Mellow Monday

If you could prove your condition you could opt out of work and many life situations. If we are to be an inclusive society we would need to take drastic action to help sufferers.

In the work place even a cleaning job would be out of the question with those yellow plastic boards warning of wet floors. The police are no longer the Boys in Blue, but the Girls and Boys in yellow. High Viz jackets are standard wear for many jobs now and yellow tabards are worn by everyone from stewards at events ‘Look at me, I’m important and I’m not afraid of yellow’ down to school outings.

Even if you have obtained exemption from work, yellow lurks everywhere. Roadworks going on outside your house? All the council vehicles will be bright yellow. Going on holiday or a day trip? You are sure to come across a yellow bus or even an amphibious vehicle.

You will certainly not be safe in the garden, the Xanthophobic will pray for a cloudy day so the gazanias don’t open up and mow the lawn every day before the dandelions get a chance to pop up and attract those awful bees with their furry yellow stripes. Turning our lawns to meadows must be a nightmare for the Xanthophobic community.

Check before you visit your friends who have been decorating, what colour schemes have they chosen? It seems there is more to choosing paint than we imagined.

If you are Xanthophobic better not come round my house. But Xanthophobics would not be reading this as my website is yellow. I don’t know when it became my favourite colour. In the late seventies it was orange and brown, later it was pink. I’m not sure how I settled on yellow.

How does such a phobia start? Perhaps early exposure to Mr. Men books, the constant company of Mr. Happy and Mr. Tickle…

Tuesday Tiny Tale – A Royal Enquiry

Cummings led a very nervous Doctor Chowdry down the long corridor to what the boss liked to call the cabinet room. Used often for important but select gatherings, today’s could prove to be the most important meeting ever held there. A few royals, several iconic television commentators, a few scientists, two highly respected journalists and a young documentary maker. No world leaders or government ministers, but that was for the best if they were to have a serious discussion.

Doctor Chowdry himself had no idea who the men and women were, but seated round the long table, the men in suits and the ladies in professional attire, they looked impressive. The man from 2099 should feel he was being taken seriously.

The doctor was overwhelmed as he entered the room, he had his wish to meet important people, but his mouth felt so dry he wondered if he would be able to utter a word. In the bunker, since his father had died, he was top dog, but now he felt himself shrink. One older man stood up and walked over to him.

‘Uh, hmm, well medically speaking, if we had all been better prepared, Doctor Chowdry and Miss Belinda Biggins would have been put immediately into isolation. As travellers from the future they would have no immunity to our colds, flu’, Covid etc… you get the picture. No one from the bunker has access to immunisation, but medical tests show these two people have immunity to a lot of diseases. Chowdry himself states that his people do get ill, most recover, a few don’t. Perhaps we can assume that survivors of the apparently horrific years of the middle of the Twenty First century are just that, survival of the fittest. DNA tests so far reveal no genetic defects that could make them susceptible to certain cancers or diseases.’

‘They have not had the chance, we brought them straight here for their own safety, but I can tell you that forensic examination of the Ladies toilets at the London Wetherspoon where Mrs Lauren Smith disappeared and where Mrs Smith, Miss Billings and the doctor claim to have appeared eighteen days later, revealed nothing unusual at all, let alone a time portal.’

Agitated, Doctor Chowdry stood up to defend himself.

‘How very convenient’ muttered a woman at the other end of the table.

‘Obviously we have thought of that’ retorted Cummings, ‘but there are a lot of Chowdrys around, especially if you include spelling variations. He would only be nineteen at the moment, Doctor Chowdry knew him as a doctor, a grandfather. But in our time he is not a doctor and couldn’t have invented his time portal already, because the building is not yet derelict. Now, we have narrowed down our list to Londoners born with that name in 2004, but our doctor here doesn’t know for sure where he was born and when he ended up living in London.‘

August Weekend

Tuesday Tiny Tale – Rewilding

When Findlay Cummings cycled up the long driveway of the country mansion on his latest visit to interview Doctor Chowdry, he was astonished to see the usually restrained doctor up an old oak tree. Circling round the trunk in great excitement was the head gardener’s loveable ten month old Labrador. Grabbing hold of his collar wasn’t as easy as Fin expected, the dog thought it was part of the game, while the doctor appeared in fear of his life.

‘Have you got a gun? Fetch help, I think I’m going to fall.’

‘No, no, it’s okay, Ptolemy is just a big old softy.’

