David L. Atkinson's Blog, page 46
May 17, 2016
Writing - Where will your pen take you?
I read my writing friend's (Caleb Pirtle III) blog yesterday and it was rather like a set of word association test results and fascinating. The title above may suggest that I'm thinking about what happens when you've written your book had it accepted, printed, marketed and sold. Where do you go with the money? That isn't why I'm writing today.
[image error]
Whoever wrote the word association above had a similar appetite to me! I'm not writing about food but characters leading you by the hand.
[image error]Caleb Pirtle III
What I believe that Caleb was writing about was this tendency for characters to leap from the page on which you created them, take you by the hand, and lead you to a place that you had no hand in planning. Caleb has written 70+ books and is much braver than I, but I must agree that you need to allow the characters to have their heads once they are alive.
This has matched where I am with my tenth Steele novel which is in fact the 11th full length book that I've written. This one is slightly different in that there is a political element and a conspiratorial feel that seems to have slowed the progress for Patrick Steele. He is a man of action and would have loved to have made this a short story but it certainly isn't that, but the experience for my lead character is difficult. So that has thrown glitches in the normally action packed path on which Patrick travels, so what is he thinking?
[image error]Building 7
Patrick has been persuaded that Building Seven was destroyed separately to the Twin Towers on 9/11. The question is why and what can he do about it?
In Patrick's mind it is yet another example of security agency interference in the political life of the USA. The full extent is revealed to him by someone who had been inside the security establishment on 9/11. It seems that those people were in action once again intending to influence the outcome of the current Presidential Primaries and as a result he felt the need to become involved as the rights of ordinary people were being infringed.
Steele has had a degree of success in his initial machinations but the problem isn't going away because it is seated high up in the political community of the USA. So what is in his head?
[image error]
Patrick A Steele
Initially, to go home.To escape the US with anonymity. To ensure the health and safety of Naomi Kobayashi.To protect Janie as she recovers from an attempted assassination.To cull those involved in trying to 'fix' the democratic process in the US.
These are some of the bigger issues that are bothering our leader but he is also pondering getting married to his fiance, Naomi; concerned about the well-being of the people who work with him; worried about the rising feelings of guilt when he has to remove someone from the planet irrespective of how evil they may be; and, how to live a life that includes the constant threat of avoiding getting caught.
So for the hero in these ten books things aren't always easy. When he makes a decision and moves situations forward, like all of us in the concrete world, there are increasing pressures. Read Steele and see if you can detect where he will go next.
God Bless
[image error]
Whoever wrote the word association above had a similar appetite to me! I'm not writing about food but characters leading you by the hand.
[image error]Caleb Pirtle III
What I believe that Caleb was writing about was this tendency for characters to leap from the page on which you created them, take you by the hand, and lead you to a place that you had no hand in planning. Caleb has written 70+ books and is much braver than I, but I must agree that you need to allow the characters to have their heads once they are alive.
This has matched where I am with my tenth Steele novel which is in fact the 11th full length book that I've written. This one is slightly different in that there is a political element and a conspiratorial feel that seems to have slowed the progress for Patrick Steele. He is a man of action and would have loved to have made this a short story but it certainly isn't that, but the experience for my lead character is difficult. So that has thrown glitches in the normally action packed path on which Patrick travels, so what is he thinking?
[image error]Building 7
Patrick has been persuaded that Building Seven was destroyed separately to the Twin Towers on 9/11. The question is why and what can he do about it?
In Patrick's mind it is yet another example of security agency interference in the political life of the USA. The full extent is revealed to him by someone who had been inside the security establishment on 9/11. It seems that those people were in action once again intending to influence the outcome of the current Presidential Primaries and as a result he felt the need to become involved as the rights of ordinary people were being infringed.
Steele has had a degree of success in his initial machinations but the problem isn't going away because it is seated high up in the political community of the USA. So what is in his head?
[image error]
Patrick A Steele
Initially, to go home.To escape the US with anonymity. To ensure the health and safety of Naomi Kobayashi.To protect Janie as she recovers from an attempted assassination.To cull those involved in trying to 'fix' the democratic process in the US.
These are some of the bigger issues that are bothering our leader but he is also pondering getting married to his fiance, Naomi; concerned about the well-being of the people who work with him; worried about the rising feelings of guilt when he has to remove someone from the planet irrespective of how evil they may be; and, how to live a life that includes the constant threat of avoiding getting caught.
So for the hero in these ten books things aren't always easy. When he makes a decision and moves situations forward, like all of us in the concrete world, there are increasing pressures. Read Steele and see if you can detect where he will go next.
God Bless
May 16, 2016
Tuesday Food Blog - Summer options
If you saw me or my photograph you would understand that I've been a life long 'salad dodger', but in fact this is not always the case and is selective. There are parts of salad that I enjoy greatly and others which I find pointless.
Lettuce
The group of plants that I'm not keen on and tend to be very choosy over are the lettuces and water cress. The latter I find bitter and unpalatable whereas I can find lettuce that is not too bad. An interesting question for science - why do some folk find lettuce sweet and others bitter?As a result of the unpleasantness I experience when grazing on animal food I tend to make it less healthy by smothering it in salad cream or mayonnaise.
[image error]The better bits
Now there are parts of salads which I do enjoy, tomatoes for the most part but also spring onions and cucumber. Then there are other items that weren't part of a Mackem salad when I was growing up such as olives, feta cheese and croutons.
[image error]
Now some people can sit with a plate of large leaved plant parts and coo with delight, but do you know what, I don't believe them. Some would have us grazing with cows and sheep but there is a warning - have you ever seen a skinny cow or sheep?
My salad
The salad in the photograph has the good stuff (sic) as well as meat. There are three elements to the salad.
Potato salad
Jersey Royal new potatoes boiled for 15 minutes, or until tender, raw baby leeks and salad cream. Seasoned with sea salt and ground black pepper. It is very easy, exceedingly tasty and will keep in the fridge for two or three days.
Tomato salad
Even easier. Chopped, seasoned and tossed with chopped basil leaves.
Green salad
My green salad is made from Iceberg lettuce (chopped), and chopped spring onions, seasoned with sea salt and black pepper, and tossed with a vinaigrette dressing.Vinaigrette dressing - 3 tbsp olive oil; 1 tbsp balsamic vinegar, 1/2 tsp sugar; a squeeze of lemon juice and black pepper to taste. Mix the ingredients together and pour over the leaves and onions. This will also keep in the fridge in a closed bottle.
