Poem: Keep

For how long have you stood there,

Opposing the forces of nature and men?

Your sleek yet sturdy body,

From somewhere way back then.

Your skin as hard as iron,

And as unyielding as steel.

You have protected thousands,

With your determined will.

Now, after long years of silence,

You begin to weep.

Thinking of yourself forgotten,

My friend, my guardian, my keep.

Poem: Morning Sun

The great bird shuddered,
Her engines spluttering to life.
The men looked at each other,
Thoughts turning to family and wives.

The great bird lifted,
Reaching cruising height.
As the the men wondered,
If they would return this night.

The great bird flew,
On towards her enemy.
Below darkening cloud,
Above rolling sea.

The great bird banked,
As explosions shook the night.
The sound of Hell,
With Heaven's Light.

The great bird soared,
And, with target below,
Her cargo was loosed.
And she turned for home.

The great bird survived,
Carrying seven mothers sons.
Who now stood thankful,
In the early morning sun.

Short Story: Splash of Colour

I sit beside a fallen tree, looking down into my field that has been transformed, these past few months. My once lush emerald pasture has been replaced with a patchwork of myriad browns. My once proud trees lie twisted and broken, like so much mangled machinery. Spread without any thought or care, refuse spoils the once manicured ground. Timber frames and mangled steel, cause ghostly silhouettes to dance across the uneven ground, by the diffused sunlight. Water, which fills the pits and troughs, reflects the dull, colourless sky, adding to my sombre mood. My heart feels heavy. Nothing moves. Nothing lives.

But, suddenly, there is clarity. The droplets from the fine rain, acting like a lens, focus my attention. Amongst the refuse, at the edge of the field, do my eyes deceive? Is there movement? Is that colour? I resist blinking, trying to focus on the mirage before me. Finally, I blink and the mirage has taken shape. A figure stares up at me. My body aches as I rise to my feet, the figure watching me closely, as I make my way down into the field, if can still be called that.

My progress is hindered by the thick mud, which sucks at my boots, threatening to pull me into the bowels of the Earth. The figure before me turns, heading toward the centre of the quagmire, seeming to float across the surface. My breath becomes laboured, as my ageing body fights to keep me moving forward. As we get closer to the centre, the figure seems to undulate in-and-out of focus. A wave of nausea sweeps through me as the figure turns and holds my gaze. Tears fill his eyes as he dips his head. With a last great effort I step forward, throwing my arms around him. But he disappears and I topple into the mud. As I push myself up and out of the mud, I notice a flower, swaying in the gentle breeze, exactly where the figure had stood. At this moment the sun breaks through the clouds and  illuminates this splash of colour. Somehow, against all the odds, surviving in the mud and detriment... a Poppy.

The Great War: A Commemoration Service Day

Sunday August 3, 2014

The West Watford History Group, the website of which my mum keeps up-to-date, as well as being a founder member of the group, had been invited to attend a special service for the World War One Commemoration, at St. Mary's church, followed by a buffet lunch at Watford Museum. My mum gladly accepted the invite, on behalf of the group, and asked me if I would accompany her.

 

Order of Service for the World War One Commemoration.

Mum and I left my house, at 09:30, and took a slow walk into Watford, where we grabbed a coffee at Caffe Nero. Mum spotted a few friends and acquaintances, who we joined, as we entered the church, where we took a seat near the back of the church.

The service began with the entrance of a Civic Procession, which consisted of Dorothy Thornhill, Watford's elected mayor, and various councillors. Maurice Saunders, president of the Croxley Green British Legion, with various servicemen and ex-servicemen. Richard Harrington MP, Watford's Member of Parliament, and other dignitaries.

With everyone seated, Reverend Tony Rindl welcomed everyone to the service, before we all stood to sing the hymn, All my hope on God is founded. This was followed by a Call to worship and Psalm 59: The innocent war victim pleads for deliverance.

This was followed by a two-part drama: Britain enters the War.

Set on August 3, 1914, part one of the drama was set in the House of Commons, from the viewpoint of Sir Edward Grey, the Foreign Secretary, and we are shown why the British government felt it necessary to go to war.

The second part was set in the Foreign Office, with the US Secretary of State meeting with Sir Edward Grey, after the twenty-four hour ultimatum has been handed to Germany. The lamps are going out all over Europe.

The drama was brilliantly executed and was so enthralling that not a murmur was heard, from the hushed audience. This was followed by a reading: Revelation 6: 1-8: The Four Horsemen are unleashed.

There were then more prayers and hymns and readings, before the story of the Men of St. Mary's was read. This concerned a stories of some of the 114 men, from the Parish, who fought and died in The Great War. One of these concerned two brothers who both died in different battles, but on the very same day, in 1917.

