The Wedding Hat

Jane Scoggins 

The little boy was in awe of the lady with the big hat.  Henry had never been to a wedding before and he had never seen such a large hat. Henry guessed it must be a hat because it was on the lady’s head. He had seen grandpa’s flat cap and the yellow hard hats of the workmen on the building site near his house. He also had his own experience of wearing a stripey beany hat in cold weather. But the hat in front of him was something quite different and needed a lot of looking at to gain as full an understanding of it as possible. He tried to make some sense of it. There was a lot to take in. The wide brim of the hat was loaded with flowers of different colours, Henry counted five different colours, but thought there may be more that were hidden. Without actually reaching up to investigate more thoroughly Henry could not be certain. The hat had a wide round brim that shaded the lady’s face so he was not sure if she could see him gazing at her. This was just as well as he had been told, on more than one occasion, that staring at people was rude and they generally didn’t like it. The brim Henry thought was rather like the big china plate that grandma had on her dining room wall. He had often stood and stared at that too as he could not imagine why a plate would be on the wall and not on the table or in the cupboard. One day as he stood staring at it Grandma had explained that it was the meat plate that had belonged to her own grandmother. She had very happy memories of big Sunday dinners with all the family around the table. It was old and fragile now and grandma wanted to keep it safe. She had thought it best to put it on the wall where everyone could see it and she could remember her Grandma every time she looked at it. The flowers on the hat reminded Henry of his grandad’s garden in the summer. Grandad said that the flowers were to be enjoyed by sitting in the garden amongst them and only very occasionally allowed Grandma to cut a few to put in a vase or give to Henry’s mum on her birthday, which was in July. Many times Henry had sat on the garden bench in the summertime with Grandpa sipping his mug of tea. They would sit watching the bees and butterflies hovering in and out of colourful petals of the flowers and blossoms.

When Henry’s mother noticed that he was staring at Mrs Ponsonby Smyth’s so long and so intently she called him away and took him with her into the little village church and sat him next to her on the pew. She was relieved to see that Mrs Ponsonby Smyth was sitting in a pew ahead of them so that if Henry continued to be obsessed with gazing at her most extraordinarily over the top creation of a hat, at least she would not see him staring fixedly at her. Henry’s mother and at least half of the congregation would also have liked to stare at the creation on Mrs Ponsonby Smyth’s head that dominated most of the space around her in the diminutive church, but knew that it would be very bad manners and therefore resisted. Henry’mother was not the only person in the church that day that felt a bit sorry for the ladies who had decorated the flowers in the church for the wedding, as Mrs Ponsonby Smyth’s hat far outweighed their more modest arrangements.

  The wedding service went ahead and Henry’s mother was relieved that Henry, who was not accustomed to attending church, sat quietly, and did not attempt to chatter.  All the while, whilst hymns were sung and prayers said. Henry was thinking and trying to remember something. And then it came to him in a flash. He had worked out what it was about the big hat and what it meant to him. In his enthusiasm to share his understanding and in sheer relief that he had worked it out, he stood up and in a temporary silence whilst the congregation bent their heads in prayer, he said in a loud and clear voice

‘ CHITTY CHITTY BANG BANG HAT’

 There was a ripple of stifled laughter throughout the church. Mrs Ponsonby Smythe was the last to realise what it was all about and when she did, sat down and looked embarrassed.  Fortunately, the service was at an end and the organist was able to strike up with the wedding march, and with all stops out the beautiful music filled the church and with the sun streaming in through the open doors the bride and groom turned from the altar to walk arm in arm down the aisle to the sound of clapping and music. The bride halted near Mrs Ponsonby Smythe as she remained sitting. Reaching down to her she said:

 ‘Thank you for coming Aunty May. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang was the first of many films you took me to as a little girl and it has always been my favourite. Thank you for those memories on my special day.’

Mrs Ponsonby Smyth touched her niece's hand briefly and smiled. As the bride and groom swept down the aisle, Mrs Ponsonby Smyth tilted back her head and smiled at those around her. Everyone smiled back and a happy chattering congregation left the church for the reception.

