Writing challenge 20th February 2012 - The Drought

The drought

She looked beautiful in her ivory silk wedding dress. Dad had even hired morning dress which suited him even though the one button keeping the jacket closed was struggling a little. The size he had given Moss Bros was more wishful thinking than factual. The wellies they both wore seemed a little incongruous at first but, as most of the wedding guest in the congregation were wearing them as suggested on the invitations, they were an incongruety that soon faded into the background.

They walked slowly arm in arm along the path from the gate to the church porch, through the graveyard that was now empty of the  long dead parishioners. Dad turned to Daughter and whispered. ‘You look so beautiful darling, I just hope you will be happy with this stupid clown you are marrying.’

‘Thanks Dad, I love you and I know you like Michael a lot really.’

The portable electric organ was slowly cranked into life by Miss Bidson from the local jeweller’s who had been the parish organist for many years – no one knew how many but it was more than a few as she had outlived several organs before donating them for research – how could a well made instrument make such terrible noises?

‘Come on Dad, let’s do it’

They slowly started walking up the aisle towards her future, Dad with a furtive tear in each eye, his heart bursting with pride as he prepared to give away his gorgeous daughter.

The service went well, no one forgot or dropped the rings, Registrar had turned up on time. She was necessary because the church wasn’t licensed for weddings – or funerals come to that but that didn’t matter much today. Even Vicar had arrived on his bike, wishing he had mudguards and remembered most of the words.

Husband and Wife slowly walked back up the aisle to the entrance arch accompanied by Miss Bidson’s extraordinary rendition of Widor’s Toccata. Just before they reached the church entrance a few spots of rain fell on them and the congregation.

‘I knew we should have got married in a church with a roof,’ said Husband.

‘I just wanted to get married in the same church as my Mum and Dad,’ said Wife.

So sweet, their first domestic.

The rain got heavier and the water level started to rise. It was now creeping across the path towards the church, umbrellas mushroomed. The congregation quickly abandoned the church, Vicar helped Miss Bidson push the organ out of the church, towards the waiting white van where Eric helped them lift it into the back and drove off. Vicar dashed back for his bike before the water engulfed it.

The drought had broken, the church would soon sink below the waters once again.

Writing challenge 12th February 2012 - Captain Slogg

Science Officer’s pre landing report for Betelgeuse IV     02.09.2512

Type of planet

      Rocky with some tectonic activity driven by residual core heat and radioactive decay of Potassium, Thorium and a little Uranium in the crust.

      Water covers about 30% of the surface.

      Age about 4 Billion years.

Gravity

      1.2% Earth normal

Atmosphere

      12% Oxygen, 86% Nitrogen,1% Carbon Dioxide, 1% noble gases

Background radiation

      Approx 175% Earth normal.

Comments and reccomendations

This is a young planet with active tectonics and a high level of volcanic activity. The high gravity and relatively low oxygen level in the atmosphere means that any strenuous activity will be tiring. The low level of CO₂ means that the surface is cool with little rain so the terrain will be mainly desert although a savannah type grassland will have developed in the equatorial regions.

      The high background radiation means that evolution will be progressing quickly so an unusual flora and fauna should be expected to be encountered.

      It is suggested that the landing party select a site near or on the equator and on the coast near a river delta. This will give water borne access to the interior and plentiful supplies of fresh water and marine fish before farming becomes established.

      The life span of the colonists are likely to be short for the first few generations as they will encounter many cancers from the radiation and will suffer from arthritus at early ages because of the high gravity. It is expected that this will improve after about five generations as evolution catches up.

      Contact with the first settlers will be difficult as they travelled before the new HiTL drive and so, although they have only been here for thirty years, they spent five hundred years on the voyage compared to our five so they may well have evolved into a different form of human being as evolution has had twenty five or so generations to make changes, driven by their high exposures to gamma radiation in space.As you know, we have had no contact wil them so we must be prepared for a difficult first meeting.

Nigel Butinski – Science Officer.

First Officers Landing report for Betelgeuse IV     07.10.2512

I instructed the pilot to navigate the shuttle to the landing area selected by the Science Officer. I had a crew of four and carried twenty six colonists; ten couples and six children ranging in age from seven to sixteen.

      We selected a dry, level area some two hundred metres from a foreshore that is rocky with sandy inlets. It is one degree South of the equator. The terain is fairly flat with some low hills some three km inland. The vegetation is up to 30mm high and appears to be similar to Savannah type grassland on Earth.

      We quickly unloaded the shuttle so that the pilot could return to the mother ship in orbit. We set up a defensive perimiter using rocks from the foreshore. We named our settlement Hubbletown.

