News From Bromham - Dateline Sunday 7th February 2016

Bulletin From Bromham: Dateline – Sunday 7^th February 2016

                                             

Here is our weekly round-up of events from Bromham:

1.       It has been determined by Bromham Crown Court that a golden retriever dog, lost by its owners over forty years ago is probably dead. The dog, which had been lost several times, and on various occasions: run over by tractors twice, caught in a baling machine, gored by a bull, trampled by cattle, fell into a pond and had to be rescued, and got trapped in a drain -was known to villagers as “Lucky”.  The owners, who say that they now feel that they can “move on” and “get their lives back together”, are thought to be considering a hamster as their next pet.

2.       Dave Wentwrong, leader of the Parish Council, has returned from several rounds of tough negotiations around the whole of Wiltshire, bearing a scrap of paper which, he claims, will solve all of Bromham’s problems for centuries to come.  ‘I have in my hand a piece of paper’ he said.  It apparently contains concessions which will allow Bromham to run its own tractors, to exclude non-Bromham tractors at will, and to apply an emergency brake to any runaway tractors which it finds.  Furthermore, such tractors will not be allowed to be repaired with old socks and baler twine for a period of at least four years.

3.       For details of these and all other Bromham stories, don’t forget to listen to local radio station Carrot FM.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

Dishwasher

Dishwasher

I thought my wife was looking drowsy:

The old girl seemed peeky, and a little bit frowsy,

So I asked her whatever the matter could be,

And this was the gist of what she shouted at me:

“It’s not surprising – all the work I have to do!

Tidying the house, and looking after you!

There’s washing, and drying and airing,

Then piles of ironing beyond bearing.

There’s cleaning and wiping and dusting,

And polishing, and hoovering, till I’m fit for busting.

There’s the shopping and carrying it home again,

And cooking food, and serving it’s my life’s bane,

Not to mention the washing-up and the drying -

It’s too much, however hard I’m trying:

It’s housework, housework, all of the day -

I’m knackered, and that’s all I’ve got to say!”

Well, this outburst knocked me back, I’ll tell you,

But I formed up a plan of what I should do.

It pained me to see the old girl sounding so mad,

And I couldn’t bear having her looking so sad,

So next morning I was sharp out of the door,

And headed straight to the electrical store.

That evening, after she’d cooked me my dinner,

Steak and chips, all served like a winner,

Cleared the table and brought in some logs,

Done all the dishes and fed both the dogs,

Put on the kettle and served up my tea,

I patted her arm and sat her down on my knee.

She eyed me suspiciously, as if I’d been on the booze,

And with delight, I gave her the good news:

That the labour would be reduced in her working day,

As the new dishwasher would be delivered next day!

I explained to her how it would be a great perk,

And would be arriving whilst I was still out at work.

All she had to do was to speak to the man,

And he’d help her lift it right off of the van,

And, because she knew that it was coming,

Tonight she could make a start on the plumbing.

Once she’d fitted it and cleaned it all out,

It’d be ready for its first loading no doubt.

I’d negotiated delivery that was free -

Not only that, but it came with a guarantee!

I explained the huge improvement this would be,

The advantages were all so obvious to see,

That there’d be more time for many another task -

What else could a good housewife decently ask?

  

Well – her reaction wasn’t quite what I’d expected:

On her face storm clouds I soon detected,

Then the full force of her anger broke,

Her hands round my neck had started to choke.

Apparently my proposed generosity was fudged,

My solution was completely ill-judged.

I’d swapped one piece of drudgery for another,

She’d had enough, and was going back to her mother.

I struggled to understand what was in her mind,

I believe there’s no understanding woman-kind.

Her sad news made my tender heart break,

And suggested I might have made a mistake:

Had I applied the wrong logic and science,

And gone and bought her the wrong appliance?

