. We got in more staff and they worked like Trojans. They got through the queues like a

knife through butter. The café had been open for a few months when there was an accident in the road in front of the café. Nobody was hurt but one poor fellow‟s shopping was as flat as a pancake, a passer-by

told him it was no good crying over spilt milk. We gave him a free meal and others came in expect-ing the same but we told them there‟s no such thing as a free lunch.

The café was so successful that an idea that had been on the back burner for some time was activated. We opened a new café all short distance away, we thought it was a good idea not to

have all our eggs in one basket. It was more up market and we made the customers pay though the nose. This was not very clever, we ended up with egg on our faces; this new café nearly failed but we all pulled together, cut the prices and it was a roaring success. It could have been out of

the frying pan into the fire but they say there is no gain without pain. The chef tried a few new ideas such a chilli flavoured rhubarb crumble, not only was it as hot as hell,

it was a half-baked idea and we had to pour ice cold water on it. He com-plained and said variety is the spice of life. It was not a good dish to serve, all the customers had to go through the motions afterwards or so they re-

ported. I said I would eat my hat if he tried that again. He said what about a recipe for of stewed prunes, broccoli and anchovies, we all said not in our

back yard. A Sunday paper sent a reviewer to our two establishments. Luckily he was as thick as two

short planks and blind as a bat. He enjoyed his meal and wrote a glowing report. It was the icing on the cake, people flocked to the two cafés just as if they were the land flowing with milk and honey. Our small business has flourished and become a chain of cafés across the country. Our motto is:

“Whatever tickles your fancy gives you your just desserts”.

Less is More (Assignment) Origin

This is a 19th century proverbial phrase. It is first found in print in Andrea delSarto, 1855, a poem by Robert Browning:

Who strive - you don't know how the others strive To paint a little thing like that you smeared

Carelessly passing with your robes afloat,- Yet do much less, so much less, Someone says, (I know his name, no matter) - so much less!

Well, less is more, Lucrezia.

One of my acquaintances is a minimalist, I do not think he has any friends, just acquaintances. His garden is very Zen, raked gravel and bonsai trees and a wooden seat. No barbeques here. I

cannot work out where the garden tools are kept because there is no shed or summerhouse, per-haps he has a gardener who does it. The inside of his house is almost empty; no pictures on the white walls, almost no furniture and what there is is not very comfortable. If he reads I cannot tell

you because there are no papers, magazines or books anywhere. The kitchen cupboards are very few, so how he cooks I do not know. Bare work surface and a white hob and oven, he does not

do microwaves or toasters. His life is based upon the premise „Less is more‟. His bedroom consists of a futon, white, on the floor which is covered white carpet. One small wardrobe, yes you guessed correctly, white

with a mirror. I was surprised that his house had curtains then I looked more closely, you are clever you guessed, white. He has no washing machine for his clothes, they all go to the laundry.

No clothesline for his garden or clothes‟ horse in the house besides, it saves the ironing. The bath room is all white too, not even a solitary strand of hair in the sink.

He is not married or partnered perhaps a woman or man in his life or house might make for untidiness in his house. Alternatively, women are far more sensible than to live with such a per-son.

He invited me round for a meal last week. Now I know why he is so thin. The meal con-sisted of a small bowl of clear soup, no bread roll, followed by what I can only describe as a saucer

of salad, for afters we had a kiwi fruit, no cheese, no biscuits, no crumbs. You want to know what we drank, surely you can guess, white wine served in glasses the size of a thimble. At last 10

o‟clock came and I could go home. I stopped at the chip shop and had double fish and chips. As I stuffed my face and growling stomach I said “Less is more” or more correctly “Less for you is more for me.”

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WHEELS cliché assignment

Mama always said that it was a jungle out there and it just wasn't possible to have your cake and eat it too. But I was old beyond my years and determined to prove her wrong – to have the time of my life

and not remain a big fish in a little pond but to get out there and explore the great blue yonder and see what fortune had in store.

So I headed West to look for my significant other and to seek that fortune, threw caution to the wind and followed my nose to the big city lights with a whole bag o‟ tricks up my sleeve. Feeling on top of the world and putting my troubles behind me, I seized the window of opportunity that a brand

new set of wheels gave me, grabbed the future with both hands (I'd trade on my looks if need be) and headed for Blackpool.

