RBW Online

ISSUE 288 Date: 31st May 2013

Anyone can . . . Who can stand up for the weaker persons of the world and help them through the difficulties they face? Anyone can Who can understand if somebody broke down in heartbreak at their shattered lives,

and pleaded help from anybody who would listen? Anyone can Who can take it upon themselves to hold out their hands to those on their knees, at breaking point, who cannot get up? Anyone can Who can walk away and leave the pleading to fight their own battles? Anyone can Who can ignore the tormented ones, as they struggle with the depths of distorted real-ity?

Anyone can Who can pick up a phone and call for help for those who cannot do it for themselves? Anyone can Who can sit with somebody of strange, and talk comfort to them or listen to their jumbled words? Anyone can Who can try to understand that things can go wrong with a person, and it not be the person’s fault? Anyone can

Who can help somebody struggling with mental illness? Anyone can © Michelle Draper 2013

LIFE OBSERVATIONS A huge, old tree stump on the field, round and knobbly in shape, has started to sprout thin sprigs of growth from its top surface. From a distance, it resembles the face of an old, crusty gent, with a few strands of wild, unruly hair growing from the top of his head. The blossom seen through the library window is a wonderful sight. What a difference a day makes! Yesterday warm and sunny, today, cold and grey! A bird in the hand is difficult, as it flaps about a lot! Why do folk prefix what they say with 'If I'm honest....' or 'Honestly speaking...' as if being honest is unusual for them, and not the norm? Why do some people think it is socially acceptable to sing on coaches? Isn’t it the height of bad manners to inflict poorly performed karaoke on the other passengers?

Issue 288

Page 2

Aduration n spell used to conjure up evil creatures to do your bidding Evitable adj something that can be avoided

Hedonics n the philosophy of active enjoyment and personal pleasure Hetaerism n promiscuity Iota n tiny particle, Greek letter for i Misoneism n Luddite tendencies, hatred or dislike of change or the new, or any innovation

Musophobia n Morbid dread of mice : Fear of mice and rats is one of the most common specific phobias. It is sometimes referred to as muso-phobia (from Latin mus "mouse") or murophobia (a coinage from the

taxonomic adjective "murine" for the Muridae family that encompasses mice and rats), or as suriphobia, from French souris, "mouse".

Wikip

edia

image

CLIVE’s three FREE e-books

NOW PUBLISHED on RBW and issuu

http://www.risingbrookwriters.org.uk/DynamicPage.aspx?

PageID=52

http://issuu.com/risingbrookwriters

Issue 288

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Steph’s two FREE poetry e-chapbooks now published on www.issuu.com/

risingbrookwriters

and on RBW main site

http://www.risingbrookwriters.org.uk/DynamicPage.aspx?PageID=52

2012: RBW FREE e-books NOW

PUBLISHED on RBW and issuu.com

http://www.risingbrookwriters.org.uk/

DynamicPage.aspx?PageID=52

http://issuu.com/risingbrookwriters

Random Words : Mississippi, hypnotic, prescription, cogitation, false, pan, corner, Manticore, obsession, graphic, awkward. Assignment: 'Writing', or 'Old Wives' Tales'.

Gwendoline hated her new school. The other girls were the daughters of nobility;-earls, baronets and dukes;- all with blue blood in their veins and silver spoons in their mouths. She however, was a grotesque misfit: - a tyro amongst young women who had grown up in this elevated environment and to whom it was second nature. Gwendoline didn’t fit in. The gossip and name-calling was cruel and unrelenting. Even the school custard was weird, and more like ectoplasm than something that was meant to be edible. But every dog has his day, and the day of the inter-school swimming gala was destined to be hers. She had always had a powerful breaststroke, and thanks to her Wessex Girls’ College picked up the trophy. Her class mates afforded her a deal more consideration and respect after that!

