skipper

if this were the place

2009-11-09T22:48:35Z

if this were the place; i would tell you how ill I have felt for the last week, bbb awful

feeling sick and desperate for some sleep but just lying in this massive bed like a six acre field. Thrashing round it top to bottom and hanging over the side it dont make any difference suddenly it all feels lumpy and orrible.

saturday at 03.00 i was changing all the bedding . not that it was grubby in any way i just needed that crispness of fresh sheets and pillows. IT never made any difference exept I couldnt sleep in nice crisp bedding any better than the stuff that had been on for three days execpt that after changing the big sheets and twelve pillow cases i was nackere and breathless . and more unlikely to sleep than before.

Oh and I,m doing it again not sleeping I mean niot on Sunday or tonight by the look of things and i feel realy poorly.still this isnt the place so i,m saying nowt!!!.

pete skipper

THE HILLl

2009-11-09T22:34:49Z

The Hill.

Im standing at the top of Castle gate near the old castle doors looking over the old coastguards cottages and over the wonderful vista that is Scarborough south bay, still as yet unspoiled by scarborough councils .Its early in the morning and there is a slight frost on the gravestones and surrounding grass edges.

Here comes the sun, showing its bright edge over the horizon and bringing a wonderful “curtain up” to another day, like the star of the show appearing from the back of this amazing stage she knows The earlier lighting display was only to announce her arrival.
Now that the she has arrived, its time to drop down the hill onto the harbour side and find a place for an early breakfast.
This hill, from the castle gates down half a mile of steep incline with many curves, was our toboggan run in winter snows. Despite the attempts of the shopkeeper half way down to “stop those blooming ooligans we could attain enough speed to skate across the barrier of fire ashes he would strew across the road way.
Ah what a variety of toboggans we built, mostly from fish boxes or the wood originally destined to be, made into “crab pot bottoms” but now with saw and hammer and a few straightened fish box nails turned into a thing of beauty.

The steel runners, if one was lucky enough to have them, came from herring barrel hoops or the odd busted beer barrel, every sled showing the ingenuity of the builder.

All indulging a need for speed and danger, for danger there certainly was, on this cobble stoned sleigh run.

The top section being a drop of one in six and a tight right hand blind bend. Once off and running, the only way was down, accompanied by loud screams from the girls and “Ey-up lookout” from the pilots of these speedy, only part controlled, missiles.
Oh yes! Fear rode with us on the trip down but it was no match for the sheer excitement of the bumping gut wrenching bucking bronco’s we rode down the hill onto the sea front. Sitting or lying flat, the choice was yours to make, no crash helmets or body amour here. Wellies, a fisherman’s smock and maybe some woolly gloves with the finger ends cut off for more grip.

The better constructed sleds could achieve fifty miles an hour on the run down to the bottom curve a sharp right-hander which, if negotiated successfully took the slewing careening machine onto the final hill down through Tuthill a narrow steep street onto the harbour side.

A quick three sixty degree turn, often followed b a few yards along the ground without the benefit of the sledge, many a trouser arse were left here! along the front of the Newcastle Packet pub.brought the reality that one had survive another dice with danger (other sledges, perhaps slower or faster than yours, people pulling back up the hill, grown ups shouting and Mr. Evans’s barrier of ashes, none had managed to stop the dash down the run, everything blurred into one or two crazy exiting minutes.

Sixty years ago ! Where did all those years go? I smile when i think YES I I was one of THOSE BLOODY KIDS!!!

OH Yes! I feel the madness of that run as if it were yesterday…while the Lexus; with the luxury of brakes.. takes me down the same run at a more civilised pace.; is it realy sixty years?.

pete skipper

thoughts for sat

2009-10-31T21:47:55Z

wow made a mess of my insulin on friday normaly i take 60 mg at 060 .00 and then take ano0ther 60 mg at 18 00 thas it for the day'

Friday I took the 60 dose at 0600 then i took another dose at 18 00 then for some unexplanable reason i took another dose when i went to bed at 20.00 of 60mg

I woke up at 0200 for a wee and felt "very out of it." altogether .My legs and arms wouldnt work together and i was just woozy and fighting through cotton wool mist. anyway i checked my blood sugar expecting about 12mg and got 2,6mg going downwards what a fright, silly old sod!!.

good job the good LORD had me on his radar and nudged me I called the ambulance people while i could still wisper who and what i was doing and they sent a paramedic round in a fast car , the first time i every had one of those nypho things and hopefuly it will be the last. I have a new regime in place for insulin managment now.

I felt a right prat and have had to get my neighbours involved to have a caller at least one every hour just to see i still upright. anyway i have mamged to get through he day but i have felt very "on the edge" all day and have done nowt.

Oh dear!!! I am ill enough with the cancer enemy without making another "enemy at the gate" through stupidity.and i still am not clear of the effects of it.

I gonna lie down!.

My skin is tearing off where the nurse did the blood removasl needle wednesday and i am carrying little bruises where i have touched the door or leant on the desky I am a mass of bruisesnow all trying to puff up and roll off the top skin. I dont know if this is chemo or not!.my dodtor is not happy with me refusing the mexican flu jab he says if i get it vithout the vaccine protection i will not have a hope of recovery but the chemo room are equaly adamant that i shouldnt have it while on chemo treatment.as my white blood cells are very low.

one doctor ashed ne if i can cut my warfarin down by three she doesnt want thin blood bleeding into my lung tumour, fair enough ,

then one of the others comes along and askes if i can increase my warfarin to seven a day as she doesnt want my blood clotting round the site of my tumour .

how the h can i suit both of them and how can they both treat the same problem with opposing actions. so i have left it at five mg a day

why does everything have to be more complicated than we can understand?.I can only leave the decision to the good LORD to influence somebody to take the right course. I know he will.

well its bed for me ,lie in tommorrow, and be up and about for midday.. thats the plan. might have a call from greame tommorrow, he might fancy a cuppa

I have two sofas for sale cheap the funds going to local charities a three seater and a two seater in a light fawn color ,with washable covers and cushions, good quality just want £45 apiece. thats cheap. buyer collects from my lounge modern cushions and covers ,fire proof ect..

pete skipper

STILL SPITTING IN THE FIRE THEN

2009-10-31T15:56:31Z

STILL SPITTING IN THE FIRE THEN

This is a short story about my grandfather NED Kelly.

