Three’s Company

By Janet Baldey

I have always loved the park and today, as I stroll along its meandering pathways, the sudden thought pops into my head that everyone must have a special lucky place and that this is mine.  This may sound fanciful to some but if it wasn’t for the park and Jill, of course, my life might be quite different.

         It’s almost a year ago, to the day, that I first met Jill.  I was sitting on a bench watching squirrels rustling around in last year’s dead leaves while couples were walking hand-in-hand and families picnicked on the grass. The sound of people enjoying themselves echoed all around me but, sitting alone, I felt remote. Everyone seemed to have someone and I was the odd one out; there seemed to be a wall of glass separating me from other folk.  Since Ted died, I often got that feeling.  I had spoken to my doctor about it. He had pushed his glasses up onto his forehead and looked at me, his eyes kind.

         “You’re suffering from post-bereavement depression, Emily.  You will get over it but it might take some time.  Try to develop some outside interests, something to get you out of the house.  In the meantime, you might like to try these,” he said, scribbling out a prescription.

         As I remembered the conversation, I closed my eyes willing away the tears that were always on the brink.  Suddenly, the bench lurched and creaked.  Opening my eyes again, I saw that a plump, red-faced lady had collapsed onto the seat beside me.

         “Hope, you don’t mind,” she gasped, “but this is the only spare seat in the park and I must have a rest.”

         I felt my eyes widening as I noticed that the woman was accompanied by a small sea of dogs that surged around her, panting happily.  Amazed, I counted five tails waving in the air.

         “Gracious,” I said faintly, “what a lot of dogs you’ve got.  You must live in a very big house.”

         She grinned.  “Oh, they’re not mine.  I dog walk for the local animal rescue centre.  We’re short-handed at the moment, that’s why I’ve got so many.  Marlon, do get your nose out of the lady’s bag.”

         I laughed and put out my hand to stroke the inquisitive pup.  I was rewarded by a big, sloppy lick and some of the ice around my heart began to melt.

         “I’ve always wanted to have a dog, but my late husband was allergic to their hair.”

         “I can’t have a dog either, my landlord won’t allow it. That’s why I do this. It’s the next best thing.  If you live nearby, you could always do the same. We’re a friendly crowd and we’re always short of volunteers.  I’m Jill, by the way.”

         It was nice to have someone to talk to, although as I remember it, it was Jill who did most of the talking.  As we sat enjoying the last of the evening sun, I became so involved in the tales she told of the Rescue Centre, that my own troubles slipped quietly into the background.

         “Don’t forget,” Jill called over her shoulder, as she was dragged about by her impatient hounds, “if you do decide to help, just say Jill sent you.  You’ll be welcomed with open arms.”

         So, the very next time I started to feel sorry for myself, instead of moping around, I plucked up enough courage to walk around to the Centre and volunteer my services.  Before long, my visits were the highlight of my day and gradually, I found my depression fading. The dogs were always delighted to see me, especially as I made a habit of smuggling in little treats for them and the other volunteers were so nice and made me feel so welcome.

         Among them was a gentleman called Harry.  He was tall, with kind blue eyes.  He was quiet and rather shy but he would listen to my chatter indulgently, all the while puffing gently on an old pipe.  Over the months we developed a special rapport and just the sight of his slightly stooped figure ambling towards me was enough to lift my spirits.  I began to feel that life was not so hopeless after all.

         We had our sad times at the Centre but whenever one of our charges was re-homed it was a real Red-Letter Day and everybody celebrated.  It was heart warming to see the dog strut proudly away, escorted by his new owners.   We were warned not to get emotionally involved with the animals but we all did and there was one particular dog that I always felt sorry for.  He was big and ungainly with only one eye, so of course we called him Nelson.  Nelson was loving and intelligent and always did his best to please.  At regular intervals we held ‘Open Days’ when the public was encouraged to visit the Centre.  Quite often, they fell in love with one of the dogs and went away with a new member of the family.  On these occasions, Nelson would press his body as close as he could to the wire and gaze hopefully into every face, his tail beating as if in time with his heart.  But no-one ever gave him a second glance.  After everyone had gone home, he would lie with his head on his paws and the mournful expression in his one good eye tugged at my heartstrings.  Against all advice, I began to give him extra fusses and began to regard him as my own special pooch.

         “I can’t think why no-one wants him,” I once complained to Harry.

         “He tries too hard,” Harry replied, ruffling the dogs’ ears.  At this sign of affection, Nelson went ballistic and raced around in circles, barking with delight.