YE SLIGHTY OBLONG TABLE OF TRENTBY

YE CAST OF CHARACTERS NB: Historical accuracy is NOT encouraged

Nobles and similar Harffa Ye Kyng. Not ye sharpest knyfe in ye drawer. Queen Agatha (the tight fisted) Don Key O’Tee Spanish ambassador to Court of Kyng Harffa .. Wants saint’s big toe back Baron Leonard Bluddschott (Stoneybroke) Gwenever Goodenough Wyfe of ye Baron Della Bluddschott Ugly Daughter of Baron Bluddschott. GalLa of Hadnt Hall A Prince but Charmless Daniel Smithers Constable of Bluddschott Castle and maybe the Corowner of the County Old Maids Vera, Gloria and Bertha husband hunting sisters of Baron

Bluddschott Evil Sherriff and Baron Morbidd up to no good Morgan le Fey king’s evil sister - Merlin the king’s magician Ye Knights [they’re better during the day] Lancealittle, Dwayne Cottavere, Percivere Mailish (Narrator) Page to Baron Bluddschott (Probably Son by wife’s sister) NEW CHARACTER: Richard Coeur de Poulet — returning Crusader Religiouse Lionel, Bishop of Trentby keeper of the Mappa Tuessdi Abbot Costello of Nottalot, a Nasturtium Abbey desperate for pilgrim pennies

Vladimir A monk from far off somewhere, a Calligrapher Wyllfa the Druid Sorcerer Others Big Jock A Welsh poacher and short wide-boy. Robbin’ Hoodie another poacher and wide-boy. Peeping Barry member of Hoodie’s gang of miscreants Clarence the cook and a Wandering Troubadour None living The Ghostly Sword of Bluddschott Castle The Mappa Tuessdi ... Velum maps of the known world bought in a bazaar in

Constantinople for a few pennies by Vladimir oft times copied The toe bone of St. Gastric. Gallstone of St. Hilarious Crocodile and a Unicorn and a Dragon carved in stone

Good luck, we ’ l l need it ...

Issue 282

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Go with the flow

WHITE COLLAR (CMH)

Rows

“In my experience those who beg for mercy seldom deserve it.” From the inside of the conveyor, came the rather more than merely testy sounding voice of Shandy, “And the cretin who designed this heap of junk isn‟t going to get any! Pass me that six mil spanner, then I can get out of here,” her hand waved from under the control panel. Shandy, her nickname; sweetish, bubbly and touched with gold normally summed her up. It was only when she was mad at some one the other side showed, as it did five min-utes later. “Robin? When I‟ve got cleaned up after crawling out of the innards of that heap of junk you‟ve got on the line I want to see you in my office! Half an hour! Got it? Right!” The phone was slammed down. I was one of the few who knew her well enough to risk her tongue and temper. “Maria Elena Theodora Assumpta Gonzales y Chin,” she would never, unless formally chal-lenged, answer to her full name. “You may be a gorgeous, incredibly brainy, half Spanish, half Chinese, supremely bad tempered, total Brummie but you can‟t talk to Robin like that! Even if he is your ex-husband! He‟s the managing director and your boss and you‟ve just ordered him around like an office junior.” “Mike! I can talk to that sorry excuse for a wet flannel how I like. If he tries to sack me I‟ll make such a row that they‟ll hear it in the Town Hall.” Another side of her nature showed when she was roused. “I‟m the only one in the place who can keep him in a job, and he knows it. I‟ve got his head in a vice and I‟m going to wind the jaws shut! If I go, he goes, and so does everyone else in the firm. Got it?” Two minutes later I was helping her clear her office ready for the bust-up with Robin. All chairs, except hers, out of the way. “I want the clown to feel he‟s on the carpet, right down to his toe nails,” she‟d explained in a hissy fit. “I‟ve been too soft with him for too long! He‟s forgotten, if he ever knew in the first place, who owns this firm.” Before the job was done, the phone rang again. “Well what is it now?” Her first line was always a query. She got the answer, “Sorry Shandy but there‟s a problem down on the production line. It‟s stopped again and the line supervisor‟s going spare. Can you give it a minute or two?” “Crikey Pete!” Bursting into flames was also part of her. “You‟re supposed to be the one who sorts out the mess down there. You‟re the brawn; I‟m just the techie who knows about computers. Remember? That‟s why I‟m here! Anyway I‟m meeting Robin in ten minutes; I‟ll be down after that. Try a soft restart and see what you can do!”

Explaining that, “I want it all down verbatim; I‟m not going to give the rat any loophole to wriggle out of.” A couple of carefully concealed PC video cameras were trained on the area in front of her desk and a small digital voice recorder was concealed inside a pile of technical papers. Robin was, as expected, several minutes late. Shandy spent that time hiding me away in the adjacent meeting room, with firm instructions to keep out unless she yelled for help, and pounding the keys of her computer.