The district nurse allowed the old heavy bicycle to run down the cobbled hill, she was a large girl and the bike suited her well with its carrier at the back of the seat for her bag.

This was her second call and likely to take some time but she was used to allowing her patients the time they needed, much of her work being listening to their problems and desires. Some of the problems she could assist with, broken windows and leaking taps, generally just took a call into the town hall to resolve

She had been born in the area and had never been known as “Nurse” by the older ones, to them she would always be “ Mrs Crawford’s Oldest” or “Nan”, remembering her as a little girl going to school, and this meant that she could not use the “district nurse “ to achieve her ends . Only her tact and persuasiveness made her one of the favoured who could come and go in and out without formality, just a knock and a quick shout round the door.

“Hello its nurse!”, “Come in Nan” and it was as “Nan” she could care for her little flock..

She stopped at the little cottage half way down the narrow cobble stoned hill and leaning her bike against the wall, knocked and opened the Jade painted door.

“Hello its Nurse” no answer! She pushed on through the inner porch way and looked round the inner door.

There sat old Ned in his chair, he had heard her but would not acknowledge her presence until his good time.

Ned spat a stream of tobacco juice into the coal fire, she was relieved to see his little dog was not present, Nipper could be a handful, and with Ned’s encouragement inclined to bite first and ask questions later. she moved into the little room ,cluttered with furniture and shining brassware, the fire reflecting in the polished “brass fire dogs” on the hearth and the brass kettle sitting on its stand at the fires edge !.

The room had little natural light and the gas mantle over the fireside sputtered and popped in it’s struggle to illuminate the room with a warm glow.

Ned spat again, more to establish who’s boss around here, than the need to relieve himself.

Nan was not to be intimidated “Still spitting in the fire then Ned?”

Still spitting in the fire!? Course he was still spitting in the fire, He had been spitting in the fire for the last seventy years and was not going to stop now, not for her anyway!

Who do’s she think she is ?, coming here with her great big arse an giant hands, Great bear of a woman, bossing im about?. Why didn’t she bugger off an annoy some other poor fella?

“I’ll just go and chat with Aida, Is she in the kitchen, I expect so!, she’s always busy Ned isn’t she?. You’re lucky to have her Ned”. “I’ll come back and see to you love”.” Have you been good since I last came?”

Ned snorted, been good! What’s she on about now. Been Good! Ow, the ell can he be out else but good sat in this bloody chair most of the day wi one leg and a bit of one, an one bloody eye, Been Good! Daft bugger. He glared at her and said nought

An he didn’t need her to tell him about young Aida, though who “had” who was a matter of some conjecture. Little poison dwarf as he called her, but deep down; if Ned loved anything; he loved Aida.

Aida was only second to his terrier Nipper. Which wasn’t bad seeing as how there was only Aida and one Nipper in Ned’s life .

Aida would not bite folk, and Nipper couldn’t make proper Yorkshire puddings so he loved both for different reasons?

Mind! Aida didn’t like Nipper and Nipper wasn’t to keen on Aida, so a tenuous truce existed between them. Which, when Ned was bored and felt the need for entertainment, would break out into a frenzy of snapping and newspaper tearing? .

Ned would encourage Nipper to snap at Aida by poking him with the end of the crutch, and in return Aida would secretly encourage Nipper to tear up Ned’s newspaper as it came through the letter box..

“OH” he’s torn up your newspaper Ned”, he’s a naughty dog isn’t he, why don’t you get shot of him love?” “Young Freddie will ave im”

The nurse, “talking again” disturbed Ned’s thoughts ,””Oh! We are in a mood today aren’t we love? I expect your bottom bits are a bit sore if you’ve been sitting a lot, I’ll see to them later don’t worry!”

BOTTOM BITS! What the ell is she going on about now? Bottom Bits! What doe’s she think I am a bloody coble or summate? I’d like to see to her bottom bits, I would, mind take as few gallon of tar to cover that lot.

Ned smiled to himself as the thought of nurse with a tarry bum. That wud show her a thing or two about BOTTOM BITS...

The nurse called out to Aida, Ned’s wife.

“Are you in the kitchen Aida, its Doris love?” “Has he been behaving himself this week?” “Well let’s see what you need and then we’ll sort Ned out.” “Has he been keeping dry Aida? It’s important to make him go down the yard, just keep reminding him love””

Andrew Flintoff or, as he was known to the locals, “Ned Kelly” quietly fumed and did a big spit of black plug tobacco juice into the open coal fire. Where it hissed and spluttered in protest...

Pity young Aida had put Nipper in the yard or he could ave got im to bite her on the arse.

Somehow Nipper always got “put in the yard” before visitors arrived and Ned always got put in his chair without his wooden leg or his crutches handy,so,he could't move .

Young Aida was at the back of it all somehow! If he had his crutch he could trip folk up with it and get a bit of entertainment, but Aida would shift it early on an give im no chance for escape down the hill to the harbour.

He could hear them talking in the kitchen, Aida and the nurse. I bet she doesn’t offer to see to Ida’s “bottom Bits”. Assuming Aida still had em.

Bottom bits hadn’t been talked about in Ned’s house for the last forty years, since he had been discharged from the naval hospital. Minus half of a leg and one eye, which he had when he joined up and didn’t t think it right not to have em when they had done wiv im and the Germans.

His Lordships regret the loss of your limb and one eye but a pension has been awarded to you for the remainder of your lifetime. ”TEN BOB a week” “TEN BOB A WEEK” You couldn’t buy some bodies leg off em for TEN bob a week, “could you? “ Not if thie ve any sense at all you couldn’t. TEN BOB and a “replacement leg”. “A replacement Leg” they called it, just a bit of wood cut to the same length as his other leg and sanded smooth with a knob at the bottom an a canvas strap for

the top end . Ida’s table had better legs than im;………an they never gave im an eye back”!Just left the socket where his eye had been before that daft bloody skipper had steered over the mine they had just swept up with the minesweeping rig. Steered right over it! The enquirers said it was another mine swept together which caused the loss of his ship and was an unavoidable incident of wartime activities. However, Ned knew better.

