|
Post by Old Dragon (Al) on Oct 19, 2004 21:22:14 GMT 1
Alice in Cuckoo Land Written by The Cuckooland Clan Writers’ Circle
Colaborating Members: Ajs; SIMike; AuntAggie; Fenja’smum; SCRescue; Helen; Donnchadh Garbh; Dublin Moose; Addled Al; Dawn; Twosmum; Lisa23; Becks; Owlish; Tobleronie; Morag Gorag; Jules; Flipper; Snakeman; Dai Wyndupp; Divine … (21 writers to date - exceeding current record for writers working in collaboration!)
Illustrations by: Helen; Fenja’smum; SCRescue; Lisa23; Sniffers; Jules; Lurchergirl…
‘The rabbit has a charming face, Its private life is a disgrace, You’d be surprised, if you but knew, The dreadful things that rabbits do – and often too. Where such depravity is found It only can live underground.’ - (Author unknown.) **********************************
Dear Miss Wigglesly, You are probably wondering why Alice isn't in school today? I would like to say she has a bad cold but the fact is she is stuck in her rabbit's hutch and talking nonsense to the firemen who are doing their best to extract her. I think she's enjoying the attention but I can't explain how she got in there in the first place. She must have been sleep-walking. Not that it explains how the hutch was locked on the outside and with her inside and the rabbit outside and eating my prize begonias? Perhaps you can explain it? Yours, Mrs. Widdel (Alice Widdel's mother, in case you have forgotten again.)
*****************************************
Dear Mrs. Widdel Thank you for letting me know that you realised Alice was not in school today. I am relieved that she has not got the bad cold that is doing the rounds at school at the moment. I am however somewhat perplexed at your explanation regarding Alice's absence. Have the firemen managed to extract poor Alice from the rabbit hutch yet? Alice is not known for speaking rubbish at school, so I am afraid that although she has not got the cold I think she may very well be ill. Perhaps you could think about the answers to a few questions that may shed some light on this unfortunate incident. Has Alice walked in her sleep before? Does she sleep walk often? Has she eaten anything unusual that may have caused this, such as perhaps blue cheese for example? I am most concerned that such a thing does not happen again as Alice cannot afford to be missing her lessons at this important stage in her development. In any case it is a legal requirement that she attends school during term time and I am sure you are aware that you are responsible for ensuring that she does attend. As an aside I feel I should remind you that it is not safe for your rabbit to be out at night and I would suggest that you take more care of it in future. Perhaps a strong lock on the hutch might help. I have enclosed a leaflet on rabbit welfare for your perusal. It breaks my heart to think of a poor rabbit living alone. I hope he got some solace from Alice's company. Perhaps she felt sorry for him too and decided to play with him? I cannot imagine how she got locked inside the cage though. I look forward to seeing Alice at school tomorrow if she has got over her shock. Please would you convey to her that I would like to see her first thing in the morning before registration? I do not want her to discuss this incident with her class mates as I do not want any copy cat behaviour from any pranksters. It is not the sort of behaviour that can be condoned; indeed I feel it should be nipped in the bud. I would also request that she brings with her the incident report from the firemen who were in attendance at the hutch (for my records you understand). Please rest assured, Mrs. Widdel that I could not forget you are Alice's mother. I trust I will not forget Alice and that I will recognise her when she comes to see me in the morning. Miss Wigglesly ****************************************
Dear Miss Wigglesly, Of course I realised Alice wasn't in school! How could I not realise it with her stuck in the rabbit hutch and firemen trampling what begonias the rabbit hadn't eaten? I am also glad she hasn't got the bad cold that's doing the rounds. She always gives me her colds and then I end up bad in bed and under the doctor. Yes, the firemen have got Alice out of the rabbit hutch and one of them kindly made her a bigger hutch for the rabbit because the old one had to be taken to bits before they could get her out. She shouldn't get stuck in the new one. Not unless she grows a lot more. Do you really think Alice is ill? I will take her to the Doctor. I'm surprised she doesn't talk rubbish in school. She talks a lot of rubbish at home. You asked if Alice has walked in her sleep before? I am sure she has. Her bed often appears not to have been slept in. Ah, yes! Blue cheese! I often find bits of blue cheese under her bed. She insists on leaving a plate under there to feed the mouse she says comes to visit her sometimes. Perhaps when she isn't in her bed she visits the mouse? She often has cobwebs in her hair and there are probably spiders behind the skirting boards, don't you think? As for Alice's development, yes she is becoming a well developed girl, but don't they all develop at her age? I don't know what lessons have to do with her development though? Or do you mean lessons about the birds and bees? Of course I know it is a legal requirement that she attends school during term time but you just said you thought she was ill, even though I told you she was simply stuck in the rabbit hutch, and I said I'd take her to the doctor. She can't be in school and in the doctor’s at the same time, now can she? I have given Alice the leaflet about rabbits that you sent and told her he mustn't be left out at night. She has promised she will take better care of him and take him to bed with her if he gets lonely; however, she is convinced that it was the rabbit that locked her in the hutch. She said that was because she told him off over his relationship with the neighbour's cat. Personally I thought he was having relations with Alice's slippers, which are like big furry rabbits. He certainly takes his frustrations out on those. I am forever having to wash them afterwards. I will certainly tell Alice not to discuss the incident with her classmates but you know what teenagers are like and she was clearly besotted by one of those firemen. I think she sees him as a father-figure and he did build her a new rabbit hutch. I also hope you will recognise Alice when she comes to school next, but teens will be teens and experiment with these strange hair styles, make-up and peculiar fashion statements. I often wish that I could forget I was Alice's mother. Yours,
Mrs. Widdel
***************************************
Dear Mrs Widdel, I have to say this is a most unusual situation. Have you asked Alice how she came to be in the rabbit hutch - has she no recollection? Does anyone know how long she was in there before she was found? I would ask that Alice reports to me as soon as she gets back to school and please would you ensure she brings her doctor's assessment with her. Perhaps she should be encouraged to discuss with her doctor some of her other activities that you mentioned, such as talking with her rabbit and visiting the mouse, in order to ascertain whether she is suffering delusions that are symptomatic of an illness or whether it is just childhood imagination at play. I trust you have told Alice not to let her imagination run away with her and also that you have discussed "the birds and the bees" with Alice before now. In school we teach the pupils basic biology - indeed we teach them about the reproductive system of frogs, chickens and rabbits in their first year and progress to human reproduction in their second year - but we leave the emotional side of such matters to each individual family to share in the way most suited to them. School is an educational establishment. We tend to address issues of morality when the pupils are in the sixth form and have the experience to debate in an intellectual fashion. I must say that your letter has caused me some concern. I look forward to seeing Alice in school soon. If for any reason she cannot be in school tomorrow, would you please keep me informed of the situation? Many thanks, Miss Wigglesly *******************************************
(To be continued in Part 2... coming shortly.)
|
|
|
Post by Old Dragon (Al) on Oct 19, 2004 21:40:29 GMT 1
Alice in Cuckoo Land - Part 2
Dear Miss Wigglesly,
I am afraid that Alice is adamant the she does not need to see a doctor and says that it is all due to the science homework set by Mr. Flukelweicivic, or whatever his name is, and about body mass, volume and cubic centimetres that resulted in her being stuck in the rabbit hutch in the first place. That because she could hardly liquidise and pour herself into a pipe of the equivalent cubic centimetres that she’d worked out the rabbit hutch to be and, as he demanded to know if her body mass could fill such a volume of cubic centimetres, she had no alternative other than to see if she could fit into the hutch! As I said before, Alice talks a lot of rubbish at home. I am sure that she gets it from school.
Alice also explained that the hutch became locked when, being stuck, she grew hungry and decided to eat a large carrot that she’d taken out for the rabbit’s breakfast. When the rabbit smelled the carrot, he bounded over, jumped up at the hutch and closed the door causing the catch to slip down and lock her in. It must have been accidental. The rabbit would surely have realised he couldn’t share the carrot with Alice if she was locked in the hutch and he was locked out? I expect that’s why he ate my prize begonias instead? However, Alice said that it all happened just after she shouted at him for pursuing the neighbour’s cat around the lawn and with a lusty glint in his eye, so perhaps he locked her in deliberately so he could court the cat in peace?
Alice also says there is nothing wrong with talking to a pet rabbit or a mouse and the time to worry she might be delusional would be if she claimed they were talking to her.
She also called me some very nasty names for being so facetious as to suggest to you in my last reply that she went behind the skirting boards to visit the mouse. That when she’d remarked to me that you needed to be humoured a little that was not the sort of humour you would understand or appreciate. As a result she has now locked herself in her bedroom with the rabbit and claims to be writing a letter to the Secretary of State for Education.
I know she has the rabbit with her because I can hear it bonking against the floorboards. I expect it is having relations again with Alice’s slippers, which means I shall have to wash them yet again!
I have indeed told Alice that you said not to let her imagination run away with her. Besides remarking that imagination does not possess legs, therefore is incapable of running, she also says she has no need of imagination when she has all the hard proof she needs for her letter to the Secretary of State for Education in the printed copies of the science and other equally ridiculous homework set by teachers at the school.
Alice further informs me that she is familiar with the reproductive systems of the birds and bees, so not to bother boring her with that when she would far rather have a copy of the Karma Sutra for her next birthday. That it would be of far more use to her than learning about the reproductive system of frogs, chickens and rabbits - and why can’t the school give practical lessons in human reproduction in the second year? She suggests being allowed to witness the consequences of promiscuity by watching someone in a prolonged and agonising labour and to see at first hand all the blood and gore and hear the screaming when they give birth? She thinks that would be a much more effective method of birth control than any theoretical stuff learned from books, off STD leaflets and from blowing up condoms in class.
She also believes the real reason the school doesn’t teach about the emotional side of such matters is that none of the staff are emotionally mature, largely dysfunctional and therefore not qualified to do so. That the majority of pupils’ families are just as bad – and the same applies to politicians, which is why they are afraid to legislate to that effect as they'd only make complete fools of themselves!
These are her words, not mine, and to further illustrate what rubbish she talks at home. I mean, if they were that bad the majority of the electorate would hardly have voted them into office unless they, too, were incapable of recognising dysfunction? Oh dear, that is yet another of Alice’s theories and again, I am convinced something she has learned in school because she does agree that school is an educational establishment. She says it really is quite an education being there and has certainly opened her eyes as to just how screwed up the human race really is! Indeed, she questions whether the sixth form have the experience to debate in an intellectual fashion when the majority seem to be either pregnant or about to become fathers, are drunk, on mind altering substances, too busy bullying or being bullied, suffering from eating disorders, in denial, delusional or otherwise totally screwed up.
As for your comment that you ‘look forward to seeing Alice in school soon’; I don’t think I can repeat here what she said about that, but it was along the lines of her not believing one word of it, and that she would rather rot in her room than pollute her brain further by returning to school.
I really don’t know what to make of it all? Oh, no! That rabbit is at it again! Bonking the slippers! Don’t you think he is setting a very bad example to Alice as he's obviously a sexual deviant? Please advise.
Yours, Mrs. Widdel
***************************************
Dear Mrs Widdel, I am afraid Alice has entirely misunderstood the requirements of her Science homework. She really should work harder in Science to make sure she is keeping up. As her report always says "Alice could do better in Science". If she does not learn the basic scientific principles she will be unable to pursue a career with a scientific leaning later in life. At her age it is too early to be dismissing science as irrelevant or getting involved in tomfoolery at home, pretending it has anything at all to do with her homework. I can tell from your letter that she has somehow hoodwinked you into believing all sorts of nonsense. She does not come across as a prankster at school. Unfortunately children often behave differently in different environments. It is important that she has respect for you, her mother, particularly as her father is not around to support you when she is pushing the boundaries as it appears she is determined to do. I urge you to maintain a high level of discipline at all times and to oversee that her homework is properly carried out. This will be beneficial to your peace of mind and to Alice's future which will be affected by her school progress. Your letter has drawn to my attention that Alice has some interesting ideas that she has not mentioned to me. If she was prepared, she could contribute usefully to our school assembly presentations. I think perhaps she is not being stretched enough at the moment. Perhaps a new challenge would help her to feel more a part of the school community, rather than alienated as she appears to be at the moment. I will certainly discuss these possibilities with Alice when I see her. School is not an option for Alice at her age; it is obligatory that she attends unless she has a doctor's note. If you do not make sure she is at school tomorrow, or provide a doctor's note to say she is unwell, the authorities will be contacting you to discuss measures that need to be taken. Alice has been away from school on too many occasions this year and this situation must be resolved. I know you have your own problems, such as the loss of your prize winning begonias and a wayward pet rabbit, but you must make sure you comply with your legal obligation to make sure Alice is at school. I hope you will take heed of this letter. Yours sincerely Miss. Wigglesly
******************************************
Dear Miss Wigglesly, Oh dear, oh dear! Alice has gone! I have had to have that fireman in again to break down her bedroom door but it seems she tied her sheets into a rope and escaped through the window with her clothes, which is at least better than her escaping with no clothes, I suppose? She left a note to say she has gone to live with her father - and worse still, she has left her rabbit behind to have relations with her teddy bear as well as her slippers and he isn't even house-trained! He has left his mark everywhere on the bedroom carpet and has even been on the bed! I am beside myself! I have no idea where Alice's father is, although I know she has phoned him on his mobile before she left. I do hope he isn't back living in that dreadful commune with all those New Age hippy people? It wouldn't surprise me if he was, as when I last saw him he was hanging onto some trollop called Raspberry or something - but that may have been because I threw a bag of potatoes at him and they hit him where it hurts most - in his pride - and made his eyes water a bit. (Good enough for him, I say!) How can I possibly make sure Alice is in school if she's with her father? And anyway, I don't drive even if I knew where he was? At least Alice didn't run off with the fireman. I am very tempted to do so myself and to wash my hands of Alice, the way she behaves. Oh no! The rabbit is now after my slippers and I am still wearing them! Yours, Mrs. Widdel
*****************************************
(To be continued in Part 3... coming shortly.)
