There is now an independent website for the people of the community of Fishersgate, West Sussex. Not alligned to any of the special interest group of the area, this website will allow the local residents to have their say (for once).
www.fishersgate.moonfruit.com
Saturday 6 October 2007
Thursday 27 September 2007
Railway Announcements
My two best railway announcements.........
At number 1, heard on Brighton Station. I am wating for the 'all stops' Brighton to Worthing train on Platform 1. The incoming train is late. "The train now standing at Platform 1 is the 16:05 Brighton to Worthing, stopping at Aldrington, Hove,........... "We all looked bemused down at the empty track, until the announcement concluded, and there was the click of the microphone being turned off, then another click as it was turned on again. "There is no train standing at Platform 1, but when there is, it will be the 16:05 Brighton to Worthing, stopping......... "
At number 2, heard at London Bridge Station, London. I am waiting for a local train, and the next train leaving the platform (again Platform 1) is heading for the South Coast, so I watch it pull out. Whilst this train was standing at the platform the announcer was busy telling travellers that a train to Ashford, Kent, was cancelled. By the time he had done this the train on my platform had left. "The train that has just left Platform 1 is the 14:10 service to Hastings".
At number 1, heard on Brighton Station. I am wating for the 'all stops' Brighton to Worthing train on Platform 1. The incoming train is late. "The train now standing at Platform 1 is the 16:05 Brighton to Worthing, stopping at Aldrington, Hove,........... "We all looked bemused down at the empty track, until the announcement concluded, and there was the click of the microphone being turned off, then another click as it was turned on again. "There is no train standing at Platform 1, but when there is, it will be the 16:05 Brighton to Worthing, stopping......... "
At number 2, heard at London Bridge Station, London. I am waiting for a local train, and the next train leaving the platform (again Platform 1) is heading for the South Coast, so I watch it pull out. Whilst this train was standing at the platform the announcer was busy telling travellers that a train to Ashford, Kent, was cancelled. By the time he had done this the train on my platform had left. "The train that has just left Platform 1 is the 14:10 service to Hastings".
Wednesday 15 August 2007
Snail Tale
Millie disliked snails, but no enough to kill them. So every moring early Millie would potter around her garden picking up snails and puting them into a blue plastic bucket. Then Millie put the id on the bucket, and stored it carefully where it would be in shade all day. Late in the day, as dusk turned to dark, Millie would take the bucket of snails and walk along the road until she was far enough away from her own garden, and then take the lid off and tip the snails over someone's garden wall. Millie didn't for this twice at the same house, as she thought that that wouldn't be fair.
Mr Grizzel at number thirty two had another way of dealing with snails, he lobbed them as far as he could across to other people's gardens. Sometimes he lobbed them one at a time, and sometimes two or more at once.
One evening Millie depodited her bucket of snails over the wall of Mr Grizzel. In the morning the garden at number thirty two had been chomped and chewed, and there were silvery snail trails everywhere. Mr Grizzel quite wore himself out lobbing snails in all directions, and by the time he had finished the elbow of his throwing arm ached.
Mr Griazzel was determined to discover the reason for the snail invasion. He quickly realised it couldn't have been a natural occurance, and knew someone had had a hand in it. That evening, unaware of wrath of Grizzel that awaited her, Millie walked down the road with her blue plastic bucket. When she reached number seventy nine she removed the lid, and had just upended the bucket over the garden wall when Mr Grizzel came bellowing toward her. Thinking he had mistaken hre for somebody else with whom he had a grievance Millie smiled, hoping there was enough light from the street lamps to show this man he had made a mistake.
Millie's hope was short lived, as she quickly realised Mr Grizzel had not mistaken her for anyone else. In fact he was delighted to inform her that now she knew who she was, and he intended to let the whole neighbourhood know the following day.
Unfrotunatly for Mr Grizzel his pan backfired onto himself. In the telling of the story of Millie and her bucket of snails, Mr Grizzel admitted to his near neighbours that he had been lobbing snails from his garden into theirs for years. Next morning as Mr Grizzel walked out of door the first thing that happened was that he was hit on the shoulder by a large snail dropping from the direction of the sky.
Mr Grizzel picked up the stunned creature, and lobbed it along two gardens to the left of his. Mrs Merry screeched in annoyance, and the came smartly back, this time landing in Mr Grizzel's rosebush. Not wishing to get scratched Mr Grizzel left that snail to it's fate, and gathered one large snail and two smaller ones from the border. The large snail travelled all the way to Mrs Merry's garden, but the two smaller ones only made it as far as next door.
By the time the police arrived neighbours on both sides had joined in the onslaught of snails towards Mr Grizzel. He meanwhile scampered about his garden, picking up the molluscs and throwing them, sometimes overarm, sometimes underarm, to the left and right. PC Comfrey got slowly out of his police car, mindful to keep one eye out ofr low flying snails. As he crunched his way across the pavement (not everyone's aim had been true), all activity stopped.
PC Comfrey stood tall, and thought in an authorative frame of mind, as he had been taught. He enquired what was going on here then, and soon had a fairly accurate picture of events.The residents having been warned that their behaviuor was not sociable, PC Comfrey walked back to the police car.
Everyone stare at the squashed snails on the pavement, and Mr Merry commented that it was difficult to believe some people paid good money to eat snails.
Mr Merry's comment put an idea into Mr Grizzel'd head. His back garden was quite big enough to errect the neccesary enclousures, and so despite lobjections from his neighbours, Mr Grizzel was granted permission by the local council to turn his garden into a snail farm.
Inspired by Mr Grizzel's success Mrs Merry decided to supplement her pension wiht honey, and soon busy hives appeared in her garden.
PC Comfrey thought in an authorative frame of mind so well that soon he became Sgt Comfrey.
And Millie? Millie founded the snail liberation group Free A Snail Today, of which she was the only ever member. Despite Millie's best attempts by sneaking into Mr Grizzel's garden and leaving escape holes cut for the snails, only one snail ever made a dash for freedom, and that was eaten by a Hedgehog.
Mr Grizzel at number thirty two had another way of dealing with snails, he lobbed them as far as he could across to other people's gardens. Sometimes he lobbed them one at a time, and sometimes two or more at once.
