When you book your cruise on line.
When your shopping trip goes horribly wrong.
Why your bus never turned up.
When you create your own Harry Potter World
When Teddy has more fun that you
When your phone says 0% chance of rain.
When you post on Facebook because you forgot to tell everyone it was your funeral today.
HAVE A GOOD WEEKEND
You don’t have to be a chicken to go free range. Like chickens, outdoor reared pigs and hill sheep, free range humans are well adapted to life outside and wandering free. They don’t need to be shut in or put in a vehicle if it rains or snows.
Like us with the Covid pandemic, free range chickens recently had their life style cramped with outbreaks of bird ‘flu, but unlike other animals, free range humans don’t usually get eaten.
I have been wandering around by myself since I was seven and set off for the first day at junior school. Freedom was at my disposal, well as long as I didn’t take the short cut through the large park, which was like a rhododendron plantation with lots of hiding places. I was allowed to play there with my friends and had no idea why solo walks were forbidden.
Plenty of drivers enjoy walking and leaving their car at home, but for the dedicated non driver there is the added excitement of knowing you have to walk to get to places and buy your shopping.
Perhaps the three big ‘C’s, Covid, Cancer and Chemotherapy have enhanced the delights of being allowed or able to get out whenever I like. I am also only too aware that plenty of people my age or younger are not so lucky, whether struck down with strokes or waiting for new knees and hips. I don’t take being able to walk far and fast for granted.
During covid we were allowed out for a walk and many people discovered walking for the first time, but we weren’t allowed to go anywhere, just back home. The joy of our regained freedom is destinations, meeting your friends for coffee and cake, going to your favourite groups or just going anywhere with people interest.
Whatever the destination the free range human just goes there, no worrying about finding a parking place or nervously looking at the time in case their parking runs out. We just nip down footpaths or cross the river on a ferry. The free ranger is not always on foot, we can jump on a bus if it’s raining or we have shopping to carry. We could jump on any bus and see where we end up. The free range human sees life. The writer certainly sees real life on the bus, but that’s for another blog. The photographer can pause and snap whenever they spot something interesting, which is why I have so many photos in my WordPress gallery.
For our health we don’t need a running machine and step counter, though now I have a smart phone I can’t resist seeing how many kilometres and flights I have done. You can enjoy fresh air, nature and the four seasons or human life and the camaraderie of others ‘on the road.’
Do you like walking or jogging. If so, do you wander locally and walk your dog or are you very adventurous going up mountains and doing marathons?
Belinda Billings was now enjoying her new life in 2023, though initially it had been a shock, slipping in seconds from their 2099 bunker into a city full of people, more people within touching distance than she had ever seen in her life. Luckily they had Lauren of London to guide them as they were crushed and buffeted along. Some kind of official guided them into a building where they were ushered to a table as if they had been expected and given a revolting warm brown drink. It soon became obvious they had not been expected when they were questioned. Belinda began to fear they had been taken prisoner by soldiers from the Salvation Army. What happened after that had become a blur.
All that mattered now was that she and Doctor Chowdry were going to live forever with Lauren of London in a beautiful house, huge beyond Belinda’s wildest imaginings. She could not understand why they had been told the past was so dreadful; here she didn’t have to work, could stay outside all day with no wild animals and walk around vast green spaces that were called ‘the grounds’. This was deemed to be good for Belinda’s health and she took full advantage, exploring the many paths every day, though she was still nervous of going too far and getting lost. Out in the summer sunshine every day she was now browner than Doctor Chowdry, who spent too much time in the library.
Belinda was not sure exactly what went on at this place. They had various visitors who were very interested in talking to Belinda, which she loved; back in the bunker nobody took much notice of what she had to say. She wondered what everyone back in the bunker was thinking now; she had been right about the prophecy that Lauren of London would come from the past to take them back. It must have been strange for the observers at the bunker to see them step through the portal and disappear.
She paused to examine some new blooms, there were flowers everywhere, so many colours and heady scents.
‘Belinda, Belinda, oh there you are.’
‘What are these flowers called Lauren?’
‘Roses, very romantic flowers, but mind the thorns.’
‘I could wander round here all morning.’
‘You have been wandering around all morning, I came to call you for lunch, we have a new guest apparently.’
‘You look sad Lauren.’
‘I am sad, I haven’t seen my family for two months, I want to go back to my own house.’
‘Is it like the house here?’
‘No, no, it’s so small it would fit into the dining room.’
‘So why do you want to go back?’
‘Because it’s where I belong, not in 2099, not here, but in my own home. I’m lonely without my husband and children.’
‘But you could stay here forever with me, then you wouldn’t be lonely.’
Belinda saw Lauren’s sad smile and despite the glorious sun on her face she felt a chill run down her spine. Deep down she knew something was wrong. Doctor Chowdry certainly was not happy, even though it had been his dream to travel through time. He muttered constantly about talking properly to important people instead of being imprisoned in a fool’s paradise.
No, no, Belinda was not going to think about things she did not understand, she wanted to just enjoy walking through the gardens with Lauren.
