By the Riddler
The Riddler has three puzzles for us today:
No 1. What can go all around the world but stay in the corner?
No 2. What can you not see, that never was, but always will be?
No 3. There was a girl half my age when I was
10. I’m now 56. How old is she?
Keep em
coming Riddler
A NEW BEGINNING
by Richard Banks
It
was Sarah’s idea to buy the Old House. She had had enough of
It was, I told myself, the price to be
paid for a salary that allowed us to reside in a part of
The Old House has definitely seen
better days. Sarah says that when her grandmother was a girl it was the
grandest house in the hundred, a mile out of town and with well tended gardens
the size of three or four fields; but that was then, and many years of decline
have reduced it to the near ruin it is today. The main advantage in buying a
ruin, probably the only one, is that the asking price goes down rather than up. Already low enough to be within our
price range I learned that the local council was considering compulsory
purchase with a view to replacing the house with a housing estate. There was no
time to lose, and when I offered a sum well below the advertised price, the
owners - a distant offshoot of the minor nobility that once lived there -
realised that a low offer was better than an even lower one they couldn’t say no
to.
On completion we put our furniture in
storage and moved into a caravan in the front garden. From there we would sally
out and do everything that was needed. At least that was the plan, but when it
became obvious that the roof was letting in almost as much rain as it was
keeping out we had no choice but to pay a roofer to replace it with a new one.
Unsurprisingly our next discovery was wet rot, and another job for local
industry. But after that it was us, all us, learning the skills that were
needed to do everything else that had to be done.
Even our slow start had not been time
wasted. While the professionals were at work so were we, clearing the long
neglected gardens of chest high brambles, nettles and every other weed known to
man. We slew all before us, including a half dead birch tree which I felled
within a foot of the spot I was aiming at.
Sarah was nervous seeing me, axe in
hand, but she had nothing to be concerned about. As I have told her, the
destruction of my desk was a symbolic act of defiance, nothing more. No harm
was meant, not even to that vulgar, little Yank who was taking my place. I
couldn’t stop him taking my job but he wasn’t having the desk I had sat at for
fifteen years. Some of the old guard cheered me. They stood well back when they
saw what I was about to do, only the Yank came running over and tried to stop
me. Did I mean to hit him when I swung the axe back over my head? Of course
not. I was looking at the desk, not him.
It was all hushed up, of course, for
the sake of the firm, and I received the severance pay that had been agreed,
but the Yank put it about that I was unfit for future employment, and that
ended my career in financial services. But what do I care. Like every man worth
his salt I won’t be kept down; I will come again, reinvent myself, find a new
niche in life. Until then I will restore this house, make it better than ever,
no effort spared, and with new hydraulics throughout the house we were now
ready to install the new kitchen that Sarah had seen, and just couldn’t do
without. Us, just us. Who would have thought it. Even the builder who came
round touting for business could find no fault with what we had done.
It was on returning from Wickes one
afternoon that we came across the new Volvo of my former employer parked at the
top of the driveway outside the conservatory. Any thoughts I had that he had
come with a job offer were soon put to rest. This was a social visit; he was in
the area and thought he would drop by to see if I was, “all right”. Better than
him, I was tempted to say, but didn’t. Even he could see how fit I was, how I
had shed the corporate flab for a leaner, more active me. Sir, or JT as he
likes to be called by senior management, once had a brief fling with my wife.
At least that’s what he thinks happened. The truth is somewhat different.
I first noticed he was attracted to
Sarah at the firm’s annual dinner and dance. It was while I was dancing with
his wife, Lady Yiewsley – surely a sign that I was under serious consideration
to replace my old boss in accounts – that they discovered a mutual interest in
the opera. He had a pair of tickets for Figaro at Covent Garden, and as his
dear wife was out of town that evening and unable to attend, he wondered
whether Sarah would like to fill a seat that otherwise would be unused. Knowing
his reputation Sarah played for time. She would, she told him, have to check
her diary and promised to get back to him on the mobile number he gave her.
Having reported all this to me we
thought a night at the opera was not an unreasonable price to pay for what
would hopefully be another step up the greasy pole. With the promotion still
not decided the opera was followed by dinner at the Ritz when Lady Yiewsley was
again out of town and I was in
So, what is he doing here unchaperoned
- not to see me I wager? Does he really think that after all these years he can
rekindle their imagined affair? What a pathetic, deluded little bore he is and
yet Sarah’s surprise at seeing him has no trace of the deep distain she should
be feeling. Indeed she appears perfectly at ease in his company. Has she
forgotten all that happened; how when the merger was agreed he abandoned me,
cast me aside like I was of no value or use, while he stayed on as Chairman.