Despite loving dogs Findlay was still glad to see Ptolemy’s owner hove into view, he did not want to have to explain to the boss that their precious visitor from the future had broken his neck falling out of a tree.

A sharp whistle from the head gardener and the dog retreated; Ptolemy knew who the pack leader was.

The gardener marched off, not wishing to get involved with the strange guests and visitors to the normally peaceful mansion, but Findlay raced after him to ask if he had a ladder.

‘Thanks Mr. Cummings, that’s the last time I venture outside’ said Doctor Chowdry, as the woman who seemed to be responsible for medical checks bathed a few cuts and scratches.

 ‘I presumed it was the first time you had ever climbed a tree and I remembered, from when I used to play with my big brothers in the woods, that climbing down is often harder than climbing up. But honestly there is no danger in the grounds.’

‘All animals are dangerous, especially ones with teeth and I have read in the newspapers that dogs kill people.’

‘Oh em, well not often and not that sort of dog.’

‘And cows.’

‘What?’

‘Your cows kill people.’

‘No, they just wander round fields eating grass…’

‘Come with me to the library and I will show you my reading and studies, why I haven’t had time to do more interviews, go exploring outside. I wanted to gather evidence to explain my theories, to myself as much as to world leaders.’

The normally sedate and dusty library was full of newspapers and scientific magazines, in piles on the floor and spread over tables with cuttings and photos snipped out. Children killed by dogs, walkers trampled by cows…

 Initially the doctor had been entranced by the wonderful old books, but then he became obsessed with fresh writing. Brought up in the bunker with only a few old books and tatty documents it was paradise for him to see freshly printed paper and glossy magazines. Intelligent articles on science and medicine were an antidote to the mindless prattle of Belinda Billington and Lauren Smith and the various persons looking after or guarding Belinda and himself.

‘Look Mr. Cummings, your citizens don’t need to be scientists, play with DNA to create new breeds. Bully dogs bred from the toughest specimens and what happened when they roamed wild? And this, introducing strange animals, calling it rewilding… your people don’t know what they are doing, if they saw the real wild lands …’

‘But plenty of countries have all sorts of wild animals, people have always co-existed…’

‘But when man started interfering with nature, changing DNA; safe in the laboratories perhaps, but when infrastructure breaks down, when all the beasts escape, mixing breeding, evolving…’

‘Okay, I understand your theories, but how did cities fall apart as you say they will?’

‘Look at today’s paper, Artificial Intelligence.

 

 It is not me making things up. I am just beginning to understand how it all started to go wrong and we must tell everyone.’

Silly Sunday

I was in our local real family butcher’s buying a free range chicken. Two young men I had not seen before were serving. I also asked for half a dozen outdoor reared sausages. The chap serving me said to the other ‘Half a dozen, is that seven?’

For a moment I worried that I was behind the times in a decimal digital age and I could have just asked for six. But hang on, eggs still come in dozens and half dozens. How attached are we to twelve? Is it because there were twelve disciples, or three is a holy number that multiplies to twelve. Photographers and gardeners ‘know’ three boats in a picture or three plants in a round tub are better than two…

The origin of ten is obvious as we have ten fingers to count on… what would have happened if we had carried on using Roman numerals and never heard of any other system… Better stop thinking, no need to wear our brains out on Sunday evening.

When you think too much…

Don’t Dig up Dandelions!

Monday Mumblings

Happy Birthday – according to Facebook it is your birthday today, or at least lots of people seem to be having birthdays so it could be yours. I have already sent birthday greetings to three people, one an old school friend, two quite new Facebook friends who I have never met in real life.

At least twice I have received a birthday message from someone who wrote ‘Facebook keeps telling me to wish you a happy birthday so I suppose I had better.’  This led me to ponder what comments we might put on the Facebook birthday line…

‘I don’t know who the hell you are, but Happy Birthday.’

‘I have absolutely no recollection of becoming your Facebook friend, but what the heck, happy birthday and have a wonderful day and year and life….’

‘If you keep stalking me on Facebook I shall be contacting my solicitor.’

There is still hope for our government and the country itself as long as citizens like Count Binface are putting themselves forward as candidates for parliament.

Do you ever get that déjà vu feeling when watching the news? I’m sure most of us do. When hearing a holiday maker in Greece recounting her escape experience from the terrible fires it sounded very familiar. After a boat trip they were landed on a beach to make their way back to the hotel and wait for information to see if they needed to be evacuated, but as the boat left they looked up to see people fleeing from the hotel as it was engulfed in flames. The sea was the only means of escape. Hmm, that’s the story I wrote two years ago…

Do you ever get the wrong image when listening to the news on the radio…

‘Flights are still landing on roads’ .. what? OH  Rhodes!

