The Darling Buds of June (5 page)

Angela (57),
then pointed out that no one she knew had a mouth big enough to go
over the end of a fire engine’s hosepipe, although a few local
gossips she knew came pretty ‘damn’ close.

Adam (87),
misheard, got a little confused, and said that building a dam was a
good idea, as he had worked in a biscuit factory once.

Senility is fun
isn’t it!

He was given
the picture frame to shut him up. He promptly threw it on the floor
and broke it, then returned to the sanctuary of sleep. Mamie
(84)
,
put forward a proposal that it was a
good job he didn’t snore. We voted, and decided she was correct in
her statement. Instead of a free strip of raffle tickets as a
reward, she said she was happy to take the pegs, as she was having
to double up at home (i.e. two shirts to one peg), as most of hers
had broken. We all took a minute or two to pick them up for her, as
they had scattered everywhere.

When we had all
sat down again, Claude raised his hand and requested a chance to
finish. We all agreed that he should, and so, he carried on.
Apparently, if we ran the fire hose from the river, across the
Stratford Road, and onto the outskirts of Oversley Green, we could
then cut a thinner garden hose into twelve inch pieces, and stick
five or six of them into the end. These could be sealed into the
fire hose using bathroom sealer, and upon drying (which would
probably be the next night, so we would have to cover the end of
the hose with grass and things in order to save ourselves from
being rumbled), eight of us could go back, and the six with the
strongest lungs could take a hose each in their mouth, and on a
continuous count of five, all suck for five seconds … etc., the
others could act as lookouts.

This sounded
like a good idea, until our youngest member Apple Blossom Sunset,
13
,
piped up, and said that what if, when
the water was close to the business end of the hose, a lorry ran
over the hose? Water squirting out of several sets of ears
perhaps?

After a vote,
this seemed like something that could happen, yet Apple Blossom
refused either a strip of raffle tickets, or even her choice of
prizes. There again, what does a teenager want with a bar of
carbolic soap, a nailbrush, or a rolling pin? They don’t know
they’re born. God Almighty, what most of the FAT Bs could have done
with those treasures during the war!

She said she’d
like an I-pod, to which Ernest replied that she could have some pea
pods from his garden. She called him a ‘spanner’? Which are useful,
aren’t they? Maybe not in this case? Must be one of those new
fangled terms? The meeting was then closed, and we all went out to
a pub, hoping to not bump into the Lord Mayor, as none of us had
that much cash in our pockets.”

***

SOMETHING
TASTILY SPECIAL FROM THE KITCHEN OF STAN STASHAWAY

It’s MEEE
again! Stan Stashaway, the husband of Gillian Stashaway née
Benedict nay Wakespeare, had an acre of land where he grew his own
organic vegetables, as it was difficult to get pesticides in those
days; they also kept a few pigs. Stan therefore, like all other
gardeners of his time, had to rely on bull***t, as do some
officials now. He, together with fantastic beef from a local farmer
used to make a lovely, crazily yummy beef stew in his cottage,
where Gillian and he lived. He called it Stan Stashaway’s pottage.
The recipe may soon be given a new lease of life, and may be
available at certain times in one of the locals? Who knows? Public
nagging may bring it to life again?

Stan
Stashaway’s Pottage

(Which he
maketh in his cottage)

A sonnet by
OUR Gill!

© Stan
Stashaway

Stan’s pottage
tasteth nice to me,

And thou
wouldst like it too no doubt,

Of veg and
beast the best he doth use,

And herbs and
spices to addest clout.

Though spice
thou cannot leave out, shouldst thy fear,

A badde time on
thy chamber pot,

Just the herbs
would then be nice,

And thy bottom
wouldst not then later, burn hotte.

But fit and
healthy from dung grown veg thou woulds gette,

In Alcester it
is the bestte stew going,

A healthy air
would surround you,

And Stan’s
pottage parties you could be throwing.

So we hope that
you future Alcester folke,

About Stan
Stashaway’s Pottage, talke thy wille,

Maybe then to
keep his culinary name a going,

Many a local
and touriste gutte, with his goode food fully fille.

