A song for some guy.

I gave you my world
You gave me the same
Your flag I unfurled
But you lost your aim
The print far too small
It couldnt be read
That my love was never
The song in your head

The care and attention
I lavished on you
Got hardly a mention
I know this is true
But you were so busy
And I just in love
So blinded by feelings
I placed you above.

But tables have turned
And I am alone
Crashed and now burned
Without heart and home
I fell in too deeply
I let down my guard
I fell far too steeply
The landing so hard.

I will pick up the pieces
Its just what I do
Then iron the creases
Still left there by you
Love is for fools
None bigger than me
I played by the rules
But nothing's for free


Time will pass honey
While I try and mend
No person, no money,
Can make the hurt end.
Your words are just hollow
The hating's begun
It's so hard too swallow
Thought you were the one.

A Farewell To A Working Class Act.

What a thoroughly selfish act Rik Mayall has just performed, how dare he rob us of his comic genius in such a way, who on earth allowed this to happen?  Surely there must be leave to appeal?

"I feel sorry for you, you zeros, you nobodies. What's going to live on after you die? Nothing, that's what!

This house will become a shrine! And punks and skins and Rastas will all gather round and all hold their hands in sorrow for their fallen leader! And all the grown-ups will say, 'But why are the kids crying?' And the kids will say, 'Haven't you heard? Rick is dead! The People's Poet is dead!'

And then one particularly sensitive and articulate teenager will say, 'Why kids, do you understand nothing? How can Rick be dead when we still have his poems?"

Sadly, it's not the case, an icon of many of our growing years has been taken from us and in a manner that only Rik himself would be able to pull off, there one minute and gone the next. The fact is, Rik was everybody's favourite crazy uncle, or at least the one we all wanted, he was cool, funny, quick witted and was a pioneer of the "new wave" comedy that hit our screens in the 80's. It seems so unrealistic that such a giant is no longer amongst us, like we have lost a part of our family, a part of our own very make up, it brings us yet another mortality check at a time when such stalwarts are becoming the fondest of our distant memories.
Rik Mayall WAS comedy during the eighties, he wrote it starred in it and made the viewing compelling and a must watch, he was the cool crazy comedian that spanned the generations yet his wit was always edged toward his own generation, with cliches and innuendo's that only the youngsters would enjoy, but such was the man's genius that he still held court with parents and grandparents alike, testament to his infectious humour.
His like are rare, talented writer and meaningful actor along with a sharp wit and mesmerizing stage presence.
The list of dignitaries offering their thoughts will be long and endless over the next few weeks, rightly so, but Rik was above all ours, he was the hero of the council estate, the working man's hero at all times. he pretended to be up market but failed miserably much to our relief in the characters he played, somehow he always turned the tables on the toffs and made them look like they were the ones out of place, that is what made him so cool.
I will not be all sad and tearful at Riks passing because I really dont think he would want us to be, I think he would just like to be remembered for what he stood for and for his sharp witted hilarious come-backs and sarcasm delivered as only he could do, I dont think tears are needed, we need to just celebrate the life of a comic genius and someone who we could all relate to and love. What better epitaph could there be for someone who spent his life endearing the nation to his wonderful style of comedic genius.

Rest in peace Rik, the people's comedian and legend of the working man, we truly will miss that inimitable style of yours.

Twenty First C.

Patients lie dying on hospital floors
Girls young as eight being dragged into wars
Indians rape and kill all their daughters
Following Christ gets you sentenced to slaughter

Muslims all cry when the world screams hate
Yet their brothers and sisters cant tolerate
A different perspective from Sharia law
Its not what our sisters are being born for

No-one should dictate the life of another
We're in this together all sisters and brothers
Religion's a  faith not a judge and a jury
No God should be preaching such hate and fury

Police find a crime and they bury it so
No-one will care if there's no-one to know
Politics lost to a whole generation
Cos spin got fed to our trusting Nation

No-one is voting cos they just cant be arsed
As another pointless law gets stamped and passed
Welfare will not care its running out of money
Those that are working ain't finding it so funny

Teaching ain't working cos the kids cant spell
With Sat's tests and this test its going to hell
If you dare to say its crazy and you just cant face it
They will only point the finger and call you a racist

The land of the brave and the true ain't so clean
Fighting in wars just to gain gasoline
Shooting at the kids as they're leaving their school
The gun law is for sure the stupidest rule

You cant heal a wound with a pistol or a shotgun
History shows only talking gets the job done
For every weapon that some brother buys
A family is broken and another mum cries

For all that we brought to the twenty first C
Life ain't no better for you or for me
We still keep fighting we can't make amends
All in the name of imaginary friends

So sit in a room when you get the chance
Block out religion and politicians trance
Remember that life only gives us one shot
It ain't that much but its really all we've got.
 