One evening Millie depodited her bucket of snails over the wall of Mr Grizzel. In the morning the garden at number thirty two had been chomped and chewed, and there were silvery snail trails everywhere. Mr Grizzel quite wore himself out lobbing snails in all directions, and by the time he had finished the elbow of his throwing arm ached.
Mr Griazzel was determined to discover the reason for the snail invasion. He quickly realised it couldn't have been a natural occurance, and knew someone had had a hand in it. That evening, unaware of wrath of Grizzel that awaited her, Millie walked down the road with her blue plastic bucket. When she reached number seventy nine she removed the lid, and had just upended the bucket over the garden wall when Mr Grizzel came bellowing toward her. Thinking he had mistaken hre for somebody else with whom he had a grievance Millie smiled, hoping there was enough light from the street lamps to show this man he had made a mistake.
Millie's hope was short lived, as she quickly realised Mr Grizzel had not mistaken her for anyone else. In fact he was delighted to inform her that now she knew who she was, and he intended to let the whole neighbourhood know the following day.
Unfrotunatly for Mr Grizzel his pan backfired onto himself. In the telling of the story of Millie and her bucket of snails, Mr Grizzel admitted to his near neighbours that he had been lobbing snails from his garden into theirs for years. Next morning as Mr Grizzel walked out of door the first thing that happened was that he was hit on the shoulder by a large snail dropping from the direction of the sky.
Mr Grizzel picked up the stunned creature, and lobbed it along two gardens to the left of his. Mrs Merry screeched in annoyance, and the came smartly back, this time landing in Mr Grizzel's rosebush. Not wishing to get scratched Mr Grizzel left that snail to it's fate, and gathered one large snail and two smaller ones from the border. The large snail travelled all the way to Mrs Merry's garden, but the two smaller ones only made it as far as next door.
By the time the police arrived neighbours on both sides had joined in the onslaught of snails towards Mr Grizzel. He meanwhile scampered about his garden, picking up the molluscs and throwing them, sometimes overarm, sometimes underarm, to the left and right. PC Comfrey got slowly out of his police car, mindful to keep one eye out ofr low flying snails. As he crunched his way across the pavement (not everyone's aim had been true), all activity stopped.
PC Comfrey stood tall, and thought in an authorative frame of mind, as he had been taught. He enquired what was going on here then, and soon had a fairly accurate picture of events.The residents having been warned that their behaviuor was not sociable, PC Comfrey walked back to the police car.
Everyone stare at the squashed snails on the pavement, and Mr Merry commented that it was difficult to believe some people paid good money to eat snails.
Mr Merry's comment put an idea into Mr Grizzel'd head. His back garden was quite big enough to errect the neccesary enclousures, and so despite lobjections from his neighbours, Mr Grizzel was granted permission by the local council to turn his garden into a snail farm.
Inspired by Mr Grizzel's success Mrs Merry decided to supplement her pension wiht honey, and soon busy hives appeared in her garden.
PC Comfrey thought in an authorative frame of mind so well that soon he became Sgt Comfrey.
And Millie? Millie founded the snail liberation group Free A Snail Today, of which she was the only ever member. Despite Millie's best attempts by sneaking into Mr Grizzel's garden and leaving escape holes cut for the snails, only one snail ever made a dash for freedom, and that was eaten by a Hedgehog.
Monday 13 August 2007
Match Of The Man
The customers at Paddlingsea's The Happy Tripper tried to enjoy the live musical entertainment provided by The Bouncing Cranberrys, but todays' news had meant that a serious mood hung over the pub.
The annual football derby match between Paddlingsea and Comley End had been declared void, following a scandel involving bribery and players. It had been proven that Comley End's goalkeeper, Ivor Shortley, had paid his opposit number, Ben Detoi of Paddlingsea to allow goals to be scored. Ivor knew that the manager of Muchcash Rovers was at the match, and he hoped to be asked to change teams. The final score of seventeen to two in Comley End's favour had set alarm bells ringing, and an investigation had revealed the truth. Ivor had tried to deny everything and even blamed Ben Detoi, saying Ben had taken a bribe from someone else, and was lying in telling the Police it was Ivor. Bank statements had soon proved the bribe had come fom Ivor, and Paddlingsea's supporters branded Ivor a cowerd, as well as a cheat.
The Bouncing Cranberrys, sensing a lack of interest, decided to wind up the session with their redition of It's All In The Game, which song choice drew shouts of derision from the drinkers. The Happy Tripper's landlord, Al Coepop stomped around the bar waving his hands at The Cranberrys, who ceased playing in a disorganised jumble of notes and chords. Leader of The Cranberrys Bob Bing, babbled that the band had never been treated so badly. Bob tried to calm Al down by saying that the next time The Cranberrys played The Tripper they would charge half fee. Judging by the glares from around the pub it would be sometime before the group would need to make good on that promise.
At that moment into the pub walked Ivor Shortley, the disgraced goalkeeper with Comley End. The dinkers bristled, and Ivor stopped uncertainly. Al and Bob ceased their arguing and stared at Ivor.
Ivor who was carrying a large cardboard box, walked to the bar, and puting the box down produced from it a bottle of vintage port. Everyone looked on as Ivor produced bottle after bottle of expensive wines and spirits from the box. Finaly Al could contain himself no longer, and asked Ivor what it was all about.
Ivor smiled and said " Say what you like you about me being a cheat, but I wont be called a cowerd. I have brought all of these along today to prove that I have a lot of bottle."
The annual football derby match between Paddlingsea and Comley End had been declared void, following a scandel involving bribery and players. It had been proven that Comley End's goalkeeper, Ivor Shortley, had paid his opposit number, Ben Detoi of Paddlingsea to allow goals to be scored. Ivor knew that the manager of Muchcash Rovers was at the match, and he hoped to be asked to change teams. The final score of seventeen to two in Comley End's favour had set alarm bells ringing, and an investigation had revealed the truth. Ivor had tried to deny everything and even blamed Ben Detoi, saying Ben had taken a bribe from someone else, and was lying in telling the Police it was Ivor. Bank statements had soon proved the bribe had come fom Ivor, and Paddlingsea's supporters branded Ivor a cowerd, as well as a cheat.