Betrayal it was, brutal betrayal!
Sarah casts an anxious glance in my
direction. This is dragging me back when I was doing so well. I take a deep
breath. Sarah slips a pill into my hand and suggests that I show JT the garden.
She knows I’m better outside. More deep breaths. It’s going to be OK I tell
myself. Inadvertently I say this out loud. He thinks I’m referring to the
garden. He raises an eyebrow at the pyramid of wood and other combustibles
towering over what was once the
The door is open and I invite him in
for a glass of the double malt I say is inside. There is no malt, nothing
inside but my garden tools and the axe.
*****
Sarah says that I must steady myself,
that it wasn’t my fault. He had no right to be here. What has happened is
unfortunate, a setback, but nothing that need do us any harm. No one heard him
scream and, more than likely, no one saw him turn into the driveway. It will be
our secret and, if we don’t panic, no one will ever know but ourselves.
She has already moved his car into the
garage where it can’t be seen and checked his mobile to make sure there’s
nothing on it about us. With luck he will have told no one of his intention to
visit. If the police should come we will say that JT paid us a courtesy call
and departed within an hour. If they don’t, we do nothing, nothing at all but
enjoy our new life. Anyway, what can they do without a body?
Already we have doused it with petrol
and pushed it into the mounting tip of rubbish that will be his funeral pyre.
Tomorrow we will set it on fire and reduce everything to dust and ashes. It
will be yet another step in our new beginning. In death, as in life, we triumph
yet again.
Copyright Richard Banks
By Bob French
Robert
Henderson clenched his fists in anger as Geoffry Smitherton, the CEO of
Hamilton and Buckfast, the firm where he had worked for the past 9 years,
cleared his throat.
“You
leave me no choice
Robert knew it was a stitch-up. Jess, an
old navy friend who worked in the security business had tipped him off that
some one was going to steal the year’s gold deposits. He also knew
that, according to Heidi, his girlfriend, and the assistant accountant of the
firm, that when she checked the findings of the November audit, the books
didn’t balance and there was a deficit of several million
pounds. He had to say something, but he knew that if he did,
innocent people would lose their jobs, so he stood there and took it.
“Please report to the head porter, who will accompany
you to your office where you will clear out your desk and hand over any
security access cards you have. I want you out of this building by
mid-day, now get out of my sight!” As he made his way out of
the building, he thought it strange that if they were sure he was responsible
for the crime, why weren’t the police being involved?
It was two weeks later that he had a call from Jenny,
a close friend to say that Heidi had been involved in a hit and run and was in
hospital. He was beside her bed within the hour, and as he held her
hand, he whispered that he loved her and that she must get better so they could
get married. He felt her hand gently squeeze his as she whispered
something that brought tears to his eyes. As he clung onto her hand, he could feel
her slowly slipping away. When the monitor stopped recording her heart beat, he
looked up at the nurse and questioned her with his eyes. The nurse slowly shook
her head, then quietly left the room to seek assistance. Robert gently kissed
her and spoke quietly that he would avenge her death.
Robert retired to his cottage where he found solace in
the silence of the snow-covered countryside. Each day he
would slowly trudge through the winter landscape as snow fell softly around
him, blanketing the world in a muted hush. Each step crunched beneath his
boots, a sound that felt alien in the vast silence around him. He
used to love walks like these with Heidi, her laughter dancing on the crisp
air, her breath visible in frosty puffs. Now, each footfall felt like a
reminder of her absence and it tore at the muscles of his heart.
It had been eight months since the day everything
changed. When the future he expected with his Heidi had flickered and then
dimmed. He recalled the way Heidi held his hand in those last dying
minutes of her life, her fingers entwined with his, whispering that she would
always be with him,
“Just look for me in the small things,” she had said,
her voice barely above a whisper. And yet he found himself lost in a
world that felt impossibly large without her.
The trees loomed tall and bare, their branches heavy
with snow, creating a fragile canopy above him. He paused for a
moment, allowing the chilly air to fill his lungs, letting it clear the fog in
his mind. He remembered how they used to walk this very path, hand
in hand, sharing dreams and secrets beneath the shelter of the pines.
Robert shook his head, trying to dispel the sorrow
that clung to him like the falling snow. He continued, his breath coming in
steady puffs as he moved deeper into the woods. The world was a
tapestry of white and gray, and he felt as if he were wandering through a
dream, disconnected from reality.