 




 

Self Rule.

The sail that catches the wind of change
Shakes the lives of kindred spirits
Banished thus to never reach a destination
In life we are but pushed not driven
Our conscience judge and jury both
No life in exile deemed worth living
Such constant peace never raised a smile
If nothing else the daring senses
Lead us to a common fate

The wild exuberant petulant child
Sings for supper and always eats.
But time tick tocks with adult humour
No escape from minutes plus
Our chants our slogans fade to history
The shouts still echoed lost for us.
And time will prove our own undoing
For we are but specs of dust.
Such self importance sent forth spewing

Reality no check for us.

Writers and Politicians, never the twain.

Should there ever be a time when someone who enjoys writing puts pen to paper or fingers to keyboard and enter the world of politics? The obvious answer is no, of course not, politics is a little like religion, it's a kind of taboo that should only be mentioned in passing and only then very sparingly.
The problem is your blog author is anything but conventional and staying quiet is not one of my stronger points. I have been watching the rise and rise of UKIP in recent days and wondered I am sure much less than the rest of Westminster if this is a flash in the proverbial pan or a sign of things to come?.
If I was a gambling man the odds would be fifty fifty. Now, just compare that with less than twelve months ago and those odds would be one hundred to one against in Westminster's favour, that in itself says more about just how disillusioned the general public really have become with the irreverent spin from the three main parties.
So, if we fast forward another twelve months are we going to see Farage pushing for PM? Well anything is possible in the current climate and I think the balance of natural selection from the suburbs of Oxford and Cambridge, so often the prolific breeding ground for Westminster proteges is truly on the wain, the country has had enough of the "upper class twits" to coin a well known phrase and indeed wonderfully funny sketch from my beloved Monty Python. The truth is despite David Cameron or any of the other strange looking gentlemen currently holding court in parliament protesting in front of any cameraman that will stand and listen, the fact is they don't actually "get it", they never will "get it" and indeed the only thing the majority of the country are hoping they do get is a good boot up the backside out of office.
If you have just realised after reading this that that is actually the reason you voted UKIP then you are half way to understanding just why they have become so popular and why they are a clear and present danger to the mainstream parties who just cannot adapt to a changing society and believe their way is how its always been done....I believe a few Tyrannosaurus Rex and their pals had the same belief a few million years ago
.
If I am being honest, Nigel Farage is as creepy as that Ed Miliband fellow, to this day I cannot understand how a virtual unknown became Labour party leader over his sibling who was a well known spin doctor but eminently more photogenic and camera savvy. I am sure David is so very happy he took the decision he did to get the hell out of town, pity they cant all do the same.
So, for now we wait and see what happens, though Europe choosing one of the biggest federalists in modern history as it's new candidate for leader is a little like letting a fox out to round the chickens up, then complaining you have no eggs. I honestly believe if there were a middle ground non invasive pro Great Britain party with common sense moderate views we would actually see off the dumb-dumbs from the South East. OK not in my lifetime maybe, but I hope so for the sake of the next generation.

Wealth?... why health of course.

Its an age old issue, how and what do you gauge as success?  For some success is being able to walk 3 metres to the next hand-rail, for others its securing a multi-million pound deal, it can be your first new car or the holiday of a lifetime, but for most of us success is gauged by what we own in a materialistic sense.

It seems so strange that we are humbled when we meet celebrities with million dollar bank accounts yet turn our noses up at a raggedy man in the street begging. The reality is both rely on us to eat, so why do we see the tramp as much less a human being? That is an easy question to answer, we see success with the super star celebrity and all his trappings, they are after all, who we aspire to be, on the other hand who ever aspired to be a tramp?  The fact is the tramp may be there because a life changing situation occurred that he had no control over, but because we see wealth as the only goal we strive for and material goods a sign of success, we see the tramp as a failure. How sad.