The Bouncing Cranberrys, sensing a lack of interest, decided to wind up the session with their redition of It's All In The Game, which song choice drew shouts of derision from the drinkers. The Happy Tripper's landlord, Al Coepop stomped around the bar waving his hands at The Cranberrys, who ceased playing in a disorganised jumble of notes and chords. Leader of The Cranberrys Bob Bing, babbled that the band had never been treated so badly. Bob tried to calm Al down by saying that the next time The Cranberrys played The Tripper they would charge half fee. Judging by the glares from around the pub it would be sometime before the group would need to make good on that promise.
At that moment into the pub walked Ivor Shortley, the disgraced goalkeeper with Comley End. The dinkers bristled, and Ivor stopped uncertainly. Al and Bob ceased their arguing and stared at Ivor.
Ivor who was carrying a large cardboard box, walked to the bar, and puting the box down produced from it a bottle of vintage port. Everyone looked on as Ivor produced bottle after bottle of expensive wines and spirits from the box. Finaly Al could contain himself no longer, and asked Ivor what it was all about.
Ivor smiled and said " Say what you like you about me being a cheat, but I wont be called a cowerd. I have brought all of these along today to prove that I have a lot of bottle."
Thursday 9 August 2007
"Who's A Mug?"
Ug and Gug were right clever cavemen, who thought they knew it all. They didn't rate Mug very highly, but they put up with him because he was useful to send out to kill a brontisawus for lunch.
One day Ug got an idea. For ages everyone in the world had used felled trees to move heavy loads along. Trouble was it was an ungainly way to move things, and took lots of men and effort to keep moving the trees to be in front of the load.
Ug thought if he could find a way to cut through the trees at the right point in their length he might have something useful. So he made a saw out of bone and teeth, and he got Mug to use it. Ug told Mug that what they were doing would make them both famous.
When Mug has sawn off four round pieces of timber, Ug got Mug to make a platform by sawing trees lengthwise, and then using strips of animal skin to tie the round sections ot the platform. It didn't move! So Ug came up with another idea, and with the addition of a hole in the middle of eash round piece of wood and some wooden poles, (cut by Mug, of course), soon they had a platform with wheels.
Along came Gug. He immediatly saw the potential in the invention. Gug set about thinking of ways to make sure that everyone in the world would know of this clever and useful innovation.
Mug went back to work, leaving Ug thinking how the platform could come in lots of different sizes for different uses, and Gug trying to think of a logo.
Mug cut smaller trees into the right sections, and made a much smaller version of the platform on wheels. He added a 'T' shaped piece of wood to the front, so that when he stood on the platform he would have something to hold onto. Then Mug go onto the platform, and pushed it along with one foot on the ground.
Mug scooted along quite quickly, and this realy impressed the girls. Soon Mug had lots of lady friends, and as was the custom of the time, soon lots of Mug's lots of lady friends had babies. Mug then journeyed across miles of countryside, and everywhere he went he left lots of little mugs behind him.
As the years went by Mug's offspring began to dominate the gene pool.
Ug and Gug never did get very far from where they started, but they had lots more big ideas, some of which worked. Sadly neither Ug nor Gug had any kids, and so with their demise intelligent men died out.
One day Ug got an idea. For ages everyone in the world had used felled trees to move heavy loads along. Trouble was it was an ungainly way to move things, and took lots of men and effort to keep moving the trees to be in front of the load.
Ug thought if he could find a way to cut through the trees at the right point in their length he might have something useful. So he made a saw out of bone and teeth, and he got Mug to use it. Ug told Mug that what they were doing would make them both famous.
When Mug has sawn off four round pieces of timber, Ug got Mug to make a platform by sawing trees lengthwise, and then using strips of animal skin to tie the round sections ot the platform. It didn't move! So Ug came up with another idea, and with the addition of a hole in the middle of eash round piece of wood and some wooden poles, (cut by Mug, of course), soon they had a platform with wheels.
Along came Gug. He immediatly saw the potential in the invention. Gug set about thinking of ways to make sure that everyone in the world would know of this clever and useful innovation.
Mug went back to work, leaving Ug thinking how the platform could come in lots of different sizes for different uses, and Gug trying to think of a logo.
Mug cut smaller trees into the right sections, and made a much smaller version of the platform on wheels. He added a 'T' shaped piece of wood to the front, so that when he stood on the platform he would have something to hold onto. Then Mug go onto the platform, and pushed it along with one foot on the ground.
Mug scooted along quite quickly, and this realy impressed the girls. Soon Mug had lots of lady friends, and as was the custom of the time, soon lots of Mug's lots of lady friends had babies. Mug then journeyed across miles of countryside, and everywhere he went he left lots of little mugs behind him.
As the years went by Mug's offspring began to dominate the gene pool.
Ug and Gug never did get very far from where they started, but they had lots more big ideas, some of which worked. Sadly neither Ug nor Gug had any kids, and so with their demise intelligent men died out.
Saturday 14 July 2007
MAN IN NED
Ned was so ordinary, that the word ordinary might have been invented to describe him. It was therefore an even bigger suprise than it might have been to the residents of Roundly Bottom when Ned suddenly took up yodelling. Ned yodelled in the morning on his way to buy his daily paper, he yodelled as he dug his vegetable patch, and he yodelled on his way to church on Sundays. Though Ned did manage to contain his yodels durin the hymns, it was tense time for everyone when come Christmas 'Gloria In Excelses' appeared on the order of service, several times.
Spring came and Ned went as usual in the first week of May to stay with his Great Aunt Agatha in Dorset. The weather was lovely and there was nothing to stop Ned from spending many hours yodelling on the beaches, although some people tried. But WPC Mandy Nixon-Friday checked every law she could find and said that Ned was within his rights to yodel, as long as he did not do so in a built up area.