         One morning, I arrived at the Centre and found Nelson’s pen empty.  I was puzzled.  All the other volunteers knew that I always walked Nelson.  I went over to the office to find out where he was.  Sue, the receptionist, was just coming on duty.  She hung up her coat and checked the register.  As she reached an entry, her finger stopped.

         “Oh!” she said, obviously surprised.  “He’s been re-homed.  He went yesterday evening.  How lovely.  I was beginning to think we had him for keeps.”

         She looked up and her smile faded as she saw my face. 

         “Cheer up.  It was best for him,” she said, patting my shoulder.

         I stood in silence, trying to take in the fact that I would never see my Nelson again.

         I took another dog out that day.  He was a nice enough little fellow but it wasn’t the same.  Harry didn’t turn up that morning and that made things even worse as I really needed someone to talk to and I knew that he was the only person who would understand.

         I went home at lunchtime and pushed some food around my plate.  My mind was in turmoil, I knew I should be glad that Nelson had found a home at last – after all it was what I had wanted for him – but inside, I felt bereft.

         I felt my depression returning as my thoughts chased themselves around.  If I became this upset every time a dog, I was fond of got re-homed, maybe this wasn’t the job for me.  Perhaps it would be better if I stopped going to the Centre.  But I knew I would miss my new-found friends and the thought that I wouldn’t see Harry again brought tears to my eyes.  Suddenly, as if on cue, the ‘phone rang.  It was Harry.  At the sound of his voice, relief flooded through me and my legs trembled so much, I had to sit down.

         “Would you like to come to tea this afternoon?”  There’s someone I want you to meet.”

         Of course, by now you will have guessed the rest.  As Harry explained to me afterwards: “I knew how much you liked Nelson, so I thought it was the best route to your  heart. Now I’ve got two for the price of one.

         He smiled and put an arm around my shoulders as we sat with Nelson a contented heap at our feet.

         So now you understand why the park will always have a special place in my heart. I come here often now but I’m not alone any more.  My hand slips into Harry’s as he whistles for Nelson and together, we three head for home.

Copyright Janet Baldey

        

 

        

Personal Well-being: 11

 

Personal Well-being: Sunburn Remedy

By Barefoot Medic

 We are in the summer season, ice cream, seaside swimming, sunburn…  Yes!  You come out of the water, your factor 20 has all washed off, and so you have to reapply the lotion.  I dread to think of the cost.

 I spent two years in Cyprus whilst in the Forces, man it was hot in 64~65!  I tried to spend as much time indoors as I could but even so had to do some external work, I spent a lot on sun cream.

 My friend, a pale-skinned, ginger-haired, Scott in the ‘Army Postal Service’, was out in all weathers and never seemed to suffer from the heat; unlike the rest of us.  One day he watched me rub suntan lotion on:

“What're ye doin man!  That stuff’s a waste o good beer money.”

“So what d’you suggest Jock?”

He pulled out a small bottle of what looked like milk.  “Try some o this,” he said. 

I opened it and sniffed, “smell like coconuts” I said.

“Aye, So it shood, it’s coconut oil, use it before and after goin oot an yell ne'er get sunburn agen…  Keep it, mon, I got plenny more, I buy it by the pint!”

Well, I kept it and use it to this day, & I never get sunburn. 

And, there’s an added bonus. It tells you when it needs to be applied:

  In hot weather it’s liquid ~ if it’s cooler it becomes a mushy paste ~When it’s cold it’s solid.  Apply at any time to calm itchy skin. You only have to apply it once, it soaks in, and it doesn’t need to be reapplied if you go for a swim…

It just another tried and trusted remedy I can heartily recommend from personal use over the last 55 years. 

As always you try it at your own risk, but it works for me.

 

Cheilin Saga ~ 07

Cheilin Saga ~ 07  Defence Against Bluttland

By Len Morgan

Aldor surprised even Lomax, by completing his training in just four months.   It was during the following year that Aldor and Meillo officially became a couple.

 over the next five years, their plans would come to fruition. They would build up a network of forty forts, fully garrisoned, around the fringes of the Empire.   All manned by militiamen trained, by a small cadre of Tylywoch a hundred and fifty seasoned warriors.

   Bandits and opportunist raiders from outside took their lives into their hands when carrying out raids on the Cheilin Empire.   Each fort could raise and field a force of 2000 well-trained and battle-hardened troops at any destination on the fringes, within hours of the alarm being given, which would be swift, thanks to the inception of the 13^th Clans secret weapon, ‘pigeon post’.   The only form of attack with any chance of success would be a hit-and-run raid, but there were precious few successes.