The silly young fart only had command of his trawler-converted minesweeper cos his daddy was a Lord of Admiralty or summat like that. Useless he was, yellow wellie brigade bumped up to command for the period of wartime. Ned thought there were thousands of em in the navy; and all, in his opinion, useless on a real ship of war. Aida had “done right by him” when he came back, home or most of him came back!

His eye and his leg never came back!.! He was in a mess with bandages everywhere and it was struggle to get to the outside loo never mind stay on it when he got there.

He sometimes fell off the seat and Ida would get young George to come from next door and lift im up again.

He fell off a few times, until young George put fish boxes each side of the privy seat so he was wedged in a bit, good thoughtful lad that one...He used to make sure there was plenty of newspaper squares hanging on the strings in the privy. Aye! Good lad.

But Aida didn’t seem too keen to have him in her bed again, he wouldn’t wear his eye patch in bed and she said the that empty eye socket staring at her was the final straw, so by quiet consent he moved into the big chair downstairs and Aida had the big feather bed to herself which she probably got used to whilst he was away sweeping up mines.

Aida had never been a “physical lass” as her mother put it, but a good honest worker and a real good hand in the kitchen, baking and cooking were Ida's forte, she “wasn’t keen on the flirty clarty stuff”

THEREFORE, Ned had grown up without “clarty stuff” in his marriage. There had been sex in the earlier days but it was a dispassionate undemonstrative affair, Aida never had an orgasm and Ned never understood that women had such things anyway.

Therefore, it was easy to drift into the current regime.

“Shall we get the dominoes out Ned”? “We will have to wait for the car to take us to the slipper baths, Can’t plonk you in a tin bath Ned eh

“I ad a bath last week an I aint been nowhere to get mucky yet”

Ned shook his head in a resigned fashion , how people like to waste time and effort making others do what they don’t want to do. He didn’t mind the slipper baths so much as all the fuss and having to have an attendant with him. Then they would check his leg for sores, they didn’t check the wooden bit for woodworm he noticed!

When he varnished it with boat varnish, they had a lot to say about it, and when he did some scorch scrimshaw on it you would think he’d ruined it. He just burnt his name on it and a bit of a sailing ship picture. Lot of fuss they made of that.

Visitors liked his scrimshaw leg; he had discovered this by one of those strange incidents that life throws up now and then. He had been sitting down on the pier one summer morning, it was very hot and he had been pushing a shrimping net along the shallow edge of the tide picking up a few shrimp for sale to the crab stall holders, He used to tip them into a little tin bath near the lifeboat house on his return there .

Pushing the big net along towards the spa and then the return push back to the boathouse usually caught a few nice size shrimps.

The round trips taking him about an hour, slow and steady were the way to lift them out of the sand and into the net. He managed quite well as long as the sand was firm; most of his weight was on the chest bar of the net anyway so he coped fairly well. He kept his trouser legs pulled up with a short piece of line round the top of both thighs, and anyway a wet arse never hurt anyone, as long as it was sea water as wet it. He had returned to the tin bath and emptied his little haul of shrimp; as usual, he was sitting with his back against the wall and his leg stretched out in front, his cap on the sand next to him.

This bloke and his wife stopped to look in the bath and Ned “impressed” them by grabbing a handful of live shrimps and eating them, “best way to eat shrimp lass” he said with a wink to the woman. The bloke was looking at Ned’s scrimshawed wooden leg, “I collect scrimshaw” he said, “but I’ve never seen it on a wooden leg before”

Ned showed him the Whale spouting and the inevitable busty woman, the sea lions and the two little sailing ships burnt into the wood.

The story of Ned’s loss of his real leg was told and a graphic account of a sea fight between a lone British minesweeper and three German destroyers was related, “as if it were yesterday

How out of the smoke the embattled minesweeper came Ned steering the errant vessel, and working the engine too!, still waging war, still firing his gun, minus a leg and an eye,his companions scattered about the decks like paper toy sacrificed to king and country, and freedom for all the youngsters like himself and his lady. The young couple were very impressed and a new white fiver fluttered down into Ned’s cap lying at his side.

No protests would have the lad pick up his cash. He was proud to have met one of England’s bulldogs. One of Nelsons finest. One of the men who sacrificed themselves so he and his new wife could walk on this beach free of the jackbooted hordes.

He left with a “God bless you old timer” and marched off up the beach almost forgetting his new wife in his enthusiasm.

A little crowd had gathered during the graphic account of this sea battle, and several of them applauded Ned’s narrative and other donations of various values dropped into the cap. Ned brought the “penny dreadful” to a close by another demonstration of live shrimp eating washed down by a half-pint of beer some chap brought from the pub over the road, which persuaded the audience it was time to leave him to his lunch.

Ned was astounded, eight quid he had, for nought! Aida had better not get wind of it.

During that summer Ned became well known on the beach, some returning next day to hear again the battle’s he fought almost single-handed winning the peace for old England. Coins rained down into his cap and he lived on crab sandwiches and “just a half then “in the pub over the road. Never has much been given by so many to such a cause.

Ned’s wooden leg was, he discovered, a little goldmine.

The battle of the River Plate was in fact fought, somewhat disguised, in the Dover Straits between Ned and the Germans twice or thrice weekly. Sometimes he fought “just out there” he would say pointing to the open sea,

The battle of Filey Brig? Was a possibility but rejected as an unlikely earner.

“Knocking again Ned?” The nurse brought him back to the present problem.She was getting on his nerves now. She was a better player than he had thought and was constantly making Ned “knock”. Here he needs a four as she has blocked off one end with the double four and he does not have a four.

Ned’s hand goes down to the side of his chair and he gets a spill to light his pipe from the coal fire. On the way there he touches the side of the range where the soot lies cool and makes a great play of lighting his old briar pipe Suddenly there appears to be a five and four domino in his hand, how convenient is that then. Ned plays the five and four on the double four end that nurse has had blocked for most of the game.

“No! I’m not knocking as yet “says Ned with a smile. And goes on to win the game.

“I didn’t think you had any more fours Ned” “Never mind the lads are here now we can go to the baths”. Ned is persuaded to get into the ambulance type bus.