Not a totally unhealthy meal!
God Bless
Lettuce
The group of plants that I'm not keen on and tend to be very choosy over are the lettuces and water cress. The latter I find bitter and unpalatable whereas I can find lettuce that is not too bad. An interesting question for science - why do some folk find lettuce sweet and others bitter?As a result of the unpleasantness I experience when grazing on animal food I tend to make it less healthy by smothering it in salad cream or mayonnaise.
[image error]The better bits
Now there are parts of salads which I do enjoy, tomatoes for the most part but also spring onions and cucumber. Then there are other items that weren't part of a Mackem salad when I was growing up such as olives, feta cheese and croutons.
[image error]
Now some people can sit with a plate of large leaved plant parts and coo with delight, but do you know what, I don't believe them. Some would have us grazing with cows and sheep but there is a warning - have you ever seen a skinny cow or sheep?
My saladThe salad in the photograph has the good stuff (sic) as well as meat. There are three elements to the salad.
Potato salad
Jersey Royal new potatoes boiled for 15 minutes, or until tender, raw baby leeks and salad cream. Seasoned with sea salt and ground black pepper. It is very easy, exceedingly tasty and will keep in the fridge for two or three days.
Tomato salad
Even easier. Chopped, seasoned and tossed with chopped basil leaves.
Green salad
My green salad is made from Iceberg lettuce (chopped), and chopped spring onions, seasoned with sea salt and black pepper, and tossed with a vinaigrette dressing.Vinaigrette dressing - 3 tbsp olive oil; 1 tbsp balsamic vinegar, 1/2 tsp sugar; a squeeze of lemon juice and black pepper to taste. Mix the ingredients together and pour over the leaves and onions. This will also keep in the fridge in a closed bottle.
Not a totally unhealthy meal!
God Bless
May 15, 2016
Writing - Getting noticed
I read recently that writers' block occurred when the characters in your stories stop talking to you. Similarly, I have experienced the situation that occurs when the characters lead the story rather than the writer. So how can you get yourself noticed when you are not always in control?
[image error]
The standard answers that everyone who writes are aware of are things like blogging, Twitter, Facebook and so on. Other possible outlets are writing competitions and I know that I need to enter more than I have done to present.
Google writing competitions and pick and choose for yourself. In the meantime keep writing, short, long poetry or prose - just write.
[image error]
A First Kiss
Sixty seconds doesn’t seem a long period of time but if you consider the events that can occur in that period every minute of our lives should be valued. An example would be the fact that sprinters should be able to run one hundred metres six times! In a flooded part of the UK 10 tons of water was being pumped from the Somerset Levels in the same period of time.It is often the case that when you encounter a new situation your first impressions formed in the early minutes tend to colour your opinions and reactions thereafter. This was the case when I made a visit to Amsterdam when still at school.The six of us had been walking for hours exploring the city but then the time came to return to the hostel. Amsterdam is an intriguing place with streets arranged in a semi-circular design, Dam Square at the hub. The hostel we were staying in was on a street with an unpronounceable name at number 39. The buildings we were hurrying passed were in the high two hundreds and industrial, we knew that we were going to be late and needed to rush. That was the mistake. Perhaps if we hadn’t been in so much of a hurry one of us would have noticed that the word ‘Nieuw’ was placed in front of the street name. Effectively we had walked to the wrong end of a parallel road and once we’d corrected the mistake and returned to the place in which we were staying we were exhausted. We’d certainly seen more of Amsterdam than most of our friends!Our little group consisted of three of each sex who didn’t really know each other that well because we were in different year groups. The girls were in the year above us lads. I think they’d been selected to chaperone us! There was this one girl about the same height as me, with a peaches and cream complexion, long brown hair usually tied in a ponytail, brown eyes and brimming with confidence. The six of us had been thrown together rather and so while we were panicking slightly about being lost in a foreign city there was no time for attractions between the girls and boys to begin to develop. On the other hand the six of us being somewhat in adversity broke down some of the normal barriers that exist between the sexes in the mid teen years. Teachers have exquisite skills in admonishing pupils but being away from home they were actually quite gentle with us, when we arrived at the hostel thirty minutes late. Everyone else had eaten and we were banished to the girls’ bedroom to eat a packed meal that had been prepared for us. I ended up sitting on the same bed as Celia. I remember thinking it was an old-fashioned name but she was quite relaxed and pleasant to talk to so we ate and chatted. The packed lunch contained a boiled egg, still in its shell!What happened next took place well within a minute but influenced the next three years of my life. Don’t ask me why but fourteen year old me decided that it would be a good idea to crack the shell of my egg on Celia’s head! I know it was stupid, childish and likely to propel me to the teachers once again for punishment. The disturbing thing was that as soon as I had done it I knew that I’d hurt her, I knew that I’d done a stupid thing and I was apologising before she’d finished reacting.Our eyes met at that point and her gentle, brown orbs were brimming with tears but not just as a result of the pain. I reached out and put my hand on her head, her hair felt silky and apologised as sincerely as I knew how. The next minute was electric. Celia could have screamed at me to ‘Get out!’ and sort comfort with her female friends. She didn’t!We were sitting quite close, facing, and leaning in towards each other. The quality of the following sixty seconds was nothing short of dream-like. Celia completed the distance between us and we kissed. I remember wonderful feelings of warmth spreading throughout my body. It was almost as if we had become one person. Everyone else in the room disappeared into an indistinct haze. I don’t suppose that this first kiss lasted more than a few seconds before the wonderful moment was broken by our cheering friends. I wasn’t tremendously disappointed because I knew it would happen again.
I wasn’t wrong.
God Bless
[image error]
The standard answers that everyone who writes are aware of are things like blogging, Twitter, Facebook and so on. Other possible outlets are writing competitions and I know that I need to enter more than I have done to present.
Google writing competitions and pick and choose for yourself. In the meantime keep writing, short, long poetry or prose - just write.