“You‟re late!” Without looking up, or stopping what she was doing, she started on him as he walked through the door. “And you‟re sacked,” he answered. Shandy stopped and looked at him; he was serious. She sat back and retorted. “Grow up you fumble fisted excuse for a moron, you can‟t! That‟s illegal.“ Her smile had more

than just a hint of sharks teeth in it. “You have to jump through all the legal hoops first. Then, when you‟ve done that, I‟ll take you to a tribunal; which I‟ll win, hands-down, and have you forced to re-instate me. Then I‟ll get up at the next shareholders‟ meeting and vote you out of a job!” She had, as planned, left him standing in the middle of the office carpet. He looked stunned; nobody had spoken to him like that for a long time. “You! At a shareholders‟ meeting? Voting me out of a job? What do you take me for? An idiot?” With pensive look on her face, she nodded. “More or less, yes. You‟re a good front man but you‟re not the brains behind the outfit. I am! Got it?” “YOU … ARE … FIRED!” He screamed more than shouted in a short fused, temper-fuelled rage. “Do I make myself clear? Pack your stuff and get out! Get out NOW!” Shandy sat back and laughed at him. “Poor little ten percent of the shares I believe, giv-ing orders to some-one who controls forty-seven percent with call on another five. Even with your usual abysmal standard of maths, you can count to fifty three percent. So I don‟t think so sunshine. I definitely don‟t think so.” “Alright then!” He snarled, the malice in his voice was tangible. “You‟re suspended pend-ing an investigation into the running of the development department. Certain irregularities in the purchasing and use of equipment have been noted. Get out of that one.” “You‟ll need to back that one up sunshine.” Shandy came across in a voice that made the arctic seem warm. “Absolutely… solidly… back it up! Don‟t let your loose mouth run on about this Robin. If one word, just - one - word, gets out you‟ll find yourself in court an-swering to a case of slander, or libel, or defamation of character, or whatever it is.” Shandy was rocked on her heels. She knew Robin was no fan of hers but this was unexpected. Then her temper flared as she retorted. “That‟s it! I‟m calling an Extraordinary General Meeting of the shareholders, all according to the rules of course, with a single item agenda. That item is your fitness to run the company. The formal notices will be delivered this evening.” She turned and pressed a key on her keyboard. “That‟s the preliminary notices sent out, all six of them, the meeting will be on Saturday, Mister Ten Percent! Don‟t make any long-term plans like driving home in your company car after the meeting! Get a taxi ordered!” Looked at later, the video showed Robin storming out of the office in a rage, it also showed a thunder struck Shandy, her rage exhausted, in tears.

“Mike.” Her bossy-boots self sprang to life again. “My place tonight. We need to go through some accounts.” A tear stained but resolute face looked at me as she said, plead-ingly,” I can count on you for your eleven-percent; can‟t I?” “I‟ll look at the evidence first Shandy,” I replied softly. “If you can show me good cause then; yes, it‟s yours. But, why do you need it? You‟ve got your own thirty-eight percent, from when we set up the company. With your parents‟ nine and those others via that hold-ing company you own. That gives you overall control. Doesn‟t it?” “No Mike, not really. My parents didn‟t like the divorce. They think the sun shines out of that greasy heap of rubbish. He‟s golden in their eyes, and… if he gets to them first? Well, they may take them back. If that happens I‟ve only got forty-three percent and he can have me out of the boardroom any time he fancies. Hunngh. I‟ve kicked him out of my bedroom and he‟s going to kick me out of his board-room. At least that‟s the way he‟ll see it!”

Much later that night the accounts, “borrowed” from the mainframe computer showed that, somewhere, the company had “lost” almost nine-hundred-thousand pounds. Shandy sat back, sipped her cup of cold and very stale coffee, and said, “I knew he was an idiot, but a thief isn‟t what I‟d expected. Most certainly not one of this magnitude. I need to sleep on this. You can use the spare room if you like but I‟m going to bed.” Cracking an enormous yawn, she stood up, stretched, and went out of the room leaving a trail of dis-carded clothing behind her on the floor. It wasn‟t, unfortunately, an invitation; it was just Shandy.