The Empire prospered and the imminent attack from Bluttland was postponed indefinitely due to the constant readiness of the 13^th Clan.   There were rumours and feint attacks to test their defences but they were not found wanting so all the posturing came to naught.   However, had the Bluttlanders known of the chronic shortage of weapons it might have been a different story, but they never received that information and so the invasion never happened.  The Emperor was pleased with the performance of his 13^th Clan and with their new tactics.

.-…-.

In the eleventh year of Aldor’s stay in Cheilin, Sanko had to pass on intelligence to Emperor Daidan III from the border with Blutland reporting a build-up of troops on the far shore of the Stalbech river.  

“It may of course be just an exercise to test our state of readiness ‘light of the world’.”

“You have of course countered with an appropriate force I presume?” said the Emperor.

“We mobilized units from the nearest forts; half the complement of Strikol, Ricc, & Teel.”  

“That would be three thousand men.  What is the size of the opposing force?”

“Close to twenty thousand,” Sanko replied.

“Seven to one that is a high ratio; would you consider an additional two thousand expedient?”

“They are on their way, ‘light of the world’.” 

Daidan III winced.  “You know how I feel about that honorific, you are my friend so in the future please, just call me Dan.”

“Yes, ligh… Dan” Sanko grinned.  

“Oh one thing more, I need to speak with Aldor, would you ask him to join me please?” 

"Right away Dan." he was bowing as he backed out of the audience chamber. 

.-…-. 

Six months on, it was Aldor who was providing the progress reports.  

“Good day Aldor, what news from the Stalbech?”

“We have been steadily moving troops from the west over to the Eastern forts in order to provide additional support if or when their attack comes…”

“I’m aware of that, how many men have you mustered?”

“Currently we have just over twenty thousand with the same again on call.”

“Opposing?”

“Between sixty and eighty thousand if our intelligence is as good as we think.   We are maintaining the ratio at four to one.” Said Aldor.  "I hope the other Clans are not becoming too alarmed about the troop movements?"

"Not as much as you might think, I only have to suggest that they contribute a complement of their own forces to administer the outer regions.  But they are too busy watching their neighbours to risk-reducing their own forces.  They are content for me to draft in others for the task." Dan smiled “Will Forty thousand be a sufficient deterrent?”

“Bluttlands losses would be massive on crossing the Stalbech and in their landing places.  We expect to face them at only two to one.”

“Are they aware of what it will cost them?” 

“They know,” Aldor assured him.

“Let’s just hope it will be a sufficient deterrent then...” 

 .-…-. 

   In the fall of his eleventh year, Aldor considered his work in the Cheilin Empire near to completion, he said as much to Orden; during one of their many chats.

Orden chuckled with amusement, ’don’t be so hasty Sprout.   Your work here in Cheilin has barely begun; you still need to spend at least another century here’

'But,' he asked in desperation, 'what about the rest of Abbalar?'

'What is there to know?   Corvalen has become the cultural center of the Kurdik states, the Poché  Platzé is now a theatre, run by none other than your very good friend Genna Dylan.   It is not only thriving but becoming internationally renowned.   Asba continues, as ever, working towards the betterment of his charges, the deprived and underprivileged young people.   Whilst, true to his word, Paveil is administering a more enlightened State, and educating his eldest son for succession.   Skaa returned home, as he'd planned, he now has his own farm, a young wife, five sons, and a daughter, at the last count.   Between them, they are keeping him pretty well occupied, and will; no doubt look after him well into his dotage.   And, when he finally returns to the wheel of life, you will have aged a few years,' said Orden.   'Last I heard, Genna and Asba had twin boys and a daughter, and we're anxiously awaiting the birth of their third son who they plan to name Ahlendor after you.'

'It's been eleven years since I left Corvalen.  I have heard nothing, where do you get your information?' 

'I have my sources.'   Orden chuckled.

'Then perhaps you can tell me why I have been ordered back to Sanctuary, so suddenly?'

'Why did you not read the messenger's mind?' 

'Because the Tylywoch are very efficient at closing off certain areas of their minds, and I find it tiring trying to winkle out information.   I am much better at reading faces, gestures, and reactions.'

'Then that is what you should do sprout!   I will bid you well, I must be away, things to do you understand, I'm awaiting the arrival of a new trainee, a young sword-smith named Terek, he should be of use to you in time to come, he is a sword-smith of note, his craftsmanship is a pleasure to behold.'   

Aldor knew he would get nothing further from Orden.  'Goodbye friend.'