      We spent the first two weeks cultivating an area outside the settlement and planting the seeds and plants that we had brought from Earth to see which would survive on this planet. We dug a supply canal from the river to give us enough water for domestic and agricultural use, we would have to use irrigation in this dry place. After doing all this work we decided to send out a group to the first settler’s camp we had seen about fifteen kilometers away from Hubbletown to the North, across the river. I selected five of the strongest men and two of the crew as we did not know what to expect.

Note 1.

This the end of the First Officer’s report and nothing further has been heard from the contact group since they left Hubbletown.

Report from Daniel Jones age fourteen                        07.10.2513

I started writing this report a year after the contact group and the First Officer left to make contact with the first settlers so that, if we do not survive, others who come after will at least know what happened to us.

      There were two of the original crew with us, five men, ten women and six children when the group left.

      We worked hard farming the surviving crops, fishing and improving our living conditions. We did not go short of food as the fishing was good. About half of the Earth plants survived and thrived. We also found that we could find edible roots by identifying the surface vegetation. Life was pleasant although hard work. We worried that the contact group had not returned as we were now completely on our own. The ship had left orbit for the long return to Earth and the next resupply was at least ten years in the future.

      After we had been here for six months, the adults started dying and now I am the oldest one alive. I and the five other children are all fit and healthy and show no symptoms of the cancers that we think killed the adults. We have all had to grow up really quickly as there is no one here to help us or tell us what we should do, we just have to work it out for ourselves. We have reallised that we need to have children quickly to replace the adults so I am partnering Mary who is also fourteen and James thirteen is partnering Sophie who is twelve. We are happy together and we have hopes of a good future in spite of the bad things that have happened.

      We have seen nothing of the original settlers and we have decided not to send a group out to meet them as we are afraid what could happen until we find out what happened to the original gro

Note 2.

Daniel’s report finished here

First Officers Landing report for Betelgeuse IV     07.10.2523

We tracked the original landing spot and the settlement from the ships systems and by visual contact from orbit so the navigation to the surface was simple.

      We landed cautiously and sent out a heavily armed search party. No signs of life were found. There was evidence of cultivation in some fields outside the settlement but there are no living crops.

      We found an area that had ashes and after investigation in the area, we found some bones that were confirmed as human by our Science Tech. Close inspection showed cut marks on the bones which we took as signs of butchery.

      We then returned to the mother ship.

I recommend that this planet is quarantined and no further settlement attempts are made for at least fifty years.

Ivan Paderowski

     

The chimney

The chimney

The first little pig built me from straw.

He realised me quickly, I soon felt tall.

The material was cheap, soon thatched together

Everyone was happy, I kept out the weather.

The second little pig built me from wood

He put me together with bright shiny nails

Wooden planks roamed all over the roof

Hammered down with the little pig’s hoof.

The third little pig built me from bricks

She built me strongly so I would stay

in place on the roof in spite of the wind,

that the wolf blew and could not rescind.

The moral of this story, children, has to be

When you want a strong chimney, always choose she.

What I ate when I was five.

Special treats allowed on Sunday afternoons.

     ‘What would you like children?’

     ‘Sugar sandwiches for tea please Mum.’

Thin bread, thin spread, bread and scrape – end of month.

Sprinkle sugar, press it in, add the lid slice, squeeze.

Cut in half, bring to mouth, inhale the smell of gritty

sugar granules against the teeth.

Salivared sweetness liquids through to the taste.

Sweet to child.

Cheap to Mum,

at the end of the month.

Soon no teeth at the ends of the mouth.

The incoming tide

It was quiet, dark, no flow, all calm

It started early with a trickle, the flow increased

Then it was a flood, many bores

 surge caught on snags and

channels became blocked, impatience rained.

Up the Portway, under the bridge, into the city

Different routes found, diversions abound

Slowly, the dams broke and cleared

Dry, empty pools filled, basements soon choked..

 The levels rose higher

The current lessened, it was high tide.

Bristolians now at work.

Oats

What have they done to my oats

that came in a box from Scotts, near Groats?

Flavoured with salt,

not sugar or malt.

It seems there’s a change,

they’ve begun to arrange

my oats in a pack or a tub.

It’s making me blub

to see them all sold in this way.

Keep my oats so simples I say. 

A cold morning

Chickens fluffed up and reluctant to venture

fourth degree below zero as my boot fractured green blades.

Yesterday footprints are frozen templates in the mud.

Chooks pecked at ice in drinker,

 retreated baffled to a tray of recent tapped water.

Perhaps a frozen old specked hen instead

Dave is a better fox’s name than Reynard but,

Hen and Chicken is a good pub named

after the coal seams below Lower Clifton.

Bedminister -  Secretary of State for sleep.

What is now?