Saturday

“Morning Mike. I hate these blasted formal meetings! All natter and no substance.” Mau-rice Wells, the Production and Purchasing Director, spoke quietly as he plumped himself down on the boardroom chair next to mine. “Not this one Maurice, not this one! It‟s going to be interesting. A no-holds-barred scrap between Shandy and Robin with a side salad of vindictiveness and a double helping of total anger. Possible police involvement and maybe a touch of bankruptcy for good measure.” “What do you mean bankruptcy?” Maurice was immediately on an alert. “We‟re solvent; aren‟t we? I mean, money coming in all over the place, cash flow very positive from the last accounts survey. No way Mike …You‟re just winding me up, you rotten devil!” “Wait and see Maurice, wait and see. Incidentally, you‟re in the chair for this one. Robin can‟t be, neither can Shandy, I‟m not an officer, and Sandy‟s mum and dad can‟t make it. That‟s the six of us. Cat and dog fights can be quite fun but try and keep them from doing too much damage to each other, please. No matter what goes on inside we must keep a clean reputation on the public face of things.” “You‟re the sales and marketing expert Mike, so tell me how I can do that? The sales were hammered after the stand-up fight from the divorce so I suspect that they‟ll be hammered again. No bonuses again this year!” By this time, all those interested where seated. “Right,” Maurice banged the table with his fist. “Let‟s get the show on the road then!” Shandy and Robin, seated, glaring at each other, from opposite ends of the table, each had piles of printout and a laptop computer in front of them. Maurice, formally, called the meeting to order. “Shandy. You called this EGM so you‟d bet-ter start by telling us what it‟s all about.” Shandy stood and pulled out a sheet of paper from her heap. “We‟re about eight-hundred and forty-six-thousand pounds adrift on the accounts,” she said as she passed copies around. “I can‟t get a more accurate figure, yet, as the computer is still finding holes in the trading account. Many of those holes are black holes. The money has gone in and disap-peared. No trace of any associated activity can be found. At the best, this means that we‟re sloppy at bookkeeping. At the worst we‟re looking at a serious case of embezzlement or fraud.” She had tears in her eyes as she looked around the table. “We are the major sharehold-ers and officers of the company that WE set up. After all the hassle and hard work of keep-ing it that way, we‟ve been let down. WE HAVE BEEN LET DOWN,” she screamed, “BY ROBIN!” After a few seconds of standing with tears running down her face she resumed in a tight, icy, voice. “The Finance Director, Robin there,” she pointed an accusing finger, “is the per-son directly responsible for the accuracy of the accounts. If the accounts are inaccurate he must be disciplined, that is the law. What the discipline is; is another matter.” She sat down as the contents of the single sheet were digested. Maurice banged the table, “Right then Robin! What do you have to say to this? Do you

have an explanation?” Robin was his usual suave self as he sat back and replied, “Black holes to the tune of eight-hundred-thousand odd pounds she says? No way! That much would stick out like a sore thumb. I know Shandy hates me for the divorce and I was sure that we‟d get along OK – at arms length as it were - once it was behind us. But this? This is pure malice on her be-half. Dreamed up by an angry and frustrated woman with a grudge. “Without looking at the fine detail of the accusations levelled at me I can‟t make any com-ments of course. I‟ll get a look at it on Monday and let you all know on Wednesday, Okay?” “No Robin. It‟s not! The board must take immediate action,” said Maurice. “The resolution put forward is that you are unfit to hold your position and requires your immediate dismissal or suspension. The board must vote on that issue, and that issue only. We will now take a short break to consider the position. You and Shandy are asked to wait outside. When we resume you will be asked for your share vote.” Shandy and Robin left by separate doors. “Mike! What‟s your position?” asked Maurice turning to me. “A lot of money‟s gone missing, Maurice, and Robin‟s in charge of the accounts. The only thing we can do is to suspend him pro-tem. Call it what-ever you like but that‟s got to be done while the accounts are gone over with a fine toothed comb. It could be a fraud squad case so we‟ve got to be squeaky clean and clear here. Mind you, I must tell you that I knew of this before we met. I was with Shandy when it was found out. How about you?” “Not my scene this; but the numbers are clear enough. How will the vote go do you think?” “It‟ll be a roll-up for Shandy. Her thirty-eight percent, her parents nine and my eleven is fifty-eight, enough to start with. Add those she also controls and she has sixty-three. Even without all those she has effective control anyway. What about you?” “My three-percent won‟t count for much but I must go with the figures for now. That‟ll leave Shandy and me as the remaining directors; and that won‟t wash with the authorities, must have at least three on the board to be legal. To get around that I‟ll have to co-opt you and we‟ll need to review the company structure! Right, let‟s get this fiasco over with, then! Get them back in will you Mike!”