The Reverend Tony Rindl then gave his sermon, with the message that, when given a choice, 'to do nothing is often the worst choice of all.'

With the service over, the congregation began to filter out. Some went for coffee in the church hall, while others headed out into the noon sun. Somehow I got separated from mum, so I took the opportunity to have a look around the church, itself. A few minutes later we found each other, out in the churchyard, and made our way to Watford Museum.

 

Flags hanging in the Essex Chapel.

Many of the congregation had made their way to the museum, before us, and were mingling inside the old Benskins Brewery building. So, grabbing a small plate of food, and a glass of orange juice, mum and I headed outside, where a gazebo had been erected. Considering the heat of the day it was far cooler beneath the gazebo, compared to inside the museum. We were soon joined by Mayor Dorothy Thornhill and an RAF serviceman and his family. The conversation went from the service to general chit-chat about Watford and what we like and love about our town.

We then decided that we should make the most of our time, at the museum, and went for a tour. It has been many years since I last looked around the museum, probably because it always appears closed. As it turns out, the museum is only open Thursday - Saturday, from 10:00 - 17:00. There are some nice displays, but I feel that there must be so much more that could be shown, if only they had the space. The Cassiobury House exhibit consists of a large room with paintings on the walls. The rest of the room is empty. Was there nothing more that they could do with it? Anyway. After a good look around we spoke to a few people, grabbed a drink and headed for the door. Mum had filled a paper plate with small cakes, on the suggestion of one of the volunteers, as the there was so much food, it would be a shame for it to go to waste.

 

The Pennant Bar in Watford Museum.

We then made our way home, with mum's friend Sue and her grandson, via Lady's Close. Seeing as the gates to the Watford Grammar School for Girls were open, we went in to see the refurbished Lady's Close house. This was once a private residence, but is now the English department, for the school. From here we carried on our way home.

 

This once private residence is now the English department, at Watford Grammar School for Girls.

From the service to the museum, it was a different but interesting day, that I am happy to have been a part of.

Bug Jam 28, part 2

Saturday 19 July, 2014

After just a couple of hours of sleep, I awoke to another glorious day. Jason and Len were already awake and, after a quick change and clean, I joined them in the sun.

Len and I wandered off to look at the stalls, where I was hoping to purchase some gifts for Emma and the girls, and grab a coffee. After a good look around, I managed to find some gifts, which I took back to the tent, before cracking open a can of beer. We then went off to watch the cars racing down the strip, before heading back down the pit lane, to speak to the drivers and to get a closer look at their suped up cars.

[caption id="attachment_1612" align="aligncenter" width="300"] Last minute 'tweaks' are made to the engines of many cars in the pit lane.[/caption]

We then looked around the Rat & Rust display, which consists of cars that the owners have lovingly customised, while leaving them to rust.

[caption id="attachment_1610" align="aligncenter" width="300"] This lovingly customised VW has been fully customised, which includes; a garden bench for the front seats, a pool cue for the gear stick and a fully functioning bar in the boot.[/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1611" align="aligncenter" width="300"] This bar, in the back of a customised VW, is fully functional.[/caption]

With the sun doing its best to cook every living thing in the vicinity, we headed back to the car, where we found some shelter by sitting in the shadow of our neighbours VW van. As on the Friday, the temperature soared to 32 c, or 89.6 f, making it very uncomfortable.

Normally, at Bug Jam, we would have been sitting atop the mound, between the dragstrip and the Live Arena, but, as there was nothing going on in the Live Arena, we chose to stay where we were. Thankfully, the cloud started to build, allowing the temperature to become more bearable, which allowed us to go and watch some more of the Jet Funny Cars.

We stopped off at the Fuelers Bar, for a seriously cold pint and a bite to eat, before settling down to watch the cars. Some of these were reaching speeds of close to 300 mph, or 480 kph, and were difficult to keep in the frame, as I videoed some of the best ones. Still, it was a great show.

With time getting on, we headed back to the tent, where I settled down to relax and read a book, before heading back out to watch the live music. Len sat in his car and caught a quick nap.

Feeling fully recharged, Jason informed us that his cousin would be arriving soon, to take David home, as he wasn't feeling too well. Sure enough his cousin, Joe, arrived and David disappeared off with him. Len and myself then headed to the live stage, where Call Me Blondie, were just taking to the stage. They belted out all the classic Blondie songs, plus a few Debbie Harry ones, too.

[caption id="attachment_1609" align="aligncenter" width="300"] Probably the best act of the entire weekend, was 'Call Me Blondie', a tribute act to 'Blondie and Debbie Harry'..[/caption]

When they had finished their set, the Cuban Brothers took to the stage. Well, I watched them for about ten minutes, before deciding that they weren't my cup-of-tea and headed back to the tent. Len decided to get some sleep, so that he was refreshed for the drive home, while I stayed up and read some more of the book, that I had brought with me.