‘What are those buzzy things called?’
‘Bees, very clever and vital for pollinating flowers.’
‘What does pollinating mean?’
‘I’m not sure, we can look it up, but I do know this long border is heaven for bees… don’t pick the flowers, we’re already in trouble with the head gardener… Oh my goodness, is that Him?’
‘The head gardener?’
‘No, no Him, the one who rescued us and let us stay in this wonderful place… he is supposed to be anonymous, oh dear I wonder if we should curtsy?’
‘Elgar’s Cello concerto’ my finger was on the buzzer in seconds.
‘Correct and two more questions on British composers in which you will hear only the opening chord, name the piece.’
‘A Hard Day’s Night’ I beat the other team by a split second.
‘Correct.’
Whew, how lucky was I in the music round; ten minutes into the first round of University Challenge and my team was doing well. Saint Timothy’s College, University of the World Wide Web, average age fifty five.
Neither team guessed the third piece of music with its opening dischord and a composer none of us had heard of.
Our team ranged from twenty to, well I’d rather not say. Suffice to say I was allowed to go with my friend and her big sisters to see ‘A Hard Day’s Night’ at ‘The Rex’ when the film first came out. I was in love with Paul. With no parental supervision we saw the film twice; those were the days of continual showing so we sat and watched it again and I was in heaven, an afternoon that could never be surpassed.
Perhaps if I had not gone down memory lane I would have concentrated and answered some more questions. My finger never hit the button again. Cliff pressed the button four times, but got every answer wrong. Our youngest member answered his every try correctly, while I would have claimed the points the other team stole if only the answers had not remained on the tip of my tongue.
I knew that author, he was on that chat show the other night, we read his novel at book club, but my brain just would not retrieve his name or the title of the novel… Picture round, I don’t think obscure maps count as pictures… If the question hadn’t been so obtuse and I had remembered the table of elements I would have got that…
The claxon, not over already surely…
‘And it’s goodnight to Saint Timothy’s, better luck next year and well done Saint Elon’s, you go onto the next round.’
Beetleypete is a blogger I enjoy following regularly. This summer he has invited fellow bloggers to share their stories on his blog. I am this morning’s guest. Visit Pete’s blog for serial stories, interesting posts about life and his collections of pictures from the past.
Janet is a writer and blogger who lives on the south coast of England. Her blog is full of interesting stories and quirky photo posts. She has sent me a Flash Fiction short story.
If you want to discover more about Janet, here is a link to her blog. I recommend you check it out.
https://tidalscribe.com/
Just Going for a Walk
‘One large rucksack containing the following;
One set of six keys, one bottle of water, one diary, one iPhone.
One yellow purse containing one note each of the following denominations – £20, £10, £5 and £7.23 in change, one Visa debit card in the name of Lottie Lincoln, six assorted membership cards, an assortment of coffee shop reward cards, one book of second class stamps with one stamp remaining and ten business style cards in the name of Lottie Lincoln, author.
One makeup bag with assorted toiletries, one facemask…
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Will you walk or catch a bus?
Never mind the weather.
It might brighten up later.
How will you travel today?
Land or Sea?
When your bus escapes to the countryside…
When your moorings break loose…
…and you drift upstream it’s time to head for dry land.
…where you never know who you might meet.
Perhaps a day at the beach would be best…
…but keep an eye on the weather.
Or you may never be seen again…
Featuring Dexter, Josie and Alfie with Antipodean Stripy Stranger.
‘…and the drums did not stop. I can still hear them in my head when I try to sleep. That was how the hunters passed messages safely across the dangerous wild lands; a complex drum language they had created with what means they had. Drums are easy to make with an endless supply of animal skins and pliable green wood from the vast new forests.’
‘Ah, that is interesting, drums have been an important part of many cultures, probably from the very beginnings of social awareness. Actually I play drums, love drumming, I’m in a bhangra band and play the dohl.’
My interviewer certainly seemed to be taking seriously my recounting of my visit to 2099 and he was far from the aloof official I had imagined. Even as he spoke, his fingers were drumming a rhythm on the desk between us.
‘The hunters certainly used them for entertainment as well, but drums also had another important use. A whole group of drummers gathered to escort me back to the bunker. I was put on a horse, clinging on for dear life, but feeling safe surrounded by guards, hunters and drummers. Off we marched, like being in an epic film, the drummers beating to ward off the dangerous animals, the hunters carrying flaming torches, even though it was broad daylight. The drums did not stop and no beast came near us.’
‘It sounds as if you were well cared for by the hunters, even if it was hardly the life style you were used to, so why did they return you to the bunker people?’
‘The leaders were in some sort of negotiation, there is interaction between the two societies. The hunters supply them with fresh meat and what passed as vegetables and fruit. In return I think they got medicines and medical advice … and mushrooms, that was all the bunker people could grow underground. Anyway, Doctor Chowdry needed me for his plan to travel back to 2023 and I agreed, it seemed like my only chance to get back.’