|
|
|
Post by Old Dragon (Al) on Oct 19, 2004 22:01:40 GMT 1
Alice in Cuckoo Land – Part 3
*********************************** Dear Mrs. Widdel, I am sure the authorities will be very concerned for Alice's safety, as we all are. Have you informed the police that Alice has disappeared? I am sure they will be able to find Alice with their modern detective network and communications. You could suggest that they use sniffer dogs to trace her footsteps if she has not been gone long. (If they do, it would be a good idea to make sure the rabbit is safe.) I expect they will want to talk to Alice's school friends in case they knew she was going to be looking for her father and have any ideas where he might be. You will probably receive a visit from the social services staff in due course, who will be very interested to see if you are offering a suitable home environment for Alice. They will be asking the question whether it is perhaps better for her to live with her father and attend a school in the area that he is living in. I am sure you will be able to advise them on that count. I have passed a copy of your correspondence to the headmaster who will advise the appropriate authorities of Alice's disappearance. I hope she is found soon, Yours sincerely, Miss Wigglesly
********************************** Dear Miss Wigglesly, Why on earth would the authorities be concerned for Alice's safely if she is with her father? He is not a dangerous man, more into peace and making love - and he probably does that a lot as I think Alice must have at least nine half brothers and sisters by now? He is nearly as bad as that rabbit but at least he doesn't have relations with slippers, teddy bears and the neighbour's cat, only Raspberries, Strawberries, Skylarks and whatever other silly names his hippy trollops call themselves. I did telephone the police but as Alice is with her father, who doesn't have a criminal record, they said there's nothing they can do and there's no point them using sniffer dogs as Alice doesn't use drugs. In any case she washed her feet before she left. I am, however, most concerned for the safety of the rabbit therefore have decided that, as you are such a lover of rabbits, I am sending him to you in the accompanying box together with Alice's old slippers, the teddy bear and one of my best cushions because he refused to let go of that when I picked him up to put him in the box. Perhaps you'd be kind enough to return that duly dry cleaned, and as soon as possible if I am to have a visit from social services? It is one of a set and matches my curtains with the nice pink begonias on. I can assure you that Alice's home environment would be excellent - just as long as Alice and that depraved rabbit are not residing in it! Why, I am feeling greatly relieved already to have the place to myself - apart from that very nice fireman, that is. At this very moment he is planting new begonias in my beds for me and has steam cleaned the carpet in Alice's room too after that rabbit left his mark all over it. Thank you so much for suggesting it would be a good idea for Alice to live with her father. I can't think why I never thought of that myself? It brings me great pleasure to contemplate that Raspberry trollop having to listen to all the rubbish that Alice talks and, despite your remarks about her hood-winking me, I think you will find that it was me who first informed you that she talked a load of rubbish at home so I was hardly hood-winked, now was I? I do hope that you enjoy having the rabbit for company. Alice often remarked that you needed some male company as you were a frustrated and lonely old maid. There is no need to thank me for him, I am feeling very benevolent at the moment and am sure I've no need to explain but... Oh, that fireman has certainly lit a fire in me! Yours, Cecilia Widdel (Ms.) P.S. In case you are wondering, the rabbit is called Humper.
****************************************** Dear Mrs. Widdel, I am delighted to hear that Alice is apparently safe and sound living with her father and that life has taken an up-turn for you both. I expect the social services staff will not worry you much once they have established the facts. Thank you for sending Humper to me. He is indeed an interesting companion. I have found he does not at all mind being pampered and fussed, and I think I will enter him in the pet show at the weekend at the village fete...perhaps in the fancy dress category - I have it in mind to make him a rather nice bow tie and waist coat. I have an old pocket watch of my grandfather's that might complete the outfit. I am sure he will look lovely. He will always remind me of Alice. I hope she will be pleased that I am caring for Humper for her. I wonder if your fireman friend would be able to make him a hutch in my garden? Or perhaps bring round the one he built in your garden. It would be nice for Humper to be able to spend sometime outside when I am at school, but at the moment he is unfortunately confined to the house for his own safety. I believe there will be a flower show at the fete so if any of your begonias survived the trampling by the fireman and the ravages of Humper then perhaps you might be entering them? Or maybe you find you are too busy now with a man about the house? Just one more query - have you found out where Alice's father now lives? If it is outside of our school catchment area she will need to be attending a different school in the future. Once this has been confirmed, I will remove her name from my class register. Miss. Wigglelsy ********************************************
Dear Miss Wigglesly, I have received a letter from Alice and she is indeed safe and sound, although is living in a converted, single-decker bus and travelling from farm to farm to pick fruit. She says that she is spending time teaching the younger children to read and write, as they have never been in one place long enough to go to school. That often when they do try to stay somewhere for a longer period, the local people complain and the council insist they move on. However, Alice says it is all very educational. She also says that there is plenty of fresh food to eat that tastes better than anything I buy from the shops and cook for her. She is learning to cook meat in a fire pit and to use herbs found in the hedgerows and other practical things that she could never have learned in the school. I am sure the novelty of her present lifestyle will soon wear off and she'll realise life is not all a bowl of cherries with her father and Raspberry. Then she may well want to come back to a nice, normal home, don't you think? Not that I am that keen to let her right now. I think it will do her good to experience hardship so that she learns to appreciate the good things in life, such as having clean carpets and begonias on the curtains as well as in the garden. Meanwhile, Alice is pleased that you have Humper and will care for him. She says that she was afraid to take him with her in case Raspberry thought he would make a nice dinner. Alice says she thinks she will become a vegetarian after seeing what Raspberry does to rabbits and chickens. I have arranged for the new big hutch to be delivered to your house and you should find it on your drive when you return from work. I know it is rather a large hutch but at least you will be able to keep Humper company in there without getting stuck. You may not be able to get your car into the garage, though? Do you think it wise to enter Humper in the show? Although I'm sure he will be well disguised in a waistcoat and bow tie, and with a little pocket watch, I doubt the local vicar or his wife will have forgotten him from last year when Alice entered him in the show. Then Alice tried to disguise him as a Yorkshire Terrier, so perhaps that is what the vicar and his wife will be looking out warily for? She was wearing fur line suede boots, but it was the vicar's deer stalker hat that came in for most attention. He'd only just put it down on the chair next to him when having a cream tea served in the marquee when Humper spotted it. (He'd escaped, you see?) You will also need to make sure Humper doesn't get wind of the giant vegetables at the show. He was very impressed by those although perhaps not with their taste? He only took one little nibble from each of the exhibits but made more of an impression in the flower arranging section, munching through several exhibits before moving on to the cookery tent. Had he not been so impressed by a large cake decorated to resemble a chocolate hedgehog he might never have been caught. It was there his weakness for... well... shall we just say 'living up to his name' proved his downfall? It took ages to wash all the melted chocolate off his belly and under parts, too! Mind you, Alice was laughing so much at the time she could hardly see to clean him up! I don't think I'll bother taking any begonias to the show this year. Instead I plan to enter some watercolours this year. Without Alice and Humper around to clean up after, I have taken up painting and find it very relaxing between visits from the fireman. He has offered to pose for me too but I have yet to decide where. Have you any suggestions? Amongst the red hot pokers, perhaps? Yours Cecelia Widdel.
************************************** (To be continued in Part 4... coming shortly.)
|
|
|
Post by Old Dragon (Al) on Oct 24, 2004 1:39:34 GMT 1
Alice in Cuckoo Land - Part 4
Dear Ms. Widdel, You may be interested to know I found some reports written for Alice a few years ago now....
How I remember her in those days with her little blue dress and white sash, and her stories about Cheshire, her cat that grinned and disappeared slowly when she talked to it. She certainly did have an active imagination. I am sure she will be fine in her new life and I am just delighted she has found a lifestyle that suits her and of course that she is safe. I must thank you so much for asking the fireman, Mr. King, to come round to deliver the hutch. What a gent. He reacted so swiftly to a local emergency whilst here, calling out his unit and they all arrived within minutes when my neighbour’s fat little boy fell of his garden wall and into a mine shaft. (He is a naughty little boy and I was not sorry at all... but Mr. King and his men were splendid.) It was a very congenial meeting with Whitey (as I now know him) that followed, as I had to thank him for his time and efforts, and I feel certain I will be spending far less time at home alone now as I think Whitey rather enjoyed my company. I had no idea Humper was the same white rabbit that misbehaved so shamelessly at last years fete. I thought that rabbit was called Thumper. Never mind, Humper has now a lovely female companion who is busy straightening out their new huge hutch for them. I think he will now be a happy boy, although Cheshire, (I have named her after Alice's old cat) is actually spayed and will not be giving birth to baby bunbuns thankfully. Two is enough for me to cope with and I don't want to have to ask Whitey to build yet another new hutch. I hope your water colours are well received at the fete. I do not think I will be attending after all as I have a few domestic arrangements to sort out.
Please send my very best wishes to Alice next time you see her.
May the earth's blessings be with you as I feel they are with me at the moment,
Very best regards, Ms. Wigglesly
********************************************
Dear Ms. Wigglesly, Indeed, I also have copies of all Alice's school reports and remember her throwing a tantrum in the shop the day we bought her that little blue dress with the white sash. I much preferred the nice begonia red dress but was so shocked at her insistence on the blue one. Unfortunately her father was paying (for a change) and allowed her to have her way. As for her imaginary cat, she was quite obsessed with those stories and clearly identified herself with the 'Alice' character. What a shame little girls have to grow up to be such obnoxious teenagers? As for Whitey King, never was I so taken in! I really must caution you to be very careful there. He is not the gent that he would have people believe. Why, no sooner had he left than I had a visit from his wife! Yes, wife! That poor woman was beside herself and most anxious to track our Mr. Whitey King down to obtain dinner money for their 5 children and enough for the month's council tax. It seems that he had even told her that I owed him money for some gardening and carpentry work building the rabbit’s hutch, not to mention other things. I felt most sorry for the poor woman as she was obviously distressed so I gave her what I thought fair for the jobs he’d done and was rewarded by such a look of relief as you could hardly imagine! If that man shows his face here again I shall most certainly wipe the floor with him! I'm pleased to hear Humper has a lady friend now. He will enjoy that and perhaps learn to mend his ways, although somehow I doubt it. Once a deviant, always a deviant, I say! (And that applies to the likes of Whitey King as much as that rabbit!) I'm so sorry that you won't be at the fete or have the opportunity to see my watercolours. I really feel that I have found my forte in life through the medium and have turned my lounge into a studio. Do let me know if you'd like the rest of those cushions and matching curtains with the pink begonias on as those, and the ones in my garden will have to go. Just seeing them is a constant reminder of the duplicity practiced by that conman, King! In fact, if I never set eyes on another begonia I shall be delighted. I have received another letter from Alice. It seems Raspberry is pregnant again and that Alice's father is busy converting a second bus to accommodate his growing family. Alice seems to think he's also seeking a second wife too. I can't be sure if she is joking or not, but she did suggest you might like to apply for that position? Having read your message about 'earth's blessings', perhaps Alice knows something I don't, and you would be interested? It must be very trying working in that school and with all those difficult teenagers, not to mention living next to your neighbour's naughty boy - or did the firemen fail to get him out of the mineshaft and your 'splendid' comment refer to the little horror's demise? Your, Cecilia
******************************************
Dear Mrs Widdel, I am sorry to hear about your experience with Mr. King's 'wife' and indeed wonder if you may have been the unfortunate victim of a fraudulent scam. There are some most unsavoury types frequenting the area recently, possibly as a result of the government decision to move refugees into the old council estate behind where you live, despite the concerns of the honest, decent, hardworking residents in the area. I shall of course beware as, being a professional woman, I would not wish to be associated with a person such that you purport Mr. King to be. I will perhaps make some discreet enquiries of the chief fire officer I think, to assure myself that Mr. King is single as he says he is. As for your soft furnishings, please donate them to a charitable cause as I have no need for such frippery in my home thank you. I prefer to keep my house free from 'dust collectors' wherever possible. If you get a chance to speak to Alice please tell her that if she would like to attend school again and re-acquaint herself with her studies and the furtherance of her academic education, she would be welcome to do so. However I do not wish to be thought of by her as anything other than her school teacher, and I would be grateful if you would ask her to kindly keep her imagination at bay should I arise in her thoughts. Such thoughts are probably only subliminal and represent her inner desire for a more orderly and normal life than the one she is currently experiencing, and a desire to return to school where she knows she is safe and we have her best interests at heart.