  Henry and Mrs Ponsonby Smyth were seated near each other at the reception where, in between mouthfuls of cake, they had the opportunity to chat about favourite films.

 

 Copyright Jane Scoggins

 

 Young Love

By Rosemary Clarke

Your minds are filled with hopes and dreams
All those ideas, all those schemes
Ignorance thwarts you if it can
Be you woman or be you man.

Don't believe the others tales
If you do you're bound to fail.
Not the colour, age or sex
Don't let your friendship be next!

In each other have belief
All your feelings underneath
To your own selves be so true
Look to the future both of you.

Always have each other's backs
Whatever way you take your track.
Learn about each other's ways
That way you'll have happy days.

Give each other space and care
All of the time and anywhere.
Keep each other safe and sure
That way your love will not be poor.

Keep the friends who give you wealth
Of friendship's eternal health.
Together you can beat the rest
This is true love's deepest test.

Listen to your own heart's beat
Not the voices in the street
Nor the doubts inside your head
Put there by folks who fear and dread.

In deepest anger take a while.
Remember all your warmest smiles.
Keep your own hearts open wide
Then through the many years, you'll find
You understand each other's minds.

You have a lifetime to discover
If you are mates, or friends or lovers
Perhaps a blessed mix of all
Is what you'll get when love will call.

Copyright Rosemary Clarke

Personal Well-Being ~ 15

 Personal Well-Being ~ 15 Nose Bleeds  

By the Barefoot Medic 

I’ve heard all the clever methods like swallowing ice, putting a key down your back, leaning over backwards.  But in my experience, there is only one effective way to stop a nose bleed (light or heavy).

Between the ages of 3 and 11, I suffered from sudden unexpected nosebleeds.  Initially, I had one a week.  The family doctor showed my parents how to stop them.  I of course couldn’t help but learn how to do it.

1. Place your index fingers on either side of your nose.
2. Run your fingers up and down until you find a slight indentation. 
3. Press down and upwards in the direction of your eyes and you will feel a tingling sensation akin to hitting your funny bone.
4. Press down firmly and Hold it; usually, the bleed will stop within 30 to 60 seconds. 
5. It doesn’t matter how heavy the bleed is, it stops!

I found that after 5 minutes I could gently blow my nose and clear out the residue.  I had a bleed in 1964 and the last one in 1973.  Doctors never did discover the cause but, I’m told that children and the elderly are the most susceptible. 

I know it works on me.  But, if in doubt consult your physician

 Joe

By Carole Blackburn

Joseph Walter Halliday blinked deliberately as his rheumy blue eyes glanced towards the boating lake in the park. While sitting on his usual bench at the same time in the afternoon. His previously sun kissed blonde hair was now the colour of well-trodden snow. Together with his wiry beard, which was easy to tend to. The “can’t be bothered” style suited him inwardly.

His familiar jokey self had departed swiftly after she had left. He was always slumped inwardly and his lined troubled face, today, was quietly silent.

Peering down at his gnarled fingers as they weakly gripped his tortoiseshell rimmed glasses, he shivered as his mind searched for his warmer “Salad days”.  His outward appearance showed to the outside world, he was deeply old. He was no longer on trend in his attire. Faded denims, a brilliant white cotton Tee-shirt, waistcoat, and desert boots would have been his daily uniform. But now he was wrapped up against the weather. The navy Macintosh was buttoned high. It hid the hand knitted cable cardigan; she had made for him last Christmas and the chequered fleece shirt was useless against his inner iced soul. His selective hearing was getting choosier according to his daughter. But hearing aids were for the Deaf, according to Joe.