One afternoon as Ned walked along the beach yodelling happily he was suprised to see a mermaid sunning herself on a rock just offshore, Ned rubbed his eyes and looked again. The mermaid was still there. She smiled and told Ned that her name was Delilah, but that her firends called her Del. She had been watching Ned and had fallen in love with him. If he would join he in living in the sea she would be able to make him imortal, and they could live happily ever after. There was just one thing, she wanted Ned to stop yodelling, as the high notes gave her a headache. Ned gazed at the beautiful mermaid, but he hestitated at her request to stop yodelling. Apart from that both Ned and the mermaid knew that they were made for each other. Ned thought, there were no questions, only one, Del or yodel.
Spring came and Ned went as usual in the first week of May to stay with his Great Aunt Agatha in Dorset. The weather was lovely and there was nothing to stop Ned from spending many hours yodelling on the beaches, although some people tried. But WPC Mandy Nixon-Friday checked every law she could find and said that Ned was within his rights to yodel, as long as he did not do so in a built up area.
One afternoon as Ned walked along the beach yodelling happily he was suprised to see a mermaid sunning herself on a rock just offshore, Ned rubbed his eyes and looked again. The mermaid was still there. She smiled and told Ned that her name was Delilah, but that her firends called her Del. She had been watching Ned and had fallen in love with him. If he would join he in living in the sea she would be able to make him imortal, and they could live happily ever after. There was just one thing, she wanted Ned to stop yodelling, as the high notes gave her a headache. Ned gazed at the beautiful mermaid, but he hestitated at her request to stop yodelling. Apart from that both Ned and the mermaid knew that they were made for each other. Ned thought, there were no questions, only one, Del or yodel.
Friday 6 July 2007
"Put Your Left Foot In"
There are carbon footprints. There are footprints in the sand. There are footprints in history. And there was the footprint that appeared in the middle of Bert's garden. It was a large footprint, about twenty three inches long, and it went into Bert's lawn quite deeply. It was a standard looking human right footprint, just a little larger than usual. At first Bert thought it was a prank, a not very nice one, Bert loved his lawn, but a prank never the less. He complained to anyone who would listen, filled the indentation with top soil, and re-seeded it there and then. Next morning there was another footprint in the lawn, about thirty inches from the first. This time it was a left footprint. Bert was cross. He called the police to report the outrage. A curious policeman, who was in the area anyway, popped in to take a look. A dog handler was called to see if the dog could find a trail to follow. But all the dog did was wander round the lawn, and then start to dig out the top soil from the first footprint.
By the end of the week the line of footprints had left Bert's garden far behind, and having crossed the lawns of Miss Golightly and then Mr Sage, had travelled via the grass verges of Wayward Rise and Aisleby Avenue, to arrive at the grass beside the Town Hall. There was fear amongst the elected councillors, who were concerned that the invisible giant making the footprints might be a annoyed resident.
Several weeks past and nothing more happened. Then one day a young rocket scientist (grandson of a learned proffesor) came to town. He thought he could explain the phenomina. It was he said the urban equivalent of crop circles. After all it wasn't possible to make crop circles where there are no crops.
The following morning the footprints began to appear again, only now they were heading in the other direction. Back along the grass verges of Aisleby Avenue and Wayward Rise, through the gardens of Mr Sage and then Miss Golightly, one per night. It was Tuesday when the next footprint was due to appear, on Bert's lawn. Bert was not standing for it. No, Bert was sitting in a chair beside the fence waiting.
Ten seconds past mid-night a shape appeared out of the sky. It was a foot shaped craft, piloted by a three inch indivdual, who resembled a frog in a traffic warden's outfit. Bert lept up and cried out "Oi, that's my lawn". "Sorry old chap" replied the pilot "only be a jiffy. Just want some soil samples." "What for" Bert demanded. "The jolly old high command want to make sure that this planet could support intelligent life." the pilot informed Bert. "But" Bert asked, bemused "how will taking a lot of samples tell your people if this planet can support intelligent life?" "If you were intelligent,old chap, you would know" replied the pilot, "The answer lies in the soil!"
--------
Anyone who is not of a certain age will not understand the ending of the above, so if you did..............
By the end of the week the line of footprints had left Bert's garden far behind, and having crossed the lawns of Miss Golightly and then Mr Sage, had travelled via the grass verges of Wayward Rise and Aisleby Avenue, to arrive at the grass beside the Town Hall. There was fear amongst the elected councillors, who were concerned that the invisible giant making the footprints might be a annoyed resident.
Several weeks past and nothing more happened. Then one day a young rocket scientist (grandson of a learned proffesor) came to town. He thought he could explain the phenomina. It was he said the urban equivalent of crop circles. After all it wasn't possible to make crop circles where there are no crops.
The following morning the footprints began to appear again, only now they were heading in the other direction. Back along the grass verges of Aisleby Avenue and Wayward Rise, through the gardens of Mr Sage and then Miss Golightly, one per night. It was Tuesday when the next footprint was due to appear, on Bert's lawn. Bert was not standing for it. No, Bert was sitting in a chair beside the fence waiting.
Ten seconds past mid-night a shape appeared out of the sky. It was a foot shaped craft, piloted by a three inch indivdual, who resembled a frog in a traffic warden's outfit. Bert lept up and cried out "Oi, that's my lawn". "Sorry old chap" replied the pilot "only be a jiffy. Just want some soil samples." "What for" Bert demanded. "The jolly old high command want to make sure that this planet could support intelligent life." the pilot informed Bert. "But" Bert asked, bemused "how will taking a lot of samples tell your people if this planet can support intelligent life?" "If you were intelligent,old chap, you would know" replied the pilot, "The answer lies in the soil!"
--------
Anyone who is not of a certain age will not understand the ending of the above, so if you did..............
Saturday 30 June 2007
"The Day The Earth Sang"
It was ine if those July days when it didn't seem as if the rain would ever stop. Maisie was walking to the shops,with the rain trickling down her neck, despite the waterproof jacket that she was wearing.She was tired and generaly fed up, all she needed was a loaf of bread, but to buy that she had to walk a mile each way.
The trees swayed in the stiff breeze, sending cascades of water droplets down from their branches. Maises dog, Bognor, squelched happily along in the mud beside the path, and then on the scent of something, he bounded off across the grass. Maisie called for him to come back , but he was too busy sniffing around a gorse bush. "Oh. bogger Bugner!" Maisie said aloud, as she plodded over to see what the wayward mutt had found.