(to be Continued) 

Copyright Len Morgan

 The Village Fete                                  

By Jane Scoggins 

Lisa was feeling anxious. She bit her lip as she picked up the flyer from the doormat. It announced, not just in black and white, but in Technicolor, that the village fête would be in 6 weeks time. She had known for weeks but had been trying not to think about it. Expectations were high amongst the villagers and Lisa was in no state of mind to meet those expectations.

    ''How Stupid, to feel anxious about a village fête!'' she told herself. Well, more terrified than anxious, if the truth be told. Lisa and husband Mike, and four year old Amy were newbie’s to the village and feeling accepted had been hard for Lisa. The reason being something she hadn’t anticipated at all. Their house. It had set them apart from the rest of the village. They had moved from London to rural Essex for a bigger house, and a more healthy way of life. Mike was in banking and worked long hours. He wanted to have time and space to spend with his wife and child in a relaxing environment at the weekends. It was he who hit on the idea of moving east, out of the city and into the countryside. It all sounded so wonderful. They enjoyed the weekend trips to Essex to look at property. They liked the little village of Fambridge. It had a railway station and a nice pub, so two of the boxes were ticked straight away. When they walked through the gate and up the drive to Creek View, Mike and Lisa were immediately impressed. When they looked around the old house and garden they knew that this was the home they were looking for. It had not been lived in for two years and was shabby and unkempt. The previous owner of fifty years had died there aged 96. He had not maintained it well. The state of the property, the price, and the clause stating that no other houses could be built on the land had reduced the amount of interest by a developer or anyone else initially interested in going ahead with a purchase. However, Mike decided to make an offer after a survey, and it was accepted.

The house needed a lot of work and once they had sold their London home they stayed with Mike’s parents whilst the work was being carried out. They had not really had many opportunities to engage with local village life. The villagers were a bit in awe of this apparently well off London couple who had bought old Mr Dawson's big house, set imperiously back from the road in its large garden. Clearly, a lot of work had been going on to make it nice, in fact pretty posh if the tradesmen, who called into the pub at lunchtimes, were to be believed. The villagers weren’t sure if this banker from London with his Aston Martin, and his wife with her smart clothes, would fit in with them.

Lisa was aware of the villager's reservations. She enrolled Amy at the Ladybirds playgroup in the village hall. She felt out of place and not in tune with the sorts of things they talked about. Until recently she had worked in banking and had employed an au pair to look after Amy and the house. It felt too snobbish to share this detail of her life with the other mums. They all seemed so capable, managing several children, the house, the school run, and for some, a part time job or an allotment too. Lisa made every effort to join in and be accepted, feeling it necessary to throw in a few white lies about herself to improve her credibility.

 So when the subject of the Fete and who would run the stalls came up, Lisa was quick to offer her help and found herself down for the cake stall. Lisa didn't learn straight away what that involved, and then it was too late to back out having committed herself. The two stallholders were responsible for baking homemade cakes and for making a two-tier birthday cake to be raffled.

 Unfortunately for Lisa one of her white lies in a moment of madness and vulnerability amongst the playgroup Mums, had been to tell them she loved baking and had made Amy's last birthday cake with 3 tiers and covered in handmade Disney characters. The truth was that Lisa had never successfully made any cake of any description and certainly not a child's Disney birthday cake!

After a few disastrous attempts at cake making, she had to decide if she should come clean with the playgroup Mums. Whilst she was thinking about this she had a call from Simone, the au pair, who said she was coming back to England and could Lisa supply her with a reference.

'' Of course, I will'' said Lisa. ‘‘Why not come and stay with us for a couple of days and I will give it to you then. Amy still asks about you and would love to see you, come and see where we are living out in the country.''

When Lisa came off the phone having made the arrangements for Simone's visit, she had a light bulb moment. She would ask Simone to make the cakes. She had loved making cakes for Amy. Her parents ran a patisserie so she was very knowledgeable. She phoned Simone back and asked her if she would do it. ''Mais Oiu, bien sur ‘‘ replied Simone laughing.

By the time Simone arrived, Lisa had cleared out the big freezer and bought all the ingredients for a whole day's cake making.

 The visit from Simone was a triumph in every sense of the word. Amy was overjoyed to see her and loved helping in the kitchen with the cake making. With Lisa washing up and generally being the kitchen maid to Simone, the three of them had a wonderful time. Amy, too young to understand the different roles in the kitchen was none the wiser that her Mummy was not actually the person making the cakes. So no need for Lisa to worry that Amy would blurt out the truth. It had been a joint effort.