My quite time was quickly, and rudely, interrupted by Jason and Joe. David was asleep in Joe's car, so Jason and Joe had decided to stay and enjoy the music tents and, since the music wasn't to their taste, were going to head home. So, Jason grabbed a few bits of his gear, from the back of the car and, after bidding farewell, headed off with his cousin, into the darkness that is Podington Airfield. I settled back down with my book, before turning in to sleep, at about 02:30.

Sunday 20 July, 2014

I was up so early, on the Sunday morning, that I was changed and packed before Len awoke. When he did finally arise, we headed off for a coffee and a bacon sandwich. We reached the food wagon, just as it was opening, so we sat and watched the cleaners and other early risers, meandering around the deserted funfair and stalls.

With the coffee and bacon sandwich done with, we took another look around the entire site, before heading back to the car. My tent was down in a few minutes and, with everything packed, we headed off for home.

It was not the best Bug Jam, that I have been to, but it could have been better. Hopefully next year it will be back to its best.

Bug Jam 28, part 1

Friday 18 July, 2014

As has become custom, Len and myself met with Jason and his friend David, at about 08:45, and headed for Podington Airfield, otherwise known as Santa Pod Raceway. For this was Bug Jam weekend. A chance to relax in a field, watching hot rods, dragsters, stunts, live music and much more.

The trip up the motorway saw us heading in to a thunder-storm, with the rain reducing the visibility so that Len had to concentrate a lot more. After a minor detour, thanks to Jason who convinced us that he knew a quicker route, we still arrived at Santa Pod a little after 10:30, just as the rain stopped. We were quickly through the gates and were directed to a General Camping area, which was on the far side of the dragstrip, near the music tents, pit lane, funfair, stalls and main stage.

I immediately set about setting up my tent, while David set about setting up his. A few minutes later and, with the tents up, the beer began to flow. Jason had introduced himself to our neighbours; Jason and his partner Vicki, had a camper van next to us, while on our other side were a group of northern couples, whose names escape me.

With the time just after noon, Len and I decided to go for an exploratory, leaving Jason and David to catch some rays and listen to music. As Len and I headed passed the music tents and main stage, aiming for the stalls, a Dakota, from the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight, made an unscheduled, but welcome, flypast.

[caption id="attachment_1599" align="aligncenter" width="300"] An unscheduled flypast from the BBMFs Dakota.[/caption]

As we meandered around the stalls we could hear the revving of motors as mechanics tweaked the engines, in the pit lane. The smell of rubber and oil filled the air as we ambled through the crowds and around to the embankment, that looks down on the dragstrip and the Live Arena.

[caption id="attachment_1600" align="aligncenter" width="300"] Caravans, flags, tents and a deserted Live Arena.[/caption]

Standing atop the embankment, with the sun reaching its zenith, Len and I took in the sights. As far as the eye could see flags fluttered in the light breeze. Vehicles of all makes and sizes covered the airfield, while tents of varying size, shape and colour filled the grass between each vehicle. Smoke rose from countless bar-be-cues, filling our nostrils and making our stomachs growl. On the dragstrip, machines cleared the surface of water and debris, from the earlier storm. It was then that we noticed something was missing. The Live Arena was empty. Not just empty, but deserted. There were no Monster Trucks or Stunt Bikes. Nor any crushed cars in the middle of the arena but, worrying of all, there was no Terry Grant! Len and I looked at each other puzzled, before we decided to head back to the tent, where we try to find some answers. On our way we headed along the pit lane, where we spoke to some of the drivers and mechanics, one of whom tried to sell us his Ford Consul hot rod, for a mere £21,500.

[caption id="attachment_1601" align="aligncenter" width="300"] Yours for a mere £21,500[/caption]

A quick scan through the programme revealed that there was nothing, of any consequence, happening in the Live Arena until Sunday. Sunday?! Then it was only to be the Monster Trucks, Swamp Thing and Podzilla, the UK FMX motorcycle team and a display of Lowrider cars. That was no good for us nor, as it turned out, for a lot of the people that we spoke to. Those with families, or had a great distance to travel, needed to leave on the Sunday to make their way home. On all the previous Bug Jam weekends, that I have attended, the Live Arena has been one of the biggest crowd-pullers. There was usually a show on the Friday night, with two shows on the Saturday and a final one on the Sunday. Each of these years has had different acts perform, from Joseph Peace and his crazy fire antics to Rodrigo the Human Cannonball. From motorcycle stunts to BMX stunts. But, there has always been Terry Grant and his stunt cars. These shows would go on for over an hour, each time. This year the Live Arena would remain empty, until Sunday.