Unfortunately she will probably now become a skivvy for Raspberry and her father and their other children, but as she has chosen this life-style and you and her father have allowed her so to do, I think there is very little I, or anyone else, can do about it, despite she is still of an age where school attendance is compulsory. The educational welfare officers may however have a different view, and you and Alice's father may well soon be hearing from them. Alice may also be required to have a chat with them, so perhaps it would be worth you mentioning this to her. Mrs. Widdel, I would urge you to reconsider your relationship with your daughter and think about what you can do to help her secure at the least some level of decency in her life. My neighbour's son was indeed rescued from the mine shaft by the way, and has since then taken to jumping over a different wall and entering other people's gardens. I am concerned that he will notice Humper and Cheshire in their bunny abode. I intend to visit his poor mother this afternoon to alert her to his most recent activities, and I will possibly write to the head teacher at the boy's prep. school. As you can see I now have very many little tasks to complete as well as all my marking, so will sign off now, Miss. Wigglesly
(Continued in Part 5.)
|
|
|
Post by Old Dragon (Al) on Oct 24, 2004 1:42:34 GMT 1
Alice in Cuckoo Land - Part 5
Dear Ms. Wigglesly, I realise you must be disappointed after only just having met Whitey King, but I can assure you that his wife was most certainly genuine. Indeed, the children were so like their father, there could be no mistaking their relationship to him, not to mention that she was able to produce identification when I asked her. That included her family allowance book (which Whitey had cashed) and their council tax bill. Subsequently she sent round one of the children with a bunch of flowers picked from her garden and a very polite thank-you note. I gave the child a glass of milk and some biscuits and, while they were here, learned of their father's fondness for betting on the horses and, indeed, at that very moment he turned up and had the audacity to ask for a loan of £10. He said he'd been given a red hot tip! It was then that the child came out from the kitchen and in tears, called him 'Daddy' and begged him not to gamble anymore in the bookies! So no, the only person into scams is Whitey King himself. This being the case, and my motive in telling you being nothing more than concern, even friendship as I feel I owe you a favour for taking the rabbit off my hands, I see no reason for you to turn 'starchy school-mam' with me, all of a sudden. If I can admit to the wretched man making a fool of me in order to prevent you from falling into the same situation, then I am sure you can find the courage to see things as they really are without resorting to a patronising tone with me, which doesn't become either you or your position as a teacher.
May I also remind you that the legal situation in the UK is that, although education is compulsory, school is not. Alice has herself been taking her father to task over this matter and has managed to persuade him to take a position suited to his temperament, qualifications and interests on a Scottish island monitoring seabird populations and something to do with pollution levels in farmed salmon. This means that he and his growing family will, at least, be in one location and settled and, although there is no school on the island, a system of online education can be set up and with live links to a teacher on the mainland. Raspberry appears to have recruited her sister, a nurse with experience of midwifery but who has been feeling very stressed of late and disillusioned with the health service, to join them on the island and help with the children. Alice says she's a strapping woman and will be good at turf cutting and digging the garden where they plan to grow potatoes and other vegetables to supplement their supplies from the mainland and the eggs and chickens they'll be taking with them. Finally, Alice informs me that there is nothing imaginary about certain matters relating to you. That she did, in fact, overhear you discussing your own behaviour during your student days and with that new art master - the one who resembles Lord Bath with his flowing grey beard and brightly coloured knitted cardigans and patchwork waistcoats. It seems that you were quite a rebel yourself in your youth, Ms Wigglesly! I wonder if the headmaster is aware of your tendency towards political activism, not to mention your... er... shall we say 'friendship' with a particularly flamboyant young politician of the time? I have no doubt that you will manage to keep the neighbour's brat under control and trust dealing with his mother didn't keep you from your marking? My painting awaits me and I am considering exhibiting some of my work in the local art society exhibition soon. Before I go, I should mention that there is a rumour going around that you have opened a rabbit sanctuary. I distinctly heard two women at the bus stop discussing it and the one mentioned that she'd be sending you eleven baby rabbits and two pregnant does. She'd send the buck too, if only he hadn't escaped and was last seen hopping into a run where here neighbour has four does. I do believe the buck might be one of Humper's brothers, the way it behaves! Yours Cecilia W.
(Continued in Part 6.)
|
|
|
Post by Old Dragon (Al) on Oct 24, 2004 1:45:34 GMT 1
Alice in Cuckoo Land - Part 6
Dear Miss Wigglesly,
Bet you didn’t expect to receive a letter from me but I had to write.
It is such a relief for me to know that you have Humper. It wasn’t easy manipulating mum into coming up with the idea of giving him to you and it was really important to let her think it was her idea all along. Often I’d asked her if he could have a lady rabbit for company, but I’m sure you know what parents can be like? Thank you so much for having him. He is a wonderful character, if a bit of a monkey at times.
You probably feel I’ve a lot of explaining to do and yes, there was more to the science homework episode. That was just the final straw as far as I was concerned but there was no way that it could all be revealed to mum, she'd never understand. Several times I came close to plucking up the courage to talk with you about it. To confide things in you. That especially when you’d been telling the class stories about the animals that were your pets when you were our age. We saw a different side of you at those times and more approachable. That you were a very kind and caring teacher under the strict façade, but something always seemed to disturb the moment, such as the head master entering the classroom and the atmosphere would suddenly change. It felt as if a cloud fell in front of you and you’d become abruptly inaccessible. Besides, I'd have been devastated if, having told you, you'd put it all down to imagination. Too much going on at the school gets brushed under the carpet or put down to 'imagination'. It's so demoralising when teachers would rather bury their heads in the sand and cling to an attitude of denial than face unpleasant matters that are facts.
It’s easy to speculate but one can’t help wondering if the head’s intimidating manner was partly responsible for so many really good and well respected teachers never seeming to work at the school for longer than one term?
He reminds me very much of my grandfather – mum’s father. I’m not surprised my parents’ marriage didn’t work out with him constantly interfering and telling both Mum and Dad what to do and how to live. They were very young when they met. Students and quite bowled over by each other, according to Mum. Despite all, she still has a fondness for Dad, yet so often some of the things she comes out with are echoes of words I’ve heard my grandfather say over and over. It’s like he brain-washed her and took over her head and she allowed it to happen. Grandfather will have a fit when he finds out Mum has taken up painting again. My fondest memories of Mum are when she’d spend hours with me painting in little colouring books she’d ostensibly bought for me. It was wonderful watching her and she’d seem so happy at those times. Those colouring books are something that were impossible for me to leave behind when… well, you know?
It hasn’t been easy trying to persuade her to paint again. To try and see the opportunity she now has without me around to follow her dream of becoming an artist. Neither will it be easy to convince her to be more assertive and stand up to Grandfather when he finds out but worth the effort, don’t you think? Do you think she is beginning to change, Miss Wigglesly?
Mum has very few friends, you know? By that I mean real friends; the sort she can confide in. Dad has been telling me quite a lot about the problems they had when together, including about the opposition and pressure that his parents had towards their marriage. That’s made it much easier for me to understand where things went wrong and I’m glad he doesn’t hold Mum to blame or indeed anyone. He seems to accept that they were simply too young and inexperienced then to have dealt with all the external factors that were brought to bear at the time. Even that he made demands to Mum that were unreasonable, such as to move miles away from their respective families so they could build a life of their own. Perhaps if I’d not been on the way then things might have been different? It’s probably only natural for someone expecting a baby to want to be near their family and to feel secure at such a time? Grandfather certainly made sure Mum was going nowhere, especially when he bought them the house to live in – but only on his terms and he made sure the deeds were to remain in his name. He kept on and on that the marriage would never last. On and on sowing seeds of doubt and it was probably inevitable that both Mum and Dad would be influenced by the poison he kept on dripping into the pot. But enough of this morbid stuff. Let’s change the subject…
It would be lovely to see a photo of Humper with his new lady friend, Cheshire. Enclosed is an envelope addressed to the house we will be staying in once we arrive on the island, also some stamps that will hopefully be enough to cover the cost of a photo of the rabbits together?
Perhaps it is wrong to laugh, but it was so funny that day when Humper disgraced himself at the local fete last year. If only you had seen the state of him after his encounter with the chocolate hedgehog cake I’m sure you would have laughed too!
I’m really looking forward to reaching the island, seeing the scenery and wildlife there and helping Dad with his work. Mum may not like Raspberry but, in fairness, she is very down to earth and works her socks off caring for Dad and all the children. She makes the most beautiful patchwork quilts you’ve even seen and from the leftovers from jumble sales. She also makes lovely rugs and wall hangings from the scraps and anything too small to use in those she will turn into a type of papier mache that can be moulded into bowls and things like money boxes and even decorative paper! One afternoon we walked miles gathering sacks of sheep’s wool from fences, hedges and bushes and Raspberry died it with plant dyes and turned it into felt slippers and hats for all the younger children. When we get to the island she wants to have a small flock of sheep and plans to milk those and use the milk for things like cheese and yoghurt as well as using their fleeces for making blankets and clothes.
Raspberry’s sister is named Rosemary and she is also very excited at the prospect of living on the island. There is talk of her helping to run a small clinic there, dealing with minor medical matters. Our family’s arrival will apparently result in a 25% increase in the island’s population, although most of the residents there are scientists or involved in various scientific studies.
Apparently there is only one road on the island and that little more than a dirt track that runs from a jetty at the tiny harbour village and connects the various research establishments and a couple of the remaining crofts. With the island only being five miles long by three miles wide, it should be possible to walk from one end to the other and back in half a day.
We have been allocated two cottages near the harbour as the family is so large. Dad, Raspberry and the younger children will live in one and Rosemary and the older children (including me) in the other. Dad showed me photos of the cottages. They are very squat looking, built from stone and whitewashed. Being so far north, summer days are very long and near to the solstice the nights extremely short but in winter it is quite the opposite. Dad says if we are very lucky we may even get to see the aurora borealis. He says he’s seen it once before and that it was the most spectacular sight imaginable. Better than any manmade firework display he’s ever witnessed.
I do hope I’ve not bored you with all this waffling? Please put it down to excitement and give Humper a carrot and a cuddle from me. I’ll never forget either him or you.
Love, Alice.
To be continued in Part 7.
|
|
|
Post by Old Dragon (Al) on Oct 28, 2004 3:57:21 GMT 1
Alice in Cuckoo Land - Part 7
Dear Alice,
I received your postcard from that little hotel near Oban but fancy sending such a vulgar one – and at your age, too! Why, I even caught the postman chuckling over it on the doorstep this morning and he went off back down the path pretending to do the Highland fling and tossing his imaginary kilt in the air. Quite light on his feet, he was and had me wondering what he might look like in a kilt?
My painting is going very well; thank you for asking, but I only wish the light in the lounge was better. I visited one of the art society member’s homes the other day. (In those lovely new studio flats with the pretty courtyard gardens and over by the lake.) There is quite a little community of artists, designers and sculptors moving in over there and taking advantage of the gallery in the ground floor arts centre. Why, if it weren’t for thinking you might want to return here when you have got this silly nonsense out of your system I’d be off and renting a delightful little place with charming views over the park and lake. Really, the sacrifices parents make for their children, Alice and none appreciated at all.
I have packed up all your clothes, books and toys. Even if you have outgrown most of those they may come in useful for all those children? I’ve not touched your computer and, for the life of me, don’t know how to pack that for it to be safely transported all the way to the back of beyond. Why, you probably won’t have electricity to use it anyway even if your father could afford to pay the bills for that!
Talking of fathers, I have no doubt that your grandfather will cut off my allowance after what you have done. I doubt you thought of that when you took off and without so much as a bye or leave, did you? You know perfectly well that Granddad has always insisted that I never worked and solely because he disapproved of working mothers and wanted to ensure that I was always at home for you. Your grandfather has always supported the both of us and, much as I am enjoying a little freedom at the moment, and have tried to humour you, I do think you should consider my situation and call a halt to this nonsense now. If it is money for the train fare home you need, you have only to ask, Alice.
I have been doing my best to extend the hand of friendship to your Miss Wigglesly but find her quite stand-offish at times, not to mention pretentious and even a touch condescending. I do believe that she is one of those peculiar people that relates better to dumb animals than to people. However, if it will please you, I shall continue to be as pleasant as possible to her. I suppose you have heard that there is a rumour that she is opening a rabbit sanctuary in her garden?
Some of your school friends have been here asking for your forwarding address. I feel quite ashamed of having to give them post office addresses.
Kindly telephone me when you receive this letter. I want to know you have received it and, Alice, no more vulgar postcards! If you can’t find any with nice Scottish views on, I would rather a plain white one! Better still, I am enclosing a nice new writing pad and matching envelopes, also some stamps and a decent pen, so you have no excuses. That horrid purple felt tip pen you used last time ran in the rain and I got stains all over my fingers, as did the postman.
Your devoted mother.
*******************************************
Dear Mum,
Surely a postcard of a cartoon Highland cow with its eyes popping out at the sight of a Scotsman's kilt blown up in the wind isn't vulgar, is it? It wasn’t as if you could see anything anyway. He had his back to front of the card!
Thanks for the writing paper, pen and stamps. Those will come in most useful and I certainly would not dream of asking you for the train fare because I do not intend to return yet.
It was great talking to you on the phone and hearing all the local gossip, too. I’m so pleased you saw through that Mr. King and think it was kind of you to send his wife those bags of furnishings and cushions. Fancy her offering to become your cleaner. Still, at least that will allow you more time to get your paintings ready for the exhibition.
I went to an internet café today and looked up the gallery’s website – very impressive. They also had a virtual tour of the studio flats you mentioned and loads of information about the many prominent artists who exhibit their work there. Just think, you could be rubbing shoulders with the elite of the art world on a regular basis if you were to rent one of those studio flats? The gallery claim only to hang the work of very carefully selected artists too, so they must be impressed with your work to have offered you your own exhibition. You must be thrilled to bits by the impression you have made on them.
Do you know they have a vacancy for an ‘artist in residence’ there? I expect you do. Especially considering what they are offering as remuneration and the perks for just having to spend a few hours a week actually painting within the gallery itself and showing visitors a few simple techniques. That not to mention the free flat that goes with the job. I mentioned that to Dad and said I was sure that you would be onto it already but he just laughed and said you would never dare. Not with ‘that carnivorous old chauvinist breathing down your neck and ordering you to obey his every word!’ I think Dad was on about Granddad.