Now

A three second line, said poet 

Depends where you are, said astronomer

What you want it to be, said philosopher

The moment you are living, said spiritualist

That little part of life, which hee now lives, said emperor

What future brings, said past

What past hides, will say future

Me, always, says now

The Isle of Write

My dearest Mister Crowe,

I hope that you will know

that this is writ in fun

so no need for your gun.

This is coming from a friend

With no intention to offend.

So please don’t swear and cuss

as I talk about the bus.

If you’re going for a Ryde,

You then have to decide.

If you can afford the fare

From where you are to there

I know you have, you see

a pass to go there free.

But if it is not far,

and seeing your avatar.

I have a small suggestion

That may aid your digestion

Why not get on your bike?

Mike.

Renewing my poetic licence

Poetic licence

 I had to boldly go today

to renew my poetic licence

I got there early and started to say

‘Is it easy or do I need some contrivance

To fill the form without your connivance

This is a PF34 designed in ‘74

Without it I will get some resistance

To writing poetry any more’

The wrinklies in the queue were restless

It is Tuesday, time for pensions I thought

Stamping like elephants in estrous

I was sure I would end up with nought.

‘The problem here is, Sonny

Is likely the spiralling cost.

You will need lots of  money

so its not in the post, lost

Your licence I have to refuse

And this is my decision definitive

I have no leeway, I just cannot choose

‘Cos in Line one you split an infinitive’

Writing challenge 9th February 2012

The Traffic Jam

Franklin sat on his favourite bench, basking in the July sun. There were not many people around on the Downs this time of the morning. Most of the dog walkers had come and gone, young mothers were fighting their way through the school run, students were probably still in bed so that just left people like him.

      Frank, as he was known to his friends, and probably any enemies he had made during his long working life had recently retired. He now had time to enjoy the little things in life that he was fully aware had passed him by while he worked hard and sold his time to earn a living for his wife,  himself and their three children who had now scattered across the world in pursuit of their different destinies.

      Sylvia and himself had planned to enjoy many trips to far away places when Frank retired but she had died seven months after the final party at the office. All those plans were meaningless now so he was content to settle into a mundane lifestyle and take little pleasures where he could. The children visited him when they could and brought the whirlwind uncertainty of youth with them but they soon left and got on with their lives. This left Frank on his own but he was generally happy with his own company, no one could replace Sylvia after their forty two years together. He had many very happy memories to keep him company and he played these like u tube videos in his head whenever he wanted.

      There was little breeze this morning to disturb the butterflies feeding on the buddleia bushes near the bench. He watched them do what butterflies do; ‘flutter by’ he thought and wondered if that Red Admiral was going to cause a hurricane in Brazil, or was it the other way round? He mused on their short life and marvelled at the irridescant beauty of their wings. They had a very short life compared to Frank who was already in his sixty eighth year but they seemed happy, if you can decide what butterfly happiness is and how they would show it.

      ‘Do all old men think like this when they are on their own?’ he wondered.

      There was a constant stream of cars across the suspension bridge this morning. He was amused to see the jostling for position to get through the toll in front of one more car. Did it really matter? Why compete, why not cooperate and share? Was it some inate human drive?

      He felt the first pangs of hunger so he opened his rucksack and pulled out his half litre thermos flask – a present from his eldest for last Christmas and a plastic box of sandwiches that he had made in the kitchen before leaving the house. He poured a cup of coffee and dipped into the pile of sandwiches. He bit into the first one with a sense of anticipation.

      ‘T’riffic jam,’ he thought.

Keeping watch

Keeping Watch

My face looks across the room.

Eyes return my look as

my hands point to the when.

When I decide, they second when I say.

When I rule the world, from the meridian

there are different eyes,

that work together but we differ in our whens.

Check the minutes, who is right, who is wrong.

We are all right, when indifferent zones.

No escapement from watching me as

the pendulum swings.

The human ants follow my timewhen but

Father Time follows the sunwhen.

When I stop, chaos rules the butterflies,

tick, tock, slow, stop, silence.

Nowhen.

Writing challenge 3rd February 2012

Unicorns

It all changed after the unicorns.

      The Right Honourable Member for Southampton Itchen, Testit and Scratchit was the primary cause of the big change. Everyone knew, and sort of accepted, the fact that the system, and the people who operated it, was corrupt to varying degrees but he had gone too far and he wasn’t the quickest finger in the till either. I mean, it is just about believable to claim your stud farm business as your main residence – even if it did generate a few sniggers in the office of expense irresponsibility but to set up a zebra farm using public money and then to sell the meat as best Aberdeen Angus beef was probably going a little too far. He got caught, of course, when people started cooking the meat, he hadn’t realised that the stripes go all the way through.