  The Fete was a tremendous success. The homegrown organic produce from Jan and Simon’s allotment made a fabulous display. The arts and crafts stall was heaped with handmade puppets, toys, cushions, bunting, jewelry, and knitted hats and scarves. Jim’s hand thrown pottery bowls were bright and beautifully decorated. The sewing girls stitch craft stall was piled with pretty aprons, bags, summer tops, and dolls clothes. Although she knew she had cheated somewhat, Lisa was proud of the cake stall. She and Kelly displayed their cakes on cake stands and lace covered boxes, the centerpiece being the beautifully decorated chocolate frosted birthday cake to be raffled. The stall groaned with fancy cupcakes, sponges, chocolate brownies, fruit cake, macaroons, and cookies. Lisa and Kelly complimented each other on their amazing cakes.

 Mike was amazed when he saw the stall. He hugged his wife'' country life sure suits you my darling, well done!''

  All the cakes were sold with ease and every raffle ticket was sold for the birthday cake.

Lisa felt very much part of the village now. The other playgroup Mums heaped praise on her and Kelly for their cake making.

 

When they were clearing up after the fete and folding the tablecloths Kelly said '' I must say, Lisa I never imagined that you would be such a fantastic baker of cakes. You are quite a dark horse, aren’t you? Some Mums thought you might have been exaggerating when you told us at playgroup. That's why it was suggested that you were given the cake stall with me, to see if it was true. Just goes to show, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.''

Lisa smiled. She felt relaxed and happy with the way the day had gone and her growing friendship with Kelly. She was not at all offended by what Kelly had said about the way the playgroup Mums had decided to test her.

   ''That's absolutely fine with me Kelly'' No harm done. I needed a challenge, and I have loved today.

  ''Sorry to have doubted you. Actually, can you keep a secret Lisa? ''

  ''Yes Sure''

When I first did the cake stall I was terrified, as everyone else seemed so good at everything I was not, So….the first year I got my Mum to make most of my cakes, and after that, I made the effort to learn how to bake really well, and now I love it.''

  ''Really, Well your secret is safe with me. Mum’s the word''

Later that night Mike and Lisa lay in bed talking over the events of the day and Mike again exclaiming what a fantastic cook she had become.

  ''Such hidden talent'' he said

Lisa decided to come clean about Simone and the cake making cheat.

Simon roared with laughter. When she told him about the secret Kelly had shared about her own previous cheat, he roared with laughter again.

  ''You little minxes, I can see you have something in common, a baking bond''

  '' Yes, I think we are going to be good friends. I admire her honesty and her baking. Not sure if I feel ready to spill the beans on my cheating as yet, but maybe next year when we run the cake stall together again. In the meantime, I am going to take a leaf from her book and learn how to make amazing cakes. And lovely dinners for you and Amy of course.’’

 

Copyright Jane Scoggins

 THOUGHTS OF HELEN

By Peter Woodgate 

I awoke and you had gone,

No trumpet sound or farewell song,

But then your head was always there

Amongst the clouds without a care.

A goddess, so you thought, and fair

Of face, and limbs, you chose to share

Your life, with others, for awhile

Each one bewitched, by your sweet smile.

Unlike Agamemnon, sadly I lack,

A thousand ships, to bring you back,

A ten-year war, a wooden horse,

These things are not for us, of course,

And I won’t dream, or make a fuss,

And you may find that Olympus

Is not as green, a poor excuse,

And you are not a child of Zeus.

 

Copyright Peter Woodgate

100. Consumed

By Robert Kingston

In and out I move

From space to space I tread

Soft and hard between the two

The pushes where equal forces are fed

 

I move my jaw to eat my way in

It consumes all of me first

Its persistence results in materialistic needs

Its reverberation forces thirst

 

My lungs are drenched with its varied might

My eyelids are constantly setting to steady for each fight

My hair fills with its gusto, relenting, restrained and tied in knots

My face bares the scars of its endurance

Our bodies can do without it, NOT

 

© Robert Kingston   21.2.15

 One Summer's Evening

By Sis Unsworth

The world felt calm, that summers eve, as I gazed across the hill,

It seemed the earth so softly breathed, the air was warm and still.

Some moments that are so profound, will make us pause to see,

As waves on empty shores do pound, then surge back to the sea.

I knew this day would soon be gone, as the sun descends the sky,

Precious times do not stay long, or wait to say goodbye.

The summer moon would soon appear, to take it’s place on high,

With it’s special glow that shines so clear, to enhance the season's sky.

Yes we know, this time will pass, so why not gaze at ease

Our memories will hold the glow, of a lovely summer's eve.

 

Copyright Sis Unsworth