And guess what?
Evo Nelliott (co-creator) and myself went there to a small ‘do’ one
night when it seemed that the place was interested in the little
fabulous project. We took the suggestion that the cafe and/or the
local pubs might like to sell Stan’s Pottage? And even took them a
T shirt with Gillian on the front. Was it appreciated?

LOL!
Naaaaaaaaaaaa!

It has been
recorded that Gillian, when not cleaning, would help Stan with the
mini farm, and was rumoured to have befriended and trained a little
pig which she called Hammy. This innocent looking animal was,
unbeknown to humans, very arty and would sit in the trained recital
position and oink out verse. Unfortunately, pigs are rather like
working class humans, and the other pigs could be very rude when
Hammy was reciting; they didn’t want him to rise above his position
as ‘one of them’ and become ‘one of THEM!’ There is one surviving
pencil sketch of Hammy reciting, with the verse he is oinking out,
provided by his trainer, Gillian ... which I have taken the liberty
of updating, without harming it of course. The picture I made is at
the end of the story as a little extra treat for you (you are
allowed to get excited).

***

Month 5

“Hi everyone!
Mole here again. Here are the latest minutes.

ANOTHER METHOD
OF FLOODING STUDLOOOY AND OVERSLEY GREEN.

At this meeting
of the FAT Bs, Edward (78), and an ex scientist, came up with a
great plan, which caused some excitement. A little about Edward,
off the record …

Edward is a
very clever man. He lives in his parent’s house, quite a nice
property near the River Arrow. His is a strange story, in as much
as he didn’t get on with his parents too well, because he kept
staining the sheets on his bed doing experiments (of the chemical
variety). His mum would moan at him and then at his father, who she
wanted to go moan at Edward too; as so often happens in families
where parents don’t understand creativity. Edward though, being
‘very’ creative, spent a lot of time locked away (which made his
mum moan even more, as she wanted him to go out and play with his
mates, as is ‘normal’), making anything that would possibly blow up
the world, or at least make it bubble, froth, smoke or change
colour.

Now, as a
result of the domestic dysfunction, Edward had exhausting arguments
with his mum, his dad, and the pair of them. His dad argued with
him and his mum, and his mum argued with him, and his dad. Well,
it’s something to do on a rainy day in Alcester. They didn’t have
many visitors. Edward went on to become a scientist (he eventually
dropped the creativity and went logical and sensible).

One day though,
some years ago, his parents just seemed to disappear, and have
never been seen since. We all think that Edward went creative again
and did a clever shrinking act on them, and now keeps them both in
a jar under the sink (or separate jars maybe?). Well, either that
or there are bodies in his cellar?”

***

“After the
other methods with hosepipes were abandoned, and the whole project
was almost shelved, good old Edward said that he had a last ditch
fool proof method of finally flooding Oversley Green, and therefore
getting Alcester’s much craved scuba diving lake. Edith (92), said
that the lake could be stocked with trout and salmon, and we could
therefore offer fishing too. This was seconded by Ged (45), the
local fishmonger, on condition that he could do the rod and boat
hire and sell the licences. This was agreed by most, and a
successful deciding vote was cast.

Attention went
back once again to Edward, but proceedings were interrupted by
Thomas (62), the local butcher, who said it was unfair that the
fishmonger should get all the extra business, and after a bit of a
verbal scuffle, Thomas managed to secure the boat hire. No doubt he
was happy with that judging by the satisfied look on his face.

Anyway,
Edward’s idea was …

The proceedings
were interrupted by Lottie (37), a local abstract artist, who
suggested that she paint the sides of the boats in the same style
as the lake water, in order to cause an optical illusion and
entertain American tourists, who would think that people were
actually sitting on the top of the lake. This she said would have
tourists coming in their droves, and would really ‘wazz’ (polite
way of saying ‘piss’) Stratford off, because if they tried the same
thing with their boats and barges, they would have to paint their
sides brown, and also be good at painting beer cans. This caused
quite a laugh, being true. She also thought that this would maybe
get Alcester on Midlands Today, and get her an exhibition in the
National Gallery. The idea was seen as quite cool, and was
passed.