[image error]
A First Kiss
Sixty seconds doesn’t seem a long period of time but if you consider the events that can occur in that period every minute of our lives should be valued. An example would be the fact that sprinters should be able to run one hundred metres six times! In a flooded part of the UK 10 tons of water was being pumped from the Somerset Levels in the same period of time.It is often the case that when you encounter a new situation your first impressions formed in the early minutes tend to colour your opinions and reactions thereafter. This was the case when I made a visit to Amsterdam when still at school.The six of us had been walking for hours exploring the city but then the time came to return to the hostel. Amsterdam is an intriguing place with streets arranged in a semi-circular design, Dam Square at the hub. The hostel we were staying in was on a street with an unpronounceable name at number 39. The buildings we were hurrying passed were in the high two hundreds and industrial, we knew that we were going to be late and needed to rush. That was the mistake. Perhaps if we hadn’t been in so much of a hurry one of us would have noticed that the word ‘Nieuw’ was placed in front of the street name. Effectively we had walked to the wrong end of a parallel road and once we’d corrected the mistake and returned to the place in which we were staying we were exhausted. We’d certainly seen more of Amsterdam than most of our friends!Our little group consisted of three of each sex who didn’t really know each other that well because we were in different year groups. The girls were in the year above us lads. I think they’d been selected to chaperone us! There was this one girl about the same height as me, with a peaches and cream complexion, long brown hair usually tied in a ponytail, brown eyes and brimming with confidence. The six of us had been thrown together rather and so while we were panicking slightly about being lost in a foreign city there was no time for attractions between the girls and boys to begin to develop. On the other hand the six of us being somewhat in adversity broke down some of the normal barriers that exist between the sexes in the mid teen years. Teachers have exquisite skills in admonishing pupils but being away from home they were actually quite gentle with us, when we arrived at the hostel thirty minutes late. Everyone else had eaten and we were banished to the girls’ bedroom to eat a packed meal that had been prepared for us. I ended up sitting on the same bed as Celia. I remember thinking it was an old-fashioned name but she was quite relaxed and pleasant to talk to so we ate and chatted. The packed lunch contained a boiled egg, still in its shell!What happened next took place well within a minute but influenced the next three years of my life. Don’t ask me why but fourteen year old me decided that it would be a good idea to crack the shell of my egg on Celia’s head! I know it was stupid, childish and likely to propel me to the teachers once again for punishment. The disturbing thing was that as soon as I had done it I knew that I’d hurt her, I knew that I’d done a stupid thing and I was apologising before she’d finished reacting.Our eyes met at that point and her gentle, brown orbs were brimming with tears but not just as a result of the pain. I reached out and put my hand on her head, her hair felt silky and apologised as sincerely as I knew how. The next minute was electric. Celia could have screamed at me to ‘Get out!’ and sort comfort with her female friends. She didn’t!We were sitting quite close, facing, and leaning in towards each other. The quality of the following sixty seconds was nothing short of dream-like. Celia completed the distance between us and we kissed. I remember wonderful feelings of warmth spreading throughout my body. It was almost as if we had become one person. Everyone else in the room disappeared into an indistinct haze. I don’t suppose that this first kiss lasted more than a few seconds before the wonderful moment was broken by our cheering friends. I wasn’t tremendously disappointed because I knew it would happen again.
I wasn’t wrong.
God Bless
May 14, 2016
Writing - 10 things we didn't know last week
Mites, moggies and modest vans attract the attention this week.
[image error]
1. There's such a thing as eye mites.
Monsters!!
--------------------------------
[image error]
2. The Hong Kong authorities glue pavement bricks down to stop protesters throwing them.
A truly sticky solution
--------------------------------
[image error]
3. The world's oldest cat is 30.
So what?
--------------------------------
[image error]
4. Teesside Airport rail station only has eight passengers a year pass through it.
Hardly worth opening
--------------------------------
[image error]
5. You can potentially get a mobile signal while locked in a vault.
The reason for wanting to make a call from a vault is a stretch.
--------------------------------
[image error]
6. Some Domino's pizza outlets can work out when regular customers are sick.
This is a stretch.
--------------------------------
[image error]
7. Prince Charles treats his farm animals with homeopathy.
Cheap skate.
--------------------------------
[image error]
8. Boris Johnson knows how to sing Ode to Joy in German.
Its a stretch having to sing it in any language.
--------------------------------
9. Buffalo sometimes need rescuing from roofs.
Only if you insist.
--------------------------------
[image error]
10. It is possible - although illegal - to do 132mph in a Vauxhall Astra van.
Not in the slightest advisable either.
--------------------------------
God bless
[image error]
1. There's such a thing as eye mites.
Monsters!!
--------------------------------
[image error]
2. The Hong Kong authorities glue pavement bricks down to stop protesters throwing them.
A truly sticky solution
--------------------------------
[image error]
3. The world's oldest cat is 30.
So what?
--------------------------------
[image error]
4. Teesside Airport rail station only has eight passengers a year pass through it.
Hardly worth opening
--------------------------------
[image error]
5. You can potentially get a mobile signal while locked in a vault.
The reason for wanting to make a call from a vault is a stretch.
--------------------------------
[image error]
6. Some Domino's pizza outlets can work out when regular customers are sick.
This is a stretch.
--------------------------------
[image error]
7. Prince Charles treats his farm animals with homeopathy.
Cheap skate.
--------------------------------
[image error]
8. Boris Johnson knows how to sing Ode to Joy in German.
Its a stretch having to sing it in any language.
--------------------------------
9. Buffalo sometimes need rescuing from roofs.
Only if you insist.
--------------------------------
[image error]
10. It is possible - although illegal - to do 132mph in a Vauxhall Astra van.
Not in the slightest advisable either.
--------------------------------
God bless
May 13, 2016
Writing - Seeking literary longevity
What light from yonder window breaks 'tis the moon and Juliet is the sun.
A well known line from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, but why do we remember it? In fact why do we remember any of his famous lines?
[image error]Cunk on Shakespeare
I suppose part of the reason is because of programmes like Cunk, played by Diane Morgan, which is a docucomedy about the bard. Almost from the moment he died people were talking about his plays and that has been happening ever since. I like to think that one of the reasons he has staying power is that his plays were seen by all classes of people. Therefore there is more universal appeal.In my defence I write for anyone and everyone who reads and if my logic has wings I will be celebrated 400 years hence!!!!
Please read on.