I have been well off and I have been poor, self-employment is a risky business and going into business even tougher.  When I have been wealthy I have found it easy to have lots of friends around me, yet when the money has been harder to come by, true friends have been in short supply. I am a strange individual in some respects in that I don't value money, I am not the best guardian of it and I can never seem to make it last, but with or without it my mind is never closed to those who are rich or poor, in my eyes we are all equal, money is just another false God, yet those who practise it's teachings seldom find true enlightenment or fulfilment, indeed how ironic it is that the tramp would be just as excited and elated to find ten dollars on the side walk as the celebrity would be to be chosen for a leading role in a new blockbuster, they are equally as happy as each other albeit at the opposite ends of the scale. True wealth is in the spirit and the mind, it is no coincidence that wealth and health are very similar sounding words, for without health you're money is as irrelevant as your views that society programmes you to make.  Health is the real wealth.

A Morning Tale.

Across the misty morning skyline, dew abounds though soul's enlightened,
As rising sun sends trusted fingers through the night-falls weakened heart,
The shadows cast seem never ending,  Ash and Oak's defiant stance,
From daylight's slow encroaching march, that signals Nightingales advance.

The chorus beckons, dawn wins over, songs from every bird with voice,
As sunlight shares the secrets night holds, in her presence none can hide.
The still air blessed with heavy moisture sweet the taste when so inhaled
Natures calmness here a blessing, though cursed as doldrums under sail

The tawny owl swoops through the woods and now retreats advancing light,
No use the sharpest eyesight here, that saw her hunting pitch black grounds,
The daylight beckons all to waken those that slumbered darkened hours,
For now another day is made, that we can claim we lived as ours.  

Chapter Four beginning "Caradoc"

Chapter Four : The Hour Maketh The Man

It took several days for Tomas to catch up with some sleep and attain at least a little bit of colour in his scrawny pale cheeks, during that time Sam carried on at the quarry working more and more hours while Jake did his level best to avoid school by dragging his feet with the farm chores and found great entertainment was to be had with his new friend Tomas. Eileen had kept an eye on the runaway youth but was touched by how he and Jake had bonded, Tomas was always kept busy helping Jake feed stock and tend the other farm needs and had fitted in very well, though she was all too aware that this was just temporary as Tomas would have to go back to the base and face the consequences for running off, but for now however he was a very handy addition to Pole Farm.

Jake showed Tomas many of his tricks and dodges over the next few weeks, he showed him his favourite rope swing across the fast flowing brook and how to catch sheep without being dragged for yards across a field, Tomas was intrigued by the fact he could stand next to a ewe with just the slightest hold just under the front of her rear leg and the sheep would stand there and not move, it was commonly known on The Hill as grabbing a ewe “under the hock”, it is still very widely practiced nowadays and is remarkably effective, Tomas enjoyed his days with Jake and he caught on quickly for a lad who was brought up in such a large city in Poland.  Just as Jake had mentioned the first time he had met Tomas, the lad was becoming an asset to the farm while Sam worked long hours in the quarry, Tomas helped with many chores for his bed and food, he was always very polite. Eileen sat Tomas down one afternoon and brought up the subject of The Camp and going back to face the music, she noticed a fear in the lads eyes with mention of the camp that she hadn’t seen since the first day they had found him, clearly there was something or someone that had frightened the lad and it was etched on his face. “Never mind Tomas we will speak again, you go find Jake and help him bring the cattle in there’s a good lad”. But Eileen knew there would come a day when the truth would have to be faced and the lad would be forced to return, but for now at least the lad was being fed and sheltered, a far better situation for all concerned and in any case they needed his help.