To her suprise when she looked into the gorse bush Maisie found a shiney blue and silver ball, about the size of a tennis ball. She picked it up and opened it, without any thought as to what might happen. A beautiful single musical note emitted from the open ball. Maisie felt as if the world was a perfect place, beside her Bognor sat and gazed into the distance. Maisie snapped the ball shut, and the note was no more. Once again the rain was falling. Bognor scratched his fleas, and then shook himself, sending water all over Maisie.
Maisie took her discovery to the local paper, whose story attracted media attention from all around the world. As no-one could know to whom the ball belonged there was much speculation as to wether Maisie should decide what should happen to it. Governments argued, business men offered ever increasing sums of money, the people of the world looked on with varying amounts of interest. It had quickly been discovered that the ball once open emitted it's musical note for forty two seconds, and that the note could be heard up to thirty meters from the ball. Each living creature seemed to entranced for the notes' duration.
One day a very elderly learned proffessor announced that after careful thought, and a few naps to sleep on his idea, he was suggesting that the musical note be amplified through radio equipement. The note could then be heard by nearly everyone on the planet at the same time.
At the appointed time worldwide people tuned in. As the note sounded the world was, for forty two seconds, a place of harmony and peace. When the note stopped it was discovered that the ball that was now shut could not be opened again.
Millions of miles away across the Galaxy the note could be heard faintly as the Earth sang. The Jupiterians immediatly launched a spaceship to journey to the Earth. When they arrived they uttered the first known words spoken by a space alien to humankind, "Can we have our ball back, please?"
The trees swayed in the stiff breeze, sending cascades of water droplets down from their branches. Maises dog, Bognor, squelched happily along in the mud beside the path, and then on the scent of something, he bounded off across the grass. Maisie called for him to come back , but he was too busy sniffing around a gorse bush. "Oh. bogger Bugner!" Maisie said aloud, as she plodded over to see what the wayward mutt had found.
To her suprise when she looked into the gorse bush Maisie found a shiney blue and silver ball, about the size of a tennis ball. She picked it up and opened it, without any thought as to what might happen. A beautiful single musical note emitted from the open ball. Maisie felt as if the world was a perfect place, beside her Bognor sat and gazed into the distance. Maisie snapped the ball shut, and the note was no more. Once again the rain was falling. Bognor scratched his fleas, and then shook himself, sending water all over Maisie.
Maisie took her discovery to the local paper, whose story attracted media attention from all around the world. As no-one could know to whom the ball belonged there was much speculation as to wether Maisie should decide what should happen to it. Governments argued, business men offered ever increasing sums of money, the people of the world looked on with varying amounts of interest. It had quickly been discovered that the ball once open emitted it's musical note for forty two seconds, and that the note could be heard up to thirty meters from the ball. Each living creature seemed to entranced for the notes' duration.
One day a very elderly learned proffessor announced that after careful thought, and a few naps to sleep on his idea, he was suggesting that the musical note be amplified through radio equipement. The note could then be heard by nearly everyone on the planet at the same time.
At the appointed time worldwide people tuned in. As the note sounded the world was, for forty two seconds, a place of harmony and peace. When the note stopped it was discovered that the ball that was now shut could not be opened again.
Millions of miles away across the Galaxy the note could be heard faintly as the Earth sang. The Jupiterians immediatly launched a spaceship to journey to the Earth. When they arrived they uttered the first known words spoken by a space alien to humankind, "Can we have our ball back, please?"
Thursday 28 June 2007
I'm On The Engines!
Big news today is that for the first time both Jackie's Jottings and my website Jackie's Place have come up when searched for on the engines. On one search, on Google, my site came up at the top of the list of options. No bad for only a couple of weeks in exsistance, and being small, and in the case of the site not having much on it (so far).
Anyone reading this, go on give a go yourself if you haven't already. The world is only a mouse click away.
.
In case you've not read my site, and there is a link futher down these postings, the big news in Fishersgate is that the Community First School has come first in the South East region in an education competition.
Anyone reading this, go on give a go yourself if you haven't already. The world is only a mouse click away.
.
In case you've not read my site, and there is a link futher down these postings, the big news in Fishersgate is that the Community First School has come first in the South East region in an education competition.
Wednesday 27 June 2007
"The Vain Prince"
Long, long ago in a land far, far away there lived a prince who was very vain. So vain that he could not pass a mirror or other shiney surface without looking at himself. It would take him hours just to get from his bedroom to the palace throne room, and by then it would be time to start back to his bedroom if he was to get a chance to sleep before morning.
One day the prince decided he must do something, as he was getting nothing done. He ordered that all mirrors be removed, curtains drawn shut when he was in a room so that he could not see himself in the windowglass, that no shiney surface was to be dusted ever again, and that all those who wore spectacles should remove them in the prince's presence.
But trouble followed. The spectacle wearers would have had enough problems without their specs on, but in rooms darkened by drawn curtains in the days before electric light, they stumbled and bumped into things and each other, and said very naughty things about the prince;- but only when the prince was too far away to hear. Because no dusting was being done everytime something was moved clouds of dust flew up into the air and everyone sneezed a lot, as if they all had dreadful colds.
The prince decided that maybe he should try holding court outside in the palace gardens. First the gardeners had to take the fish from the ponds and then empty out the water, so that there would be no reflections. Then the gardeners had to drape black material over the summer house, and the greenhouses, in case the prince walked that way through the vegetable gardens. If it had been raining the palace staff had to shake any droplets of water off of the trees and shrubs, and mop up any puddles.
Still the prince's orders came. No-one could wear shiney buttons, and so the palace guard had to smear mud on their tunic buttons, and then on their boots as these gleamed too. Ladies and gentlemen could not wear jewelary or watches. The list went on and on.
Everyone was getting very fed up with the prince.
And then one day a learned proffesor came to the palace. He had the perfect solution to the prince's vanity. A small piece of glass in a jewel encrusted frame, that the prince could carry with him wherever he went. Now the vain prince did not need to stand and look at his reflection, but could continue to walk about, whilst gazing upon himself. Thus was invented the pocket handmirror.
