Saturday Short Story – Past Times

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?’

Tuesday Tiny Tale – University Challenge

‘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.’

Thursday Travels

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.

In The Purple Zone

Far from people not talking about cancer, I have found people are happy to talk about it if they know you have joined the club.

Someone I don’t know very well asked me to stay behind after a club Zoom meeting, personal not club business. I was puzzled and everyone else felt obliged to leave. I have noticed at paid for Zoom meetings, not the free sort where you get timed out after forty minutes, there are people who just disappear, others who wave goodbye the moment it officially ends and then there are  ‘only the sad and lonely’ left, reluctant to leave, keen to squeeze out a last bit of conversation or gossip about those who have already left…

Anyway, it turned out her husband had been diagnosed with prostate caner and was due to have radiotherapy. The fact that he was having it in a totally different place, body and hospital, did not put her off asking about my experiences.

In the middle of our busy local little Sainsbury on a Saturday morning I bumped into one of my neighbours who had an update. It was only falling off his bike and breaking his pelvis, that resulted in hospital blood tests revealing a rare blood cancer. We had a long chat about chemotherapy between the chocolate biscuits and the food bank.

Apart from the daily tiny anastrozole tablet and the twice daily huge adcal tablets, fortunately chewable, I have to have six infusions at six monthly intervals of Zoledronic acid. A week before is the blood test and booking that is wonderfully efficient at my hospital. Phone up oncology outpatients blood test line. They answer straight away and book you an appointment with no fuss.

The same nurse does blood tests all day long and soon calls you in. I feel like I know her and assume she knows why I’m there…

‘Have you got a blood form.’

’ No, I thought it was all on the computer.’

‘Who’s your consultant?’

My mind goes completely blank.

‘What are your ailments?’

‘Ailments? I haven’t got any ailments.’

‘Where was your cancer?’

‘Oh.. that..  breast.’

She narrowed the choice of consultant down to two and I recognised the name. A quick phone call and she knew what was being tested. We lay people think ‘a blood test’ will miraculously reveal all possible medical problems and presume there are at most three different kinds of tests, because they usually take three phials of blood.

The following week I headed confidently to Yellow Zone A, where I had the previous two infusions, only to find the waiting room in darkness and the desk deserted. There was a note pinned to the window. TIU unit moved to Purple Zone Level Two Cardiology Department. I don’t know what TIU actually stands for or why it would be in cardiology. Back down the corridor, back past Costa coffee, WH Smith and the toilets, down another corridor, up two flights of stairs. There were signs along the way, but once you leave stairwells and main corridors you are confronted with a series of swinging double doors and are not sure how far to go without ending up in an operating theatre or resuscitation room. I found a waiting area that said ‘wait here till called’, but how would they know I was here and what I was here for? I pushed some more doors and found a large room with an island in the middle and a person.

I was in the right place and had a nice young male nurse, who unfortunately couldn’t get the needle in. That always happens and I feel guilty for putting them under stress, you can’t go away and leave them in peace to concentrate. If you have had all your lymph nodes taken out, you are not allowed to use that arm ever again for anything, needles, even blood pressure band. So I only have one arm for them to use and my hand is the only part they can get into. Eventually he had to ask one of the other nurses who took a few tries. I wonder if it’s universal among the medical profession that patients are always told we will just ‘feel a little prick’ whatever is going in or coming out of our veins. I asked her if they are ever defeated and she said ‘No, well hardly ever…’ I suggested a scenario where the desperate nurse can’t find anywhere to put the needle except… ‘I’m just going to pop the needle into your jugular, just a tiny prick…’

Monday Madness

New like! God liked your post Eurovision Eve. You might want to go see what they’re up to! Perhaps you will like their blog as much as they liked yours.   Great posts worth seeing from God: Success

What better accolade could a blogger ask for?

This was our book club book this month and it was really interesting and an enjoyable read. Apart from learning a lot about Antarctic and Arctic exploring the many human snippets were fascinating. One of the leading officers would stay up writing till 2am , though he had to rise at 5am. As well as keeping  his official journal he had promised a good friend he would keep a personal journal. Writers and insomniacs will empathise. I have enough trouble packing for a week’s holiday, imagine packing supplies for four years including live bullocks… I bet they did not worry about catering for the crew’s dietary requirements and allergies. It’s also of note that many serving in the navy had gone to sea at thirteen or fourteen, no snow flakes on board…

When at last you get that Tonka truck you always longed for.

Missing No Mow May? Let it Bloom June is here.

Or perhaps you would prefer Jurassic June.

How about Meandering Monday.

No Mow May

Excitement is building as gardeners everywhere measure their grass to see the results of No Mow May.

How tall is a blade of grass?

Will leaving nature alone see the arrival of new species of insects?

Will your regular flowers make a bid for freedom?

No garden is too small to turn into a jungle.

…or a wildflower meadow

There is no reason why you can’t still play with your pot plants and plant pots and dream of entering Chelsea Flower Show. Bespoke bin store with rainwater saving feature created by Strobe Interiors .

( Christmas Trees are not just for Christmas… )

And of course you can never have too many flowers for the bees.

https://www.rhs.org.uk/shows-events/rhs-chelsea-flower-show

Sunday Short Story – Late Home

This story follows on from previous tiny tales about Lauren, but can be read a a stand alone tale; after all, the people Lauren meets also have no idea what happened to her…

Nobody believed me, why would they, but I had no choice but to tell the truth. I could not just walk back into my life, not when I had brought back two people from the future.

Why me, an ordinary forty year old mother and teaching assistant? I suppose it could have happened to anyone who visited the Ladies at that busy London Wetherspoon, couldn’t find their way out and went through the wrong door into the future.