Jake was walking across the top fields that were so unusually flat for such a hilly area when Tomas caught up with him, Jake was leading the old mare by the rains and following the sheep tracks towards the old barn. In the distance there was a haze of smoke and dust that stood out on the horizon, Tomas pointed to it “What is that?” the youngster enquired “That’s where Dad is Tomas, that’s the quarry, it’s a horrible place, noisy and dusty, it frightens me too” “It frightens you? Why?” Tomas asked looking concerned for his friend, “lots of men get hurt up there and I worry about my Dad, its long hours and there is very little time to rest” “can we go see?” Tomas asked, “If dad catches me up there Tomas I will get my backside tanned” “tanned?” said Tomas looking and pointing at the sun as he did so, “No you daft beggar, tanned! Smacked!  You know!” and with that Jake turned his hips sideways on and pretended to smack himself on the backside, “Oh I see” said Tomas “tanned!” as they both chuckled, “we had better not go up there Tomas it’s a bad place for youngsters to be, come on let’s get back into the yard at home and see if mum wants owt from the orchards”

With that the two jumped on the mares back with no saddle on and went hell for leather back down towards the farm, as they sped across the fern covered headlands they were stopped by a man with a blackened face, he had been kneeling down and looking at the hoof of the horse he had been riding, “She is lame lads, can one of you give me a lift back to the quarry with this fresh milk for the rest of the lads?” “My dad says I am not allowed up at the quarry mister” Jake replied immediately, “Aye like as not you are a bit young lad your Dad is right, but your brother here can go I am sure?” “He is not..” Tomas poked Jake in the side before he had chance to say anymore, “OK I will take you not a problem” Tomas tried hard to talk without his accent, but the man was more interested in getting the milk off the saddle of his lame horse than just how Tomas spoke. “Take my horse back to the blacksmith at Hopton for me young man and tell them it’s for The Alexander Mine Co and we need her back as soon as possible, here is a penny for your troubles,” Jakes eyes lit up, he knew a penny meant toffees! “OK I will see you later at the farmhouse Tomas” said Jake and with that he was off like a shot.

Tomas helped the miner up on to the back of the old mare and the two made their way up on to the quarry site, Tomas could see what his friend Jake had meant by frightening, the dust and the noise were so much out of touch with all the raw beauty that surrounded the site, it was almost surreal. “Drop me here lad I can walk the rest of the way”, with that Tomas stopped and helped the man down with his precious milk cargo. As Tomas was about to turn and go a huge rattle accompanied by a massive cloud of dust heralded the appearance of Sam’s team of horses as they strained at the full load of Dhustone ore they were pulling out of the quarry pit, Tomas just sat there for a moment and watched as Sam handled the horses to perfection, pushing them at just the right speed so as not to overtax them on the steep climb or make them lose their grip, as they reached the level of the tipping point Sam looked across at the man carrying the milk and waived, he then looked to his right and saw Tomas sat on the old mare looking straight at him, “What the bloody hell” Sam mumbled to himself and with that shouted out “Whoa Whoa” to the team of horses he had just brought up the hill, he put the brakes on the outfit and jumped down and strode straight up to Tomas, “What the bloody hell do you think you are doing lad?” Sam shouted at the youngster who immediately looked scared to death, “Hold on Sam, that lad just brought us the milk from the village, my horse went lame and your boy and his brother helped me out” “Brother?” Sam looked momentarily confused, “Yes my brother Jake, father” Tomas replied almost immediately, “Oh, right, yes well then OK in that case lad stop sitting about and go and help your brother with the feeding” Sam had caught up with what was being said, he winked at Tomas and Tomas turned the Mare towards Pole Farm, but just at that moment there was a huge bang as the brake handle that Sam had pulled broke away from its mountings, it started the trucks moving slowly backwards, pulling the valuable team of horses with it, Sam ran as fast as his legs could carry him and grabbed a steel spike from by the dinner hut, he held the spike above his shoulder like a javelin and threw it at the rear wheel of the last truck in the row, it went through the wheel and went round until it hit the body of the truck and slammed against it locking the wheels up as it did, Sam was barely a few feet away as the whole lot came to a shuddering halt with the horses screaming and jumping around for all they were worth as they were being pulled backwards.