Dad also laughed his head off when I suggested that you have my computer so you could learn to use one and we would be able to keep in touch by email every day once I reach the island. Both he and Raspberry thought that highly amusing and doubted if you had the intelligence to do that let alone take advantage of being able to market your paintings to the world via the internet and on something like eBay. Mind you, I do think Dad is onto a loser in his attempt to teach Raspberry how to use a computer! It seems he has volunteered her services to process various data for the research project because that would mean an extra wage coming in. Poor Raspberry, she has already been dropping hints to me about doing that for her and, if I do, it will mean I will have almost exclusive use of a terrific, up to the minute new PC system. Clearly, with all the various scientific studies taking place on the island, the community there is far from living in the dark ages, as you may suspect.
Of course, if you were to want to prove Dad wrong about you learning to use a computer, promise me you will not go reading my private files? Definitely NOT my diary! I would feel so embarrassed! I meant to delete that before I left, as I’d made a copy of my hard drive onto CD to take with me.
I don’t know why you worry about what Granddad might do. Why, with artistic talent such as yours, I am sure you could earn your own fortune if you want to. However, if he does try to upset you or your plans, enclosed with this is another letter addressed to him and from me. It is most important that you do not give him that letter unless things become seriously bad between you. I do not want to sound overdramatic, but the contents of that letter will certainly get him off your back - but only as a last resort. I would be very surprised if he ever speaks to me again should he get to read it.
I expect that poor Miss Wigglesly is indeed someone who relates to animals better than to people. She is probably engrossed in telling Humper and Cheshire all about the pets she kept as a child and lecturing Humper on the error of his ways.
Yes, do bear with her, Mum. Her bark is very much worse than her bite. You may well discover that you have more in common with her that you realise and, no, I don’t mean that fireman! Perhaps she is simply being kind hearted towards him and paying him to build her more rabbit hutches whilst lecturing him as well as Humper?
Will write again soon.
Love, Alice
|
|
|
Post by Old Dragon (Al) on Oct 31, 2004 14:42:16 GMT 1
Alice in Cuckoo Land - Part 8
My dearest Edith,
Have you taken leave of your senses? What are you thinking of girl, establishing a rabbit sanctuary indeed. I was sure there must be some mistake when I first heard of your proposed venture, but alas it would seem to be true, as it has now been reported to me by no less than four acquaintances who have delighted in going out of their way to ensure I am made aware of your plans.
Where did this insane notion originate? I have heard rumours of large white rabbits wreaking havoc at the local fete and performing unmentionable acts on novelty chocolate cakes, but am having great difficulty sifting through the various snippets of information, and determining fact from fiction. It all sounds very “Alice in Wonderland” to be frank. I thought you had left all that sort of thing behind you when you finally put away your childhood storybooks, and went off to university. I had hoped that all those pets that mother and father allowed you to have as a child would have been sufficient to cure your addiction for small furry creatures that, frankly, invariably create the most obnoxious odours imaginable.
Have you no idea how ridiculous you are being, and how badly this reflects on me. I am certain that my friends are sniggering behind my back, and shaking their heads in bewilderment, and who can blame them.
It has also been brought to my attention that you are associating with a most unsuitable character whom I am led to understand is a member of the local fire brigade. To say I am deeply shocked is a definite understatement. Did you not learn anything from your past experiences of associating with members of the opposite sex? I would have thought your dalliance with that unsavoury young whip-a-snapper of a politician during your student days would have taught you a valuable lesson about men and their selfish ways.
Would this fireman have anything to do with your foolish notion to set up a refuge for homeless rabbits? If this were the case, I would urge you to banish him from your life forthwith, and return to some semblance of respectability without further delay. What, may I ask, are you planning to do with these creatures in the long term? Surely, you do not envisage keeping them indefinitely. What will become of your beautiful garden? Quite honestly, I do not see your flower beds remaining untouched for very long with rabbits running around, I have enough of a problem with the occasional invasion of wild rabbits here, and have been heartbroken to discover the results of their ravages in the past. I would also remind you that rabbits are prone to contracting myxomatosis, as well as all manner of other dreadful diseases and complaints. Quite apart from any risk to your own health, how are you planning to finance this undertaking, and find sufficient funds to meet any veterinary expenses?
I would sincerely hope that you are not planning to fritter away your inheritance on such foolishness. Mother and father would not rest easy in their graves if they suspected that you were about to show such disrespect for their many years of careful financial management. I suppose I must be grateful that they are not still alive to witness your total lack of respect for them and their loving generosity. I am sure that, had they suspected you were capable of such actions, they would have taken steps to prevent their endeavours from being flouted in this manner.
Your fireman friend has no knowledge of your financial situation I hope, I would question his motives for befriending you if he has. After all, it would not be the first time a lonely, middle-aged spinster has had her head turned by some scheming fortune hunter now would it. Think carefully before you continue with this association Edith, and rest assured that should you fall victim to his attempts to win your affections, and find yourself relieved of your financial security, I would not be held responsible for rescuing you.
Nor can you expect any sympathy if your Headmaster gains knowledge of your foolishness, and comes to the decision that your presence is no longer required at school. I could not blame him if he did decide to dispense with your services, after all he has a responsibility for the moral welfare of the pupils to consider, and to have a member of his staff cavorting around the village with the local gigolo is hardly the sort of example he would want set for them.
I cannot pretend that I am not bitterly disappointed in you Edith; you have once again proven that you have a feckless streak, which you seem to find it impossible to curb. I had hoped that upon reaching your more mature years, your behaviour would also improve, but sadly, it would seem now that my hopes are to be cruelly dashed. I despair of you ever achieving a state of grace, which is a word that seems totally alien to you sadly.
Having said my piece, and in the vain hope that you will take note of my warnings, I will draw this letter to a close now. I have a meeting to attend this afternoon, and frankly feel the need of a strong cup of tea before I can even entertain preparing myself to sally forth. However, life must go on, and I shall put a brave face on things despite the trauma I am suffering at present as a consequence of your appalling behaviour.
Think carefully on all I have said, and please reconsider your proposals. You would not want to find yourself without the support of family if things should go badly I am sure.
Your loving sister Edna
************************************
Dear Alice
How are you? It’s been ages since we’ve been able to talk, have you forgotten my phone number or something? Finally managed to drag this address out of your mum, she seemed sort of embarrassed but I'm not sure why. I wasn’t too sure if she was having a mid-life crisis or just decorating. You wouldn’t recognise your living room anymore.
Anyway, when I found out about you moving to the Scottish island my mum was a bit concerned with it becoming winter soon and so I’ve enclosed the blue scarf she insisted on knitting for you. Don’t worry you don’t have to wear it, just humour her.
You’re not really missing much at school. The lessons are still dull and the canteen food is no better. I think the only exciting thing you missed was when the hamster from class 4 escaped. We found Nipper safe and well the next day. Don’t think Mr Flukelweicivic was impressed though, as that greedy little rodent had pinched his peanut stash.
Oh, you are so lucky to be going to live on that island. Raspberry sounds very cool and your dad so laid back. Do you have any spare rooms? I would love to visit some time! All that freedom and space; wow it must be great fun.
Anyway I had best be off. I have a lovely science assignment to do; can you tell how excited I am about that? Drop me a line or call me soon. We miss you loads!
Luv,
Polly
*******************
Cecelia,
I am highly disturbed by what I have heard about you. Apparently you have defied me once to often now, and I intend to take steps to rectify this behaviour. I hear you have taken up painting again. I also hear you intend to hold an exhibition. This is not at all acceptable behaviour for a member of my family. You know my feelings on this sort of nonsense. I will not stand for it, and will not let you drag the family name any lower than you already have.
I will be arriving at your home, at 9am Wednesday morning, Benson the chauffeur shall drive me, upon my arrival I expect to see no proof of this philandering, time wasting behaviour. I will expect you to have your bags packed, and ready to return with me to the family home, whereby you shall reform your ways, and once again become a respectable member of society.
I feel it is in your best interests that you come to stay with me, where I can regulate your behaviour, and provide you with suitable friends and social events.
I cannot understand what we as your parents ever did to deserve the behaviour and utter disrespect we got from you. You have been such a disgrace to this family. Why could you not have been more like your cousins? Your cousins by the way have all married highly respectable business men, they live in highly desirable homes, and have well educated, polite children, with excellent prospects ahead of them. Whilst you! You chose to run off with that common hippy, tarnishing the family name and producing a grandchild, to whom I am ashamed to stake claim. Did I not tell you at the time that it was all wrong, and would not work, marrying him was one thing, but now being separate from him, is entirely another, especially as he now lives on a commune with goodness knows how many concubines! What a disgrace!
Whilst on the subject of your wayward daughter, I inform you that I have a private detective on his way to collect her. He will deliver her to Nanny Evaline’s home, where she will be taught the correct behaviour suited to a young lady of her age, she will then be sent to Switzerland, to attend a highly recommended finishing school. Only then will she be able return to grace my home. I will not have her here before then, behaving all common, as I expect you have let her. Imagine letting the child run off to live with her father, and his concubines, what were you thinking of Cecelia? I really do despair.
I expect to find everything in order upon my arrival, and I will accept no argument from you. You WILL do as I say; it is high time you started to show me the respect I demand.
Your Father
Edward. P. Montague Esq.
(To be continued in Part 9.)
|
|
|
Post by Old Dragon (Al) on Oct 31, 2004 20:07:30 GMT 1
Alice in Cuckoo Land - Part 9
Hiya, Polly!
‘Course I haven’t forgotten your phone number, just keep running out of talk time and, even though I have some cash and my savings book with me trying to find somewhere to get that topped up isn’t easy around here.
Everyone’s holed up in a little hotel near Oban while the final preparations are made for everyone involved with the research project that Dad will be working on. They seem to be assembling huge crates of stuff to ship out to the island. Today Raspberry had £500 for supplies, winter clothes for all of us and everything else we might need there. Mrs. McAllister, the lady who owns the hotel, was horrified when Raspberry and her sister arrived back in two taxi’s piled high with the contents of every charity shop they could find and all packed up in black dustbin bags!
“Those poor wee bairns,” she kept saying, as Raspberry showed her all the bargains she’d bought.
Although I think she was worried when we arrived about having so many children running around, her fears proved groundless - thank god, videos and the TV set! Having never seen television or even lived in a house before, the children have been in a state of open-mouthed awe for days. The can’t take their eyes off the TV and when they all have to go to bed they have been easy to convince that the hotel is haunted. That if they do anything but behave like little angels the ghosts of Rob Roy, William Wallace and Robert the Bruce will appear and lock them up in a dark dungeon!
Surprisingly, none of them fears the dark or things like rats and spiders. They are more afraid of not being able to escape in time to catch the boat to the island!
Mrs. McAllister has also been spoiling the kids rotten with her oatcakes, buns and scones and the twins Mayflower and Appleblossom, and little Elderberry have all been allowed to help her bake in the kitchen. That’s left me to keep an eye on all the boys. Whereas all the girls are named after plants, the boys are named for birds. There’s Puffin, Guillemot, Kestrel, Bluejay, Mistlethrush (whom we all call ‘Toosh’ because he can’t pronounce his name and calls himself that) and the youngest, Robin. He and I are the only ones who don’t have to repeat our names several times when we are asked. Even Dad gets that problem and it’s so long since he’s been called Dr. Simeon Widdel that, when the research team’s leader, Dr. Daphne Devine, introduces him to anyone he keeps saying “call me Albatross”, so now people seem to think he’s Albert Ross! Oh, well, at least he seems to answer to that, even if Raspberry drifts by in a haze if anyone addresses her as Mrs. Ross! They seem to think she’s either in a pregnancy-induced euphoric state or else been at the poppy seeds again!
She is craving the weirdest of things now. Last night we all had a lovely fish pie but Raspberry ate a whole dish of fresh prawns dressed with cider vinegar, pine nuts, sunflower and poppy seeds and all topped with rhubarb jam. Dr. Devine’s recently qualified assistant looked as if he was going to be sick and had to rush out of the room!
Honestly, Polly, that guy is about as cool as Amena Singh’s granny’s vindaloo curries! You’ll never believe what his name is… Iain Arbroath McCauley Haddock! As if it wasn’t bad enough being saddled with a name like that, when he signed the hotel register it looked like ‘I. AM Haddock, BSc. Hons’. For a moment I thought he’d written something to do with a fish disease!
Thanks for the scarf off your mum, even if I don’t wear it I’m sure it’ll come in handy to tie some of the kids together with sooner or later. Trying to keep track of them all can be a nightmare and Raspberry often makes them walk along in a sort of chain-gang and hanging onto a length of rope so that they don’t get lost.
I wouldn’t worry too much about my mum, she’s going through an ‘arty’ phase. She probably looked flustered and embarrassed when you called because she had a nude model tucked away somewhere.
What a shame Nipper didn’t pinch Mr. Flukelweicivic other nuts or better still bite them. Don’t forget to keep him at arm’s length, Polly; you saw what he did to me when he told me to ‘leekvidize’ myself in order to work out the volume of my body mass. When I took my bra off I’d bruises from where his fingers had been squeezing me. He should be locked up the way he behaves and I’m sure he’ll get caught one of these days. I nearly shopped him to the police but that might have meant delaying running away to Dad.
I’ll have to let you know about spare rooms once we reach the island but it would be great if you could visit in the holidays.
Will phone you as soon as I can get more talk time.