“I’ll see you later Aida, can you wash those dominoes? He’s filled on of them with soot to change it to suit him, it’s the double five and he’s filled one in to make one end a four”

Aida laughs, “He never gives up with his tricks”.

“Aida ,if he had lost we would never have got him to the baths today, sometimes you have to be one or two steps in front you know” ,”Oh and he’s pulled that stunt out of the bag before, soot on the dominoes! Whatever next?”

Pete skipper

more about Ned later

ARIDS AGE RELATED INTELLIGENCE DEFIENCY SYNDROME.

2009-10-30T05:03:17Z

A.r.i.d.s

Age related intelligence deficiency Syndrome

A question by the skipper

---------------------------------------------------------

ARID (Webster’s dictionary. {Dry; parched; barren; absence of moisture

I wonder if there is such a thing as

Age Related Intelligence deficiency Syndrome…. A.R.I.D.S. ?.

Cos if there is --- I‘ve got it!

----------------------------------------------------------------

I decide to make a cuppa tea. On the way to the kitchen, I notice there is mail in the front porch. I decide to go through the letters while waiting for the tea to brew.

While filling the kettle, one of those fancy type that keep the water just below boiling by switching itself on an off as the need be.I decide to unlock the back door, and put the keys on the draining board ready to do that,

When I have read the mail !Most of the mail needs to go through the shredder in the office in the corner of the ounge so I set off to do that, but first I’ll pour the water into the cup so that the tea bag will be brewing.

Part of the mail is a bill that needs a cheque so I need my chequebook from my briefcase, which I pass on the way to the shredder. Seeing a cup of coffee left on the computer desk from last night I decide to move it before it is spilt into the computers putting the chequebook and the junk mail down I go back to the kitchen with the coffee cup

On the way to the kitchen l see some postage stamps on the little coffee table that should be in my briefcase, so I put the coffee cup down on the table and pick up the book of stamps.

I open the briefcase put the junk mail in it, and pass the chequebook, stamps and bill through the shredder.

While am getting mad at the shredders stupidity, the front door bell rings, so I go to answer it,

Picking up the coffee cup to put it somewhere safer I leave it on the computer desk, for now, as I pass it on the way to the front door, which I find locked.

The keys are in the kitchen on the draining board so I head for the kitchen and the keys, where I decide to put the milk into the cup of tea’s very weak and I realise I

forgot to put the tea bag in. So now, I have a cup of hot milky water.

I empty the cup out, put a tea bag in and switch the kettle to boil, take the keys and head for the front door.

Whoever it was has got fed up of waiting and scarpered, leaving the front gate open.

I walk down the path close the front gate, return ,lock the front door and head for the kitchen again ,where I find that the kettle wouldn’t wait either, has boiled and turned itself down again,aaaahg!!

In deep despair and totally stunned I go into the lounge, sit at the computer desk, drink yesterday’s cold coffee and write this letter to no on in particular.

I’ve missed Randolph Scott fighting “Custer’s Last Stand” on the television.

He gets the woman of his dreams; I get yesterday’s cold coffee, and cannot remember where my specs are.

And what happened to my cuppa tea?

Dry; Parched; Absence of moisture; Barren;

ARID? Gotta be it! It’s what I’ve got! ?

AGE RELATED INTELLIGENCE DEFIENCY SYNDRONE

Pete skipper

ARIDS Age related intelligence deficiency Syndrome

2009-10-30T04:30:45Z

skippers" thought for today"

2009-10-29T18:20:23Z

well i dont know if this will be interesting or not iether way ;unlike yourselves; i will have to read it, like it or not.

firstly let me give you my daily routine as best able .

Wake up for the thousands time since i lay down last. check the watch to see how many minutes i have slept since last remembered anything to give myself some idea of how many minutes i have manage to accumalate in sleep mode. added togerther with the last number noted in m y fuddled mind was it 55 minutes making it 201 minutes in total or was it 55 times to the loo overnight having pumped 201 ml of water to last visit. , or was it 02.01 hours when i last visited the urinal facility giving me 55 minutes of sleep to present time.

Ah the confusion which comes with age ; creeping on unoticed; like the patina on the shower brush handle; the unasked for proof of much handling of this item of bathroom cleanliness..

perhaps i should have a note book in which to note these activitiesi at the time of occuring.I wonder if a note book recording the fact that the toilet roll when dropped does not roll towards the needy but hurries of uphill across this wide exspance of a wet floor bathroom until it is totaly out of reach of the sitter; having bounced off his bay window belly and unrolled at speed until it is now in the gulley of the shower soaking through like a manic swiss roll.

Now he is unable to proceed with dignity to the next step the toilet roll stacker been placed in a BETTER position so as not to crowd the room needed for the magazine rack of sea Fishing magazines and other books on gardening and electric domestic wiring.. NOte the paper that these things are written on is specificaly designed for glossy pictures and too glossy for its emergeny needs of the moment..

NO i dont think writing about these things will be of any interest to the"viewer".so i wont!!.

Ill slowly haull myself erect , push on the autoflush pedal in the floor and slink over into the shower and after removing the molten bits of the toilet roll, shower off with extra care the nether regions using the shower brush with as much care as i can muster and end up with a scalding shower to imprerss on me the folly of moving bathroom fitting around.and that while a book or two is essential bathroom requirment the toilet roll rack must be in reach of the toilet user at ALL TIMES.

well i dont seem to have got far along my daily routine ;perhaod thats why I am constantly behind in my expectations for the day.

must look into this idea ,perhaps there isnt time to do it ?.

pete skipper

to be or not to be

2009-10-26T14:04:24Z

hello my conspiritors all!

Well my doctor has just been to see the problem with my ankle (is swollen and very painful)

it appears that her imformation is not that i have lympoma but that i have (small cell lung cancer)

and my foot is infected and thus the reason for the swelling and the awful pain its dishing out, so antibicriotics are been arrayed to treat it wiv.