But soon I realised I was in over my head and not exactly over the moon to find a slip of a girl called Madge tagging along, bending my ear with seven shades of nonsense about being hauled over

the coals once too often at home and that doing a runner to join her new „pen-friend‟ would send a clear message that she'd been in the doghouse once too often – she was Not biting the hand that fed her but she was no walkover either. She was nobody's fool, this kid, but I held her at arm's length

while figuring what to do ... she might turn out to be quite a handful and I could be on the carpet with the fuzz for harbouring a minor. And Blackpool was a hot-bed of vice – it may be an all-time favourite

with the more discerning visitor but it was also jam-packed with dens of iniquity. I threw the book at her but she dodged, saying that she had no great expectations anyway – she just wanted to be free as a bird, wouldn't cost the earth to feed and with a little blue sky thinking on

my part, we'd be the perfect team. She was persuasive. But the elephant in the room was that nei-ther of us had two ha‟pennies to rub together. That revelation, a while later, was a massive disap-

pointment to her – she'd thought I was rolling in money. It must've been a case of mistaken identity, though I had been punching above my

weight when I'd decided to buy the Vespa with the last of my meagre savings. The salesman had been a hard nut to crack but I'd managed to thrash out a deal that was beyond my wildest dreams. We were off. Or

would've been had not a big bear of a man, off his head on caffeine (the stains were all down his jumper), came in by the back door at the last

minute threatening strong arm tactics if I dared to drive the wheels off the forecourt. Things were beginning to spiral out of control ...

He was clearly too big for his boots but was cut down to size when the salesman brought him down a peg or two by having a timely lightbulb moment and bowling him a googly – „2 teas, Harry, 1 with milk ‟n 2 sug-

ars‟. It's a sign of the times when the sales staff call all the shots in this once-respectable business – but he sure had saved my bacon.

Blackpool was in our sights. But the path of two loves never did run smooth ... I'd thought that having the Madge kid along would be curtains for my whole trip, not to mention a disaster waiting to happen. I didn't want to fan the flames of her family's wrath but, Heck – they were nothing to me! I'd

had friends before but they couldn't hold a candle to this plucky waif. I'd been bowled over by her honesty (so far) and wasn't about to throw in the towel at the first hurdle. Life is a Cabernet, old

chum, and it usually does what it says on the tin – chance your arm ‟n you might just win the lottery. Life is a bagatelle as well but now it was in the bag – with fire in our bellies, smelling the roses

and steady as a rock, we were finally off to Blackpool. And Blackpool rocks ...

The Lake Isle of Innisfree By William Butler Yeats I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight‟s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet‟s wings. I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart‟s core.

William Butler Yeats is widely considered to be one of the greatest poets of the 20th century. William Butler Yeats ( 13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939) was an Irish poet and one of the fore-

most figures of 20th century literature. A pillar of both the Irish and British literary establishments,

in his later years he served as an Irish Senator for two terms. Yeats was a driving force behind the

Irish Literary Revival and founded the Abbey Theatre, where he served as its head during its early

years. In 1923, he was awarded the Nobel Prize

in Literature as the first Irishman so honoured

for what the Nobel Committee described as

"inspired poetry, which in a highly artistic form

gives expression to the spirit of a whole nation."

Yeats is considered one of the few writers who

completed their greatest works after being

awarded the Nobel Prize; including The Tower

(1928) and The Winding Stair and Other Poems

(1929)

Source material: Wikipedia & other web outlets

Random Words: - finger, marquee, maverick, claim, regent, placebo, confuse, futile, complete

The Prince Regent was a bit of a hypochondriac in truth, and sought much advice from many medical quarters on a variety of perceived conditions. Then he heard of a new doctor, regarded by the rest of his profession as a

maverick, owing to his unorthodox methods, and his claim to cure 99% of his patients. “You need to put your complete trust in me, sir,” the doctor told the royal, wagging his finger, “or what-ever course of treatment I prescribe will be futile. Now tell me what the problem is.”

“The Queen is holding a garden party and has erected a huge marquee in the palace grounds. Tents make me tense. It must be all those taut ropes holding „em up. Can you give me something to calm my nerves?” he pleaded.

“I think I‟ve just the thing,” replied the medico, handing the monarch a sugar-coated placebo.” “These are the very latest thing. Take two before bed and I guarantee they‟ll do the trick!”