 Sam strode over to the truck and put the emergency brakes on, but just as he secured the line of trucks the spike snapped in two and the one half of the spike went off like a bullet and embedded itself deep into Sam’s shoulder knocking him to the ground and on to the rail track the trucks were sat on, this set the horses off again and they pulled and pushed violently as slowly the emergency brake began to fail, Sam was reeling in agony on the tracks, Tomas shouted but it was too little too late, Sam lay there dazed for a few moments and suddenly felt a warm liquid dripping down his arm, he looked and it was his own blood, Sam tried to stand up but couldn’t because of the spike, “Sam!” Tomas shouted and jumped from the old mare and raced to calm the team of horses down just as the last truck was inches from where Sam lay, Tomas went to the lead horses and pulled on their reins with all his might and they pulled the trucks screeching further up the track and away from Sam, then Tomas ran to his barely conscious friend, “Go get the doc lad, he is next to the camp in Ditton, please lad, go now you are my only hope” Tomas ripped his shirt off and tore it into thin shreds, he bandaged the wounded Sam up as best he could before leaping on to the old mare. Tomas rode like he had never done before, he jumped over hedgerows and gates, the old mare seemed to know the urgency, they galloped across the open fields and down into Ditton Priors, past the camp where he was a wanted man and straight to the Doctors doorstep, “Doctor !” shouted Tomas as he jumped from the mare before she had stopped running “Doctor!” “Steady boy, steady what on earth is the matter?” Doctor Egan came out wearing just a shirt and bracers with his sleeves rolled up, “It Sam, he been stabbed by spike up in quarry, please you come quick, is bleeding!” “Well why didn’t you just say that lad” the Doctor shouted as he ran inside to get his bag, he grabbed his black stallion by the reins from the stable opposite his large garden and jumped up on the huge horse as he shouted at Tomas to lead the way, the two set off at break neck speed.

By the time the two reached Sam he was out for the count, none of the other quarrymen had spotted him lying there because of the dust, Doctor Egan tended the stab wound, Sam being Sam he had pulled the huge metal spike out of his shoulder, “Listen boy I am going to need your help to save this man, help me put him on his side so that I can stitch his wound through his back” with that Tomas and the Doctor turned the big man on his side and he let out an almighty groan as the pain had started to become all too much even for such a big man as Sam, the boy held his friend and stopped him from rolling over as the Doctor sewed Sam’s wound up firstly on his back and then his front, Tomas winced as the Doctor poured neat Iodine straight into the fresh open wound and Sam’s cry could be heard for miles. The Doctor bandaged Sam’s chest up and lay him back down and gave the big man some Morphine as Tomas went over to find some transport in the shape of a horse drawn cart for the journey to Bridgnorth Infirmary, before long Sam was surrounded by willing helpers and within minutes Sam was on his way back down the valley to the hospital.

Not Today Thank You...

I dont need religion to guide my poor soul
The book that I read from has life written through it
I dont need the scriptures to strive for my goal
If I want it that much then I'll just go and do it

If I dont like your preaching I'm not a blasphemer
If Gods are all real then they know understanding
Not all of us search for one great redeemer
Nor searching for rules that are far too demanding

Go pray if you want to I will not pass judgement
For I just see life through a different perspective
To force your beliefs is not what your God meant
Its all about you staying calm and reflective

Dont kill in my name, dont shout in my favour
For I want to live with all colours and creeds
Guns are just made for a fool that will savour
destruction and death just to furnish their needs.

So keep all your preaching, your prayers and your chanting
Your clothes that just say you're a follower true
For sooner or later your prayers become rantings
And the only one listening to that will be you.

The start of Chapter three from Caradoc.

Chapter Three: The Quarry.

As the months went by the long thaw began to take back the land from the grips of the harsh winter snow and ice, it had a been a winter of real discontent, hard on man and beast but with Spring now firmly grasping the mantle and turning the Brown Clee hills into a choir of birds singing and new born lambs bleating at the sheer joy of life, it felt good to be alive.  The wonderful crisp, sun-drenched mornings of a Shropshire hillside Spring time have to be sampled to get the real meaning of how such a simple existence can be so overwhelmingly spiritual yet calming.

 Sam was busy taking ewes and lambs out of the pens and into the open fields one such morning, Jake was at school, a rarity indeed but Sam insisted he go and do some catching up after so much time was missed during the winter snows. Sam tended the flock and then stood leaning on his stick for a few moments, gazing at the early morning mist that followed the river down through the valley below, it was like two different worlds, the village of Clee St Margaret shrouded to the point it was barely visible yet on the hillside the sun warmed the backs of the animals and lay a comforting blanket of warmth across the barren grasslands, a welcome indeed from the harshness of the past few months, Sam stood and took deep breaths of  the hillside air, looking around him as he did. Far in the distance Sam caught the shape of a solitary figure walking towards him from out of the direct sunlight, he could just about make them out as they drew closer, it was Mr. Haggerty the local mine owner, Sam knew exactly what he wanted.