There was no sign of either Shandy or Robin in the outer offices. The toilets came up blank, as did their personal offices. The car park was missing the company car used by Robin. “They can‟t have gone far, can they?” said Maurice. “Robin‟s car‟s missing but Sandy‟s is still here. Somehow I don‟t think they would have gone off together, do you? “So, before we go mad and call in the Police, we need to make a better search than the one we‟ve just done. You go down the left hand side and I‟ll go down the right, open all doors and look behind all desks and in any cubby holes there may be.” Forty-five minutes later, dressed in stiff white paper suits, we where “Assisting the police”, whilst Shandy was being lifted into an Ambulance.

Yes, we did have to move her to render first aid, the pool of blood showed where she was found. Who did we think had assaulted her? As far as we knew there where only four people in the building therefore it could only have been Robin. Why did we think it had happened? Money and anger. That led to the fraud squad being called in and Sandy‟s father, the company‟s lawyer, be-ing moved from his wife‟s and daughter‟s sides, and brought into the offices.

Where did we think Robin could be? If he wasn‟t at home, we didn‟t know, but made a list of the places he could be. Places that, given that he had a good head start and over three-quarters of a million at his dis-posal: such as on his powerboat, could be somewhere offshore and heading for the Continent or in a light aircraft en-route to one of his holiday homes. We didn‟t know which, but he had one each in France and Spain. It was almost Sunday morning before we were told to go home and stay in touch.

Sunday

The detective sergeant who asked me to call in to the Police Station at 9.30 on Sunday was a very nice young woman, who had a decidedly poor view of men who abused a woman. “I‟m DS Fiona Cantrell,” she said. “One of the team who are working on the assault on Ms. Gonzales, and the embezzlement at Ankorwatt. We haven‟t found any trace of Mr. Almond yet and need to ask you some more questions as to his possible where-abouts.” “I‟m the wrong person to ask about Robin Almond,” I replied. “The best person, if she‟ll be able to under the circumstances, is Shandy, sorry, Ms. Gonzales. They were divorced about six months ago, and I never mixed in their social circles. Yesterday morning I gave your people a list of the places I thought he may gone to, and haven‟t thought of any more since. “Anyway, isn‟t it a bit previous to be putting out a sort of general arrest or shoot on sight thing? All we know is that Shandy was beaten up by somebody and that Robin has disappeared. They may be related but it‟s not certain that Robin did it.” “When, and if, Ms. Gonzales recovers consciousness we will ask all sorts of questions Mr. Bancroft. You may be sure of that! In the meanwhile we‟re pursuing our enquiries. Now, about that list of places!” After two hours we shook hands and I left. I had listed the address of the boat yard and the airfield that I knew about, although I admitted that they might have been changed. Approximately; the addresses of the holiday homes and such friends as I knew. The London flat that the company had once leased was noted and an elderly Aunt of Robin‟s dredged up from a distant memory. The spare set of office keys were left in the care of the fraud squad.

At the hospital, I joined Sandy‟s parents in a quiet, somewhat tearful, worry about Shandy. In the private room she looked so small and helpless lying in a bed with vari-ous tubes and wires attached to that tough body. Where had the real Shandy gone? Was she alone in there somewhere, fighting to get out, or was she just a residual pres-ence in a useless chunk of meat. I picked up her hand and whispered, “Love you Shandy”. A faint whisper came out of her lips, “Doun! You' jus' sayin' tha' t' cheer m' up.” I clutched the hand tighter, “Shandy, you‟re awake! Your mum and dad are outside, I‟ll call them!” “No befo' you… kiss m' an' say it again. Mike”. “I love you Shandy”, I repeated and kissed her gently on her sore looking lips. “Took you… long time… to say it. Mike.” “It took me a long time to realise it, Shandy. Too long my love, and I didn‟t want you to… hell… I thought you would die and I wanted you to know that… I‟m not making sense am I?” “Nev'… met a man who did. Jus‟ good enough for now… need more in the future.