Love, Alice
(To be continued in Part Ten.)
|
|
|
Post by lisa23 on Nov 2, 2004 19:35:00 GMT 1
P.S. Polly, I'm enclosing some copies of drawings the kids have done of the ghosts they think are in the hotel! I wonder what the new art master would make of them? William Wallace by Elderberry by Appleblossom William Wallace by Mayflower Rob Roy by Mistlethrush Rob Roy by Bluejay by Kestrel by Guillemot by Robin by Puffin
|
|
|
Post by Old Dragon (Al) on Nov 5, 2004 1:42:17 GMT 1
Alice in Cuckoo Land - Part 10 Hiya Alice! Sorry didn’t think about how remote you actually are up in Scotland. How long do you think you will be staying in Oban? When you move to the island, can you have a normal landline or will you get one of those cool satellite phones? I don’t mind writing letters it was just a little quiet not having any contact with you. Your siblings are little rascals aren’t they? I didn’t realise that they had such new age names. I guess I should have expected it with your step-mum being called Raspberry. Is that her real name or one she has chosen? Are you considering following your dad and choosing a hippy name or will you remain good old Alice? If you do pick something pretty like Sunbeam, well, I know I would. Oh, by the way, my mum says when she was pregnant with me that she had cravings for sardines and cream cheese. I'm not sure if she meant together but the thought of that turns my stomach, probably would send Haddock retching. I totally agree with you about Mr. Flukelweicivic, except I didn’t realise how close he actually got to you when he was talking about that body mass stuff. He is such an old letch. We have had a new girl join our class. Her name is Jodie and she is from America. All the boys think she is the bee’s knees. Anyway, obviously so does Mr. Flukelweicivic. If he didn’t seem slimy before, he definitely does now. I don’t think Jodie will stand for it though and I can’t see him working here much longer if he continues the way he is. Once again, homework calls. You lucky thing not going to school. Speak soon. Luv Polly. P.S. Remember to ask your dad about the spare room! P.P.S. Thanks for sending me the pics by your siblings. Mum’s insisted on sticking them to the fridge to brighten up the kitchen. ********************************** Hiya, Polly! Guess what? We have arrived on the Isle of Cuach! Apparently that is Gaelic for cuckoo so, from one form of cuckoo land, I find myself in another; only this appears a lot more peaceful. Magical, even and, although I’ve had no time yet to explore, it is possible to see a circle of standing stones from the tiny window of bedroom shared with Elderberry. Stones, rocks, mountains, sky and even acres of moorland are visible, yet not a tree in sight; but the cuckoo stops briefly here to rest and drink each spring on its way to Callanish for its first song. Perhaps your mum wants to stick the pictures on the fridge so that she can pretend she has a huge family instead of only you, Polly? Your mum is such a motherly type of person; it is easy to imagine her thriving with a much larger family to care for. The kids would probably love to do more pictures to send her and it will help keep them out of trouble doing so. Unloading everything from the boat and getting it up to the cottages was a nightmare. Dr. Devine had arranged for all her stuff and the Haddock’s to be taken by Land Rover to the little croft she’s renting about a mile away. We had to carry all ours by hand the few hundred yards to the cottages. Raspberry, decided that one trip back and forth to the harbour was enough for her, so chose instead to start unpacking. One by one the children, exhausted by all the traveling and excitement, dropped out and fell asleep anywhere they could find space to curl up. Rosemary adopted a role of supervisor; something neither Dad nor I paid much attention to, as she sounded like a flustered Brown Owl trying to organise a bunch of seven year old Brownies on a circus trip. Despite all, we managed before nightfall and fell asleep to the sound of the sea and the scent of peat smoke from the cottage fires. It seems so strange not to hear traffic passing, not even at a distance, but the sea birds make up for it in the mornings! A little fishing boat came in on the early tide and, as Dad had already gone to see Dr. Devine, Raspberry sent me to see if we could buy some fish. I think other islanders must have already bought most of the lone fisherman’s catch before I reached the harbour. He certainly gave me a fierce look as I approached, and from beneath brows as craggy as the local coastline. Honestly, Polly, his eyebrows are so bushy, it’s a wonder they don’t tickle his eyeballs, let alone that he can see for them! Do you remember that old blind man who used to sit in the park knitting when we were little? How we used to be fascinated that he never dropped a stitch or made an error in the pattern and not even when we talked to him? How he used to tell us he’d magic eyes in his fingers and a seeing eye in his forehead, so he always knew where to toss bread for the ducks, even the shy ones that hung back? Well, Donnchadh Garbh is like that, except he isn’t blind. He sat beside a box holding the remains of his catch, and staring out over the Atlantic, seemingly far away with his thoughts as his hands worked to clean and check his nets for damage. Fearing to speak and risk his wrath, for he’s a fearsome, dour expression, it was tempting to creep away but with thirteen mouths to feed and Raspberry eating for two or even three if she’s expecting twins again, there was no choice. Standing a little aside of him, straining to follow his gaze to see if it was a boat he was looking at and afraid to interrupt something important, he startled me when he spoke. “Aye, you can have the fish,” he said, but wouldn’t take the money. “Have them for a token. A button. A wee doll. It doesn't matter. They are only whiting.” A moment passed before my voice would work, and the only thing I had on me, other than Raspberry’s five pound note, was the scarf your mother made. “Will this do?’ I asked. “I don’t have a button or a doll, and it’ll be more use to you than either of those. He hesitated for a moment, as if wondering if I’d made it myself and the temptation was there to say so, but went as quickly as it came. “My friend’s mother made it but I’ve plenty and no need of another.” He thought for a moment. Something unfathomable yet in that moment a flicker of a smile crossed his face and was gone as he took the scarf. “Now away with you, a' mhaighdean,” he said, ‘and let me mend my nets.’ “I’ll return your fish box as soon as I can,” I said, and would have left but for curiosity. Again, his eyes had returned to the sea and his hands to the nets and I had to know what drew his attention. “Tir nan Og,” he said. There was no sign of Mr. Garbh when I returned the fish box half an hour later but his boat was still in the harbour. Perhaps he was asleep on it after a long night’s fishing and dreaming of his own Niamh far away? Perhaps that is a name for me, should I decide to change mine? (Not that I’ve much in common with a faery! Far from it!) Only one thing is certain, if a family our size can all feast on fish (and that was delicious battered and fried in a pan over the fire) for a token, then I’d best get knitting. Donnchadh Garbh could certainly do with a new woolly hat. The old navy blue one he wears is more holes that hat! I shall endeavour to discover Raspberry’s real name for you, Polly. It must be some thing a little different because so far when asked, Dad has simply chuckled and refused to answer, Raspberry goes into one of her trance-like states and the children haven’t a clue! Perhaps I’ll be able to get the answer from Rosemary, once she recovers from the effort of organizing everyone else yesterday and is properly awake. As for spare room, I daresay one more body filling a mattress on the floor will hardly be noticed by next summer’s school holidays. We might even be able to camp out on the machair or near the standing stones. Perhaps then we might catch a glimpse of Donnchadh Garbh’s Tir nan Og? Raspberry asked the men on the boat who to see about getting a supply of fish and they told her his name. Also that, although he speaks fluent Gaelic, he’s originally from Nova Scotia. Probably a descendant of the ancient Scots, though. I’ve heard nothing from mum or Miss Wigglesly lately and guess they must both be busy. Mum with her painting and Miss Wigglesly… well, perhaps she may be writing a piece for the next parish magazine? Will it be on the pleasures of running a rabbit sanctuary or her delight of having banished one of her pupils to a lonely isle? Honestly, Polly, they are so desperate for stories and articles for that rag, they will take just about anything – and some so bad they are good! Why, they even printed that mad Irishman, Seamus Patrick Feckin O’Farty’s piece about drug addiction and prostitution in the last issue. How he got away with convincing people it was based on newly discovered manuscripts by Patrick o’ the Feckin’ Crac ‘Abit I’ll never know! That totally confused the editorial committee (although it doesn’t take much), not to mention the poor vicar’s wife being convinced that he was writing half of it in Gaelic! Fancy her having to run-off another 300 copies for all the local school kids who were clamouring for copies and the vicar beaming down at us all in assembly due to our sudden interest in the parish rag! Do please send me a copy of the next one, won’t you, Polly? Especially if that mad Irishman’s submitted anything again! Perhaps when I write next I’ll be able to do so by email? They should have things set up soon for the project and as I’ll be using a computer for schoolwork, besides helping dad. I have your email address and should manage to set the PC up with a hidden desktop and private login password. Dad’s so out of touch with techy stuff and laid back enough to leave it all to me anyway. Can hardly wait to hear whether Jodie pulls the plug on ‘you know who’! Until next time… Love Alice. (To be continued in Part 11.)
|
|
|
Post by Old Dragon (Al) on Nov 6, 2004 19:39:56 GMT 1
Alice in Cuckoo Land - Part 11
To: The Editorial Committee Cuckooland Parish Magazine.
Dear Mr. Stomas and ladies of the editorial committee,
I am writing to congratulate you all on the recent changes to the style and content of the Cuckooland Parish Magazine, and especially to applaud Mr. Stomas on his courageous decision to not to relinquish his position as Editor in Chief, despite the onset of Alzheimer’s disease. Long may you remain in your seat at the committee meetings, sir, and with the ladies continuing to ply you with their homemade wine and hand you your oats on a plate.
Rev. B. Fuddle’s article on gathering crab apples with his beloved wife, Amy, was a most inspirational piece. Would that all couples their age, and after celebrating their golden wedding anniversary, were still willing and able to get up to it in the trees like a pair of performing chimps. Their antics, and with the Lord urging them on conquer just one more tree in pursuit of their passion, was rousing confirmation to all to take pleasure in the great outdoors in their quest for sublime satisfaction. (Their jelly recipe and directions for squeezing it through a pillowcase were useful, too.) Will they be off gathering nuts in the forest next issue?
Last issue’s ‘Parish Personality’ piece, ‘Insanity Revisited’ written so explicitly by Seamus Patrick Feckin O’Farty, and based upon the recently discovered, dusty manuscripts lying under his bed, was perhaps the most educational treatise written on the subject of drug addiction and prostitution that many in the parish are ever likely to read. Indeed, as Mr. O’Farty so rightly claimed, the white bits were the paper and the black bits the print. There were no hidden meanings, and his raw, picturesque style, written in the vernacular, clearly exposed to all the scenes of degradation and emotional depravity in which such lives are led and the tragic inevitability of the consequences. (Do, please, ensure that more articles by this parishioner are included in future issues.)
Although no longer a resident of the parish, having recently moved to the Isle of Cuach, I am eagerly looking forward to receiving and reading a copy of the next Cuckooland Parish Magazine.
Yours sincerely,
Alice Widdel (aged 14 years.)
*****************************
Alice! What on earth have you done to your poor grandfather?
I am really not at all amused! Also I cannot get you on the phone, so can only assume you are now on the wretched island and either can’t get a signal or can’t top up the thing.
This is most frustrating and you know how busy I am, what with having to prepare for my exhibition. What time do you think I have to write letters? Why, I’ve hardly had time to read the post, let alone reply to it! Had I opened it all, I might have discovered the letter from your grandfather and avoided this terrible catastrophe that has occurred. As it was, I opened your letter first and found it so full of ridiculous nonsense that I just tossed it and the enclosed one to your grandfather on the side by the kettle, left the rest of the post where it lay and went back to my painting.
Then yesterday, as I was in the middle of a masterpiece entitled ‘Adam’s Apple’, and with that handsome young gardener from over the road posing for me, when who should arrive but your grandfather of all people! There was barely time to push that poor young man out of the French windows, and with nothing more that a dust sheet and an apple to keep him warm, turn my canvas to the wall, and rush out of the lounge to steer your grandfather into the kitchen out of the way for a cup of tea.
Alice, I did my best to sweep that envelope into a draw and out of his sight before he saw it, but you know what he is like. Eyes like a hawk.
Oh, he was furious. Ranting and raving and accusing me of trying to keep his correspondence from him, threatening me with prosecution for theft and I don’t know what else! I have never seen him so angry – and that before he’d even opened you letter!
Alice, what on earth did that letter contain? I demand that you tell me! Whatever it was, I swear your grandfather turned every colour imaginable and then some as he read the letter you’d sent. How I didn’t need to send for an ambulance for him I’ll never know, for I felt sure he’d either have a heart attack or a stroke. As it was he never uttered another word. Just stalked out of the house and didn’t even wait for his tea!
I tried to telephone him but his housekeeper said he’d been out all afternoon. Then when I tried to phone in the evening, she said he’d locked himself in his bedroom and refused to come out or speak to anyone. He wouldn’t even eat his dinner of chicken dumpling casserole, which has really upset that poor woman, as it is usually his favourite and he’s always grouchy when he doesn’t eat.
As if that wasn’t strange enough, this morning the postman brought me a large brown envelope by registered post and, much as I was afraid to open it, I did. It contained the deeds to the house along with various other documents that I’ll have to see a solicitor about to understand what they are all about. The strangest thing of all is that the signatures on the deeds and documents are all mine.
I think I must be going mad, Alice. I would surely remember signing something as important as house deeds… although they are dated at around the time you and I returned from that holiday your grandfather sent us on and just after your father left us. You were very young then and probably don’t remember, but it was while we were away that your dear grandmother died.
Even in his grief, your dear grandfather had refused to break the tragic news of grandma’s heart attack or to drag us back from our holiday until after the funeral. Why, he’d even had a lovely rose tree planted in the Remembrance Garden on our behalf while we were away, so you see Alice, he really isn’t the arrogant, difficult old man that so many people claim him to be. Quite kind and thoughtful, in fact.
I really must insist that you come home at once and do all in your power to apologise and make up for whatever wicked things you said in that letter to him. I am enclosing a new mobile phone for you and one that the man in the shop assures me will work from anywhere in the world. It should, because it cost a fortune and, as I will be paying the tariff, you have no excuses now for not phoning me. Kindly don’t go using it to chat to all your school friends or let your father or that hippy-dippy Strawberry creature get hold of it. If she needs to call am ambulance or something, you can do that, but I’ll not be paying for nonsense calls.