“Fine Morning Samuel, hope the family are all well after that terrible winter, it’s been a hard one for sure” he retorted as he took his hat off and shook Sam’s hand, “That it has Mr. Haggerty, that it has, I warn you are here for a reason not just idle chit chat though, we wouldn’t see you here to just admire the view” “Well, that’s as maybe Sam but politeness costs nothing and after all it is work I am offering you, it’s not like I am here to rob you or anything.”  “No, very true, maybe I was being a bit harsh, but you are not a man known for favours, so go on then what’s on your mind? Spit it out!”  Sam said in a rather less sarcastic manner. Haggerty told Sam that the mine was expanding from Abdon all across Titterstone Clee the adjacent hillside and he needed good strong men to get the quarry started, he explained that as Sam had good experience with the horses and past quarrying on hillsides that he could use his services again, Sam did not like the quarries, they were very hard on the ponies and the men, it was a brutal industry that claimed the lives of many good fellows and animals every year, Sam listened intently. “Of course there will be twice as many horses this year, we need a damn good driver that can keep those nags heads down and pulling the wagons, we reckon you are the man for that job Sam Reynolds” “Oh aye is that so?” Sam said with a wry smile across his face. “So you reckon a bit of flannel and some compliments will have me running back to the quarry then do you Haggerty?” “Now come on Sam, we have been good to you in the past and in any case we need men such as you with good local knowledge to help get this project off the ground and you doubtless need the money and we are willing to make it worth your while”

Sam looked at Haggerty, “You want me to help line the pockets of those backers of yours more like Haggerty, it has nowt to do with you wanting Sam Reynolds, it’s all about the brass to yon kind, it always is”. “Sam, you know the extra brass will come in handy and after all you use us as much as we use you, it’s to our mutual benefit shall we say?” “How much are we talking?” Sam growled, “Well, shall we say one pound and five shillings a week?” “Ha! Sam exclaimed, you can say it but you won’t be seeing me working sixty hour a week for thee Haggerty, not a chance. “Well shall we say three pounds a week? Would that be enough to get what we want?” Haggerty looked across to see Sam’s reaction and wasn’t disappointed, “Three quid a week? Are you being serious?” Sam said, his voice raised, “Never more Sam old chap, I am here to personally ask you, we need you for this job and no-one else could step into your shoes and work those horses as well as keeping them in top shape” “In that case when do I start?” Sam quipped with a wry smile. Haggerty smiled and reached out and shook Sam’s hand again, “I will get the employment papers drawn up Sam, oh and as a goodwill gesture, here is your first months wages up front, just to show you we mean business, good day Sam Reynolds, I will be in touch!” As Haggerty turned to walk away he tossed a small purse of money at Sam, twisting his walking cane in the air and waving it as he walked, Sam just stood there looking into his hands, feeling the money that Haggerty had just tossed him, Sam had scarce seen so much all in one place. “Well I’ll be buggered” he murmured, “Well I’ll be bloody buggered!” Sam threw his Trilby hat in the air and danced and leapt around in a circle, the ewes and lambs darted in every direction as they tried to escape the mad human in their midst, a few hundred yards down the hill Haggerty looked round to see what the noise was about, he spotted Sam leaping around and dancing for joy and smiled and shook his head as he walked onwards “nowt so queer as hillside folk” he muttered to himself jovially walking onwards as Sam’s cheers and whoops could be heard deep into the valley.