      By this time other MPs had got season tickets on the tanker train carrying liquid meat sauce so it was all becoming too visible. It is ok to rub the public’s nose in the fact that MPs were getting away with murder and other more serious crimes but when the Daily Herald exposed the Unicorn scam people decided that something had to be done     

      It worked like this. Everyone knows that Unicorns put on weight very quickly so they are the ideal animal to fatten up and sell for meat but they are very fussy eaters and only thrive on a diet of the best nut and grain mix which makes them uneconomic to farm. This is in spite of the fact that the horns can be sold to Doctor Beijing for a premium to be ground down and turned into a powder used as a remedy for various ailments that are too delicate to be listed here. Suffice to say that the powder cannot be applied without first removing one’s pyjamas.

      The Honourable Member for North Whernside had the idea of importing retired Rudolfs from Finland, pruning their head gear, putting them out to pasture for a couple of weeks, just long enough for them to learn to speak Unicode and then selling them on to the market as best Unicorn carcases for premium prices. The golden fleeces were quietly sold to Jason to clothe his Argonauts but this is what inspired the famous headline in the Herald,

      ‘MP fleeces public with mono antlered, openly sleighn Rudolfs’

      Something had to be done.

      There was a flurry of ‘public consultations’, referendums and focus groups that achieved nothing, just as the MPs hoped but a Facebook group was set up by a Graham Tweedle, who at that time was a fourteen year old with a computer in his bedroom. This eventually attracted twenty seven million members who demanded a completely different system of democracy. The pressure for change was irresistible and became known as The English Spring. Yes, I know it was November and the movement included Scotland Wales and Northern Ireland but history isn’t perfect and usually isn’t true anyway so let’s move on.

      The end result was based on the jury system. A computer system - yes, I know what you are going to say about trusting computers but let’s move on again - would select five hundred people at random from around the UK who would have to serve as MPs for five years. They would be paid well, with no expenses. Anyone who refused would be put in prison for the five years. Each year another hundred would be selected to replace the cohort who were due for retirement at the end of their five year service. These would each be awarded a bonus equal to five years pay to help them to settle back into normal life.         The thinking was that anyone who puts themselves forward as a candidate has thus proven themselves to be unsuitable. The only way to get a group that is representative of the population is to select them at random. So,  just as a jury is a sample ‘of your peers’ so now are your MPs. Oh yes, talking of peers, they were all past their vote by date anyway so the upper house was shut down as the honours system was cancelled.

      There were the expected cries of horror from the outgoing MPs.

      ‘How can someone possibly hope to run the country if they weren’t born into a rich family and were educated at Eton?’

      ‘Dunno mate but we can’t do worse than you did cannus?’ was the general tone of the replies.

      What really happened, of course, was that the UK entered a new golden age of honest governance. Because the new MPs didn’t have the arrogance of the previous incumbents and had no sense of entitlement to position, power and money, they just did the job using applied common sense which worked very well. There were several mistakes but they were generally small scale, low cost and didn’t include January fact finding trips to far away sunny countries or spending big brown envelopes of money on consultants who happened to be related to the said MPs.

      Any large group will always include a few bad apples. These were quickly found out and put in jail – to encourage the others.

      There were a few letters in the Times from Tunbridge Wells with some nostagia for the days of the Unicorns but generally the new system was accepted as being fair to all even though most people waited for the arrival of an OHMS enevelope each November with some trepidation.     

      Dr Beijing had to make do with dried, powdered snail porridge but this seemed to be just as efficacious as the previous recipe.

An Autumn Sonnet

Autumn Images

Nature relaxes after a fecund summer,

Cows swim between misty harvest sheaves,

Chill morning feel of the winter newcomer,

Children kick through drifts of leaves.

Walkers crunch through dry stubble trails,

Pheasants whirr into startled flight,

Trees hold their breath, fearing gales,

Leaves turn golden in fiery delight.

Starling on wire queues to fly South,

Robin shows off his new red breast,

Rabbit fur air caresses the mouth,

Swallow has flown, never to rest.

The seasons cycle through to Autumn,

Tupping all over, a new life to come.

Home

Home.

I was in hell being bombed in the Hadean.

I was just alive in the Archean.

I was long present in the Proterozoic.

I was changed by life in the Cambrian.

I brought order to the Ordovician and

I just survived the Silurian.

I nearly drowned in the Devonian, with all those fish!

I made coal in the Carboniferous, delta, changes.

I was probably in the Permian desert dust storms.

I was a playa in the triple, arid, Triassic,

I evolved with  many ‘ites during the Jurassic

I chalked the Cretaceous, fashioning forans and flints.  

I nearly perished in the Paleogene.

I numbered the Neogene.

I quaked in the sometimes chilly Quaternary.

I have lived so long, it may seem perverse,

I want to live to the end of the universe.

I am the worse for wear and war weary.

I am your home, your Earth, cherish me dearly.