Think you…c'd be…Mr. Shandy?” “Bet on it!” I replied fervently. “You can absolutely bet on it!” Buzzers started sounding, I‟d managed to disconnect some monitor or other, and the next few minutes were spent in the confusion of professional medical attention and tears of joy and relief from Sandy‟s parents.

Monday. Where are…?

The fraud squad were peeved. That‟s what the DS who was in my office said, although not in so many words. “Where‟s the combination to this safe, Mr. Bancroft?” he asked as I entered and we in-troduced ourselves. “Where are the keys to the locked workshops and what do you do in there?” “Sorry Sergeant, but I can‟t give them to you,” was my reply. “Not unless you have a sufficiently high security clearance and the need to know. From what I can see you don‟t have either of them.” I could tell he was upset because he started to say something about, “That is hindering the police…” Before I cut him off at the knees by ignoring his statement saying, “Before you start try-ing to threaten me with arrest for hindering the police etc, let me inform you that the high security safe is only there because it was the safest place to build it and that I don‟t have all of them either. You,” I pointed at him and continued, “are going to have to convince the MoD that you do. I will ask our Security Officer to drop in and you can talk to her yourself. The Captain doesn‟t like changes and is tough to convince, I only hope you‟ve a good case and that your Chief Constable will stand the racket for you. Somehow, I suspect that that is going to go right up to the Cabinet Office and the answer will still be no. Sorry, but for now, it‟s no codes, no keys, no data and no entry.” He was even more peeved than ever. “Who does have the keys and need to know then, Mr. Bancroft.” “That is a good question, Sergeant. One I was about to address myself. Other than the workshop staff, all highly vetted I may add, the only set held by the Directors was held by Robin Almond, the man your people are searching for. They are, I most sincerely hope, locked in a drawer in the bottom of his office safe. If they‟re not! That means that steam-ing great gobs of ordure will be impinging on the air impulsion equipment, and we‟ll have MI5 and other national security people coming out of the woodwork. That could mean that the Fraud Squad may be told to go somewhere and play nicely.” He was not a happy bunny. Captain Briggs arrived; and she wasn‟t a happy bunny either, as she showed when burst into my office. “What‟s all this about the Plod being involved, Mister Bancroft!” She said, giving the honorific the full, two syllables, treatment. “Fraud Squad being called in, Miss Gonzales being beaten up by Mr. Almond. Almond disappeared into the blue and we only find out about it this morning!” “Sorry about that, Fiona. I‟ll try to clarify things for you, not that I‟m altogether sure that I understand them myself, I must admit. The shambles started as a personal fight be-tween Shandy and Robin. They‟ve never got on well since the divorce, but this time it got really personal and dirty. Then we found that nine-hundred-thousand pounds had vanished from the accounts and it got nasty as well. We tried to keep it in house and quiet, but we had to call in the

Ambulance people when Shandy was found to have been assaulted, and they brought the Police with them. Then Robin Almond couldn‟t be found and he was, on the face of it, the one that assaulted her. The emergency keys to the secure facility are, we think, still in the safe so we don‟t think it‟s probable that he‟s in there, however, the Fraud Squad want to look at that angle also. Nobody, except you, can authorise anyone else to enter the area and the police are seriously miffed about the whole thing. End of story so far.” “Production‟s stopped then!” “It was stopped anyway, Fiona. Annual shutdown period so there‟s no problem there. I un-derstand that everything‟s been cleared away and shut into the safety cabinets.” “Who‟s taking his place in the meantime then, Mike?” “Me! And I‟m not too happy about it either, Fiona!” “Right, Mike. Let‟s get the coppers out of here first. YOU are not a problem as far as secu-rity clearance is concerned, you may remember we did vet you at the beginning; all you didn‟t have was need to know. Now you do. Get your keys we‟ll open the safe and see what there is to see.” The safe was opened the keys retrieved and, accompanied by a Police Inspector, the se-cure production workshop entered. It was a shambles. Cabinets ripped open, packets of parts and partially completed assem-blies lay scattered about on the floor and equipment smashed.

To be continued ....