As one Reynolds was having a day to remember it was easily one to forget for poor Jake. He hated school with a passion and sat gazing out of the classroom window as Miss Hart Williams the headmistress gave them an arithmetic lesson. Jake could barely read and write he never had the patience to sit and concentrate for long enough to ever learn and as for arithmetic, well let’s say right now as he sat daydreaming his mind was very much out in the fields. It was at that precise moment that Jake felt a stinging pain in his right ear, he snapped out of his daydream as Miss Hart Williams marched him out of the classroom much to the other children’s amusement, “Not interesting enough for you Jacob Reynolds?” Miss Hart Williams bawled in his face, “Yes Miss, I mean no Miss, I mean it was very interesting Miss, the whole lesson Miss very interesting like” Sam stammered, “Oh really?  Well what was I just talking about?”  “Oh err math’s Miss… yes that was it math’s Miss and it was very interesting Miss”. Jake knew that look he was now getting spelled trouble, he had seen it all too many times before during his brief days at School, “Into my study with you boy!” she bellowed. Jake was led by the ear to the head’s study and bent over the desk whereupon she produced a cane that was whip-like in its stance, Miss Hart Williams stood a few moments looking above her half glasses that were always hanging way down her nose anyway and saved from falling only by a small chain that sat neatly around her neck, she rolled up the sleeve on her white blouse and stood back. A familiar noise followed by a familiar pain saw Jake scream at the top of his voice as the first strike of the narrow wooden instrument cut into his soft flesh, he screamed at every stroke and stayed there until he had been hit fifteen times, one for every minute of the lesson the Head thought he had missed through daydreaming. Jake stood up straight very slowly and turned to walk to the door, “Well boy, what have you to say?” “Sorry Miss I won’t do it again Miss”

As she leant across to an open draw at her desk, she grabbed a piece of paper and shouted to Jake, “Wait!” With that Jake stopped and turned around, he knew the day was about to get a lot worse. “Take this note home to your Father; see if he can help you to concentrate in class a little better”

Jake walked back and grabbed the note from Miss Hart Williams who grinned at the prospect of yet more punishment when he got home and handed his Dad the letter, for sure it was a recipe for another beating, “And get your father to sign it and bring it back to me tomorrow or else there will be another fifteen for you my boy!”  Jake headed back to the classroom and back to his seat, there was muffled laughter as he did so, until the Head walked back in through the door, it then fell very silent. “Does anyone else fancy the odd daydream in my lesson?” she shouted at the class. “No Miss!” was the immediate reply unsurprisingly.

Jake rode home that afternoon on the old Mare, he felt every stumble and every jolt the poor old horse made as his bottom was red raw from the beating, he rode in to the yard and took her saddle off  and gave her corn and water before heading off in to the house. As he walked through the door he could hear Sam and his mother talking with raised voices, he poked his head around the door and listened to what they were saying, “Sam you don’t need that quarry work, it’s too dangerous, what happens if you get hurt? Who will look after the farm? Jake is barely out of short trousers yet, you have to be careful”

“Stop nagging me woman! Have you seen how much money I just put on the table? Since when did owt with farming give us that kind of money?” “It isn’t about the money Sam it’s about you, what if you get hurt how will we cope?” Eileen spoke in a softer tone, “Well I won’t have to get hurt will I woman? Never bloody happy are you?” With that Sam grabbed his Trillbey and stormed past Jake and disappeared in to the farm yard, Jake just stood there for a moment looking at his mother putting the saucepans on the old stove, “Dad’s going to work at the quarry again isn’t he mum?”, “What business is it of yours Jacob Reynolds? You have no rights listening to conversations that don’t concern you, go and help your father with the lambs”

Jake stood there and looked at his mother, “GO! I said!  Did you not hear me boy?” the lad turned on his heel and took off like a scalded cat, he was worried about the prospect of his father heading for the quarry, he knew how dangerous it was and also how many men were injured every year, Jake was worried about his father, so much so he clean forgot about the beating and more importantly the note he carried for his father to sign.