Your mother.
P.S. I’ve heard nothing from your Miss Wigglesly lately and do hope she’s not embroiled in anything to do with the strange rumours going around about some of the teachers at the school?
(To be continued in Part 12.)
|
|
|
Post by Old Dragon (Al) on Nov 7, 2004 16:42:01 GMT 1
Alice in Cuckoo Land - Part 12
Ref: Cuckooland Story submissions….
The Editorial Committee Cuckooland Parish Magazine.
Dear Alice Widdel,
Thank you for… Oh, that rhymes with piddle! Widdel, piddle, play my fiddle! New paragraph.
Where’s the girl’s letter? Yes I’ll have a pasty, Amelia. Alzheimer’s? Who said I have Alzheimer’s? Is Alice Widdel my doctor? Oh! No, she can’t be, she’s only fourteen! Village gossip again… What did you say was in those pasties, Amelia? Chicken and your special dried mushrooms, is it? I’ll have another… New paragraph.
Now where were we, Mrs. Fuddle? Ah yes, take a letter… Have you got that? Good… Now what did I say? Yes, that’s right. Shall we start again? New paragraph.
Dear Alice Widdel, thank you for thanking us… What was she thanking us for, the pasties? That’s right, Lavinia… excellent ideas and the… What was I going to say? I can’t remember? New paragraph.
Oh, yes, posters! We must make some posters asking parishioners for submarines for the next issue… Thank you, yes, I will have a drop more sherry to wash the pasty down, Amelia. New paragraph.
Do please submit your mushrooms... What was the letter about, Mrs. Fuddle? Posters? Oh, no, chickens, wasn’t it? I feel like a headless one! Ha, ha, ha! New paragraph.
Thank you for your letter about headless chickens…. That’s right, Lavinia, chickens do lay their eggs in the nests of other birds, like cuckoos… Good for children to know that… Have you got all that down, Mrs. Fuddle? Don’t miss anything out, will you? Have you got stamps? Oh yes, of course put yours sincerely at the end…. New paragraph.
Yours sincerely… yours sincerely who? I’ve forgotten again… It must be the sherry! Posters, Lavinia… Chop, chop…catch that chicken…and a new cover needs to be done, too… That’s right, chop, chop, off with its head! New paragraph.
Mrs. Fuddle’s in a muddle… Don’t miss anything out… Write it all down word for word… New paragraph.
Let’s have a sing-song…Have you seen the mushroom men, the mushroom men, the mushroom men? Have you seen the mushroom men, who live down Cuckoo Lane? Who is doing the pasties next time? New paragraph.
Julian P. Stomas - that’s my name!
********************************************
Wanted Submarines for infusion in the next issue of Cuckooland Parish Megazine
Categories Retired: Letters to the Head-hit-or-real Committee, Headless Chickens and the Mushroom Men; Parish Personalities; News and Pews; Articles of Local Intercept; Recipes, Pets and Pestilences; Sickness and Wealth; Burts, Debts and Marriages; Court, Council and Odder Matters; Youth Stuff; Classified Thingies; In Spire Continuations and Contravallations; Announcements … Anything else, Lavinia? New paragraph.
Please submit to: The Headitorial Committee, Cuckooland Parish Magazine, C/O The Vestry, St. Monica’s Church.
**********************************************************************
Hi Polly,
I hope you don't mind me writing you this note? I wanted to ask you if you would like to come for a walk along the riverbank with me?
I know you like wildlife, so do I. We could get some hotdogs from the stand and watch the ducks and swans.
From Dan - the one with the leg in plaster.
*******************************************************************
Hi Dan
Thanks for the note you slipped into my locker. It’s written so sweetly. I would very much like to go for a walk with you as long as you can manage it with your leg? I thought you were playing wonderfully on the day of your accident. That slide tackle was definitely a foul. Hope you recover soon; you are the school's star player! We haven’t won a game since you have been in plaster. I always wanted to ask if I could sign your cast but I’ve always been a bit shy.
I love wildlife and have occasionally helped out at the local wildlife rescue. My favourites are hedgehogs I think they are so sweet and sadly many of them are getting injured recently with crawling into bonfires etc. I do also love the swans on the river. I will have to bring my camera and take some shots I guess you didn’t know but I have a bit of a flare for photography.
Well here I am waffling on when all you probably were expecting was a quick note.
I just hope I have put this note in the right locker!
From,
Polly
(To be continued in Part 13...)
|
|
|
Post by Old Dragon (Al) on Nov 8, 2004 5:34:57 GMT 1
Alice in Cuckoo Land - Part 13 My dear Julian,
Enclosed herewith, the first collection of submissions received for inclusion in our parish magazine, and for perusal at your leisure.
I am so looking forward to our next editorial committee meeting in the the vestry. The last one was so much fun and the pasties I took home for my dearest Barnaby's supper went down a treat with him. He does so look forward to when dear Amelia Hedgehunter's turn to make refreshments comes around. Why, he even claims that on those occasions his visions of the Saints coming marching home are at their most vivid and inspirational. This especially so when working on his sermons for the following Sunday.
Judging by the material so far received, I feel sure that, as last time, the next Cuckooland Parish Magazine will be another bumper edition and prove extremely popular with parishioners. We are, however, a little short of illustrations, so I will ask Lavinia to advertise for those in the local shop windows and schools. I feel sure that some will be forthcoming soon.
Your devoted secretary,
Amy Fuddle. Submissions for Cuckooland Parish Magazine:
For: In Spire Continuations and Contravallations.
I cannot conceal my delight at being asked to contribute to this months’ edition of “In Spire” in our wonderful parish magazine and I sincerely hope you enjoy my offering. I have been a member of this parish for 3 years since moving from Wyre Piddle and have been actively involved in the “Save our Spire” campaign which so far has raised £122.13 since its inception two years ago. Well done everyone!
I would like to take this opportunity to introduce myself more fully to those whom I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting... A bachelor of long standing, I have sadly yet to meet the girl of my dreams who will share my interests and hobbies. In my search for Miss Right I have resorted to a variety of means, from attending singles discos to advertising in the lonely hearts column of the Advertiser, but to no avail. That is not to say I have had no interest shown, just that they never seem to want a second date. We get on well, seem to be enjoying each others company then, when I mention my hobby, they appear to have a change of heart. I really don’t know why that should be? I have never felt ashamed of my hobby, what is wrong in taking pleasure in the human body, it is a wonderful thing. It’s not as if I flaunt it or force people to take part. It is completely harmless fun, nothing to be embarrassed about at all. In my view the human form is a thing of great beauty and it is only because of current social attitudes that I and those of like mind are shunned and forced to hide ourselves away. I long to find a like minded lady who is open to the joys of naturism; will not blanche at the thought of washing up in the nude, a vigorous game of lawn tennis, or yoga. Maybe one day my dream will be realised.
Thank you for reading what I hope will be the first of many contributions I make to this illustrious magazine. Henry Normal ********************************************************* For: Relationships and Marriages. Dating today is not as it used to be, and I am a man of some experience. When I was a young lad we used to court girls rather than date them. I met many a girl's father before I was allowed to take her out, and back then you didn’t even hold hands until you had been courting for some time.
It is only recently I have found myself in the position to meet a new partner. Having built up my business and other areas of my life, I set out with the task of finding a soul mate and so far what I have found have been rather below standard.
I started with an advert in the newspaper, 'Young minded male, financially secure with GSOH; likes quiet nights in and moonlight walks by the sea, seeks similar, decent looking, old fashioned female for friendship maybe more.' To my shock I received 7 letters in reply, but after sifting through it soon became apparent many were not going to be the sort of person I wanted to meet. Four of the letters were barely eligible and certainly not of the educational standard I would like of a partner (and that’s being polite); one letter was written on the back of an old bill (now call me fussy but I found that rather odd) and another went into great detail about the lady’s garden and her trifids. I don’t mind a spot of gardening but there is a point (for me around the 3rd page) where it becomes rather boring.
So I narrowed it down to one lady. Her letter had kept me interested and she was only young at forty-five, had no children, and I was looking forward to meeting her. I rang her up and we arranged to meet for a quiet drink. She was to wear a blue dress so I could recognise her easily. The night of the date arrived and I was surprised to find myself quite nervous. What if I didn’t like her or she didn’t like me? Would we find interests to talk about or sit there in awkward silence? Six o'clock came and I entered the quaint pub we were to meet in and looked around. To my utter disbelief I spotted a single lady, sitting to the side of me and wearing a blue dress, and realised then for the first time that people are not always who they say they are. The lady who was supposed to be my soul mate was easily sixty, and with what was either a very bad wig or died blonde hair and a rather noticeable moustache. She was sat smoking a cigar and hadn’t noticed me arrive, so I walked straight back out and went home my hopes shattered.
It took a few weeks before I felt ready to attempt a different approach and decided to try internet dating. It seemed to be all the rage and all they talked about in men’s magazines and on Television. I found a website I liked the look of; great I thought, there are photo’s, so no way would it be a repeat of the last time and the site said that, for a one off fee of £39.99p, I could choose who I liked rather than place an advert of my own. I did a search - chose everything from age and location to religion and music. The search gave me a list of 3 women who it said were my perfect matches. After reading and rereading what they had written about themselves, I found myself sure I had indeed found my perfect match and wrote a long thought out reply to the lady I was sure was the one for me. I couldn’t wait to get a reply back but I waited and waited; checked for replies every half hour for three days, but still no reply after a week. I decided she mustn’t have received my reply so I wrote out another one, then waited again. The following morning I checked my inbox and had received an e-mail from the dating site., excitedly opened it but, to my disappointment, it was just trying to sell a love potion of some sort. I never did get a reply from the lady, so she obviously wasn’t the ‘one’ for me and that was the end of my Internet dating.
You will be thinking by now that I have given up, well for now I am taking time out to think of a new plan but I am still sure that somewhere out there is my special lady waiting to be found.
Henry Dawson ********************************************************* (To be continues in Part 14)
|
|
|
Post by Old Dragon (Al) on Nov 8, 2004 5:41:21 GMT 1
Alice in Cuckoo Land - Part 14
For: Parish Personality
This month’s Parish Personality focuses on Henry Rochford...
To be born in London, 1941, and to a family that lived in a terraced house, on a cobbled street where everybody knew everyone’s business, was my questionable fortune.
City life was not to father's liking. When the chance came the family moved out to the country. Ours was a two up two down cottage. There were four cottages in the row, with three sets of parents and one granny. She lived in the end cottage. Sixteen children in all, and twelve related. We had a single tap outside that served everyone and our lavatories were over the yard, there were no toilet rolls then (we were too poor), so we had newspaper tied up with a bit of string… Well it helped us with our reading!
My three siblings and I were referred to as the 'townies' or 'Londoners'. Settling in and being accepted into the community was hard for us children and harder still for our parents.
The adjacent common was ploughed up and wheat grown there during the war, but a few sections were left wild and uncultivated. There wildlife thrived in abundance. The common had large anthills, ponds and heath land flowers. Big blue butterflies flew around and provided an endless source of fun and frolics. There were fish in the big pond, blue and red sticklebacks and frogs spawned there in springtime, whilst kingfishers darted along the path of a nearby stream. In winters, we went skating on the pond - great fun! Although poverty was our constant companion, looking back, what a wonderful childhood it was.
Times changed all too soon though, school life and growing up took over. Being the eldest, I had the best education, working hard to do my parents proud.
Looking back through my life, I have achieved all that they, and I, desired except for the one thing that has eluded me - to be happily married with a family of my own.
Now some people may say that I am strange, and to be honest I would probably agree - I do not hide the fact that I am set in my ways or a stubborn old git!
My passion for taxidermy has grown with me since my childhood; I believe hobbies are what make a person. I used to collect all the dead creatures I could find and dissect them. I found that by removing the inner organs I could make lovely life like puppets that were the envy of many of the local children – until they started smelling off course!
I view taxidermy as an art, but finding a lady who can live with dead animals in the freezer has eluded me. What is the difference between a dead badger and a frozen half leg of lamb anyway?
I remember back to when I met the lady of my dreams. I had been praying that God would send a suitable woman my way - selfish I know, but needs must and all that, and if he can answer prayers for healing why not heal my lonesome heart? Well, the most beautiful lady came and sat down in the pew next to me. I was dumfounded. God had answered my prayer. HALLELUJAH!
She had the most perfect singing voice and I was in awe. After the service, I introduced myself and invited her out for afternoon tea. She, to my surprise, accepted and we had a lovely afternoon. Our friendship blossomed. Everything was going so well until her beloved pussy died. It had been killed and lay beside the road, so when a neighbour brought the body to her, I said that I would dispose of it.
As a surprise, I thought she would like to have her pussy stuffed. She was not then aware of my hobby, and I thought she would be suitable impressed – well, who would not be?
I spent many hours working on the poor animal trying to recreate its looks. When it was finished I invited her round for dinner and had her pussy standing next to the log fire with an engagement ring hanging off its tail, The only trouble was I had placed it too close to the fire and the smell of singed fur filled the room!
She, I’m sorry to say, was taken aback and, instead of being over come with joy that her beloved pussy was a stuffed lifelike specimen, she took fright and ran out of the door! She did not even have the decency to take her pussy with her, let alone acknowledge all the hard work I had put into it, or the ring hanging from its tail!
Another lady that I befriended was not keen on my hobby either. She was okay with the dead animals in the freezer but think perhaps, to her standards, it went a touch too far when I was asked by the zoo to work on one of their prized, bird eating spiders. Having forgotten to mention there was a spider in the fridge, I found her unconscious on the floor after she had gone to get the milk out for a Horlicks that evening. Spilt milk everywhere! I was not impressed.