He blinked but glanced away, as others in the park strolled and passed him. No connection was safer and it hurt less, he thought. If he had spoken, his yellowing buckled teeth would have wiped a smile off your face. Although he was presentable to others, they would have been aware at a closer distance his odour which was in need of attention. As with his hearing, Joe’s sense of smell had faded. Previously, he would have spent as much time as any teenage girl, preparing himself, for her. Everything would have been fresh and new about Joe on a daily basis. But it was not necessary, he felt now. His perspective in life had crashed out of all recognition with his younger self. However, he would never lose sight as his experiences wrinkled his face as he peered into the future.

 

Copyright Carole Blackburn

(A descriptive piece written before joining RLWG)

 

REASONABLE FORCE

by Richard Banks

Leo emerged from the Crown Court knowing that a new trial was about to begin. He had been well prepared for this second inquisition, as had his mother who escorted him towards the waiting phalanx of TV cameras and journalists. His advisers followed on, ready to prompt him if he should falter. “Look solemn,” they said, “no laughing, no celebration. Be dignified, act the decent, law abiding citizen. The Great British public is watching. Show them you are one of them, that you are the victim, not the sad loser you battered. Most of all, keep to the script.”

      “Mr Davies, how do you feel, now that the case against you has been abandoned?”

      “Relief, great relief, like a nightmare ending. Can’t wait to get back home.”

      “The CPS waited four months before charging you with attempted murder. Do you consider this case should ever have been brought to court?”

      Leo struggled to remember his lines. Then they came. “I have always maintained, and will always maintain, that I used reasonable force to protect myself from an armed intruder who attacked me in my mother’s home. Had I not defended myself I seriously doubt whether I would be with you today.” He glanced nervously at the journalists. Were they buying it? He couldn’t tell. They wore their masks even better than he.

      “What do you say to those who claim that by bludgeoning Collins with a hammer you went well beyond what was reasonable?”

      Leo swallowed hard. He felt anger but knew he must not show it. Anger equals aggression. He must remain passive, thoughtful, quietly spoken. “I repeat, I used reasonable force. His injuries were not life threatening.”

      The reporter who asked the question, continued his probing. “Mr Davies, you say that Collins attacked you with a knife, yet you sustained no injuries. How do you explain this?”

      Leo tried to stay composed. For a moment his mask slipped. He observed the reporter with an infuriated stare. What is the matter with the man? he thought. Do I have to be dead or paralysed to be believed?

      His solicitor placed a reassuring hand on Leo’s shoulder and spoke for him. “My client was extremely fortunate to escape serious injury. Nevertheless he did sustain abrasions to both arms. Fortunately, these were not sufficiently serious to require hospital treatment.”

      The reporter attempted to ask a further question but was drowned out by one of the TV men who spoke into a microphone. “Mr Davies you were indicted on the evidence of a twenty year old criminal with a string of previous convictions. How do you feel about that?”

      “Puzzled, frustrated, even now I have no idea why the police believed Collins rather than me. The young man’s lies have cast a deep shadow over my life.”

      “Why do you think he waited until now - one day into your trial - before dropping the accusations against you?”

      Leo imagined a halo hovering above his head and assumed an appropriate expression. “As a practicing Christian, I have always placed my faith in the Lord. I believe that through him the truth has been revealed. I thank God that my prayers have been answered.”

      “Amen,” shouted a woman in the expanding scrum behind Leo. There was cheering and applause.

      The TV man gave way to a female colleague who smiled reassuringly at Leo’s mother. “Mrs Davies, I understand that you have been burgled four times in the last two years. Do you think the law is doing enough to protect law abiding people like yourself?”

      Leo’s mother fingered the crucifix that hung from her neck and spoke into camera. “This has been a traumatic time for all of us. Leo was brought to trial because he attempted to defend us and our home from an armed robber. Surely, that cannot be right. The young man who was injured will soon be released from prison. Has his suffering been more than ours? Nevertheless, we continue to pray for him, for his redemption.”

      The young woman began another question, but was interrupted by Leo’s solicitor.