December 2015
Steele My hero was created post recession and so has no concept of how 'good' things were pre-2008. In 'I Have To Get It Right' when he began to flex his muscles he was working in an accountant's office. Then after the Gurentai took him under their wing and removed all of his financial worries, it was justice that was his major concern. He did become involved in international relations in 'The 51st State' but it was for the maintenance of a respectful distance between countries, rather than economic reasons. His trips into the USA had repercussions which can be read about in 'The Biter Bit' but then by the time things began to change in 2011 and the recession was really biting, Steele was trying to make sense of the state of the nation in 'A Changed Reality' and coming up against some really nasty people taking advantage of the shortage of money. By the time the USA are out of their recession Steele's steps are still being dogged by an unknown enemy from the same country. In 'Inceptus' we also find out more about what makes the man tick. The most recent Steele book 'Castled' where Steele is once again at risk from unseen enemies. It would seem that he has become quite recession proof!The most recent addition to the Steele family is Earth plc in which our hero is concerned with political and emotional issues in this crime fighting adventure.
All books are available in paperback or ebook through Amazon, Smashwords and all good book shop websites.
Cessation
This is a dystopian story that hinges directly on the state of the nation as a result of fiscal mismanagement. Having said that it is more a story of human relations, privations, love and loss.
Poetry - there are also two thoughtful collections of poetry available solely through Amazon.
The Musings of a Confused Mind
and
Words from the Raindrops
God Bless
A well known line from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, but why do we remember it? In fact why do we remember any of his famous lines?
[image error]Cunk on Shakespeare
I suppose part of the reason is because of programmes like Cunk, played by Diane Morgan, which is a docucomedy about the bard. Almost from the moment he died people were talking about his plays and that has been happening ever since. I like to think that one of the reasons he has staying power is that his plays were seen by all classes of people. Therefore there is more universal appeal.In my defence I write for anyone and everyone who reads and if my logic has wings I will be celebrated 400 years hence!!!!
Please read on.
December 2015Steele My hero was created post recession and so has no concept of how 'good' things were pre-2008. In 'I Have To Get It Right' when he began to flex his muscles he was working in an accountant's office. Then after the Gurentai took him under their wing and removed all of his financial worries, it was justice that was his major concern. He did become involved in international relations in 'The 51st State' but it was for the maintenance of a respectful distance between countries, rather than economic reasons. His trips into the USA had repercussions which can be read about in 'The Biter Bit' but then by the time things began to change in 2011 and the recession was really biting, Steele was trying to make sense of the state of the nation in 'A Changed Reality' and coming up against some really nasty people taking advantage of the shortage of money. By the time the USA are out of their recession Steele's steps are still being dogged by an unknown enemy from the same country. In 'Inceptus' we also find out more about what makes the man tick. The most recent Steele book 'Castled' where Steele is once again at risk from unseen enemies. It would seem that he has become quite recession proof!The most recent addition to the Steele family is Earth plc in which our hero is concerned with political and emotional issues in this crime fighting adventure.
All books are available in paperback or ebook through Amazon, Smashwords and all good book shop websites.
Cessation
This is a dystopian story that hinges directly on the state of the nation as a result of fiscal mismanagement. Having said that it is more a story of human relations, privations, love and loss.
Poetry - there are also two thoughtful collections of poetry available solely through Amazon.
The Musings of a Confused Mind
and
Words from the Raindrops
God Bless
May 12, 2016
Writing - It all fell down.
I have to admit that last evening I was a coward. Sunderland were playing football and for the 3rd season in a row were fighting relegation. The match was broadcast live but instead I went out because the stress of watching the team was too much. I had a ticket for a performance of Cox and Box and Pirates of Penzance which was good enough to distract me for the necessary period of time. It wouldn't have all fallen down if my team had lost but the best opportunity was at home last night.
While pondering the possible outcomes I remembered a short story I'd written of when things go wrong that I thought I'd share.
[image error]
It All Fell Down
It was a seemingly ordinary Monday morning he got up as usual, showered as usual, dressed as usual, ate breakfast and set off to work. That day was never going to be normal and it was going to live in his mind forever. The journey to work was as busy as it always was and even the short stretch of motorway that he took as part of the route, was thronged with commuters thundering their way to their jobs. He glanced at the speedometer and was approaching 90mph. ‘It would be so easy,’ he thought to himself. ‘I could accelerate to 100 and flip the steering wheel!’The turn-off he always took was approaching. It was as much muscle memory that saved him that morning. Within ten minutes he was in his place of work surrounded by people which in some ways was a blessing but in others increased the pain.“What’s up mate?” asked one of the older guys he worked with.“Nothing Bill,” he replied. “I’m fine.”Of course it was a lie and the astute Bill had picked up on the fact that his behaviour wasn’t normal. It wasn’t so different that the younger staff noticed anything but Bill had more life experience.It was the longest day imaginable and he avoided long conversations, breaks and banter. Work was the interim cure for what ailed him but it had to come to an end. There was no reason to hurry home so he finished off and was almost the last person to leave the building. It was dusk by the time he was on the return journey home.Home! It was a new house when they moved in not long after their wedding. They were the first to live in the cul-de-sac and had to negotiate the building site to access their new dwelling for several weeks before they had neighbours. All was normal, children came along, and one even got to school age. The garden was cultivated, relationships in the neighbourhood developed and all seemed happy. Just how wrong can you be!They were going! By the time he got home his wife and two children will have gone for good.Home! Driving into the street and up to the building, it wasn’t a home anymore; it was like driving into a black hole. Everything that had been life up to that time was centred on this place but now the windows were black in the gloom of the closing day, like sightless eyes.He put the car into the garage and fussed around, avoiding the inevitable moment when he had to enter the house. It was never going to be usual because the house was empty so the lights were out, there was no welcoming smell of cooking, no noise and the heating was off. The atmosphere was as chilly as the air temperature. He turned on lights, TV and central heating but didn’t prepare food. He wasn’t hungry. Eventually the inspection of the whole house had to take place because there was an inbuilt need to re-establish the house as his home.The TV news finished, it was fully dark outside and he finally girded his loins, carried a cup into the kitchen and looked round the ground floor but there was little that was different in the shared spaces. The CD rack and bookcase was no longer full but in itself no great problem as they were very utilitarian objects of furniture. He knew that the upstairs was going to hurt.The landing light shone into the bedroom of his youngest. There was nothing left! It was totally empty except for the carpet and the wallpaper. He leant against the door and cried remembering the fun he’d had with this happy, intelligent child. It took a while for him to pull himself together and, rather than go into the older child’s room, he went into the room that he’d shared with the woman for almost ten years. There wasn’t much different apart from the half of the wardrobe that she had used that was now empty.In the final bedroom, the middle sized room, there was only an upright dining chair as if his big lad had never come home from hospital. He folded into a heap to the carpet; the tears began again and he ached with tangible pain as the full enormity of what had happened finally hit him.