One day the prince decided he must do something, as he was getting nothing done. He ordered that all mirrors be removed, curtains drawn shut when he was in a room so that he could not see himself in the windowglass, that no shiney surface was to be dusted ever again, and that all those who wore spectacles should remove them in the prince's presence.
But trouble followed. The spectacle wearers would have had enough problems without their specs on, but in rooms darkened by drawn curtains in the days before electric light, they stumbled and bumped into things and each other, and said very naughty things about the prince;- but only when the prince was too far away to hear. Because no dusting was being done everytime something was moved clouds of dust flew up into the air and everyone sneezed a lot, as if they all had dreadful colds.
The prince decided that maybe he should try holding court outside in the palace gardens. First the gardeners had to take the fish from the ponds and then empty out the water, so that there would be no reflections. Then the gardeners had to drape black material over the summer house, and the greenhouses, in case the prince walked that way through the vegetable gardens. If it had been raining the palace staff had to shake any droplets of water off of the trees and shrubs, and mop up any puddles.
Still the prince's orders came. No-one could wear shiney buttons, and so the palace guard had to smear mud on their tunic buttons, and then on their boots as these gleamed too. Ladies and gentlemen could not wear jewelary or watches. The list went on and on.
Everyone was getting very fed up with the prince.
And then one day a learned proffesor came to the palace. He had the perfect solution to the prince's vanity. A small piece of glass in a jewel encrusted frame, that the prince could carry with him wherever he went. Now the vain prince did not need to stand and look at his reflection, but could continue to walk about, whilst gazing upon himself. Thus was invented the pocket handmirror.
Monday 25 June 2007
My Website
I opened a website a few days ago, but for some reason I cannot establish a link from this blog to my website, although I have had no trouble establishing a link from the website to this blog. So lets try again shall we.
www.spanglefish.com/JackiePainter
Wether this will be ok this time we will now see. (Yipee, I've just tried it and it works, folks!)
www.spanglefish.com/JackiePainter
Wether this will be ok this time we will now see. (Yipee, I've just tried it and it works, folks!)
Saturday 23 June 2007
Sloworms
There is a breeding colony of sloworms in my rear garden, which faces south. The cat from across the carpark, at the bottom of my garden, is fascinated by the little and the large slithering creatures. My cries to him to leave them alone as they are a protected species cut no ice at all. The sloworms were there when I moved in in 1984, and no doubt the colony will be there after I leave and move on.
When I first moved in there were also some common lizards, but I have not seen any for many a year. Likewise the hedgehogs that used to frequent my gardens front and rear, have disappeared. The occasions when I had hedgehog families in my front garden would often lead to a group of people on my garden wall (about two feet high) at dusk, watching the mother and little ones pottering about amongst the shrubbery eating the slugs and whatever else took their interest. One of my cats at the time was Basil, a hyperactive cat if ever there was one. One of those cats that they would say 'needs an experience owner'. Baz would sit in the path of the hedgehogs and remain unmoved (literaly) as the hedgehogs snuffled and pushed at him to get off whatever squishey eatable delight Baz was sitting on at the time.
When I first moved in there were also some common lizards, but I have not seen any for many a year. Likewise the hedgehogs that used to frequent my gardens front and rear, have disappeared. The occasions when I had hedgehog families in my front garden would often lead to a group of people on my garden wall (about two feet high) at dusk, watching the mother and little ones pottering about amongst the shrubbery eating the slugs and whatever else took their interest. One of my cats at the time was Basil, a hyperactive cat if ever there was one. One of those cats that they would say 'needs an experience owner'. Baz would sit in the path of the hedgehogs and remain unmoved (literaly) as the hedgehogs snuffled and pushed at him to get off whatever squishey eatable delight Baz was sitting on at the time.
Friday 22 June 2007
Misuse Of An Amazing Invention
I have for the first time ever today viewed some of the videos on UTube. Some of them are frankly sick. It was surely not the reason that the information superhighway was designed. Few people realy mind what is called non politicaly correct behaviour, it can even be comical. But what some of the people on sites like that one will use as a stunt that they think in their own limited imaginations will find them some sort of fame, is beyond all that is decent and acceptable. The strange idea that people will police their own behaviour is a myth put about by those who make a profit (without it bothering their conciences) from providing the sick souls with somewhere to besport their images of shame.
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I wonder sometimes how many pages there actualy are on the internet at any one time. It must run into millions of millions. Just think of all the knowledge. It is said that man only uses a fraction of the capacity that is available in the brain, (the stastistic doesn't mention women!! ) But the human brain must be better than any computer ever invented (yet) as we can evaluate information in a way no machine may ever be able to do. I am not sure that I would like computers to be as intelligent as they often are in science fiction, as the possiblity of one getting it's own agenda is not something the world needs. There are more than enough meglomaniacs in humankind without anyone else joining in.
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I wonder sometimes how many pages there actualy are on the internet at any one time. It must run into millions of millions. Just think of all the knowledge. It is said that man only uses a fraction of the capacity that is available in the brain, (the stastistic doesn't mention women!! ) But the human brain must be better than any computer ever invented (yet) as we can evaluate information in a way no machine may ever be able to do. I am not sure that I would like computers to be as intelligent as they often are in science fiction, as the possiblity of one getting it's own agenda is not something the world needs. There are more than enough meglomaniacs in humankind without anyone else joining in.
Thursday 21 June 2007
The Longest Day
Today is the longest day north of the Equator, and so as I watched the sunrise (which I do most days, it just that today I take more notice of it), I thought this is the day to go to Brighton. OK, so not all my ideas are brilliant!
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It was lovely and sunny, hurray. It was full of traffic, road works, building works. boo,boo,boo.