      “Ladies and gentlemen there will be a further opportunity to ask questions at the ‘Reasonable Force’ press conference to be held at the Daily Clarion. For the moment may I ask you to respect the family’s privacy and give them the time and space to recover from what has been a harrowing ordeal.” He ushered Leo and his mother to a waiting car and opened the door. They entered, along with several other persons.

      The driver carefully engaged first gear and moved out into the busy carriageway.  There was a collective sigh of relief from within the car. They were alone now, unheard, unobserved.

      “Well done, people,” said a large, bearded man, who was last into the car. He took a small packet of white powder from his jacket and tossed it onto Leo’s lap. “It’s chill out time, everything’s cool.”

      The scowl that had been forming on Leo’s face turned to rage. His clenched fist struck the seat in front of him, causing the driver to jolt forward towards the steering wheel. “Why so long? He’s just a nobody, no crew, nothing. Surely you could have shut him up before now?”

      The man grimaced. “It wasn’t easy. He was kept separate. It took time to get our guy in. Once he was there it was easy peasy. We gave him a choice. Change your story or we’ll chop your hands off. He was never going to give evidence against you. No way was that going to happen.”

      Leo’s fury was unabated. He clenched his fist again and was about to unleash another punch when his mother laid a firm hand on his arm.

      “Stop it, boy. Your temper is the reason you was in court. Don’t take it out on Winston. You had no need to hammer that chancer. He was never going to find them drugs. He wasn’t even armed. You just lost it, lost it big time and put our whole operation at risk. Now remember who you are and act the part; we are law abiding folks above suspicion. That’s why the police search other people’s houses and not ours.”

      Leo slumped back into his seat and stared, stony faced, past the driver, at the road ahead. He wanted to hurt everyone who ever got in his way. He had a list, a long list, but for the moment he must be measured and calm, a reasonable man who had used reasonable force. That’s what the people wanted, and for a while, that’s what they would get. In time them fools would have good reason to fear him. They could have stopped him, they nearly did. He wouldn’t give them a second chance.          

 

 

 Copyright Richard Banks

Personal Well-Being ~ 14

 Personal Well-Being ~ 14 Respiratory Problems

By the Barefoot Medic.

There are dozens of respiratory ailments besetting us in the 2020s+.  Asthma, Bronchitis, Covid 19, are amongst them.  Breathing difficulties cause a lot of misery and millions of lost work hours each year.

The causes are said to be Air pollution, from cars and buses, chemical sprays, and central heating?

 Yes, you heard me right, central heating! 

It seems the humble dust mite is thriving, multiplying, and bringing misery to humans by the thousands.  It’s a war.  They are wreaking havoc with our sinuses, nasal passages & lungs.  How did it happen?

In the 1950s, 60s, and 70s central heating was rare, our rooms were cold throughout most of the winter.  Now they are permanently heated providing the dust mites, our minuscule companions, with the perfect environment in which to thrive and multiply. 

We need to have good ventilation to flush out our lungs, the efficient evacuation of air, and its regular replacement is necessary for health, it's called breathing!  Deep breathing exercises are one answer to the problem; if you remember to do them on a regular basis.

 A good and painless way to accomplish this daily is to sing at the top of your lungs. Impractical you say?  With a voice like yours?  Ah but I’ve thought of that. 

Get into your car, wind down the window, turn on the radio, take a deep breath and sing along.  You’ll be singing your way to health…

Try it before knocking it!

Cheilin Saga ~ 23

Cheilin Saga ~ 23 Eve of the Games II 

By Len Morgan

   “I envy you, my love,” said Gavein, “you come and go freely, inside and outside the Palace, whilst I remain a virtual prisoner within these grounds.”

“Then you know just how the other women feel,” said Zophira.

“Indeed,” he said taking no offence at her barbed statement.   “I would go with you just once,” he pleaded for the umpteenth time…

Her heart gave a little jump of excitement in expectation, the game progressed, he was worrying the bait, and soon he would swallow it, not bad for two months she thought.

“Would that be wise?   You would first have to slip past your bodyguard, if you do so and later get caught, the consequences for them and for me would be dire; you are heir to the Empire.   If I were you I would think hard before taking such action.”