He knew that he was going to be late for work. The roads were considerably quieter. He couldn’t remember whether he’d locked the door but it didn’t seem to matter. He accelerated down the slip road on to the motorway and accelerated until he reached 100mph……
Sunderland won!!
God Bless
While pondering the possible outcomes I remembered a short story I'd written of when things go wrong that I thought I'd share.
[image error]
It All Fell Down
It was a seemingly ordinary Monday morning he got up as usual, showered as usual, dressed as usual, ate breakfast and set off to work. That day was never going to be normal and it was going to live in his mind forever. The journey to work was as busy as it always was and even the short stretch of motorway that he took as part of the route, was thronged with commuters thundering their way to their jobs. He glanced at the speedometer and was approaching 90mph. ‘It would be so easy,’ he thought to himself. ‘I could accelerate to 100 and flip the steering wheel!’The turn-off he always took was approaching. It was as much muscle memory that saved him that morning. Within ten minutes he was in his place of work surrounded by people which in some ways was a blessing but in others increased the pain.“What’s up mate?” asked one of the older guys he worked with.“Nothing Bill,” he replied. “I’m fine.”Of course it was a lie and the astute Bill had picked up on the fact that his behaviour wasn’t normal. It wasn’t so different that the younger staff noticed anything but Bill had more life experience.It was the longest day imaginable and he avoided long conversations, breaks and banter. Work was the interim cure for what ailed him but it had to come to an end. There was no reason to hurry home so he finished off and was almost the last person to leave the building. It was dusk by the time he was on the return journey home.Home! It was a new house when they moved in not long after their wedding. They were the first to live in the cul-de-sac and had to negotiate the building site to access their new dwelling for several weeks before they had neighbours. All was normal, children came along, and one even got to school age. The garden was cultivated, relationships in the neighbourhood developed and all seemed happy. Just how wrong can you be!They were going! By the time he got home his wife and two children will have gone for good.Home! Driving into the street and up to the building, it wasn’t a home anymore; it was like driving into a black hole. Everything that had been life up to that time was centred on this place but now the windows were black in the gloom of the closing day, like sightless eyes.He put the car into the garage and fussed around, avoiding the inevitable moment when he had to enter the house. It was never going to be usual because the house was empty so the lights were out, there was no welcoming smell of cooking, no noise and the heating was off. The atmosphere was as chilly as the air temperature. He turned on lights, TV and central heating but didn’t prepare food. He wasn’t hungry. Eventually the inspection of the whole house had to take place because there was an inbuilt need to re-establish the house as his home.The TV news finished, it was fully dark outside and he finally girded his loins, carried a cup into the kitchen and looked round the ground floor but there was little that was different in the shared spaces. The CD rack and bookcase was no longer full but in itself no great problem as they were very utilitarian objects of furniture. He knew that the upstairs was going to hurt.The landing light shone into the bedroom of his youngest. There was nothing left! It was totally empty except for the carpet and the wallpaper. He leant against the door and cried remembering the fun he’d had with this happy, intelligent child. It took a while for him to pull himself together and, rather than go into the older child’s room, he went into the room that he’d shared with the woman for almost ten years. There wasn’t much different apart from the half of the wardrobe that she had used that was now empty.In the final bedroom, the middle sized room, there was only an upright dining chair as if his big lad had never come home from hospital. He folded into a heap to the carpet; the tears began again and he ached with tangible pain as the full enormity of what had happened finally hit him.
He knew that he was going to be late for work. The roads were considerably quieter. He couldn’t remember whether he’d locked the door but it didn’t seem to matter. He accelerated down the slip road on to the motorway and accelerated until he reached 100mph……
Sunderland won!!
God Bless
May 11, 2016
Poetry Thursday 212 - An Orchestral Suite
This is in some respects a first attempt at a group of related poems. I have seen competitions that allow for the inclusion of such groups but haven't been motivated by any subject to produce such work until now. I was watching the Young Musician of the Year Awards and was totally captivated by the teenagers' talent. It reminded me of twenty years of standing behind a variety of orchestras waiting for cues to sing, and I began to write.
An Orchestral Suite
[image error]
from Strings
The bow irritates the metal cordsinto a vibrating, tuneful life,causing waves to radiate out from boards.
Control comes with practise and timethe beauty grows in the amalgamof skill, composition and rhyme.
Beauty exudes from every pore,the composers’ art and the players’ heart,overwhelming the audience with notes from the score.
The music – a language of pure sound,drawn from paper, an art from above,thrust into the air and all around,developed and produced with love.© David L Atkinson May 2016
[image error]
from Orifices
Air driven notes pushed through holes,by the will and the lights,along pathways long or short – touching souls.
A jet stream carrying sound,changing with length and girth,resonating as it twists and turns around.
Squeezed into an imperfect instrument,matched with God driven writing,an aurally perfect complement.
Instruments constructed from everything,that can be ridden, handled or sat inside,all with the same potential spring,which when right invites you on the ride.© David L Atkinson May 2016
from Violence
Hard to imagine beauty emanating from blows,from hitting, scratching and rattling,beating materials held in serried rows.
When treated more gently it is amber,little pain inflicted but making subtlety,resonating deep within the listening chamber.
Capable of massive din and gentle whisper,the players’ skill is interpretation,from a gentle pace or something swifter.
Taken from human delight in beating,but accepting control and care,well-aimed and timed striking,brings out the beauty within there.© David L Atkinson May 2016
from Metal
A collection assembled to be strident,smaller in number because of potential,producing wide ranging content.
Capable of pushy, farting power,but little in the way of gentleness,an eager to be heard bright flower.
Playing at orders from the soul,in controversial and alarming style,sometimes a Marmite flavoured role.
These instruments test who is in charge,their playing can inflict player pain,once set free their sound is large,and one must find control again.© David L Atkinson May 2016
God Bless
An Orchestral Suite
[image error]
from Strings
The bow irritates the metal cordsinto a vibrating, tuneful life,causing waves to radiate out from boards.
Control comes with practise and timethe beauty grows in the amalgamof skill, composition and rhyme.
Beauty exudes from every pore,the composers’ art and the players’ heart,overwhelming the audience with notes from the score.
The music – a language of pure sound,drawn from paper, an art from above,thrust into the air and all around,developed and produced with love.© David L Atkinson May 2016
[image error]
from Orifices
Air driven notes pushed through holes,by the will and the lights,along pathways long or short – touching souls.