Assignment: - On the bench One year in the 1990s, I was over in America, visiting my prisoner pen pals in the southern „Bible Belt‟. During

my stay, I had a phone call from a close friend, a dedicated anti-death penalty campaigner, writer and doctor of divinity at the local University. He told me of a federal court trial which was scheduled to be heard in federal

court in the following days. A man whom he had visited for over 25 years, since his conviction was appealing his death sentence, and my friend asked if I would like to experience a day in court, and support the man, Will Graysmith.

In the quarter of a century since his conviction, Will had done his darndest to turn his life around. He had studied for a theology degree and was pastoring the other men on Death Row, as well as giving lessons in liter-

acy to men who were unable to read. We were happy to hear that Judge James Nicklin had been allocated the case, as he had a record of overturning sentences.

Outside the courthouse, the media circus had gathered. News cameras were there to cover the event. The victim‟s sister had waged a tenacious campaign ever since the original trial and had kept the case in the public eye, so many supporters had gathered, bearing banners and making quite a lot of noise.

For Will‟s side, a woman was handing out lapel badges, with the message „Don‟t Kill In My Name‟ on them. I took one, but felt rather uncomfortable wearing it, not because I didn‟t subscribe to the sentiment, but

rather because as a non-native and from a country which abolished capital punishment some decades ago, I didn‟t feel qualified to make such demands. We mounted the stone steps to the court and went through the usual x rays, searches and security

checks, and took our seats at the back of the court. There were around a dozen of us on the defence side, and I was next to the local bishop and his daughter, who asked me where I was from, then amazed me by saying

that they knew the Wedgwood factory and Barlaston very well! Will was brought in to the dock, wearing the typical bright orange boiler suit, and the usher called out “All rise!” as the judge appeared and took his place at the bench.

James Nicklin wasn‟t an especially imposing figure. Federal judges don‟t wear wigs; just the black robes familiar to us on this side of the pond. He was known as a liberal; not strictly anti-death penalty, but neverthe-less, a senior judge, originally appointed by Jimmy Carter, who was by now semi-retired. He was loved by the

defence, but dreaded by the prosecution, because he was thoughtful, independent-thinking and very much his own man, unlike many of his fellows, who, because they are elected, and are thus subject to the whims of the

voters, had a tendency to defer to the electorate‟s view that murderers in turn should be murdered by the State. Judge Nicklin didn‟t always do what was politically expedient, but what was right, from a justice point of view.

He had a mop of wispy, white hair, gold-rimmed glasses and a neat white beard and looked like every small child‟s idea of Santa Claus. But that was where the friendly, cuddly, avuncular resemblance ended.

It wasn‟t my first time in a law court. I had been twice before, on two separate occasions here in England. But I had never before been witness to such a serious procedure, where a man‟s life was at stake. At times, the judge appeared to have nodded off, so quiet and still he was. But I couldn‟t have been more

wrong. At the slightest suggestion of one side or the other trying to get away with something, he sprang into action like a rattlesnake, quick to overrule or allow a point; always polite, addressing the attorney as „Sir‟ and

„Mr so-and-so‟, and thanking them courteously. It was obvious that he had the keenest of intellects and was master of his trade. Nothing was going to get past him. Everything that had been said had been mentally noted. He was firm, decisive, fair, authorative.

Everyone in that room showed him deep respect. His was a consummate legal brain. After three days of weighing up the evidence, Will was granted relief. His death sentence was commuted to life. The death penalty is capricious. He had been a lucky individual to land up in the court of such a fine ex-

ponent of the law. I had been lucky to witness it. (PMW This account is based on something that happened but names/places etc have been changed.)

The Bench (assignment) Sitting thinking on the bench I used to sit, watching local football team, kick the ball

and each other, bench itself is old and rotten coincidentally I myself was rotten at football. Three rotten planks and two thick stumps, as its base, reminded me of cricket days, I was always out stumped. That‟s enough of my old sporting days.

Rick

Rick hit his finger Putting up marquee Other lads did snigger Their faces full of glee Used to be a maverick Suede Company, made claim His names now Rip Off Rick Man with precision aim Lived in lower Regent Next to great placebo

Rick certainly clever gent Who built his own gazebo! Many people did confess Gazebo it looked futile Rick however did stress Under sheltered reptile The reptile was a snake It was hungry, due to eat Nice piece of juicy steak Then ate Rick complete

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