Edward, who had
been very patient, then at last spoke about a little known subject
… ‘cloud seeding’. Cloud seeding, explained Edward, is a
controversial method of producing rain or snow by sprinkling
crushed dry ice (frozen Carbon Dioxide), or silver iodide into the
clouds from an airplane.

Well, after a
quick ask round, it appeared that no one had any silver iodide
(although Gloria (54), said she had some silver earrings we could
borrow), so Eleanor (86), immediately offered a blender to crush
the dry ice, saying it was very good at doing ice from her fridge
and coffee beans: and false teeth, which had been a rather
inconvenient mistake. Arnold (46), suggested also that it may be
useful to put the dry ice into a small sack, and then hit it with a
hammer, a method he found very effective for smashing toffee into
small pieces which he could then eat easily or suck with his teeth
out without gluing his mouth up.

A vote was
taken, and the blender won. Eleanor kindly offered to lend it to
Edward any morning at approx 9.15 a.m., after her fruit smoothie at
9am, as long as he had it back to her, washed, by 9am the following
morning. Arnold was given a free strip of raffle tickets for using
initiative, even though it was rather wishy washy. He actually won
a lovely, hand crafted ‘draughts set’ which had been donated by
Helen (54). He said he would have many a pleasurable game with his
wife.

The only
problem then was the acquisition of dry ice? But it wasn’t a
problem for long. Linda, (22), said she worked in a Military
underground testing facility in a secret location in Warwickshire,
and said that she was sure she could get some, as the brass there
didn’t much like the residents of Oversley Green, and particularly
hated Stratford because they were forced to study Shakespeare at
school, so maybe we could become ‘inconvenient’ to the
Stratfordians too? She actually called her boss up on her mobile,
who turned out to be very helpful. Dry ice was no problem! How good
is that!? We still had another problem though; how to drop the ice
onto the clouds? But, our intention was strong, and that problem
was immediately cured too.

Jack (54), a
cleaner, said he knew Sam Tulip, the cross eyed air ambulance
helicopter pilot who served the all new University hospital in
Coventry and he would have a word with him. Everything seemed good,
but as Bernice (55), pointed out, we had overlooked one vital point
…Bernice stated that if we were going to flood using CO
₂
seeded clouds, how were we going to ensure that the residents of
Oversley Green were submerged with their properties as clouds tend
to move? Wouldn’t they maybe miss, because we would have to do them
from a good distance away to allow the dry ice to work, and a lot
of them at that to ensure a decent monsoon? Good point. We ignored
it though as it was a little inconvenient to our needs, and
therefore something we didn’t want to hear. Hector (58), then piped
up and saved the day. He said: ‘what if we study the weather report
on TV, and ring up the MET office and get some wind reports to find
which way the wind would be blowing on any day, and we could then
seed lots of clouds for miles, before they reached the target’.
Cool! We would have to be precise, but we could do it! We had to!
Our future depended on it.

We will NOT be
denied! But, Eunice (68), then piped up, and said: ‘As it would
take a long time to flood the settlement, such as a month or more
maybe? How would we be sure to drown everyone, as they would raise
the alarm and escape, wouldn’t they?’ This was a good point, and
earned a strip of raffle tickets. It was probably why the hosepipe
idea hadn’t worked either, which we all saw as Divine intervention
to stop us failing. So, saved from one, we now had another problem:
how to stop the panic during flooding?

Hmmm?

Ten minutes
later, inspiration arrived again, and Ming Hoi piped up. Ming Hoi
(76), imagined owner of the popular local Chinese takeaway, who is
currently promoting an ‘eat last night’s Chinese takeaway leftovers
for breakfast every morning, simply because it’s still nice!’ at
the local non weight ‘aware’ group (a pre-group to the weight
‘aware’ group). This is a system designed to stop some townsfolk
getting bored; said that he had trouble sleeping because he was
worried about leaving his brand new Aston Martin parked on the main
street …Len (65), the local chip shop owner rudely shouted … “try
running a chip shop and driving a 1987 Astra!” Jealousy is not
tolerated, but before this could be said officially, Ming Hoi
shouted back something in Chinese which we think meant, ‘Look Len,
don’t be jealous; if you need a lift anytime, gizza shout!’…and the
matter was dropped. We
,
like everyone in
Alcester
,
like to get on with each
other.