I could carry on telling these tales of woe, but am writing this in hope that you, the people of this parish, can see that I am a normal person who enjoys a hobby that is not odd. Its practice has gone on for many years, and is a work of art. Taxidermy incorporates many other crafts - carpentry, woodworking, tanning, moulding and casting. It also requires artistic talent, including the art of sculpture, painting and drawing. Its not all blood and guts you think it to be. I am a clean, upstanding member of this community. One who takes pride in bringing loved, cherished pets back to life - all the joys of owning your pet without the vets bills, food bills and mess. Who could ask for anything more?
I have a lot to offer and my heart is waiting for that one special person who shares my passion – or, at least, can live with the unexpected showing itself at any given moment.
I do not think I ask for a lot. To be stuffed by me, Henry Rochford, is an honour.
(To be continued in Part 15.)
|
|
|
Post by Old Dragon (Al) on Nov 8, 2004 12:18:00 GMT 1
(Part 15) Dearest Julian, Enclosed herewith, are some contributions for the magazine's problem pages. What a good thing people are sending them in for I do believe Lavinia forgot to mention the Agony Aunt on the posters.
Such a shame these all seem to be on the same subject so far. You would think people of the parish would be a little more original, now wouldn't you? Still, they are only school cleaners, so what would they know about originality?
I will make sure copies are sent to our ‘agony aunt’ so that they can prepare responses. Your devoted secretary, Amy Fuddle. *************************************************************************** For: Agony Aunt Column Dear Agony Aunt,
I am writing to you as a last resort. I work as a cleaner in a local school. I love my job, have worked there for years and don’t know what I would do without it. I really need some advice and there is no-one to turn to without risking losing my position at the school or worse.
I have had concerns over some members of the staff for some time and can’t live with the guilt of not telling anyone about it. I’ll tell you about one incident with the head teacher last week. I walked into his office to water his plants and he must not have heard me. He had his back to the door and was on the telephone. I was mortified when I heard what he was saying, and I cannot repeat it here, but let me tell you I am sure it was one of those ‘chat’ lines! I made sure I left the office very quietly and am sure I would not have had a job if he had seen me. It is a good job he had his back to me or I don’t know what I would have seen. Not only was he using the school phone line, and thus school funds, but what if it had been a poor innocent child that had walked in instead of me? I tell you now, he was too busy to have noticed!
It’s not just that single event either; he really doesn’t seem to be a very social sort of man and is always locked away in his office on that computer of his. I often wonder what he spends so much time on there doing and whenever I go in the office he seems to dash for it and turn it off! I have considered sneaking in to look when he’s out but I am so nervous about getting caught.
I have also heard rumours that pupils at the school (young girls) have made complaints about inappropriate behaviour from a couple of the male members of the teaching staff, but the complaints never seem to go further than the headmaster and nothing has been done. In fact, I find one of the teachers quite creepy myself and hate to be alone with him in his classroom, so I cannot imagine what it must be like for the children.
I just don’t know what to do about it. There are nice teachers at the school, and the children are wonderful, so I don’t want to do anything to damage the future of the school or my position there, but things cannot continue like this. Please help.
N. ********************************************************************** Dear 'Agony Aunt'
I have worked as a cleaner at my local school for the last 5 years. During my time there, I have noticed some rather odd behaviour from some of the teachers. I don't know whether to report these odd people to the authorities or not, as I can't afford to lose my job. What do you think I should do?
The headmaster is an odd person altogether, he wanders round the school with a stony face, and is very frank and strict in his manner towards the children, but once classes start he wanders the halls peering, or should I say leering, through the windows in the doors. I'm not sure if it's the teachers or pupils he's looking at, but I did notice that he mainly looks through the doors of the female teachers. Very odd behaviour if you ask me, and he doesn't half give me the creeps. If I appear in the hall he happens to be in, he gives me a horrid look and storms off.
Now the science teacher is a different kettle of fish altogether. The other day I saw him demonstrating something in his class, no idea what it was, but he had his hands on one of the girls breasts! I have been trying to find the girl to ask her if she was ok and what the teacher was doing, but apparently she has run away from home and hasn't been back in school. I'm very worried about this.
There is another teacher I'm a bit worried about as well, but for different reasons, she seems to be wandering round the school in some sort of haze. She used to be quite a good teacher, I don't know what has happened to her, but someone has said, they thought she had lost the plot. Apparently she is hoarding rabbits at her home and it is said, has also been seen cavorting with a married fireman.
I don't think this behaviour from the teachers is at all what you would expect near children, and am very worried about the effects it may have on them. The only problem is, this is a small town without many job prospects so, if I report this I stand to lose my position, which I can't afford to do. Not since that useless husband of mine ran off, stopped paying any maintenance and not even acknowledging his children. I am having to feed and clothe my family on my meagre wage and without my job, I just won't be able to do it.
Thanks for reading this and I hope you can give me some suggestions as to what I should be doing, as this is all playing on my mind at the moment
H. ******************************************************************* Dear Agony Aunt,
You should see what I have seen in the local school where I clean. I think the teachers are up to something. Maybe devil worship or something? I have had a feeling in my water that things are just not right ever since the new head took over. He is a strange man, the sort you can imagine wearing stocking and suspenders and high heels at home when no-one is looking. I can just imagine him in front of the mirror. Oh my, I wonder if he knows the judge?
I can hardly bring myself to go on, but I think he is trying to corrupt some of our innocent and wholesome teachers. There is one in particular who has really taken a turn. Rumour has it she is starting a rabbit sanctuary and she has driven a child mad with her talk of rabbits to the extent the poor child shut herself in he own rabbit hutch. There is some very peculiar goings on in our village, I have to tell you. I am most concerned. What should I do?
Yours most concernedly,
Ms. C R ******************************************************************** Dear Auntie Agony.
I need to write of my worry about the headmaster and some of the teachers the school where I work as a cleaner and I feel you would be able to give me advice on what I should do about the goings-on.
Because of my lowly work, I am invisible to many members of staff so they tend to forget I am around most of the time. The headmaster continually has secret conversations with certain members of staff, talking in low voices and stopping talking altogether when anyone but me passes by. There are about six teachers involved plus the headmaster. There are lots of meetings after school but none of the other teachers are invited and are not aware of the meetings.
Two weeks ago I was emptying the bins in the headmasters study and overheard some of the conversation. It went like this…
Mr. Jones (math): "Pulbright's father is loaded, just got a new yacht, according to the little s**t, he has got to be good for some."
Miss Stevens (English): “I think we should steer clear of him, his reputation is, to say the least, unsavoury.”
Headmaster: “We have to take great care, we cannot risk adding anyone to the list who we have doubts about.”
Mr Jones (math): "Yes but I think Pulbright's..." (Interrupted by the Headmaster.)
Headmaster: “I agree with Miss Stevens, not Pulbright. Too much of a risk. Any other names?"
Mr. Kovac (French): “Camilla is the light of her Fathers life; I know he would be a good addition to the list.”
Headmaster: “I agree. Anyone else?” As he said that, I dropped the bin, it made quite a noise and they all turned to look at me, I had to leave then.
Many of the children at this school are from wealthy families and I am wondering if this is some sort of scam that the seven of them have going. I cannot report this to anyone at the school as I need this job badly and would most certainly lose it if the headmaster found out. Please can you advise me what I should do?
Sincerely, A A
|
|
|
Post by Old Dragon (Al) on Nov 8, 2004 12:48:13 GMT 1
Part 16. My dearest Julian, Herewith, still more submissions have arrived at the vestry. They are a little grubby, I am afraid because dear Barnaby didn't notice them lying on the floor when he entered wearing his wellington boots after a session of metal detecting in the graveyard. He found a lucky horseshoe today but now cannot decide which way to hang it up. Hung one way and he says the luck will run out; hung the other and he fears he might make a cradle for a witch.
Which reminds me, Amelia is wondering if you need more of her special tonic for your gout? Your devoted secretary, Amy Fuddle ************************************************* Another for the Agony Aunt:
Dear Aunty Agony,
I am writing to you about a very delicate matter and hope you can help me decide the best course of action? I work in a large school as a hygiene operative, cleaner to you and me, and I have begun to have grave concerns about the headmaster’s behaviour towards certain members of the teaching staff.
Now I’m not one to gossip, but three times this week I have seen Miss. Collins, the needlework teacher, go into his office and not come out for 15 minutes! She comes out looking flushed and he hurriedly adjusting his clothing. When I asked him if he was alright, he said she was helping him to sew on the button on his trousers. That’s all very well but surely after the second occasion he should have been asking her to let them out a bit as they are clearly too tight if the button keeps bursting, besides he was in the army as a youth, so surely should be able to sew on a button!
As well as this I noticed, whilst dusting in the filing cabinet - I don’t often get the chance as he keeps it locked for some reason - that he has a bottle of sherry and two glasses in there. As I washed them (typical man putting them away dirty) I couldn’t help but notice the lipstick on one. I was not entirely surprised to note that the shade was Purple Passion which is favoured by Ms. Jennings. She is the attractive divorcee who has been appointed as temporary gym mistress whilst old Mrs. Flitch has her ladies problems seen to. Ms. Jennings has spent a couple of lunchtimes in his office discussing the behaviour behind the bike sheds. I know this because I am currently standing in for my friend, Ada who is a dinner lady and is suffering from recurring back pain after a particularly energetic game of leap frog went tragically wrong.
I must say, Aunty, I have always enjoyed my job, but the behaviour of the headmaster of late makes things very difficult for me. I would not wish to cause trouble for him or lose my job as I badly need the money, but I think he is a lonely man who needs a good woman not a flighty piece like the ladies earlier mentioned. Someone like me perhaps? I would be grateful if you would help me in this matter. Should I approach him or hope he comes to his senses and realises a more mature woman is what he needs?
Yours D ***************************************** For: Obituaries Column.
Sir Torquil Lynch-Lyndlay - b.1909 d.2004
I am sorry to have to announce the death of our esteemed squire, Sir Lynch-Lyndlay. He died on Thursday last, whilst hosting the annual Lynch-Lyndlay shoot (which some members of this parish have been protesting against for many years), and had been, some bystanders report, over-exerting himself that day.
There was an incident with the housemaid (Miss Ethel Bubbage, 58) over the morning pre-shoot sherry. Some remarked that members of the aristocracy ought to conduct themselves with more decorum. In fact, one parishoner remarked that the 'gouty old satyr ought to keep his hands to himself'. However, we understand that this may have been placing an unfair construction on the incident. Apparently, Sir Torquil was pursuing the maid around the Queen Anne chaise-longue to try to draw her attention to a small piece of kipper which had become stuck between that lady's molars. The subsequent extraction of said kipper morsel was perhaps merely a charitable gesture on the Squire's part?
Following this incident, which would have, of course, raised the blood pressure, Sir Torquil went onto the moorland for the annual shoot. Unfortunately, he mistook Lady Alethea's tweed-clad form in the middle distance for a particularly large and misshapen grouse. Her roar of displeasure, at having been struck in the posterior by a peppering of shot, caused the onset of heart failure in the Squire. He died instantaneously. Some may say that, given his long career in the army (his distinguished service allegedly precipitating death for at least 298 enemies of Queen and Country), that the man died as he had lived. With a weapon on his arm and the fond memory of a blushing housemaid nearby.
Requiat in pace. ********************************************************* For: Burts, Debts and Marriages The Headitorial Committee Cuckooland Parish Magazine C/O The Vestry St.Monica's Church.
Dear Sir/Madam
Although I must admit I am a very new member to this parish having recently moved here I saw your poster asking for articles for this months review and would ask kindly that you publish the following in the bort, debts and marriage section:
Recently BORT - one way plane ticket from Thailand... DEBTS - £15,000 for plane ticket... Marriage announcement: It gives me great pleasure to announce the marriage of Miss Ani Watimana (age 17) to Mr. Dirk B'goodnever (age 71). All parishioners very welcome to the marriage reception, which will be held at the village hall on the occasion of the bring and buy sale - date to be confirmed. ************************************************************* For: Births Column. Birth of my granddaughter I would like to announce the birth of Koala Rose. Congratulations to the proud parents (even if I think your too far young for a baby and I don’t really like the name). I also think they should have waited until the good for nothing father had found a job rather than relying on me for handouts. Mrs Lament ****************************************************************** For: Classified Thingies
Snookums wants a playmate... Hello my name is Snookums and I'm a 3-year-old Shih Tzu. I get quite lonely when it's only me and my mummy out on walkies, so I'm looking for a playmate. My mummy is a lovely single lady in her 40s. I think she is very pretty and I give her lots of kisses. I like long walks on the beach, outdoors fun and cuddling. Would like to meet another playful pooch. No real requirements except that pooch must have a lovely handsome master to look after my mummy during our playtimes. If interested please email me at: snookums_shihtzu@cuckooland.com **************************************************************** For: Obitruary pageee/cicness and helth pagee.
It is wiv grate freget that I, Ani Watimana-B'nevergood, announces the untimely demise of mi nu husban Dirk. It woz the victoria spong wot did it at the brungand buy. It all came too soon for im, although i dud mi best to calm im down. Pleese give im gud thoughts and I know as a friendly village u will afford me the help I need to brung up my 12 children I brought with me dat Dirk said he would support. Mi bank account no is 0125689456897
Ani Watima - B'nevergood *********************************************************** For: Births
Anna Mull - Kylie Mull is proud to announce the birth of her first child, Anna Mull, a daughter born on 31 october 2004, weighing 9lb 6oz, the fathers name will be announced when DNA testing of the year 11 boys that attended last years school camp is completed. ************************************************************ For: Articles of Local Intercept?