Last week one of the practise doctors advised me to add to the amount of warfarin i was taking tp make it six , Today i have been asked to cut the amount possibly by 3 so thats half because she is afraid that warfaring may cause a bleed into the tumour which will be bad news . as i have small cell lung carcenoma. and not lymphoma . whats the difference? i dont know as yet.

can we march off together with the same foot first and the same step please?.

tell me what you know of this small cell lung cancer please , treatment /symtoms / success rate ect better imformed means a tighter course sailed, and without suprise reefs and rocks.

any pilotage will be gratefuly recieved on my navigation station .

the doc didnt look too happy poor lass , so i havent pressed her for a dianosis as to outcome and maybe she can only guess anyway. I intend to be around for as long as i can. if youve had it or have it and have any input; tell pete please,

pete skipper,

VON CLUCKS COMING

2009-10-23T19:12:40Z

Honest Indian you can see why I am so confused cant you; life has been a constant challenge to me.

and still is I tell you oh the folly of youth and the self believe it could get you killed in my young days of butterfly bombs and incendiaries falling out of the sky and landing in gutters

The excitement of the LOOK DUCK AND VANISH BRIGADE

More normally known as the; LAND DEFENCE VOLLUNTEERS BRIGADE here to put fear and terror into the Nazi hordes waiting across the sea oh aay lad we ad em worried!!'.

Scarborough harbour was defended by my two uncles; Von Cluck, who earned his strange nickname by shouting "

AY up von clucks on his way over again "prior to any air raid and before he turned the hand air raid siren round with its little handle.

He had custody; and for the duration; was able to hold the bullets for the rifle that had been issued by the army to his brother Sam. who was given strict instruction not to let von have the gun Under ANY Circumstances this was a balance in the interest of fair do's by the sergeant

So when and if the hordes of the Hun were foolish enough to pour over the sea wall and attack Scarborough from the sea a pause in proceedings would have to be negotiated with them to give my two uncles a chance to sort out their intentions

Though Granma swore that neither would give up his status as gun or bullet custodian.

Both the gun and bullets were returned to the army after the war unsoiled or fired and in pristine state six 303s and one rifle cosseted all through the conflict Hitler knew the determined men he faced over here he never stood a chance.

Mr. Mainwaring was an armature compared to my two uncles. They used to march in and out of the tank traps (big concrete blocks) on the pier Sam in front; as he had the weapon; and Von slightly behind as his bullet caddy so to speak

imagine these two tiny men about seven stone wet through and not a bit of spare flesh or fat on iether of em my gran said "you woulndt get enough fat to fry a bacon rasher if you melted a em both down"

inmagine facig the terror of the best the germans gcould throw at them two herculeon british men after fighting teir way right across europe and known for their use of the bliezgreig NOTHING THEY HAD worried uncle VON or uncle SAM

Hell they were ENGLISH just come and get it fritz!!!.

aay we slept safe in our beds gaurded by the likes of these men god bless em all

pete skipper

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dobbin who gave his all for the cause

2009-10-23T18:43:11Z

Hey I remember the coal hoss and cart.

oh yes he was big hoss and he delivered coal onto the pier for the steam trawlers/drifters that worked the port fishing for cod and haddock or anything else foolish enough to out its head into the oncoming net. all were accepted the unsalable been sold to the crab potters for bait the payment of which in cash was named "RANGHAM" a strange name but one well understood and used to this day to describe cash in the hand business.

Well these old and ancient ships by modern diesel standards burnt copious amounts of black dusty coal cheap as it could be got and delivered to the harbour side by huge wheeled carts in equally huge sixteen stone sacks tipped down a chute onto the deck and from there into the hatchways down below where it was stored in the fish room for use later Tons of the stuff at one go maybe twenty tons at a loading in five different cart loads..

Shoveled by us lads of 12 or 14years old for a bit of wrangham and the odd fish fry on the vessels return when we would assist in the unloading of the catch too

Health and Safety had not interfered with our lives by then we lived-in amore sensible environment and were expected to look after oneself so it should be today.

Don't get me on Health and Safety!!!

Well this hoss has pulled up alongside the Emulator a steam trawler /drifter and had his nose bag on and his huge head inside up to the eye brows snorting the chaff out of the top of the bag with huge exhalations of air down his nostrils and tossing the bag up and down to reach the best bits I suppose while the coal was been tipped down the chute into the trawler

Now we were prone to sea mines drifting into the bay which had been cut loose by my dads mine sweeping activities he been a commander of a mine sweeping flotilla from the Humber to the Tyne sometimes they cut a mine mooring but missed its flight to the surface in the dark and this was then a very dangerous mine carried by tide action all over the place and still armed and deadly. If they came ashore they would explode on the beach or the rocks near the spa where windows were removed or boarded over .

Well while Dobbin was engaged in his brunch a mine exploded near Holbeck across the south bay which surprised Dobbin a bit and he took off down the pier still wearing his nose bag over his eyes and pulling the unbraked trolley the unfortunate occupants of the trolley were thrown into the harbour or onto the pier ‘

Dobbin was stopping for nothing now , he was aggrieved at this disturbance to his lunch break and heading for somewhere more peaceful which he unfortunately found when he inevitably ran out of terra firma at the end of the pier and disappeared over the end still hauling the trolley and the rest of the coal.

Now the mystery is where did he go then?

The coal and the trolley were recovered at low water but of Dobbin there was no sign .He was if he had never existed the shafts were empty of both beast and rigging and no amount of searching revealed his new resting place when daylight returned a thorough search of the harbour and sands were carried out by the constabulary comprising of one sergeant our complete force at that time but big enough to make three of the little pathetic bullies we have today however Dobbin had been BEAMED UP or eaten by a giant jaws creature while he lay under the sea who had a liking for leather rigging too.

Now Scarborough has two harbour linked by another entrance right opposite the main one and on which pier there exists a hand crane which will lift about seven tons.

Dobbin had been snatched and carved and removed to the butchers place of operation before you could snap your fingers. He probable just got time to expire under the water before the huge hook got accidently caught in the reins of his rig and pulled through the inner entrance by the crane butchered where he lay in the water into manageable bits and pulled up onto a lorry or a MR Jones’s van and away to his final sacrifice for the war effort.

Suffice to say that the local butcher made sure that the local families living on their wits at that time all had a good chunk of meat in the bags on Saturday no questions asked as to its content

I believe we got his heart which was ok for beast heart wasn’t rationed been declared offal during the war and we lived on offal

I still like ox heart roasted and sliced it’s a wonderful lean meat and much better than the little lambs hearts we get today, huge rings of lean meat lovely.