As he rounded a bend, he spotted the small clearing
where sunlight used to break-through the clouds of falling snow, illuminating a
lone bench dusted with snow. It had been their favorite spot – a place to
pause, to breathe, and to watch the world go by. He approached the
bench, his heart heavy with memories, as he sat down, allowing the cold to seep
through his coat, feeling the weight of solitude settle in beside him.
A gust of wind stirred the snowflakes, swirling them
like tiny dancers in the air. In that moment, he thought he heard
her voice, soft and melodic, beckoning him to remember the beauty around him.
“Look for me in the small things,” it
echoed. He closed his eyes, letting the memory wash over him; a gentle
warmth seeping through his body. Robert sat silently for a while, then opened
his eyes at the sight of a small bird flitting from branch to branch, its
vibrant plumage standing out against the winter backdrop. He smiled
as the little bird seem to look at him before vanishing into the depth of the
forest. May be Heidi was right. In the stillness of the
snow-clad forest, in the life that persisted, even in the cold, she was
there-embedded in the beauty of the moment.
With a deep breath, Robert stood up, brushed the snow
from his coat, and took one last look around the clearing, a quiet farewell
mingling with the gentle falling of snow. As he walked back along
the path, he felt a little lighter, as if the memories, though bittersweet,
could also be a balm. The snow continued to fall, but now, it felt
like a blanket of hope, wrapping around him, inviting him to carry on.
Riddles 20
By the Riddler
The Riddler has three
puzzles for us today:
No 1. I’m a colour, but you can eat me! What am I?
No 2. You’re my brother but I am not your brother!
Who am I?
No 3. I’m unstoppable, but easy to waste! What am I?
Keep em
coming Riddler
By Barbara Thomas
The study of your Ancestors and where it can lead you, if you are lucky, or in several places unlucky…
It all began when a man turned up at a pub in the South of London claiming that it was his belief that the elderly man sitting there was his father: George William Glenham.
Hereby lies a tale:
So where do I start?
Let’s begin here:
1 marriage 2 bigamist marriages to two sisters, 8 years apart.
2 children from a legitimate marriage 10 years apart after leaving and then returning years later.
1 child by 1st bigamist marriage both mother and child died within a year of each other sadly. Seven children from 2nd bigamist marriage then lived happily with that person until he died after years of “marriage bliss”
As mentioned above this was a very complex case which included
change of names from George William Glenham to Samuel George
Thomas illegally.
He married both sisters in church under the aka name of Samuel George Thomas, who had falsified Marriage certificates.
Two birth certificates, 1 legal and 1 illegal.
Legal ~ George William
Glenham born Dec 1905.
Illegal ~ Samuel George Thomas born Jan 1906.
Big mistake was putting different parents on each of the certificate’s.
Though I found out that both George William Thomas parents were
actually born in the East end of
Samuel George Thomas’s falsified certificate of Parents
supposedly born in
What a pickle, one of the first things my husband asked me to solve when we met; knowing my hobby was (and still is) Genealogy.
I stared confidently following all the clues of my husband’s dad’s
certificates, as I thought they contained correct information.
When I came across a problem Tom my husband pointed out that he
had vivid memories of his grandmother living in Bow in
Where as I had his grandparents living in
I did a U turn then, and back tracked with the new information he had given me.
What a hornets nest I discovered, or should I say can of worms I opened.
As mentioned before I found a marriage but no divorce papers then two more marriages in a different name from his birth name plus both fathers names and trades on all certificates were different
What a malarkey as my Irish grandmother would have said.
The deeper I went the more I discovered…
George William Glenham had a best friend George Clifton they had
known each other since childhood. This friend had been the best man to all 3
marriages knowing that two were illegitimate.
I don’t know for sure but I have reason to think when Glenham, under the name of Thomas, married both sisters Rebecca and Alice neither had any idea that he was a married man as by then he had changed his name to Samuel George Thomas.
George William Thomas and George Clifton both had joined the army before WWII but had deserted their posts and were court marshalled and told that if that had happened in WWI both would have been shot!
Later during WWII both men were conscripted into Churchill’s
Home guard based in
George Clifton lodged at George William Glenham’s parents home
but in 1941 both George William Glenham’s. mother and best friend
George William Glenham’s father William James Glenham was suffering from depression at the time and finding out what his wife had done he sadly took his own life drinking a whole bottle of Jeyes fluid…
William James Glenham had had a distinguished army career both in the boar war and WWI and had been mentioned in dispatches
It all began to unravel as right in the beginning the man that
had gone looking for his father was George William Glenham jnr. and apparently
according to eye witnesses George William Glenham aka Samuel George Thomas,
after being confronted said “I’ve been a naughty boy.”