I found a nice pair of shoes in the shop that is realy quite resonable in price. They were advertised as reduced by three pounds a pair. When I got to the till the price came up as £7.99. "That's not right" I said to the young lady assistant "They should be £4.99". "That's the price that has some up on the computer" she replied. To cut out the need for lots of quotations I will paraphrase the rest of the conversation. I told her the price was wrong, she said it wasn't, I asked to talk to the manager, assistant said she knew the stock of the shop and there was no need to call the manager, I pointed out that the advertising said these shoes have been reduced and there is something in the UK called the Trade's Descriptions Act, this brought the manager!, I appologised to the manager and said that to sound threatening was the only was to get the assistant to call her, and I was proved right, the shoes were only £4.99. As they were a last pair in my size, and such a lovely shade of pink, I thought it worth puting up a fight to get them (at the right price). So never be afraid to stand your ground, however much you desperately want to just pay what is asked and not make a fuss.
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I see that the local hospital is under threat well and truely now. I cannot understand why in a country that has money by the bucket full to throw away on schemes that don't work, or go over budget by millions, or only work if lots of extra cash is spent on them, there is never enough money for the essentials.
No doubt there will be a fight put up, and it may even result in the hospital getting a bit of a reprieve, in the long run the authorities will do what they like, as they always do. And why do they get away with it? Because the majority of british people wont make a fuss. In the long run they will put up with what they get, even though they are paying the bill.
.
It was lovely and sunny, hurray. It was full of traffic, road works, building works. boo,boo,boo.
I found a nice pair of shoes in the shop that is realy quite resonable in price. They were advertised as reduced by three pounds a pair. When I got to the till the price came up as £7.99. "That's not right" I said to the young lady assistant "They should be £4.99". "That's the price that has some up on the computer" she replied. To cut out the need for lots of quotations I will paraphrase the rest of the conversation. I told her the price was wrong, she said it wasn't, I asked to talk to the manager, assistant said she knew the stock of the shop and there was no need to call the manager, I pointed out that the advertising said these shoes have been reduced and there is something in the UK called the Trade's Descriptions Act, this brought the manager!, I appologised to the manager and said that to sound threatening was the only was to get the assistant to call her, and I was proved right, the shoes were only £4.99. As they were a last pair in my size, and such a lovely shade of pink, I thought it worth puting up a fight to get them (at the right price). So never be afraid to stand your ground, however much you desperately want to just pay what is asked and not make a fuss.
.
I see that the local hospital is under threat well and truely now. I cannot understand why in a country that has money by the bucket full to throw away on schemes that don't work, or go over budget by millions, or only work if lots of extra cash is spent on them, there is never enough money for the essentials.
No doubt there will be a fight put up, and it may even result in the hospital getting a bit of a reprieve, in the long run the authorities will do what they like, as they always do. And why do they get away with it? Because the majority of british people wont make a fuss. In the long run they will put up with what they get, even though they are paying the bill.
Wednesday 20 June 2007
Hobbyhorse Time 1.
My favourite quotation is.....
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"We are all of us in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars". (Oscar Wilde)
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It suggests to me that all human kind has the ability to dream and imagine, given the chance. One of my pet hobbyhorses is that the children today are not being allowed to develop their own imaginations. They watch tv, and re-enact scenes from soap operas in their play. They play video games, usualy on their own against that collection of metal, plastic and electrical wiring called a computer. They watch movies and play out the scenes for days afterwards. What they do not do is learn the skills to foster their own version of the world. The one that lives in their own imaginations. What of years to come I wonder, when these children have grown up. Since many are not in the habit of reading for pleasure, how many new works of fiction will there be? May it not be left to the formulised computer programme to churn out works of fiction based on the plots of the books from years before when people still knew how to imagine? It is sad to think how much many are going to miss out on by being denied the right to dream.
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How about some more jokes? Go on you know you want to read more!
.
"We are all of us in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars". (Oscar Wilde)
.
It suggests to me that all human kind has the ability to dream and imagine, given the chance. One of my pet hobbyhorses is that the children today are not being allowed to develop their own imaginations. They watch tv, and re-enact scenes from soap operas in their play. They play video games, usualy on their own against that collection of metal, plastic and electrical wiring called a computer. They watch movies and play out the scenes for days afterwards. What they do not do is learn the skills to foster their own version of the world. The one that lives in their own imaginations. What of years to come I wonder, when these children have grown up. Since many are not in the habit of reading for pleasure, how many new works of fiction will there be? May it not be left to the formulised computer programme to churn out works of fiction based on the plots of the books from years before when people still knew how to imagine? It is sad to think how much many are going to miss out on by being denied the right to dream.
.
How about some more jokes? Go on you know you want to read more!
- What is the difference between ingnorance and apathy? I don't know, and I don't care!
- Knock! Knock! Who's there? I dunnop! I dunnop who........?
- Did you hear about the man eating in an open air resturante when it began to rain. It took him a hour and a half to finish his soup.
- I've never donated an organ, but I did once give a piano to the charity shop.
- How can you tell when you have run out of invisable ink? The printer stops!
That's it for the jokes, for the time being. Who knows when another batch may surface.
The big news of today for me is that I have opened up a website. Opened up is about as far as I have got! It all looks a lot more daunting that this blog ever did.
My website is already linked to this blog (I got that right!). But try as I might I cannot link from this blog to my website.It is call Jackie's Place, but the way, as sort of somewhat weak play on words. It is on spanglefish.com, so maybe you can find it without a link.I looked at the satelite map of the UK and I could see right into my back garden. There was the big tree that I lost to the winter storms in 2006. When I work out how I will post that picture on my website. What a shame the photo was not taken when I was out in the garden waving at the sky. (Not that I make a habit of waving at the sky).
Monday 18 June 2007
Jokey Jottings
How about some jokes to start the week?
- What has four legs and says "Boo"? A cow with a stuffed up nose!
- Did you hear about the stage hypnotist who had just put twenty volunteers into a trance when he tripped over the microphone stand and said "S***!"
- What do you get if you cross a black hat with a rocket? A fast bowler!
- Did you hear about the man who is so short sighted that when he can't sleep he counts elephants?
- And one final thought:Youth is fleeting, but immaturity can last a life time.