I would like to publicly shame that Mr. Bingly from down the road. I attend the service each week and always deposit £1.50p into the collection tray. I am yet to see Mr. Bingley deposit anything into the collection. I watch everyone each week and I do feel that everyone should make some contribution to church funds; there really isn’t any excuse. I have also noticed that he dresses rather shabbily maybe it would be better to keep the collection in some sort of secure tin rather than to leave it open to all sorts? Yours Ms. Betty Corkson ****************************************************************** For: Youth Stuff. Dear Elders
We is writing coz we are dissed off. We is the yunger generation and all we here about from you lot is we shud behave like u old foggies. Well look heer we is the future and we is cool and we like chips and beer (pssssssss please dont tell my mum I said that ) and we think you should lightnen up.
From Jaime and my new (I hopes) girlfriend Polly P.S. Please don't tell my mum that either or for that matter Polly's mum coz she is a real mean bitz.
(Continued in Part 17.)
|
|
|
Post by Old Dragon (Al) on Nov 8, 2004 13:02:13 GMT 1
Part 17.
Dearest Julian,
I do not know whether to send this submission to you or not? I fear that our poor, dear, Lavinia has been fantasising once again.
It was bad enough when we received the anonymous piece about her swimming the Bristol Channel as she was chased by a submarine and a killer whale, and then had to dodge a swarm of tiger moths!
One really does not know what to believe and what not! Still, it may help you keep entertained while you have to keep your feet up.
Your devoted,
Amy Fuddle
**********************************************************
For: Parish Personality
Lavinia Stoops-Clarke.
We all know and are very fond of dear Lavinia, her work with the WI is ledgendary but Lavinia has a past!
Many years ago, during the war, our Lavinia was with the Secret Service, where her fluency in French and German made her very valuable to the network.
Lavinia underwent rigorous training and in June 1943 was parachuted into France, her main job was radio operator. Lavinia's code name was Adrianne and she was renowned for her bravery.
One night, in the safe house, Lavinia was replaying messages to HQ in London, when her companion Michael came in the door and said they must leave immediately as the Germans were just across the road searching houses. Lavinia carried on sending the message as she knew lives depended on the message getting through. She finished transmitting, closed her radio and ran out of the back door. Michael was behind a wall and called to her, as she climbed over the wall she felt a sudden searing pain. Lavinia had been shot! The bullet had lodged in her thigh and was bleeding profusely. Nevertheless, Lavinia carried on. Michael pointed to the trail of blood she was leaving behind her, as she dragged the leg. Lavinia told Michael to take the radio and go on. Michael didn't argue, he knew that to be caught with the radio would mean certain death for both of them. He ran off into the darkness.
Lavinia propped herself up against a wall, checked her machine gun, and then she waited. Soon two soldiers came into view and she fired. They fell. More came; Lavinia kept on firing. By now she was almost faint with pain. Then all was quiet. Lavina waited, no more soldiers came. Just as she felt herself losing conciousness, strong arms picked her up. Two of the resistance carried her to another house and, as they laid her down, Lavinia passed out. When she came to her wound had been dressed and she was told that Michael and the radio were safe.
Lavinia won the George Cross for her bravery.
She won our hearts in the village for her kindness, generousity of spirit and love of her fellow man.
******************************************
Continued in Part 18
|
|
|
Post by Old Dragon (Al) on Nov 10, 2004 12:15:47 GMT 1
Part 18 - Alice in Cuckoo Land
My dearest Edna, Thank you for taking the time to write to me recently and I am replying now in order to put your mind at rest. I am surprised at how easily taken in you are by the tittle-tattle of those with little better to entertain their minds, and feel disappointed that you don't know me well enough to recognise such gossip as complete rubbish. I would very much like it if you would care to visit me for a cup of tea and a chat if you hear things that are worrying to you. But of course I recognise that, with your busy social calendar, I hardly feature as worthy of your time beyond that taken to pen a letter of disapproval, nay a tirade I should say, and that time sadly wasted, as you had not bothered to check the facts. As to what I choose to do with my inheritance that is entirely my business, although, of course, if I was to consider a life-changing plan I am sure I would have a word with you first. I would hate you to hear news of me through the gossip of your sniggering friends. I have more respect for you than that, you must surely understand. Having said that, I do not see why you would be so vehemently set against me setting up an animal sanctuary; you know very well that our dearly beloved, sadly departed and much missed parents encouraged me in my love of animals and wild life, and would probably be proud if I chose to pursue such a venture. Of course, this is not the case now as I am committed to my teaching, which is something I feel that I am reasonably good at and experienced in. I feel I can make a worthy contribution to society in this way. One day though, perhaps I will indeed choose to open an animal sanctuary or an orphanage or...well who knows what I may one day decide? In fact, now that you have put the idea of change into my head, perhaps the day when I make a change is drawing near faster than I might otherwise have thought. I have just had a very interesting idea, relating to a young pupil of mine, Alice, who recently left our school to move with her father and his family to a remote Western Isle off the coast of Scotland. There are several young impressionable children on the island and they will all need an education... I doubt the island has a school at the moment. It has just occurred to me that it might be interesting to move to the island myself and offer to teach there. If the state will not pay for it, I can live off my share of our inheritance until I retire and use my teaching pension... Only a thought dear Edna, please do not go apoplectic, it is only a thought. I wish you could think of me and be proud instead of being disappointed. I do not have a feckless streak as you put it, just an independent nature. On the subject of which, of course I am not cavorting with members of the opposite sex. It is true I recently met a fireman, indirectly through Alice as it happens. Now I think about it, Alice has had a surprising influence on my life recently, since I offered to care for her rabbit, which is presumably why the ridiculous rumours about me opening a rabbit sanctuary arose! Well, when I discovered the truth about the fireman in question I was surprised, but had no regrets in telling him what I thought of his behaviour towards his family, or sending him packing. Of course I do not know his motives for trying to make friends with me, but I doubt it was our inheritance, my dear, as that is not common knowledge in these parts. I had better sign off now Edna; I do hope this letter finds you in good health. Your sister, Edith
****************************************** Dear Alice,
HOT GOSS! I did try to phone you when I found out but all I got was your answer machine. Guess who has asked me out?!
Only the star of the football team!
You know, Dan, the one with floppy dark hair and green eyes. I found his note slipped into my locker. Have agreed to go for a walk with him and he seems to know about my love of wildlife, was telling how I adore hedgehogs.
By the way, are you living near that place where all those poor pricklies were culled? I think it was called Uist. I’m going to have to get my atlas out and work out exactly where you, I think I have a rough idea.
Have just has a horrible thought. What if Dan didn't actually write the note? I mean he didn't give it to me in person. Oh no, please let it really be him or I'm going to be the laughing stock of Cuckooland Comprehensive.
Mr Garbh sounds an interesting fellow and, as you said, one cuckoo land to another, I'm sure that you will find some more peculiar inhabitants.
That's just reminded me, I was reading the parish magazine the other day and I came across this article by a guy who was searching for love. After reading it, I instantly thought of your mother. No, not as his Miss Right but the fact she seems to enjoy painting nudes and he enjoys naturism, I thought they would make great friends. Will definitely send you next month's copy. I just hope it’s more interesting. Speaking of nudes, I’m sure I saw that fine gardener Adam escaping from the back door of your house in just his birthday suit grasping his clothes. I don't know what the panic was about apart from a posh maroon Mercedes outside your place. Your grandfather I'm guessing. If that's the sort of thing that will be displayed at your mother's exhibition I may consider going.
Living near a set of standing stones must be Raspberry's fantasy! When is the baby due, I'm sure you said it was soon. What you said about my mum wanting a larger family I fear is now true. She's gone all broody since you sent those pictures your siblings drew. Mum has since volunteered a couple of days a week to help at the local playschool and I'm sure I caught her with one of those fostering magazines last week. To be honest, I don't mind, as long as she's not thinking of sexy lingerie to tempt dad, I can sleep easy.
Mr Fluk' has made no more moves but something strange is going on with the teachers. Think it might just be the men but they keep going silent when we walk past and are always in huddles. Strange will have to find out what is going on.
Ok, I had better run to catch the post.
Speak soon, Love Polly
*******************************************
My dearest Julian,
Please accept my deepest sympathies for the tragic loss of your much loved partner, Ivor.
Barnaby and I cannot believe the poor man passed away so suddenly. You must be quite devastated. If there is anything that I can do, besides sending you the enclosed submissions for the parish magazine, you have only to ask.
God bless you, dear,
Amy Fuddle.
***************************************** For Sale:
New Wedding Dress. Size 14. Ivory Lace and Satin. 2 Bridesmaid Dresses.
Size 8. Lemon Satin. Brides Mother's Outfit, size 14. Peach Silk. Dress designed and made by Bridal Boutique.
Reason for sale - The creep I was going to wed was already married to 3 other women and is now in jail awaiting sentencing.
****************************************
For: Births, Deaths and Marriages.
Joanne and Peter Longfellow Hyams are delighted to announce the birth of their twins.
Son: Arsenal Rochdale Stockport Everton Hibernian Oldham Leicester Egbaston
Daughter: Tiffany Rose Olive Lindsay Louise Ophelia Patricia Edith.
Children will be called by first letters of their given names.
*************************************
For: Obituaries Column – Ivor Biggun
It is with great sadness that we announce the sudden and untimely death of Mr. I. Biggun.
Ivor was a valued member of the church choir and few parishioners will forget his rendition of ‘Dancing Queen’ at the charity concert in July. Ivor, a confirmed bachelor who shared his home with close friend Julian and pet cat Kylie, was a regular at The Purple Parsnip and known for his trademark pink bow ties.
Ivor had a keen interest in interior design and was responsible for the refurbishment of the youth club; personally donating the mirror ball.
His funeral will take place next Tuesday at 2.00pm, family flowers only, charity donations to: Miss Kitty Lovelace's Home for Poorly Pussies would be gratefully accepted.
*************************************
For sale:
One pair of skis and ski suit, worn once.
All sensible offers considered or swap for a pair of crutches.
Contact: RichardHead@wentsplatt.com
********************************************
(To be continued in Part 19.)
|
|
|
Post by Old Dragon (Al) on Nov 11, 2004 5:04:02 GMT 1
Alice in Cuckoo Land - Part 19
Dear Polly, Well, I am sure you must be positively ecstatic, having landed a catch like Dribbler Dan, star of the soccer squad. I can just imagine you, in your rose-tinted specs, gazing up at him adoringly as he hobbles beside you on your walk and nursing his latest battle scars from the pitch like a brave hero and for your benefit. Mind you don't trip over all the fly-tipper's garbage, supermarket trolleys or the bin liners full of dirty nappies, kitchen waste and dead animals that people dump in the woods or along the river and canal banks, and then land in a heap of some junkie's used needles or the alkies broken bottles! I thought that up here I'd be able to escape the negative signs of civilisation but it seems not. Besides the post, there was oil washed up on the beach today and some dead and dying seabirds. Dr. Devine took them all back to her croft; at least, she made the Haddock carry them back for her while Dad and I shovelled oily sand and pebbles into plastic sacks and did our best to clean up. We were there for hours but even all that hard work didn't help disperse the anger I've felt since the last post arrived. Yours was only one of three letters I got from, so called, civilisation. What a contrived, artificial and sick society the civilised create for themselves to live in! Even though mum sent me a fancy new phone, and says she'll pay the tariff so I can phone her, after reading her letter I was so furious I nearly threw it and the phone in the harbour! If it hadn't been for Mr. Garbh watching me, and the thought of polluting the place with my rubbish, I might well have done. What's more, I know I need to cool down before phoning mum, else I'll be in even deeper crap! That Seamus Patrick Feckin O'Farty - for all you don't seem to find him interesting, if you have bothered to read his piece, Polly - talks more sense than anyone else in the parish rag! (Especially that loosing twit into naturism and looking for love and attention.He has been repeating the same things for at least the last three issues but now I bet I know why the committee failed to notice!) I'll copy the article I'm on about out for you and enclose it, then tell me it's not interesting! Okay, so it sounds like he's just going on about drink and drugs, Polly but, let's face it, the drinkers and users are only trying to escape how they feel about things.
It's not that different from things like comfort eating or shopping on credit cards or even trying to run away to escape things like I did; and do you know something, Polly? I can't even tell you or my mum or anyone all the reasons I ran away! No, I have to bottle it all up inside like a sick secret!
Well, I've had enough! I can't see the point of us carrying on writing to each other if all you want to talk about is Dribbler Dan's hair and the colour of his eyes; my mother and grandfather; that old perv Fluk' and a bunch of potential foster brothers and sisters who will probably turn out to be so screwed up by whatever sickness and secrets lurk as skeletons in their family cupboards that you won't want to know them!
As for the hedgehogs, I don't know about Uist, but they were certainly culling the poor things on Shetland.
Mankind messing up again, for it was man that introduced them there in the first place and, now the original ones have thrived on the eggs of the ground-nesting birds and multiplied with no natural predators, its their descendants that must pay the ultimate price because of man screwing around with nature! Now even the environmentalists trying to put things right are having to turn into an army of slaughters. I could draw comparisons with family life and even wars, but what's the point, Polly? You wouldn't understand anyway with your head full of Dribbler Dan and imagining your mother in sexy lingerie!
Perhaps you need to go and spy on the parish rag committee next time they meet and see for yourself just what those senior citizens, who pertain to be pillars of the Cuckooland community and point fingers at everyone else, get up in the vestry.
Alice
P.S. I have an email address now: aliceincuckooland@cuach.net
(To be continued in Part 20.)
|
|