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THE REGION’S LARGEST FREE ARTS WORKSHOP PROGRAMME

The Regent Theatre would like to invite members from your school / community group to take part in one of the

many FREE arts workshops we are running between Wednesday 3 and Saturday 6 July

There are twenty two-hour sessions to choose from including Art, Drama, Film-making, Singing, Music, Dance and

Drumming

All form part of the Bertarelli Foundation Creative Minds Festival and are completely free to school and community

groups on a first come first served basis.

All you have to do is get the group to the venue.

We would be delighted to see you and your group help us celebrate what we hope will be a fantastic week

For more details visit www.creativemindsfestival.co.uk

REGENT THEATRE VICTORIA HALL The Regent Theatre & Victoria Hall Stoke-on-Trent, ST1 3AD 01782 211 207

FACEBOOK UPDATE

Just to let everyone know that this week RBW has

reached the 5,000 Facebook Friends limit.

This means every week the e-bulletin can be seen by a potential readership of 5,000 people

scattered all over the world from Australia, India, America to all parts of Europe

on Facebook alone, on top of this is the main website and the issuu.com site which to date

shows over 56,000 readers.

RBW Online is truly international. With this incredible readership on offer ...

When did YOU last send in an article, exercise, story, poem, picture, recipe, review etc?

Tuesday, 4th June, 11am - noon, Alsager Library,

Peter Branson is reading from and discussing his new book, 'Red Hill, Selected Poems, 2000 - 2012'.

All welcome.

I still have father’s old seed fiddle that I still use to sow seed mixture in the corners of the fields for the stewardship schemes. I keep it in the office on top of a cabinet where it won’t get damaged or run over by a tractor. Father always had it for broadcasting grass seeds, but according to its instruction card pinned to it you can sow anything that will go through the

aperture (that rules out potatoes). It also tells you how to calibrate and set the regulating lever.

I Remember the Seed Fiddle.

This happened in spring 1943 when I was 5 years old Father he sowed the grass seed, with an old seed fiddle, The field across the road, from house was all in stubble

He filled up his fiddle, with grass seed and clover. Seed bag as this end marker, his blue jacket at other. Four yards move the marker, at each end of the bout,

March strait like a soldier, strides even and stout,

He pushed and pulled the bow, with each stride he took, For the seed must spread thinly, according to the book.

Working through the morning, half the field is sown He was heading for the sack, which he could sit down,

As a little lad to see my dad, went across the field, Picked up his jacket on the way, look at me I squealed.

On seeing what I’d done, he wasn’t very pleased, He lost his far end marker, and with grass fine seed, There was no way of telling, where he’d sown up to,

At very early age I learned, what the markers do. Countryman, Owd Fred

It is like the seed put in the soil - the more one sows, the greater the harvest. Orison Swett Marden (1850-1924)

Well known Potteries’ poet, Peter Branson former Writer in Resi-dence at Hanley Library and founder of the poetry sessions at The Leopard, Burslem will be visiting Rising Brook Library on Monday 10th June (1.30 to 3.30) to discuss and read from his

new collection RED HILL which was launched earlier this month.

All are welcome to attend this free workshop, please let us know if you are coming. Thank you.

Support

STAFFORD HOSPITAL

Song by Clare

Palmer

“50,000 people can’t be wrong”

Climbing iTunes

79p — all profits to

Children’s Ward

Image: Garry Marshall, Support Stafford Hospital Facebook Group: Clare singing on Tesco forecourt last week

„

„

„

The '50,000 People Can't Be Wrong' single is available for

download on a variety of digital platforms now, including,

iTunes, Amazon and Spotify, with all sales going to the Chil-

dren’s Ward at Stafford Hospital. Downloads cost 79p-99p de-

pending on which site they are downloaded from. The cam-

paignsong is already topping some Easy Listening MP3

download charts and being picked up by other hospital

campaigning groups which are using the Stafford Campaign as

a model.

http://www.staffordshirenewsletter.co.uk/News/Songbird-serenades-patients-on-Staffords-

childrens-ward-28052013.htm

Latest Competitions: Segora Open Poetry Competition | Closing Date: 08-Jun-13 http://www.poetrylibrary.org.uk/competitions/?id=1355 Lightship International Poetry Prize | Closing Date: 30-Jun-13 http://www.poetrylibrary.org.uk/competitions/?id=1354 1st Liverpool International Open Poetry Competition Closing Date:31-Jul-13 http://www.poetrylibrary.org.uk/competitions/?id=1356