When asked why the son after all these years wanted from his father. George William Jnr’s reply was now he had eventually met his father his only ambition was to have a drink with him, afterwards they shook hands and he walked, never to be heard from again.
Stranger still George William Glenham worked at the same place
in
I kept finding more info, and again years later when my husband
had his pub on the Harold Hill estate
That’s when I discovered the man’s name was George Clifton,
George William Glenham’s friend who years before had moved in with his mother
and set up home in
Also strangely enough my husband told me that at his marriage to wife Sheila the sisters of George William Glenham’s were invited, but he told me he had no recollection even seeing them before or who had invited them. This was only discovered when I found a wedding photo of all 3.
Sheila sadly died as did my husband Alfie so as a widower I would be able to marry again.
First meeting with the family was fun; I think not!!
I had discovered this huge skeleton in their families’ cupboard and it was my first time meeting them all, funnily enough at a family wedding.
Another tragic coincidence within the last 3 years that happened to both my husband and myself was that both our eldest son’s Stephen Gary Thomas and Daniel Patrick Quinlan from our 1st marriages died. Both Steve and Danny as they were known in the family will always hold a special place in our hearts.
Whilst finding out about my husband’s late family I was
contacted through Ancestry by cousins, nieces, and nephew’s all trying to
collate George William Glenham’s chequered families past.
Again strangely all the male children of Samuel George Thomas
have William as their second name.
Copyright Barbara Thomas
The Zombie Drug…
By Len Morgan
Marcus was smooth, suave, and sophisticated. He liked drinking in different bars, as the mood took him; he had an ulterior motive. He had a host of clever chat up lines that he used to good effect to lure young women into his influence. If one line doesn’t pique a woman’s interest he would try another. But, if there were other equally desirable young women in the bar he would simply change his tack and hit on them, in the certain knowledge that his good looks and fake charm would grab their attention. His method was to treat a young woman as if she was the only girl in the room, offer to buy her a drink, then another and another. Eventually she would have to visit the ladies room. That is when he would slip a roofie into her drink...
Veronica, Cloe, and Crystal
were young women on a mission, trolling the bars looking for their mark. Cloe checked out the bar, “He’s in here,” she
told the others, “Far end, propping up the bar.”
Veronica entered the bar and in a short while Marcus sidled up beside her.
“Hi I’m Marcus; it seems I’ve been stood up by my date.”
“That’s a shame, maybe we can talk while we wait, I’m also alone, a friend was supposed to meet me here but she hasn’t arrived yet.”
“That’s my good fortune,” he smiled, disarmingly “What’s your poison?”
“Oh that’s kind of you; I’ll have a gin & tonic.”
“I like this bar, it has a nice atmosphere, and the music is background; not too ‘in your face’,” he said.
“I’m Ronnie,” she said, “Oh look, there’s an empty table over there, why don’t we sit and chat.”
“A good
idea, let me take the drinks over,” he smiled again.
‘Maybe he wasn’t the mark they were looking for,’ she thought looking towards Crystal and Cloe. Cloe nodded to confirm he was the one they were looking for.
“You’ll have to excuse me, I need to visit
the ladies,” she smiled and headed across the room. She visited a cubicle to relieve herself. Leaving
the cubicle she freshened up her lippy, whilst waiting for
“He did it Ron, Cloe confirms he’s the one!”
“Are the rest of the girls outside?”
“Ready and waiting,” said
“Are you sure this will work?” Ronnie asked as she unscrewed the lid and applied a little of the green fluid to her lips, “here goes nothing…” she said.
Ronnie gave him a pleasant smile as she sat at the table. “I noticed there are nuts on the bar, drinking always makes me hungry, would you mind asking if they can spare some?”
“I’ll find out,” he said and went over to the bar. While he was out of sight she poured her drink into a nearby potted plant and refilled the glass with water.
He returned triumphant with a small dish of nuts, “you haven’t touched your drink, is something wrong with it?” he asked.
“It’s fine,” she assured him, and emptied the glass in one.
“Let me get you another,” he said, taking their glasses back to the bar.
When he returned she leaned across the table and, spontaneously kissed him full on the lips, “you’re Angel,” she said, before drinking it down. Then, she took a napkin from her bag and wiped her lips.
Ronnie took out her phone and dialled. “Hi girls, the fish is in the net, come and join us!”