Well the hoss was replaced with a more placid beast and the trolley braked while unloading took place we were not to receive gods blessing of another hoss meat day for the remainder of the conflict.

Aay Dobbin lad you did your bit for the needy .

Pete skipper

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the bell

2009-10-22T20:55:37Z

When I a was a youth at school we had a hippie science teacher who was determined to show all the wonders of modern science

Power around the home .was his favorite lessons

One day he decided to teach us the way a front door bell worked so with coils of wires and round magnets we build a front door bell and fitted it in a panel of wood to demo it it was good and we never ad one at home so I decided to make a bell and fit it in the front door.

Well I found an old scrap bell in a box so that saved a bit of Meccano stuff and I drilled the door for the wires and fitted the bell base to the outside of the door

It was a pot base with a metal bell push bit held on a leaf spring at the back and the two wires went one on the metal tab and the other onto the earth part of the base when the bell push was pushed on it touched the two contacts together and the bell rang ,,when you let go of the push it sprung forward and disconnected the circuit hence the bell rang when pushed….

Well I got it wired but it kept running down the batteries so I needed a better scourse of power and then I spotted the ceiling light fitting . NOW here s power for the asking!!!

So I pinched one of the ironing fittings and fitted the light bulb into one side of it and the bell wires into the other

That bell when activated sounded off like a fire engine it vibrated the front door and sounded off of like the chimes of the parish church

DRIIIIIIIIING DRIIIIIIIIIING wow it was wonderful to hear.

All went well throughout the summer months the bell was a watch tower of strength and power we was all pleased with it.

Callers commented on the power of that bell, OH yes we had a bell like no other in the street

Come the first wet day of winter and we were due an awakening to the latent evil masked by that bell.

The first notice of trouble was when my brother came running down the stairs to say the milkman was lying in the road under his bike with milk all over the place and he says the bell tried to kill him!!!.

Mother was outraged at this comment HER BELL which had never attacked anyone since installation by her son and heir. Well the rain kept chucking itself about in the windy weather so Joe the milkman was picked up in one hand and his carrier bike in the other and mum brought him in to dry off a bit.

Half an hour later dry in body and clothing and nice and warm Joe decides to carry on with his deliveries.

Mother escorts him up to the front door and to demonstrate his error she presses the bell push.

The effects on her huge 20 stone person was amazing , she stiffened up as if instant rigor mortis had sent in and her eyes were twice the size normally expected ..

I saw her peril and switched off the front porch light switch .at which point Mother drew in a huge breath of air she started to tremble and her eyes returned to only twice their normal size and swung in my direction like a 12” cruisers battery seeking out a target to engage.

It was prudent for me to withdraw as fast as possible and to remain so for some time

The bell was instantly demonized and became out pride and joy to our in built demon fit for destruction

NOW GET IT OFF MY DOOR NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!.

I decided to remove the bell at a later date when the escape route wasn’t such a risk , the science teacher received a visit from my mother pointing out he should be more careful OR ELSE!

oh yes i remember the BELL

Pete skipper

just thinking a bit while the blood gets flowing a bit

2009-10-17T09:57:38Z

HI Graeme me mate,and Danielle

I am going back to bed when I ad this tea and toast, MY shaking hands used to spill things out of the cup when I used to have tea and toast in bed so I decided to take that bedside cabinet out of the bedroom so I don’t walk over the white carpet spilling cocoa and stuff. I gotta get out of bed for a drink now.

A bit draconian but it worked in Columbus’s day when water was scarce they took the water barrel dipper up into the topmast shrouds and to get a drink one had to climb all the up there ,get the dipper (like a big ladle) and climb down

Dip one dipper full or water of half or whatever had been decided was the ration. for that day,. and then after a drink take the empty dipper it all the way back up.

Woe betide anyone passing a drinking ladle round, back it went when you’ve finished it and remember the officer of the watch had some midshipman told off to watch the procedure was carried out.

Anyway when I got the water meter bill I wrote to the water board and suggested if they put it up much more maybe they would like to go the whole party and take a dipper up onto my chimney top. for their much used drinking water, why do we get charged for using NEW FRESH drinking water when its about 200 customers down the line when we get it. They were somewhat careful with their reply pointing out that if I fell off the chimney they would feel the loss of a much valued customer. So someone there has a sense of humour, I suppose if you are selling second hand water you would need a humorous side to your nature

Would you pay new price for a “pre used car” :200 not so careful owners and full of farm chemicals and chlorine

NO! I figure the water in the indoors council swimming pool is more drinkable,

Well it would be if we had a weee free zone in the pool, or just one lane for the desperate and uncaring among us I’ve noticed that sometimes one of the group of “talkers not swimmers” which usually hangs on the splash rail like a perch full of damp wet buggies, chivying up and down the perch, one or two bobbing just within toe bouncing depth in order to chatters to some more fancied oldie of the opposing sex

They disappear off occasionally “for a length or two” which mysteriously will add up to the daily belief that they have swum “one hundred” of em, I believe this is a personal and enforced nature trip so to speak. Later they will climb out up the ladder ,demonstrating that the march of time on their lower regions has not been kind and cannot be hidden with lippy gloss and other means of hidden support however craftily tried. Im afraid the revengeful act of a wet cossie sold to some golden oldie is to show through all the slings and arrows that have first been slung up

under the tarpaulin thick cossie. That end of the pool is not a place to be just before contemplating dinner at the café, a rump steak will lose its appeal.

I say Opposing cos that is how I see it played out there, the sagging orrible bits of late anatomy are hidden beneath the waves so to speak and the visible bits are enhanced with huge costly amounts of lippy gloss eye liner and teeth that have drowned in a huge jug of water overnight with added chemicals, that bubble and snarl all night long ,as two large white pills dissolve the days grunge I personal would soak em in malt whisky taking note of ARISTOTOL

“Malt does more than Milton can to justify gods ways to man”

That’s If i were myself needing these services , hardly likely since during my school days I had em mostly removed by various attempts to improve my fighting skills; and losing.. Constantly trying by never turning down a chance to practice this skill that evaded me for many years and proved the misnomer “that practice makes perfect”

Had I not grown a defensive fighting stance I would have run out teeth for my school chums and brothers to target, therefore losing them the will to go on hitting me in packs and taking me on one at a time.