Feeling more than a little annoyed, Len and I went back to watch some of the drag racing and wait for the flypast proper. As we watched the various cars make their runs, we heard the distant rumble of aeroplane engines. Not your typical jet engines, but proper engines. Rolls-Royce Merlin engines, with propellers attached. With camera on video mode, I scanned the skies. Then they appeared, banking around from the south. A Lancaster Bomber, flanked by a Hurricane and possibly the greatest aeroplane ever to take to the skies... A Spitfire. Continuing their banking manoeuvre they then straightened up and flew down the dragstrip, banked again and did another run above the adoring crowds. The sound was deafening, but wonderful at the same time. Beginning to feel more than a little hungry, we decided to grab a bite to eat, before returning to our pitch.

[caption id="attachment_1602" align="aligncenter" width="300"] The Battle of Britain Memorial Flight's Spitfire, Lancaster and Hurricane.[/caption]

A video of the flypast.

With Jason and David busy in the music tent, listening to garage-house-techno-acid-crap, I left Len at the tent and went off to see what the Live Stage had to offer. The cover band The Hot Red Chili Peppers were belting out some classics and, although they sounded the part they didn't look the part. The clouds soon began to darken and the unmistakable smell of imminent rain filled the air. I made it back to the tent, to find Len chatting with the neighbours, Jason and Vicki. Grabbing a beer I joined them, under their canopy, which was attached to the side of their VW camper. Soon enough the rain came down, as lightning lit up the evening sky. We continued talking until Vicki discovered that it had gone 4 o'clock. 4 o'clock?! Where had the time gone? We bade goodnight to Jason and Vicki and, while Len settled in to his car, I decided that I was hungry, so off I went in search of a bacon roll and a coffee. I returned to the tent just after 05:30, with the sun rising, and climbed into my tent to sleep.

To be continued...

Sunday in Cassiobury Park

Sunday, 29th June.

Since the weather was determined to remain warm and sunny, we decided to take the girls for a stroll. We normally head out on a Sunday, regardless of weather, just to get the girls out in the countryside. Sometimes we walk along the Ebury Way to Rickmansworth or, travelling the other way, towards Watford and Oxhey Park. Today, however, we decided to head to Cassiobury Park.

After packing some drinks and snacks, we headed out and through Croxley View to Ascot Road, where we crossed Rickmansworth Road and entered the Park. Our entrance to the park was marked by a heron, gliding through the air above the River Gade.

Erin was soon out of the battlewagon and running along the path, looking at the butterflies, Jays and dragonflies. There were also small fish, that were clearly visible in the crystal clear waters of the River Gade, until a dog jumped in, churning up the gravel on the riverbed.

[caption id="attachment_1554" align="aligncenter" width="300"] Not the best shot, but it is the best that I could do.[/caption]

We continued to follow the River Gade, until we crossed one of the narrow bridges near the Cassiobury Park Nature Reserve. We would normally have carried on following the River Gade, into Cassiobury Park, but, as Emma pointed out, our new battlewagon could fit across the narrow bridges, whereas the old one was too wide.

With fewer people in this section, we strolled along with the Grand Union Canal, on our left and the Nature Reserve to our right. Soon, the River Gade rejoined us, as we approached the bottom of the park.

We headed up towards the paddling pools and cafe where, while Emma sat with the girls, I purchased a cappuccino and a bacon roll, for Emma, and a latte and a cheese burger, for myself. These were soon demolished, at which point we took the girls into the playground. Both girls were soon on the swings, before Erin decided that she wanted to go on the slide.

[caption id="attachment_1552" align="aligncenter" width="300"] Erin and Keilyn have a little swing.[/caption]

But not the little slide. The big kids slide. She soon mastered the giant steps, clambering up after the older kids, before screaming like a banshee, as she hurtled down the enclosed slide. Immediately she was back clambering up the steps to various platforms, before hurtling down the slide again.

Keilyn, meanwhile, was bemused by her sisters antics, preferring the more sedated swing. Soon, though, Keilyn discovered the smaller climbing frame and slides. And that was it. She was soon running back and forth along the platforms. Hanging from the various bars, while her feet dangled below her, before almost throwing herself down the slide. And, just like her sister, she was straight back up to do it all again.

Erin & Keilyn: Sliders

After a good while, we decided to make a move towards home, via Morrisons to keep Erin happy. With shopping purchased, including some mini sausage rolls that Erin and Keilyn immediately tucked into, we continued our journey home.

The rest of the afternoon was spent relaxing, while we awaited the arrival of Emma's mum and dad, before the girls started running riot around the garden, again.

All-in-all it was a lovely Sunday with family.