Two ladies entered and headed for their table.
“He’s the one,” Cloe said, preparing to attack him.
“Shhh,”
“Great idea! Let get out of here,” Cloe said.
”Follow me!”
“Don’t feel sorry for him Cloe, his bottle of tablets is less than half full so you were not his only victim,” said Ronnie.
Back at Cloe’s apartment they stripped him, dressed him in ladies underwear and wrote abusive words on his chest with waterproof lipstick.
“Do you have your tattooing kit ready Ronnie?”
“I have luminous red ink
and a special stencil prepared,” she said.
“When you’re done, we can take him to the park and leave him on the ‘roundabout’, leave his clothes in a neat pile beside him.
Two young constables took one look at the ‘RAPIST’ tattoo on his forehead, found the bottle of roofies in his jacket pocket and called for a car to take him to the station.
Two weeks later, the girls
saw his picture in the local paper and read the story ‘6 month for possession and use of ‘rohypnol’, the banned rape drug.’
Copyright
Len Morgan
By Barbara Thomas
Hold up your hands how many reading this now have actually made out a Will
Let me tell you about one specific person who never left a Will
and on dying therefore was not able to instruct how he wanted his funeral
either burial/cremation Christian or Humanitarian
But the main object of the Will was to find out who was down as his next of kin.
Being a ladies man this man had a chequered past married twice with
at least 3 common law wives plus a scattering of lady friends.
You can see the predicament, to whom or who will receive his worldly gifts.
Also without a Will who will pick up the tab?
I’ll help you out, you see it was our son who passed away
suddenly.
During his working life he had been on the river
And manager at both his father and aunt’s pubs.
At the time of his untimely death he had been working with
mentally ill patients in a residential setting near where he lived with a girlfriend
in Catford,
Unfortunately, he had been found outside his workplace
unconscious, and died still in a coma 3 days later. He had suffered a massive
heart attack and because he wasn’t found for one hour he received severe and
irreversible brain damage and the life machine was switched off by two of his
four children on July 2nd 2021.
Heartbroken my husband and I tried to make sense of it all as he
was only 58 years old.
Then reality set in. Who was going to pay for the funeral, as we now know there was no Will.
It fell on both my husband and I to contact solicitors and ask
for advice
As I mentioned our Steve loved the ladies but where was the
second wife and had they divorced?
The current ladyfriend made big ripples, I had to freeze all his
bank and credit cards as at first she was having a great time spending
We were advised to become Executors,
giving us the authority to look into any life insurances Steve
may have had. I texted, phoned emailed determined to collect some monies
somehow.
There were papers galore I had to collate including Bank
statements to check, the list goes on.
We had some luck when a family member remembered where the last
wife used to live, we followed the lead and it turned out that this wife had
never moved out of the home she had shared with our son and they had never
divorced, apparently she told us Steve used to often visit her.
So now we have next of kin, who legally could claim anything she
liked only she didn’t want to be involved. They had only been married 1 year
before they parted
More problems once we had contacted her we were then only errand
boys.
Our hands were tied so we went back to the solicitors and paid another £1,000 for Deed of variation to allow us to intervene for the reluctant next of Kin.
Then came the funeral, his harem all wanted a piece of him,
there was a lot of bad feeling, especially from Steve’s latest lady friend
I put my foot down and said as his parents we would be picking up the tab and the funeral would not become a circus but a celebration of a life gone before his time.
The funeral went as well as could be expected some even said it was lovely with all the funny anecdotes that Steve got up to plus all the tunes we knew he loved especially at the end “I’m for ever blowing bubbles” he would have loved that being an ardent West Ham supporter all his life like his Dad and Grandad before him.
The wake was interesting to say the least women eyeballing each other. Oh Steve we had no idea you were such a ladies man.
I discovered a life insurance “hurrah“ followed by monies from his days as a bus driver.
Now the monies at last was coming in the outstanding bills were
being paid out. Alas not much savings for all those years of working hard,
Steve lived for the day. There were credit agreements although sadly did not
die at his demise.
It’s ok getting a credit agreement but you never know how your
circumstances will be over a length of time and this is what we had to cope
with.
A Will would have saved us the stress that we went through at that
period.
So my message to all you people what ever walk of life please
find out about making a Will.
Find time otherwise it may fall on your loved one’s shoulders.
Apparently I am told you do not have to go to a solicitor as
long it is signed witnessed-and dated.
Leave getting a Will at your peril!!
Copyright Barbara Thomas