Much of their pleasure would have been lost by this ploy though and some personal risk to themselves more than using the team game . You can imagine the scenario !”have you just our kid “ , YEA “ well im going to hit you now”! Try it then an ‘ll it you!.

Only later did I realize this remark was not the best I could have used in the circumstances’, bigger brother , built like a brick garage, obviously not suffer from food rationing .probably pinching his brothers grub in order to defend his bolshiness’ and stupidity. followed by his OTHER BIGGER sibling just to uneven the odds a bit. Of course they had not got time to wait awhile I fought one of them and then begin with the other, NO we’ll both fight you Pete together loke!. Wessies always say LOKE when they mean LIKE, it’s a wessie thing I expect.

Anyway being attacked by three now ; cos the first one wants revenge for his busted beak and the loss of a bit of gravy down the chin and shirt sleeve which he has used to wipe his leaking ;snitch another Wessie trait I believe, A practice I found makes ones shirt sleeve stiffen up a bit .and I only ad one shirt ; that been reserved for chapel and ruthlessly removed by mother as one retuned to the family nest so to speak

all this ;while my group of happy brothers would sit on the school wall swing their bare feet against the brickwork and shouting how I should av belted the little one harder in the first place but not climbing down of their acquired grandstand positions and giving me a hand in the uneven battle in the stated belief that “our Pete can take them Crawfords lads with one and behind his back mother ”, which did nothing to explain why a visit to Woolworths specs counter, like a pick and mix for spectacles, was now required so I could carry on with the dreaded music lessons tomorrow. well ive drunk me tea and eaten my cold toast.

So I will leave you both with this bloody and wet battlefield of my past with profound apologies to my right leg which has shown me this morning during the daily anointing, that in fact it is my left leg that took the blows so to speak and my right leg is still in reasonable fettle though somewhat swollen. Having done exactly the same mileage as the left leg .

Let me say that this is not the leg of my youth being travelled over much territory in the years but it is only damaged by time and not like the left one from receiving Arab or American ballistics, one can never be sure when our American cousins are assisting in the armed struggles of the world. They have a need to use the gun they were given by the President : however senile he has been; and shoot something : anything: as long as its something or someone. They will get a medal for discharging the weapon in battlefield conditions ,the success of that action is not on the citation, a patch on the sleeve marking them out as a sniper and a medal as big as a scrap yard weighing machine from where it should be donated.

I once in a fit of blood pressure after watching the news wrote to the white house suggesting it would greatly help the environment if all these medals were melted down for the scrap metal contained therein , to date I have had no reply they probable don’t have a department for answering comments from LIMEY BUMS our partners in crime around the world..

Get a bit better every day my little one, the lord is with you, his staff is offered to you with his blessing . I know you may not feel so at the moment but his ways are not ours or for us to be party to, but be assured whatever others may tell you he is with you all and loves you dearly.

Read the book of JOB in the St James bible, did he get some stick, and wasn’t a happy bunny with the Lord for allowing it , it turned out ok in the end.

I going to get dressed now the sun ,such as it is” over the yardarm” so bed may not be a good option I might just lay on top and read a book or somat.

Bye for now remember we are all still here for you and your family at ANYTIME.

Pete skipper

reply to anna, Im holding on but had a screaming fit today.

2009-10-16T22:06:19Z

anna

well good and bad I had ny chemo today but was tolds i wouldnt be able to have my planned eye operation for the 27th of this month as i was on chemo i have waited four years for this small cataract removing, as it isnt interfering with my vision their not bothered about it..

I was a bit upset when i got hjome on my own but i am sorted now and back anchored into the rock again.--------------this rock.!!

my late dads and my favourite hymn and message to all.

its one you can really belt out. So I'v rattled the windows in the neighbours houses with the organ today all three keyboards and with the surround sound system grouped up and no ear muffs.

yhr solo keyboard was switched to Rock Guitar. switched in . well my windows are ok !

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Will your anchor hold in the storms of life,

When the clouds unfold their wings of strife

When the strong tides lift and the cables strain

, Will your anchor drift, or firm remain?

[We have an anchor that keeps the soul

Steadfast and sure while the billows roll,

Fastened to the Rock which cannot move

Grounded firm and deep in the Saviour’s love.

It is safely moored, 'twill the storm withstand,

For 'tis well secured by the Saviour’s hand;

And the cables, passed from His heart to mine,

Can defy that blast, thro' strength divine.

WE have and an anchor--

It will surely hold in the Straits of Fear

When the breakers have told that the reef is near;

Though the tempest rave and the wild winds blow

Not an angry wave shall overflow.

We have--

It will firmly hold in the Floods of death

When the waters cold chill our latest breath,

On the rising tide it can never fail,

While our hopes abide within the veil.

WE have--

When our eyes behold through the gathering night

The city of gold, our harbour bright,

We shall anchor fast by the heavenly shore,

With the storms all past forevermore.

fingers fred!! sad story of a young skipper

2009-10-15T20:16:25Z

"FINGERS"I

My nickname, didn't we all have one, was "fingers", because it was usually my fingers that interfered with things often leaving a once perfectly working machine in small and useless pieces. I was death to clocks;

any clock that had the misfortune to be left

near me rarely functioned again.

The pursuit of knowledge into to the wonderful world of mechanics and all other moving things led me into more trouble as a youngster than I care to remember.

On one occasion I was ensconced in bed at grandmas with a bad asthma attack, and grandma left me her wind up gramophone so I could listen to some records.

More interested in the workings of the gramophone I used my trusty jack-knife to unscrew the four screws holding down the top. I was just going to ease the top up a bit and peep underneath to see the parts moving around inside the base.

Within a few short and disastrous seconds I was surrounded by a mad crazy steel spring that forced its way out of the base and unwound its greasy length onto grandmas "friendship quilt".

I remember to this day that spring, Manic! It was, with a determination of a mad thing it threw itself onto the bed and wiped itself off all over the bed and the floor, miles of it there was, about three inches wide and, until disturbed, covered in thick green grease.