Handy hints for prospective holiday makers on the news

‘Contact your holiday company to check if you will still be able go ahead with your holiday plans to the wild fire area. Some holiday companies are sending empty flights to evacuate holiday makers…’

How was your day today. Have you any holiday plans?

Saturday Short Story – The Interview

‘Doctor Chowdry, can you sign this to say you agree to this interview being filmed?’

‘With that tiny thing you call a phone, however many things does it do?’

‘If you claim to be from the future, surely you are acquainted with far more advanced technology than this?’

‘No, no, that’s what I have been trying to tell everyone for the past two months, all gone, everything that you take for granted gone. Where does the power come from for your phone, it’s not plugged in like your kettle and toaster and all those strange things in the kitchen.’

‘Battery… well obviously I plug it in to charge the battery.’

‘Mr Cummings, you seem like a fairly intelligent chap; how would your society work if the power disappeared completely?’

‘Um well, I cycle to work and do a great BBQ…’

‘And do you work in a building, does it have electricity, computers?’

‘Okay, point taken, the best thing you can do is to explain to me and the important people who are going to see this interview, what on earth happened between now and 2099.’

Doctor Chowdry does not wish to reveal his given names. Interviewed by Findlay Cummings, HM’s private office, Saturday 22nd July 2023.

‘Can you tell me your age and describe where you were living in 2099?’

‘In the same place I have lived all my thirty five years, in a large bunker beneath what was London. What I am going to tell you is incomplete, passed down to me by my parents and others by word of mouth. When communication, as you Mr. Cummings know it, has been destroyed, it is hard to know what happened to the city, my country, let alone the rest of the world. But as no one has come to find us except The Hunters, we can presume a world wide civilisation no longer exists.

You are all in a panic about the future, without doing much about it. Is artificial intelligence going to take over, is climate change going to destroy the planet, will wars ever stop? Artificial Intelligence will take over for a while, until the power cuts out, by which time AI has ensured that wars continue. Programmed to send missiles to destroy cities and power hubs it kept seeking out new targets.  The planet, Gaia, will be fine, it can look after itself, always has, while humans swarm around in panic like the ants and rats that live in our bunker.

A perfect storm of events occurred. In a city flattened by war or natural disaster and you already have plenty of those, people can’t access clean water or food or medical help. If the whole world was like that, who would send help? Are you getting the picture now?’

‘Yes, yes, but we wouldn’t have let it get like that…’

‘Well apparently you did. Add to that the fires and floods that you already have with regularity, bringing lost food production, we can presume lives were lost in the billions.’

‘But how did your people survive?’

‘My grandparents and others thought it a temporary measure, a wartime situation, shelter in the many underground networks, stock up on food and essentials to tide them over. It evolved into living underground, only creeping out to try and salvage what they could. Nature took over, quicker than they expected. You might think that sounds good, but for us nature is dangerous, certainly the way it developed. As nature encroached so did the animals and following them were the hunters.’

‘I thought no one had survived, how could they, but Lauren Smith has told us about the hunters…’

‘I have seen your so called ‘survival programmes’ and news about wars. Soldiers, mountaineers, people who love trekking around in the wild, those who hunted for fun, criminals as well perhaps; anybody who was tough, used to surviving out in the open, could handle a gun. Those people retreated to the wildest parts, shot animals for food, found abandoned farms, rode abandoned horses, they became the hunters. They were not bothered that they couldn’t read a book, go to the theatre, watch the news on television. Many of these tough ones would still have succumbed to natural disasters, but we know there are networks of hunters across our land. They bring us meat in return for medical help, such as we can offer.’

‘Are you a medical doctor?’

‘I don’t think I would get a job with your NHS. My grandfather was a doctor, a surgeon and I have his precious books, but not the means to carry out most of the procedures. I think of myself more as a scientist, preserving what has been passed down to me, trying my best to gain new knowledge.’

‘I will find medical people who will be very interested to talk to you. But I also want to know why you think nature is so dangerous, with war over why haven’t you moved outside, started growing food?’

‘Talking of food, it’s lunchtime and I’m tired and hungry, perhaps we will talk off record while we eat.’

Interview part one ended for refreshment break.