The end of the twenty first century is far from what I imagined. A perfect storm of situations led to a future that looked more like the past; humans had managed to save the planet, but not their civilisations.

I must not speculate or ramble; I am writing this letter to put down what little I do know in the hope that someone will take notice. I am sending this to experts, those with a voice in the world and the imagination to not dismiss me… King Charles, David Attenborough, the science chap that does that podcast… I just need one of you to answer my letter.

The two people I have brought back with me are an officer called Billings, who initially was most helpful and understanding, though she is still convinced I am the mythical figure Lauren of London. She is so traumatized from her experience of London in 2023 that I’m not sure she will be of much help. The man is called Doctor Chowdry and I think he is what passes for the top scientist among the Bunker People. Scraps of life from earlier decades escaped destruction and in oral tradition knowledge was passed down his family. He is certainly clever as he worked out how to get us back to 2023, though it took him a few weeks and he didn’t quite get the date right.

Thus it was that we arrived back in London on the day of King Charles’ coronation, eighteen days after I left, but in the right place. There were the three of us in the Ladies at Wetherspoon. Luckily a trio of chattering women barged in through a door so at least I could see the way out; I hustled my companions through it before the women noticed one of us was a bloke and we were all dressed strangely. I realised we were late when I saw a missing persons poster in the corridor…

Were you in this Wetherspoon on the evening of Tuesday 18th April 2023?

The flattering photo of me dressed up for the ‘do’ we went to in March looked nothing like the person I had just glimpsed in the mirror. I had exchanged my sackcloth for the bunker clothes the civilians wore in the bunker, but they were hardly flattering.

We had tried to plan how we would arrive inconspicuously, but the main problem was that I had lost my handbag during my narrow escape from the great cat attack. I had no money, no proof of identity and no way of getting home.

Upstairs in the restaurant it was daylight; the place was packed and in celebratory mood. I tried to slip us out quickly, but had time to see a chap reading a newspaper with the front page proclaiming Coronation Day. Outside were crowds of people, though I knew we could not be on the route of the royal procession. Police were everywhere, security I supposed as there were protestors. Then the full implication of my position hit me. My family must be distraught, perhaps thinking I was dead. How could I contact my husband, should I tell one of the police officers? No, they would think I was trouble of some sort, they were already arresting a protestor. I was overwhelmed with panic, but that was nothing compared with the terror I saw in the faces of my two companions.

A woman’s voice behind me spoke in a calming tone. I hung on tight to the others as they flinched at the sight of the uniform.

‘You look like you need help, or perhaps just a cup of tea, a day like this can be very overwhelming. We’re doing refreshments in the hall over there.’

The Salvation Army, hurrah, yes I did need a cup of tea and as they are used to not judging people, salvation was literally at hand. We did not look much stranger than the other people gathered round various tables and as we collected our tea I told the woman I needed help.

‘You help look for missing people and put people back in touch?’

‘Yes we certainly do.’

‘I need to get in contact with my husband.’

‘How long have you been away?’

‘Eighteen days.’

‘Oh, that’s not long, are you able to go home or do you want a third party to speak to him?’

‘It’s complicated and I haven’t got a phone or any money so I think that would be a very good idea.’

So, good people reading this, that is how I was initially reunited with my family, who also don’t believe me. You will perhaps have heard about me on the news, but I plead with you to contact me personally and listen to the story the three of us have to tell.

Thursday Tiny Tale -Last Words

Where can it be?

Goodness knows, we’ve looked in all the likely places, but there’s so much junk stuffed everywhere.

Don’t sneer, could be valuables hiding amongst the rubbish.

Ah ha, this could be interesting, Diary 1949 …

’I am determined to write in this every day, so many exciting things happening to me at the moment. Tricia had a new year’s party and her brother chatted to me!!! He is going to call me on our new telephone.’

Oh no, that’s all she wrote, bet he didn’t phone her.

Here’s a hopeful looking envelope…

‘To my grandchildren’

Bad luck on that front Mum…

Open it then.

‘I know everything is electronic now, but newspapers are a wonderful record of everyday life. I saved a newspaper from every eventful day starting with the day Giles was born right up to William and Catherine’s royal wedding; if you’re doing a school project or even a history degree they could come in handy.’

Oh that would be interesting, a newspaper from the day I was born…

Bad luck Giles, we put all those boxes of papers in the recycling bin when we tackled the loft, anyway, you can look them up on line…

Now this envelope looks a lot more hopeful.

‘If you find a pair of pink gloves I bought them on holiday. I remember taking them out of my suitcase, then I never saw them again.’

Perhaps she wasn’t joking when she said there was a secret drawer in that awful old bureau.

Oh look, our homemade birthday cards…

Never mind those, get a tape measure and work out if there’s a false back, or feel around for some secret levers.

We’re not taking it to Antiques Roadshow, let’s try that small panel with a screwdriver.

Well I never, why would she leave a letter to me hidden away?

Open it then, don’t keep us in suspense.

‘My Darling Giles, you always wanted to know the truth; the truth about your father.  I’m afraid I have to tell you, hard though it will be to come to terms, my husband was your father and the father of your younger brothers. I know he was very boring, but I’m afraid I did not have an affair with some splendidly exotic chap, goodness knows where you get your good looks from.

Oh at last, you’re no better than us Darling Giles, even if you were Mum’s favourite.

But is that it then, what happened to

‘All will be revealed in the house when I’m gone.’

She said that about ten years ago, probably forgot to leave the clues.

Now we’re getting somewhere –

 Last Will and Testament

Thought she said she wasn’t going to leave one.

Perhaps that’s the surprise we were supposed to get. Right, let’s open it

WH Smith make your own will kit

She never filled it in…