A jet stream carrying sound,changing with length and girth,resonating as it twists and turns around.
Squeezed into an imperfect instrument,matched with God driven writing,an aurally perfect complement.
Instruments constructed from everything,that can be ridden, handled or sat inside,all with the same potential spring,which when right invites you on the ride.© David L Atkinson May 2016
from Violence
Hard to imagine beauty emanating from blows,from hitting, scratching and rattling,beating materials held in serried rows.
When treated more gently it is amber,little pain inflicted but making subtlety,resonating deep within the listening chamber.
Capable of massive din and gentle whisper,the players’ skill is interpretation,from a gentle pace or something swifter.
Taken from human delight in beating,but accepting control and care,well-aimed and timed striking,brings out the beauty within there.© David L Atkinson May 2016
from Metal
A collection assembled to be strident,smaller in number because of potential,producing wide ranging content.
Capable of pushy, farting power,but little in the way of gentleness,an eager to be heard bright flower.
Playing at orders from the soul,in controversial and alarming style,sometimes a Marmite flavoured role.
These instruments test who is in charge,their playing can inflict player pain,once set free their sound is large,and one must find control again.© David L Atkinson May 2016
God Bless
May 10, 2016
Writing - Big Brother has you by the short and curlies
On a day when more test papers intended for junior aged children has been leaked on to the internet I thought it was appropriate to reproduce the following short story.
[image error]Big Brother has you by the short and curlies!
So you think you have your life under control! Really! I have a theory that is bordering on science fiction and may be too strong for you to take so if you are of a nervous disposition it may be time to leave. However, whatever you do don’t look up to admire the sky; don’t fool yourself into thinking that your government hasn’t got your DNA; and stop using the internet – if you can!The above may be seemingly scary stuff but consider surveillance by camera and satellite. Did you know that when a rocket sets off into space to launch a large satellite or travels to the International Space Station it often takes large numbers of mini satellites? They cost around £200, consist of a 10cm cube and are packed with technology that can sample, tap into the internet and a myriad of other nefarious uses. Anyone can arrange for such a device to be circling this planet, or any company!Consider the interactions you have on a daily basis and never fool yourself into thinking that the internet hasn’t any involvement. The most common way of obtaining DNA, for example, is by mouth swab. Who is it that spends time, on average twice each year, probing round your mouth and usually keeps records on the internet? As soon as that information is on the dentist’s computer it is available across the world.Why do you think that the USA and UK were so quick to condemn the actions of Edward Snowden? The answer is simple – he was telling the truth. NSA, CIA, FBI, MI6, MI5 and many other security agencies around the world are probably tapping into our lives even as I write this. The real worry of course is that it’s already too late for Snowden and the rest of us. There are around seven million people in the UK that are not connected to the internet and are probably congratulating themselves that Big Brother can’t touch them because they’re not connected. However, where do they get these folk get income from? Who holds their health records? Do they shop with a card of some description? Even if you shop using cash and went into the bank to withdraw the cash over the counter your financial records are online. I know they are I worked in a bank!There was a bit of a fuss recently over Google losing a court case because a man complained that they kept financial records showing that he’d had his home repossessed years ago and that information was still available just by typing his name into the search engine. He successfully forced them to remove that from their records but surely the question goes much deeper. Who published that information on the net in the first place? Did his mortgage lender flag up his default or perhaps it was the credit checking agency, or the estate agents? The fact is Google may remove any reference to his financial problems but all they do is pull together information linked to a name from the World Wide Web! It’s still out there buddy!Every person in the UK, who has had a bank account, and the government forced even pensioners to have a bank account in which to have paid their state pensions, has a credit reference controlled by credit referencing agencies. They advertise that you can check your financial standing on the net for a small fee. Ipso facto everyone is on the net.
It may seem that I’m talking against the use of the internet but in fact what choices do any of us have? We are all in it, even if you don’t have a computer at home. The only solutions available would be to pull the plug on all electronic interchanging of information and return to pen and paper records secured in vaults, or to pull the world wide electric plug from the socket. Such an action would plunge us all into the dark ages, so we have to be smart online at home.Don’t waste your time railing against the internet. We ordinary citizens need to adopt high security measures at home. I used to find changing my passwords at work monthly, an absolute pain. They tell you not to write them down but if you are working on three or four systems, each with different passwords, remembering them becomes impossible after a while. However, you must decide to deal with that issue, whether it be regular changing passwords or pulling the plug on the computer at home altogether the single indisputable fact is that
you are on the net.
God Bless
[image error]Big Brother has you by the short and curlies!
So you think you have your life under control! Really! I have a theory that is bordering on science fiction and may be too strong for you to take so if you are of a nervous disposition it may be time to leave. However, whatever you do don’t look up to admire the sky; don’t fool yourself into thinking that your government hasn’t got your DNA; and stop using the internet – if you can!The above may be seemingly scary stuff but consider surveillance by camera and satellite. Did you know that when a rocket sets off into space to launch a large satellite or travels to the International Space Station it often takes large numbers of mini satellites? They cost around £200, consist of a 10cm cube and are packed with technology that can sample, tap into the internet and a myriad of other nefarious uses. Anyone can arrange for such a device to be circling this planet, or any company!Consider the interactions you have on a daily basis and never fool yourself into thinking that the internet hasn’t any involvement. The most common way of obtaining DNA, for example, is by mouth swab. Who is it that spends time, on average twice each year, probing round your mouth and usually keeps records on the internet? As soon as that information is on the dentist’s computer it is available across the world.Why do you think that the USA and UK were so quick to condemn the actions of Edward Snowden? The answer is simple – he was telling the truth. NSA, CIA, FBI, MI6, MI5 and many other security agencies around the world are probably tapping into our lives even as I write this. The real worry of course is that it’s already too late for Snowden and the rest of us. There are around seven million people in the UK that are not connected to the internet and are probably congratulating themselves that Big Brother can’t touch them because they’re not connected. However, where do they get these folk get income from? Who holds their health records? Do they shop with a card of some description? Even if you shop using cash and went into the bank to withdraw the cash over the counter your financial records are online. I know they are I worked in a bank!There was a bit of a fuss recently over Google losing a court case because a man complained that they kept financial records showing that he’d had his home repossessed years ago and that information was still available just by typing his name into the search engine. He successfully forced them to remove that from their records but surely the question goes much deeper. Who published that information on the net in the first place? Did his mortgage lender flag up his default or perhaps it was the credit checking agency, or the estate agents? The fact is Google may remove any reference to his financial problems but all they do is pull together information linked to a name from the World Wide Web! It’s still out there buddy!Every person in the UK, who has had a bank account, and the government forced even pensioners to have a bank account in which to have paid their state pensions, has a credit reference controlled by credit referencing agencies. They advertise that you can check your financial standing on the net for a small fee. Ipso facto everyone is on the net.