It was Saturday, the weekend meant very little at Pole Farm, the stock needed feeding and checking before breakfast and then the chores had to be done, including sweeping the yard and feeding the chickens and then fetching water in for mother. Later that morning the postman arrived on his bike, he found the pedalling very hard work up the old stone track to the farmhouse, Graham Maund had been the postman in the area for nigh on 30 years, he knew everyone and all their business, if any gossip was to be heard it was usually from his lips. “Morning young Jacob, is your father in?” Maund asked in a squeaky high pitched voice, “Morning Mr. Maund, yes he is just having breakfast in the house I will take you inside” Jake ran inside and called out to his father, Sam answered and told Jake to bring  Maund in to the kitchen. “Morning Samuel, how are you?” “Come on in Graham and get yourself a seat, the Mrs. will get you a cup of tea, I am alright for the time of year, so what’s the gossip in the village?” Sam said wearing a smirk on his face, “Oh I am not one to gossip Sam, you know that” Maund replied, though he and Sam knew different. “But I do have a letter for you from the quarry company, quite a few in the village have had the same letter this morning, they are opening up the quarry across the top of Abdon Burf so rumour has it, it’s very steep up there Sam they will need twice as many horses for that job, I suppose that’s why they have coaxed you back?” “I may go back I may not Graham, we will see” Sam said in a low voice and looked across at Eileen as she poured the boiling water into the teapot, their eyes met for a split second and they both looked to the floor. “Rumour has it Sam they offered you twice what you had last year and you accepted it, though you know how wrong rumours can be?” “Aye well like I said Graham, I may do I may not, we will see”. Eileen gave Maund a cup of tea and two small biscuits, it was traditional in those days on farms that the postman went in and had a cup of tea and a chat, with no mobile phones or any other communication the Postman was a great source of information as to what was happening in the local area and they were born gossips, Maund was no exception to that rule and Sam knew to be guarded against his ability to make two and two equal fourteen in no time. “There is talk that one of those Polish lads has absconded from the barracks at Ditton Priors Sam, apparently the Police are searching high and low for him, he is only seventeen or eighteen apparently but no-one has seen head nor tail of him for over a week, I don’t suppose you have seen anything Sam?” “Afraid not, I didn’t know anyone had gone missing until you just said, I thought now the war was over they were going to shut that camp?” “They are Sam it closes in August but they have conscripts tidying the place up, seems the young lad got homesick and just took off” Maund replied, “Well I doubt we will see him here, he will be headed for a Port not up on to the Brown Clee Hills!” “You may have a point there Sam Reynolds” they both chuckled.

Maund said thank you for the hospitality as always and headed back down the old farm track on his bike, at least the pedalling was a lot easier on the way back to the village. The postman covered a huge area in those days and there were tin shacks dotted all over the county that they would call at and collect the mail or use as a base even, there was never any theft from these shacks and they were seldom locked, a far call from nowadays. Sam had just finished his cup of tea and was putting his trilby on when there was another knock at the farm house door and a call out, it was Sgt. Ray Heighway from Stoke St Milborough the next village across from The Pole Farm, Stoke was a larger village with many houses, a school and a Police house. “Hellooo is anybody home?” the Sergeant called out, “In here Ray come on in, Sam shouted.

Sergeant Heighway was a very tall man, slightly built but very imposing; he knew everyone in the area and was an old fashioned beat officer, the type that knew more about the area than even Maund the Postman did and most of what Ray knew was worth knowing. He shook Sam’s hand, the two men were very good friends, Ray had a lot of time for Sam, “I hope you don’t mind Sam I am just popping in to let you know that a young conscript has gone AWOL from the camp at Ditton Priors, no-one has seen him since he ran off and they think he may still be in the area”. “Oh aye Ray, we have just had old Maund in here and he told us a lad had run off, it was the first we had heard of it, but we will keep an eye out in the outbuildings that’s for sure but I doubt he would make his way all the way up here, would you like the Mrs. to make you a cuppa?” “Well Sam I thought I ought to pop in and let you know as some of these lads from Poland can be quite nasty if cornered and thank you I will have a cuppa if it’s not too much trouble”

“Don’t be daft man come on in; Eileen will get a brew on”. The two men chatted and gossipped for a while about goings on in the area and soon Sgt Heighway was on his way, Sam promised to keep a look out for the runaway. On his way out Sam took the letter from the quarry and put it in his pocket, Eileen was busy stoking the range so never saw him take it. Sam went in to the barn and pulled the letter out and opened it, it was an employment contract for six months from the quarry and he was to report in on Monday morning at six sharp. Sam sat there just holding the letter for a few moments, he just gazed at the sheaths of hay in front of him almost in a daze, as the reality of going back to the quarry sunk in, Sam wasn’t a quarry man he was a man of the fields but he could scarcely keep his head above water until the lambs were ready to sell and they would need feed and medicines, so he had no choice but to accept his lot and head off for the quarry and he knew it. Sam was very quiet the rest of the day, Jake was allowed to go off and play with his best friend Jonty so that Sam could get his head straight, he wasn’t looking forward to the week ahead.