“It would take careful planning but I believe we could get out and return without being detected…”

“We?” she said.  

“I couldn’t do it alone…”    She saw the pleading look in his eyes.

“It would be dangerous…” she began.

“I’m not afeared,” he said with bravado.

She scowled, “Not for you, for anyone who aids you.  For me!” she said, spelling it out.

“I would never let anything happen to you,” he protested.

“You would probably not have a choice in the matter.”

“I will pen a letter saying I ordered, no forced you to accompany me, against your advice and better judgement.   On discovering I am determined to go anyway, you agreed in order to protect me, as a buffer, against the world,” he said with finality whilst affixing his signature with a flourish, at the bottom of the missive.   “So long as we are back before dawn…”

Swallowed, the hook, and line too, she smiled inwardly.  

“You would need a safe house to hide up in…   No!   It’s too risky,” she feigned a wavering spirit.

“My wives could help…”

“No, no!   You must never tell them anything, if you wish it to remain a secret, how do you think news travels?” she scoffed.

“We go mid-morning and return before sunset?”

“That would be possible,” she said. 

.-…-. 

“Now remember, you are accompanying me, to carry my purchases only.   Don’t look anybody in the eyes or they will become suspicious, servants never court the gaze of their betters,” she explained for the fourth time.   He smiled but didn’t complain.

“I understand,” he said patiently, “come on let’s be off,” he started towards the door causing her a momentary concern.

“No, you follow me!”  

“Sorry ma'am,” he said eyes lowered.

“That’s better; mayhap this will work after all.   Mayhap I will keep my head” she added.

His giggle sounded familiar.

“Don’t do that, you sound just like your father,” but she was smiling when she said it.

“No ma'am,” he said.

They made their way through a hidden side door into the main court, where they slipped unobtrusively through the crush of morning petitioners.

   “That seemed remarkably easy,” she said glancing around still anticipating pursuit, but seeing nothing.   They took the Central Way, heading around ‘C1’, then moved on up ‘N7’ to ‘C15’ heading Eastward in a long curve until they reached ‘N2’ then without warning she dragged him into an alley, and through a secret door abutting with a similar Alley leading into ‘C16’.   As the door closed behind them Gavein looked in vain for the join, it was cunningly hidden; he could have searched for a year without discovering the mechanism.   Zophira smiled indicating a vine which she pulled, to demonstrate the mechanism, before they moved on.   Eventually, they stood before a house on ‘C18’ a third of the distance between ‘N1’ & ‘E8’.  They entered a building.

"I needed some exercise but why such a circuitous route?"

She smiled “Needed to be sure we weren't being followed...  This is my cousin Efelel,” she said, “Efe this is my employer Gav…”

“Please!   Not that - call me your friend, I view you as, a friend,” he said.

“Of course,” she said humouring him with an intimate hug.

“You are also employed at the Palace?” Efelel asked.

His ready smile changed to a frown as she entered his mind.   She stepped forward bestowing a kiss full on his lips.   ‘And now you are mine,’ she thought.

.-..-.

   Later that evening he and Zophira re-entered the Palace, unnoticed by anybody likely to ask questions.   Outside the Palace, an elderly, raggedy, beggar saw them slip back into the grounds.   His keen intelligent eyes belied his humble appearance.   He did not recognise Gavein, just viewed him cursorily, appraising Zophira’s attire, noting she at least was a person of quality. 

.-…-. 

Outside the safe house, Aldor was met by Osyrin, a man he had become acquainted with seven years earlier.  

 “You old devil, it’s been close on two years, you need  a favour?”

The older man shook his head and smiled.

 “It’s good ta see you too young-un.   I have some news picked up on ‘C20’ that mayt be o use to yeh.   I was but three hundred yads distant, and my eyes are not what they used ta be but, the man was mouthin so well it wuz hard ter believe they wuz not intentionally speakin so’s I could read is lips.   Fer which reason I fear ter retell it lest it prove ter be a hoax or, worse still, a smokescreen ter distract yeh,” he said.