I did try several times to wind it back under the top cover but it always escaped just as I had the last bit to go. Strangely enough every time it escaped it appeared to have recovered itself with more green slime, which it gleefully left on the "friendship quilt".

The best solution to this setback appeared to be, to throw the gramophone and the quilt on the floor and suggest that the fall had opened it up.

Unfortunately my reputation as "fingers" and the appearance of my jack-knife, screwdriver blade open, on the floor among the wreckage was enough to seal my fate

I discovered that friendship like grease does not wipe off quilts painstakingly made over many winter months.

I did point out that it was a "friendship quilt" but asthma was quickly superseded as my main concern as Violet was "sent for" and proceeded to carry out her threat "to belt your arse till It glows"

And " it did! for days.

Ah the price of knowledge!.

pete skipper

did i ever tellyou about the bell?

perhaps another day.

that piano conclusion

2009-10-14T20:12:10Z

The piano had eventually to go back down the staircase, though mother had complicated things a bit by jamming the corner of the piano into the wall so it would not slide down when she let go of it.

Unfortunately her eagerness to belt my brothers backside while he was caught trying to scramble over it had driven this corner of the piano into the plaster of the staircase wall and when she lost her temper with it and gave it a mighty heave the whole of the staircase plaster fell off with it.

Through this deluge of lime based plaster came the now loose piano, with mother trying to restrain its downward plunge, from below it and nowhere to go but down the stairs backwards.

My older brother on leave from the S.A .S. dragged her through the dining room doorway as the piano hit the bottom wall where seconds before mother was being thrust backwards and downwards.

You would think she would be grateful for his timely rescue of her person; it was too late to rescue her dignity. But woman are funny that way and he got a massive clout for some reason ,mishandling her person , or laughing at the sight of her covered in plaster ,glasses all askew and spluttering and gasping.

She always seemed to feel better after clouting some one,

The piano, which I hoped had been damaged beyond repair, was taken out through the yard, where most of the plaster was cleaned out of it, and as mother refused my offer of swilling the dust out of it with the hosepipe, down the alley, up the hill and along the street into the front door.

Of course, it could have come off the wagon and in through the front door saving us a lot of work and struggle however mother now declared herself satisfied that a good job had been done and a piano tuner was called to the house, and later he declared the piano in good fettle. If somewhat scratched, SCRATCHED it looked as if it had been in a tank battle and lost it had to have four beer marts under on corner to accommodate the slope on the floor

I pointed out to mother that no one in the house actually played the piano and unfortunately picked a bad time to mention it as one of my posh aunt’s was in the room at the time and declared her intention to have ME taught to fill that role. why ME

No one thought it necessary to inquire whether I wanted to play or not, it appeared I had been unanimously elected and arguing wasn’t going to do any good.

On the grounds that I was as Asthmatic and couldn’t’t play football or go swimming with the school it was pointed out that I could go to music lessons instead of sport, and so started piano lessons twice a day for the next four years, at least I got to go into the front room which was kept for best and for the benefit of the summer season visitors.

My new music teacher, an elderly woman of Forty years, was apparently delighted to see me and informed mother and Aunt Emma that I would make a very good pianist. Apparently she could see I had a talent for music. It was about now made my first acquaintance with that ruiner of musicians the METRONOME

She was less impressed when I turned up for my first lesson fresh from the warehouse smelling of muscles and herring with which I had been baiting fishing lines for the local fishermen . .

She however had a cure for this consisting of a mix of butter and sugar literally rubbed into the hands with some vigor until all traces of dirt and grime were removed then washed in soapy water and dried very carefully . They were then rubbed with moisturizing cream.I tell you this is the best cure for mucky hands today .

Sometimes this took ten minutes off the half an hour lesson but there was no alternative and the whole process had to be endured at every visit .Only when she was completely satisfied that not a trace of a smell remained would she open the keyboard, adjust the seat and insist on fifteen minutes of keyboard exercises .

Arpeggios by the dozen were usually the first part of the lesson. Up and down the keyboard time after time swapping and changing key but always to the same boring rhythm.

Much later in my life I went through the same boring rhythms when I learned to touch type with a world famous typewriter company, in fact the two pastimes were very similar in action and entertainment. However, the typing school differed in that I was one boy among 30 girls and it was at this venue that I quickly learned that 30 girls were a force to be reckoned with.

I wonder how many music students have had to suffer the joint benefits of the metronome and that wonderful piece of music, the Blue bells of Scotland.

I had double trouble in that my aunt had declared that her favorite piece of music was Handle’s Largo. Aas she was originally paying the bill it was felt by my elders and betters that Handle should be given a matter of priority so that aunty Emma could have it played to her, and I played it time and time and time again.

My mother loved to listen to the older fisherman’s hymns, and some hymns of the Salvation Army. The old rugged cross, and There it is a green hill far away, she loved these old hymns and liked to sing them as she cooked and baked in her kitchen. Many of them Salvation Army hymns. My grandmother and some of my aunts were big Salvation Army members, all of officers of higher rank. Many of my cousins played in the band, trumpet and trombone usually the one I remember played a double bass which was as big as him.

I used to get myself into trouble by the playing them at sixteen to the bar. The old rugged cross goes really well to a Samba beat though not appreciated by mother, aunties, or grandmothers.

My grandmother used to say that if I continued to play god’s hymns at this speed, he would send the devil to get me and after receiving complaints from mother about this practice my music teacher would make me play to the beat of the metronome she said it taught me timing discipline. I personally found it very boring just playing off the music sheet.

Many years later talking to a professional musical celebrity he told me that sheet reading was not in my heart and that I should play more from the heart when playing for my own amusement . perhaps if I’d being allowed to occasionally play this way I would have been a musician today, however the constant restraint both at home and in music classes and a rigid belief in the power of the metronome and adherents to the written music drove me eventually to give up the piano entirely . The decision I’ve regretted for many years having by now lost most of the skills I developed over those years,

I play to myself now and still like to play the Old Rugged Cross with a swing and I think about mother, grandmother and my own music teacher glaring down at me from on high . But my bungalow is a declared metronome free zone. A huge three manual digital electric organ occupies a corner of my dining room; an accordion takes up one of the armchairs but no piano.

Wrds