It may seem that I’m talking against the use of the internet but in fact what choices do any of us have? We are all in it, even if you don’t have a computer at home. The only solutions available would be to pull the plug on all electronic interchanging of information and return to pen and paper records secured in vaults, or to pull the world wide electric plug from the socket. Such an action would plunge us all into the dark ages, so we have to be smart online at home.Don’t waste your time railing against the internet. We ordinary citizens need to adopt high security measures at home. I used to find changing my passwords at work monthly, an absolute pain. They tell you not to write them down but if you are working on three or four systems, each with different passwords, remembering them becomes impossible after a while. However, you must decide to deal with that issue, whether it be regular changing passwords or pulling the plug on the computer at home altogether the single indisputable fact is that
you are on the net.
God Bless
May 9, 2016
Tuesday Food Blog - BBQ
Trawling through my ancestry, as I do quite frequently, I discovered varying modes of employment for my family ranging from coal miner, to cordwainer and then to agricultural labourer.
[image error] Cordwainer
You may ask yourself why is he talking about coal mining and shoe making when this is a food blog? The answer is local colour. The real focus is the agricultural part. In fact there seems to have been a mixture of working on farms and mining since the beginning of the 19th century.
[image error]
I happened across a consumer TV programme this morning and heard the words 'raw milk' that triggered memories of my parents. They both spent time in their youth helping out on a small holding and often related tales of drinking the milk straight from the cow and eating a raw egg when the shell was cracked. If you said that you had done either these days, I could see the ambulance being sent for, stomach pumped and high dose anti-biotics being administered. Eighty years ago it was common place. So what has changed?
I believe that we have become excessively neurotic.
So why the above?
[image error]
The main reason was attending a barbecue at the weekend so I didn't cook a big meal to last three or four days. It raised the question of food hygiene and thoroughly cooking meat. I was brought up on meat that was cooked 'thoroughly' in fact so much so that it tested the strength of the teeth! Seriously though my mother was a good cook, employed as a pastry cook, but her meat was always well done. Growing up between the wars this is hardly surprising as quality varied.
[image error]While travelling in France for the first time we came across plenty of rare meat, even burgers served in fast food chains tended to be rare. The culture there is different from ours but the world of cooking has moved on to the point where there are similarities.
The point really is about the quality of meat we buy and, in a sense, the demise of the family butcher to a fraction of the service it used to be, is linked.
In my opinion cooking on a barbecue has to be slowed down and then there will be fewer burnt exteriors and raw insides. A mechanical device with a rotating spit or a simple lid to keep the heat in would help. Other strategies would be to wrap the food in foil and don't put too much charcoal on the thing. Also cutting a sample to check what the centre of a sausage or burger is like part way through cooking is an option.
When the sun is out you want to have friends round and enjoy the fresh air, so take care with what you feed them.
God Bless
[image error] Cordwainer
You may ask yourself why is he talking about coal mining and shoe making when this is a food blog? The answer is local colour. The real focus is the agricultural part. In fact there seems to have been a mixture of working on farms and mining since the beginning of the 19th century.
[image error]
I happened across a consumer TV programme this morning and heard the words 'raw milk' that triggered memories of my parents. They both spent time in their youth helping out on a small holding and often related tales of drinking the milk straight from the cow and eating a raw egg when the shell was cracked. If you said that you had done either these days, I could see the ambulance being sent for, stomach pumped and high dose anti-biotics being administered. Eighty years ago it was common place. So what has changed?
I believe that we have become excessively neurotic.
So why the above?
[image error]
The main reason was attending a barbecue at the weekend so I didn't cook a big meal to last three or four days. It raised the question of food hygiene and thoroughly cooking meat. I was brought up on meat that was cooked 'thoroughly' in fact so much so that it tested the strength of the teeth! Seriously though my mother was a good cook, employed as a pastry cook, but her meat was always well done. Growing up between the wars this is hardly surprising as quality varied.
[image error]While travelling in France for the first time we came across plenty of rare meat, even burgers served in fast food chains tended to be rare. The culture there is different from ours but the world of cooking has moved on to the point where there are similarities.
The point really is about the quality of meat we buy and, in a sense, the demise of the family butcher to a fraction of the service it used to be, is linked.
In my opinion cooking on a barbecue has to be slowed down and then there will be fewer burnt exteriors and raw insides. A mechanical device with a rotating spit or a simple lid to keep the heat in would help. Other strategies would be to wrap the food in foil and don't put too much charcoal on the thing. Also cutting a sample to check what the centre of a sausage or burger is like part way through cooking is an option.
When the sun is out you want to have friends round and enjoy the fresh air, so take care with what you feed them.
God Bless
May 8, 2016
Writing - Urban Legends
It strikes me that if you were that way inclined you could create your own local legend.
[image error]
There are hundreds of diggers buried below London and it's legal to shoot a Welshman in Hereford. These are among the rumours that resurface occasionally across England and seem to have extraordinary sticking-power. But for all their tenacity - they're not true.
As a wordsmith it would be possible to create such modern myths without too much work.
The knighting of a tasty piece of meat, thus giving it the name "Sir Loin" has been variously ascribed to Charles II, Elizabeth I and James I.
The story regarding James I is still honoured in Lancashire, where it's said during a meal in 1617 at Houghton Tower near Preston, the monarch was overcome by a succulent steak and gravely made it a knight of the realm.
It is true that the tower was playing host to the king as he and his retinue made their way back to London from Scotland - and who knows, he may have jestingly touched his sword to the chunk of beef.
But while it is possible the monarch enjoyed a pun, the word "sirloin" first appeared in English as far back as the early 16th Century and therefore pre-dates the reign of James.
Various news outlets, including the New Statesman, Daily Telegraph and ITV reported rich people who excavated under their houses to fit in swimming pools and home cinemas found it more economical to abandon diggers below ground rather than take them back up to street level. Seems like a possibility when you consider the amount of mechanical equipment abandoned in deep coal mines but it is untrue.