   Osyrin was deaf.   He lost his hearing after a childhood illness; contracted at the age of seven.   He had learned to lip-read, as others learn to talk, determined that a little thing like deafness would not rob him of a moment of life’s pleasures.

He met Aldor when he became involved in a drunken brawl, against two hard-hitting brothers, who mistook him for another.   When Aldor came upon the scene they had beaten him to the ground and kicked him senseless.   Aldor watched them draw knives to finish the job; that was enough for him, he waded in fists a-flying.

“So, you have come to die with this dumb ass,” one said, he kicked Oz again to emphasise his words.    “What say we deal with em alike brother?”

“Yea, carve out their livers, and feed em to the Carp in Central Park Lake, Hey brother?”

They had expected him to run but instead, Aldor stood his ground.   They came at him from opposite sides which proved their undoing.   He stepped back so fast they were unable to stop.   They collided and one stabbed the other; Aldor rendered them both unconscious with minimal effort.   He helped Osyrin to his feet and called for the Watch.  

“Yeh jus saved me life young-un, an I’m now in yer debt” he said

“No need,” Aldor protested, “you would have done the same for me…”

“I mose certn’ly wouldn't!   You mus be a madman attackin, two armed men, with yer bare hands, I owe yer.   If ever yer need ter call fer payment ya’ll find me at the Merry Fiddlers.   Yer jus leave me a message, with the innkeep, he knows me well.   The name’s Osyrin” he offered his hand.  

 He was to become a valued addition to Aldor’s intelligence network.   He repayed his debt many times over by teaching Aldor, and the Tylywoch , how to read lips… 

.-…-. 

  “There’s some’un close ter the Empr’er ready ter strike a blow for Bluttland fust day o the games,” Osyrin warned.

Aldor knew better than to treat his warnings lightly.

 “I believe you.  We will take all necessary precautions.  Thank you.  Are you in need of funds Oz?” 

"Allus prush'ate off'rins..." silvers & copper exchanged hands.

   Though he knew that Tyse would never allow their two main suspects, or anybody he didn’t know, to get close enough to any of the royal party to do them harm. Dan, his three sons, five daughters, and four wives were all closely guarded.   The women seldom left the confines of the palace, and certainly not unaccompanied.   The sons always had protection, from a Tylywoch quad, when they left the palace.   Even when they thought they were alone, and embarking on a new adventure, there were usually friendly eyes watching out for them.

“Was there something else old friend,” Aldor asked.

“I also witnessed a secret returnin yester'aft-noon, a young woman, quite a peach o’a girl, green eyes, raven hair…” he sighed.

 “It could have been Zofira, prince Gavein’s new concubine.   She has been a regular out tripper to the markets, cannot settle to palace constraints, least not in the three months she’s been there,” said Aldor.  

“She wuz in the cump'ny o’a youngun I reclect, didn’t reconize him, coulda bin a servant but, I’m sure I would reconize him if I crossed paths wi him agin.   He was quite tall, and crooked over to dis'gise the fact.”

“Go on with your description,” said Aldor.

As Oz continued to note little things Aldor took a peek inside his mind but, the image he saw was inconclusive, it could be any one of two dozen…   He committed the description to memory regardless, out of profound respect for his friends abilities.

.-…-. 

“Be sure that Hestor’s description is circulated, on all the watches today, there is a likeness posted in every watch room,” the captain of Melitia informed his Watch sergeants, Sloan amongst them.   All leave had been cancelled but, on the bright side, they would all get an excellent view of the games.   Just so long as they caught Hestor early on.   Dan had commissioned a court artist to produce a likeness, at Sloan’s suggestion.   Copies were made, and circulated, by the new print process.   He advocated that likenesses should also be produced, of all known criminals, to be displayed in prominent public places. 

(To be continued)

                                                                                         Copyright Len Morgan