‘Yes I am so excited to be meeting Doctor Chowdry soon and so is my boss.’
‘Can’t you tell me who your boss is?’
‘No, no, protocol and all that. All you need to know is that we both believe your story, or at least we are taking the position that every word is true unless we can prove otherwise. But to be frank, it is going to be nearly impossible to get world leaders and experts to listen to what the doctor has to say, let alone act on it.’
My positive mood evaporated. I liked this chap, even though I had no idea who he was, but it didn’t sound as if he or his boss had much influence in the real world.
Stuck in this beautiful rural hideaway, that apparently belonged to The Boss, we were not prisoners, but nor did we have any means of getting away or accessing the media. We had been here nearly two months with only phone calls with my family. In that time I had learnt a lot about the second half of the 21st century from my time travel companions, Doctor Chowdry and Belinda Billings, but I feared they were not learning much about 2023. They were mesmerised by television and radio; I tried to shield them from programmes that I had previously sneakily enjoyed, but now saw as utter rubbish compared with more important issues.
The doctor had early on realised that time travel was simple compared to the task he had set himself, to persuade people to care for Gaia and live in peace. He could at least understand, from television news and serious documentaries, how countries and their leaders could get so wrapped up in the disasters of the moment and never see the bigger picture. Empty talk he called it, so many summits and meetings, everyone talking and nobody doing anything.
As for me, I had to face the fact that I was as guilty as anyone else of letting humanity sleepwalk to disaster. I had been wrapped in a cosy world of husband, children, work, friends and fun and even when I was able to return to my family it could never be cosy again.
Bored at home – why not go on a trip?
Perhaps something more adventurous…
…or do you prefer comfort?
Careful on deck…
…don’t get left behind.
Perhaps you will be safer on dry land.
Be adventurous, ignore the signs…
Many of us have been watching a new BBC Sunday evening drama, Ten Pound Poms, prompting friends to ask how it compared with my family’s experience. The brief answer is completely different and I have found myself being irritated by some aspects of the series, not enough to stop me watching it though! In the drama it is the 1950s and the characters sail out to arrive in Sydney six weeks later, six seconds later for viewers. They are taken on a bus to a migrant camp, winding through bushland till some Nissan huts hove into view. My first annoyance was we had no idea how far away from Sydney they were, all it takes is for a character to say ‘blimey, a hundred miles from the city…’
Anyway, there they were with Nissan huts, dreadful looking outside ‘dunnies’ ( toilets ) and shower blocks. My running irritation is that one of the main characters, Kate the nurse, has make up more suited to modern reality shows or a girls night out. Her eyebrows are ridiculous and in the Australian heat her makeup would be running down her face, not that matron at the hospital would have allowed her to wear such makeup!
The Australians they meet are mostly awful, but so are some of the migrant characters; there are a lot of running stories packed in to this series. They seem to be in the middle of nowhere, but also near a country town, a hospital, the sea and some very swanky houses. What themes do ring true in this drama are the treatment of the Aborigines, who were not counted as humans in the census till the 1960’s and the fact that English children were sent out to Australia as orphans, but many had parents who didn’t know where they had gone.
Perth, Western Australia in the 1960’s
My family’s story is not as dramatic, for any of you who are watching the television series. It took Mum and Dad only six months from the time of applying to us all getting on a chartered migrant flight at Heathrow in October 1964. They chose Perth, Western Australia and we had a ‘sponsor’ who was a chap Dad knew ‘from the office’, the two families had never met. He met us at Perth airport at 1am and took us to the caravan he had booked for us. A week later my parents had found a house to rent. If we had needed to go to a migrant camp I’m sure my mother would not have stepped on the plane! By Christmas they had bought a house on a quarter acre block in a new suburb. Migrants were told that all houses were built on a quarter acre block, that idea didn’t last, but our house had natural bushland.
My novel Quarter Acre Block is inspired and informed by our family’s experience, but not autobiographical. It is told from the point of view of the daughter, who may have some similarities to me… and of the mother. Mum helped me with the adult experience point of view. In the rented house in an older suburb Mum said the only neighbour who talked to her was Dutch, but at our new house we quickly became friends with our new neighbours, who were dinky di Aussies from the goldfields of Kalgoorlie.
The lifestyle migrants looked forward to..
We knew little about Aborigines, I guess we assumed they were enjoying their lifestyle out in ‘the bush.’ We knew nothing about migrant children and stolen Aboriginal children being abused in orphanages.
‘In the nineteen sixties many ‘ten pound pommies’ had never left England before and most expected never to return or see loved ones again. George Palmer saw Australia as a land of opportunities for his four children, his wife longed for warmth and space and their daughter’s ambition was to swim in the sea and own a dog. For migrant children it was a big adventure, for fathers the daunting challenge of finding work and providing for their family, but for the wives the loneliness of settling in a strange place.’
Only 99 pence to download to Kindle or buy the paperback for ten pounds.
Have you been watching Ten Pound Poms, or have you or your family had experience of migrating to another country?
Times and Tides of a Beachwriter 