Buzzwords Open Poetry Competition 2013 | Closing Date: 17-Aug-13 http://www.poetrylibrary.org.uk/competitions/?id=1359

Stanza Poetry Competition | Closing Date: 06-Sep-13 http://www.poetrylibrary.org.uk/competitions/?id=1358

New Magazines: Urthona: Journal of Buddhism and the Arts http://www.poetrylibrary.org.uk/magazines/magazines/?id=693

Latest News: New Children's Poetry Website | 03-May-13 http://www.poetrylibrary.org.uk/news/poetryscene/?id=1056

Items added to the Poetry Library March/April 2013 | 01-May-13 http://www.poetrylibrary.org.uk/news/library/?id=1055

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Audrey Jackson’s

campaign

poems now

available in the

Guildhall shop

£3.00

donation

Issue 288

Page 17

This piece was inspired by my visit to the Pompeii exhibition at the British Museum (which I can greatly recommend!) A Couple Judging by the family portraits they left us, they must have been well-off. The husband and wife are depicted side-by-side, wearing their best clothes. He chose to be painted holding an official-looking document with a red seal at-tached, suggesting something legal. His wife, more informally, is shown sucking the end of a pencil, with a quizzical expression on her face, as if she was wondering whether she might have left something off her shopping list. In a separate picture a younger woman, presumably their daughter, is also sucking a pencil and clutching a notebook in her left hand, but her expres-sion more resembles a poet searching for the next line. They would have been proud of their home, with its brightly-painted walls. They had a dog, and like many home-owners since, they had put up a sign warning intruders that their dog was very fierce. They would especially have loved their neat little garden, which had a few statues amongst the flowers, and we can imagine them enjoying a drink of wine there with their friends in a summer evening. Their surviving pictures show they had good taste, and maybe they regarded the somewhat explicit artworks favoured by their neighbours as a bit vulgar. Our family preferred pictures of birds and plants. One particularly delight-ful painting shows a young girl gathering spring flowers, so realistic that you can see the blossom falling around her. But it was not blossom which fell on our family on that terrible day many years ago: it was something far more deadly. And they are gone, so we are no longer certain even of their names, but their home and their pictures still survive; pictures in which the blossom never did fall, but is frozen forever in an eternal spring.

Portrait of the baker

Terentius Neo with his wife found on the wall

of a Pompeii house, not part of the British

Museum displays.

Pompeii has been a popular tourist destination for over 250 years; it was a must see on the Grand Tour. By 2008, it was attracting almost 2.6 million visitors per year, making it one of the most popular tourist sites in Italy. It is part of a larger Vesuvius National Park and declared a World Heritage Site by UNESCO in 1997. Image wikipedia

Issue 288

Page 18

The magic box

It’s such a magic box! So many sounds, keeps me happy

Not like the pointlessness of everything Mummy gives me to entertain me

Why would I want the soldiers? Who stand so still, expecting me to talk

I am not their walkie-talkie I am not their legs to walk

Why should I help them do things?

They should learn to do themselves For in the magic box they can They do not need any of my help

I can watch them walk and talk

All by themselves across the screen Through the rain and through the sunshine Along the blue river and past the trees so green

I could watch the magic all day

But mummy is so very mean She turns the magic box right off

And nothing more can be seen Mummy sits and gets those soldiers

Who seem to talk to her, and walk! She gives them names and special jobs

Now I'm watching as they talk

She makes the magic come to life With the toys once quiet and plain And as I watch in wonderment

She makes them speak all over again

I can see they don’t want mummy To make them play Simon says They don’t want to sing her songs

They haven’t time to play her ways

Why won’t mummy understand? They have to stand on guard!

I line them up along my castle See, look mummy, it’s not so hard

They have to stay in case others come To take the jewels hidden away

They can’t eat or sleep or play Not until the bad ones go away

They are at the ready now I will help them all I can

Standing on guard, ready all To charge to the bad guys, win we can

We have won the battle, we have won The castle jewels are safe and sound

Then mummy comes in, it’s teatime now I line the soldiers back up all around

The day has gone, I love my toys The magic box stays black

Who needs TV when the toys are real? Stay right here, tomorrow I’ll come back

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