Saturday 16 June 2007
More poems of mine
I think that it may be time to add a couple more of my published poems to this blog, so that anyone who happens on to it can see that my style stays much the same. Poems are published for the reader to interperate as they will, and the first of these two "Dry Tears" written when I was 14 years old has been interperated in different ways by people, and that is realy what it is all about, not what I thought it meant when I wrote it. The other poem today "Angel Of The Morning" was written and published at the time of what we now call the first Gulf War. It was well received. It also caused me an embaressing moment some years later. I was collecting old clothes for a charity to sell, and I called on an elderly lady who invited me in to wait in her hallway whilst she found the bag of clothes from the cuboard. Whilst waiting I idley looked along a number of frames hanging on her wall, most contained photographs, but to my amazement one of the frames contained a copy of Angel. I couldn't get out of there fast enough, even though there was no chance that she could have made the conection between me and the poem.
"Angel Of The Morning"
The stary night is over
Dawn is in the sky
All the doubts and all the worries
Until tonight will fly
Away on wings of silver
On rays of sunshine gold
The angel of the morning
Makes the cow'd of night feel bold
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Today was just tomorrow
When yesterday was young
In it's very infancy
When pangs of doubt begun
But tommorow will be yesterday
And all doubt will be gone
When the angel of the morning
Comes. It wont be long.
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So take your heart in both hands
Let your dreams ride free
For all your tommorows
Will filled with hope yet be
And all your dreams and wishes
All your hopes my dear
Will flourish in the morning
When the angel does draw near
"Dry Tears"
The willows weep beside the lake
Why do you weep they're asked
Do you weep for useless death
Do you weep for our mistakes
Or for the lives a war takes
No! No! the willows answer
As the questioner takes leave
'Tis not for starving children
Nor fallen warriors we grieve
We weep not for humanity
We weep for summers past
-------"Angel Of The Morning"
The stary night is over
Dawn is in the sky
All the doubts and all the worries
Until tonight will fly
Away on wings of silver
On rays of sunshine gold
The angel of the morning
Makes the cow'd of night feel bold
-
Today was just tomorrow
When yesterday was young
In it's very infancy
When pangs of doubt begun
But tommorow will be yesterday
And all doubt will be gone
When the angel of the morning
Comes. It wont be long.
-
So take your heart in both hands
Let your dreams ride free
For all your tommorows
Will filled with hope yet be
And all your dreams and wishes
All your hopes my dear
Will flourish in the morning
When the angel does draw near
Wednesday 13 June 2007
Where I live and other things
So first of all where am I. (No, that is not a question I am asking myself) I live in West Sussex, not far along the coast from Brighton in the east, and Worthing in the west. From the end of my road there is a clear view across the English Channel, which on a lovely sunny day looks wonderful. I rather like it when it a bit windy as it whisks the waves up, but of course this is not a favourite time for those who have to brave being out on the sea, except the windsurfers.
I don't spend time on the sea, due to the fact that I cannot swim.
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I was born in the historic seaside town of Shoreham-by-Sea, West Sussex. It is said to be the town from which King Charles the second made good his escape to France when the Roundheads wanted to chop his head off. Whether King Charles did board the boat across the Channel in France and not Brighton is something that the historians debate (argue) about. But if you are ever in nearby Southwick and venture onto Southwick Green, you can see a cottage which it is claimed is where the King slept on his last night in England before his escape. I often sit on the seat on the other side of Southwick Green from what is called King Charles's Cottage and wonder what the scene was like on that night all those years ago.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It's been a bit of a funny week, or should I say unusual even by my standards. First I was asked to apply to become a govener at the first school where I live, (that's children up to eight years old) , I've not heard that I have been accepted but they are in need. The school is being merged with two other schools, and will become part of a trisite through primary (children up to eleven years) from Sept 2008.
I also heard that I have won a premium platinum membership to a group of lesiure centres and an acquatic centre. I have never been into a gym in my life, so I should have some first impressions to talk about. Due to my age I need a doctor's letter, and I bet my doctor will be realy happy, as she has been known to drop hints about "just a little weight off would be nice".
And, of course, I opened this blog so that I can self indulge, with I hope a bit of it being interesting to anyone who happens to come across it over the years to come.
I don't spend time on the sea, due to the fact that I cannot swim.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I was born in the historic seaside town of Shoreham-by-Sea, West Sussex. It is said to be the town from which King Charles the second made good his escape to France when the Roundheads wanted to chop his head off. Whether King Charles did board the boat across the Channel in France and not Brighton is something that the historians debate (argue) about. But if you are ever in nearby Southwick and venture onto Southwick Green, you can see a cottage which it is claimed is where the King slept on his last night in England before his escape. I often sit on the seat on the other side of Southwick Green from what is called King Charles's Cottage and wonder what the scene was like on that night all those years ago.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It's been a bit of a funny week, or should I say unusual even by my standards. First I was asked to apply to become a govener at the first school where I live, (that's children up to eight years old) , I've not heard that I have been accepted but they are in need. The school is being merged with two other schools, and will become part of a trisite through primary (children up to eleven years) from Sept 2008.
I also heard that I have won a premium platinum membership to a group of lesiure centres and an acquatic centre. I have never been into a gym in my life, so I should have some first impressions to talk about. Due to my age I need a doctor's letter, and I bet my doctor will be realy happy, as she has been known to drop hints about "just a little weight off would be nice".
And, of course, I opened this blog so that I can self indulge, with I hope a bit of it being interesting to anyone who happens to come across it over the years to come.
Tuesday 12 June 2007
A poem that I wrote
Well world here I go into the big adventure of blogging!
If there is anyone out there. somewhere, who is reading this then good morning/afternoon/evening to you.
I will start not with some great thought, or a run of my day so far, but with a poem that I wrote and that has been recently published.
If there is anyone out there. somewhere, who is reading this then good morning/afternoon/evening to you.
I will start not with some great thought, or a run of my day so far, but with a poem that I wrote and that has been recently published.
"Clouds Of Butterflies"
I lived a lifetime one summer
With your smile to light my day
Of golden hours and balmy nights
And clouds of butterfies
The grass was never greener
Sky so blue it looked unreal
Rainbows without rain shone bright
Over clouds of butterflies
Autumn came, time to part
Away you went to achieve your fate
Left alone midst falling leaves
No clouds of butterflies
I would not have missed one second
Of our life beneath the sun
Next year for others may there be
Clouds of butterflies.
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There it is for anyone to comment on. I hope you will.
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