[image error]
Are you within your rights to shoot a Welsh person with a longbow after midnight in Chester; or on a Sunday in the Cathedral Close in Hereford; or a Scots person within the city walls of York (other than on a Sunday)?
No. Of course you're not.
The myth about slaying Celts could have originated from a City Ordinance of 1403 passed in response to the Glyndŵr Rising, which imposed a curfew on the Welsh. Both Chester and Hereford were frequently under attack from Wales in the medieval period.
The point is that you could seriously influence your local culture by writing a story. It could also be a source of amusement and entertainment.
[image error]
I worked in a school in Cleckheaton that had a strange infestation. The school had always kept animals and not just the usual, hamsters and guinea pigs but we had hens, giant rabbits and more. One of these creatures was a baby crocodile! It was always the intention to donate the creature to a nearby safari park once the children had the opportunity to observe the creature. Plainly, a school could not make adequate provision for such a reptile. Unfortunately, the unthinkable occurred - the mini beast escaped. A search was conducted but there were no sightings of the crocodile and after a few days it was assumed that it would have starved to death. There was no news for a couple of years then one of the cleaners, working in room 11 after the school had emptied for the day, heard what seemed like a low rumble, or snarling noise. She reported the incident but nothing was done, but when she had complained on numerous other occasions the caretaker decided to lift the floorboards of that room. What he found was a very wet and soggy area with the bones of various small mammals and with no evidence of anything else blamed rats. A clean up was attempted but the ground beneath that part of the school remained wet and on studying historical maps it was discovered that there was a natural spring which would eventually need to be piped away. Money being in short supply nothing was done!Then James, a young and rather naughty child was sent to detention in room 11 one Monday evening. Apart from the teacher he was alone in the classroom carrying out some mindless task. At some point the boy, also renowned as a petty thief, was left alone for a couple of minutes. When the teacher returned the boy, along with the teacher's watch, had disappeared.A hue and cry of prodigious proportions ensued but suffice it to say that James was never found.Year's later a different cleaner reported hearing growling sounds beneath room 11. It was investigated and a rather battered watch and some decomposed human remains were discovered. Eventually, with the help of DNA testing, it was discovered that the remains were of young James and the watch had belonged to the teacher. The skeleton showed marks of being scored by something with exceedingly large and sharp teeth. A further search was carried out but nothing found.In spite of the spring being contained and no other children going missing, periodically a large dog owned by local people, the odd sheep, some of the schools hens disappeared with barely a trace. Quite often the staff working late would report animal sounds, scratchings and low growling but nothing was ever discovered. Even today children are solemnly warned not to be in that classroom alone or indeed to return to play round the school during weekends or holidays.
God Bless
[image error]
There are hundreds of diggers buried below London and it's legal to shoot a Welshman in Hereford. These are among the rumours that resurface occasionally across England and seem to have extraordinary sticking-power. But for all their tenacity - they're not true.
As a wordsmith it would be possible to create such modern myths without too much work.
The knighting of a tasty piece of meat, thus giving it the name "Sir Loin" has been variously ascribed to Charles II, Elizabeth I and James I.
The story regarding James I is still honoured in Lancashire, where it's said during a meal in 1617 at Houghton Tower near Preston, the monarch was overcome by a succulent steak and gravely made it a knight of the realm.
It is true that the tower was playing host to the king as he and his retinue made their way back to London from Scotland - and who knows, he may have jestingly touched his sword to the chunk of beef.
But while it is possible the monarch enjoyed a pun, the word "sirloin" first appeared in English as far back as the early 16th Century and therefore pre-dates the reign of James.
Various news outlets, including the New Statesman, Daily Telegraph and ITV reported rich people who excavated under their houses to fit in swimming pools and home cinemas found it more economical to abandon diggers below ground rather than take them back up to street level. Seems like a possibility when you consider the amount of mechanical equipment abandoned in deep coal mines but it is untrue.
[image error]
Are you within your rights to shoot a Welsh person with a longbow after midnight in Chester; or on a Sunday in the Cathedral Close in Hereford; or a Scots person within the city walls of York (other than on a Sunday)?
No. Of course you're not.
The myth about slaying Celts could have originated from a City Ordinance of 1403 passed in response to the Glyndŵr Rising, which imposed a curfew on the Welsh. Both Chester and Hereford were frequently under attack from Wales in the medieval period.
The point is that you could seriously influence your local culture by writing a story. It could also be a source of amusement and entertainment.
[image error]
I worked in a school in Cleckheaton that had a strange infestation. The school had always kept animals and not just the usual, hamsters and guinea pigs but we had hens, giant rabbits and more. One of these creatures was a baby crocodile! It was always the intention to donate the creature to a nearby safari park once the children had the opportunity to observe the creature. Plainly, a school could not make adequate provision for such a reptile. Unfortunately, the unthinkable occurred - the mini beast escaped. A search was conducted but there were no sightings of the crocodile and after a few days it was assumed that it would have starved to death. There was no news for a couple of years then one of the cleaners, working in room 11 after the school had emptied for the day, heard what seemed like a low rumble, or snarling noise. She reported the incident but nothing was done, but when she had complained on numerous other occasions the caretaker decided to lift the floorboards of that room. What he found was a very wet and soggy area with the bones of various small mammals and with no evidence of anything else blamed rats. A clean up was attempted but the ground beneath that part of the school remained wet and on studying historical maps it was discovered that there was a natural spring which would eventually need to be piped away. Money being in short supply nothing was done!Then James, a young and rather naughty child was sent to detention in room 11 one Monday evening. Apart from the teacher he was alone in the classroom carrying out some mindless task. At some point the boy, also renowned as a petty thief, was left alone for a couple of minutes. When the teacher returned the boy, along with the teacher's watch, had disappeared.A hue and cry of prodigious proportions ensued but suffice it to say that James was never found.Year's later a different cleaner reported hearing growling sounds beneath room 11. It was investigated and a rather battered watch and some decomposed human remains were discovered. Eventually, with the help of DNA testing, it was discovered that the remains were of young James and the watch had belonged to the teacher. The skeleton showed marks of being scored by something with exceedingly large and sharp teeth. A further search was carried out but nothing found.In spite of the spring being contained and no other children going missing, periodically a large dog owned by local people, the odd sheep, some of the schools hens disappeared with barely a trace. Quite often the staff working late would report animal sounds, scratchings and low growling but nothing was ever discovered. Even today children are solemnly warned not to be in that classroom alone or indeed to return to play round the school during weekends or holidays.
God Bless