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

Red Cabbage with Port & Pears

Recipe for: RED CABBAGE with Port & Pears

Ingredients:

·         Large red cabbage, quartered, cored & very thinly sliced

·         1 large onion, peeled & very thinly sliced

·         200ml/ 7 fl oz port

·         1 large cinnamon stick

·         Pinch ground cloves

·         2 star anise, or a large pinch of mixed spice

·         2 tblsp soft brown sugar

·         1 tblsp red wine vinegar

·         4 firm pears, unpeeled, but cored & cut into small pieces

Method:

1.       Put all the ingredients, except the pears, into a large pan and bring to the boil.

2.       Turn the heat down to low, and cover with a tight fitting lid.

3.       Cook gently for an hour, stirring occasionally.

4.       Add the pears and stir in.

5.       Cook for another 30-60 minutes until the pears & cabbage are very soft & cooked through.

6.       Season with a little salt & pepper before serving.

What else you need to know:

1.       Can be cooked a day or two ahead, then chilled or frozen, and re-heated.

2.       Goes really well with beef, venison or game.

"It"

“It”

I was born in the Fifties

Ten years after the end of the war

So my hormones were all going bonkers

Throughout the Sixties and Seventies

Which was when I became obsessed with… “It”

Magazines featured the “It” Girl

Smart people were drinking Gin and “It”

The hippies wanted to know Did I Dig “It”?

But my mind was on a different track…

I didn’t know what “It” was exactly

But I knew that I certainly wanted “It”

And my whole social life revolved around “It”

Out there with the lads, giving “It” some

At dances and discos in pursuit of “It”

Thinking about “It”, talking about “It”

And we admired the girls who had “It”

Though nobody could agree just what “It” was

But we knew whether they had “It” or not

And we despised the ones who were reputed to put “It” about a bit

The girls who’d do “It” with anyone

All the same I wanted to meet just one who wanted “It”

Who was ready for “It” and who’d do “It” with me

Who wouldn’t tell me to Stuff “It”

Who thought that I had “It” too

Until at last “It” finally happened….

And after we’d done “It”

And “It” was all over

I decided that I certainly loved “It”

And I wanted to do “It” again and again

She said “It” would be alright

Even if there was an accident

She would keep “It”, not lose “It”

And we’d bring “It” up together

And that’s how “It” was…

But “It” was all so long ago

Now “It’s” nearly over and I’m advancing in years

So much of “It’s” a distant memory

So hard to believe I ever had “It” at all

Whatever “It” was

I think “It’s” got up and gone

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

On War & Peace by Leo Tolstoy

On War & Peace by Leo Tolstoy

Oh yes, it’s a gripping story

Tolstoy’s greatest novel

With a panoramic sweep

From the peace of Saint Petersburg

To mournful Moscow

And the savage Russian landscape

Its ikons, dachas, vodka and champagne

And of Society’s wealth and grandeur

The families, fathers, sons and daughters

The Kuragins and the Rostovs

Political power games and emperors

The Tsar and Napoleon Bonaparte

Empires of the French, the Russian, the Austrian

The grand history of the epic war

Of tired troops and generals

And the bloody battlefields

Of Austerlitz and Borodino

Of love and loss, and longing

Of betrayal and death and honour

Of peaceful Pierre and naïve Natasha

So that’s the who’s who and what’s what

I know because I’ve seen it all on telly

Six glamour-packaged episodes

Edited, summarised and condensed

From over eight hundred pages

It’s bold, magnificent and inspiring

….And one of these days

I really must get round to reading it

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

This Door Is Alarmed

This Door Is Alarmed

The notice read “This door is alarmed”

To warn me, as if I should take some particular care,

That this portal was a sensitive creature,

And that I should make no sudden movements,

And, whilst I was obviously very concerned,

I thought I should also point out:

That the window is open – to suggestions

The curtains are drawn – having pulled themselves together

The floor - feels as if it is beneath me

The walls - are simply plastered

The skirting board – is working its way around me

The ceiling - is really over my head

The staircase – is a bit up and down

The TV – is channelling

The dish-washer – is on a new programme

The spin-drier – doesn’t know which way to turn

The fridge – is trying to keep its cool

The beds – are taking it lying down

But at least the lights - are very switched on

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

Stormin' Norman

Stormin’ Norman

We’re British and we’re big and brave,

And winter storms hold no fear for us:

We expect the Atlantic to lash our shores,

Bringing wind and rain and snow, and thus

We’re sanguine when we hear the weather forecast,

And we face it all with a stiff upper lip,

When another cold front moving eastwards,

Means Winter will hold us in its grip.

But the Asians flaunt tropical storms and cyclones,

And Americans sport tornadoes and hurricanes,

And they make them sound much more frightening,

By christening them all with stupid names,

And now it seems we’re climbing on the bandwagon:

We’re anthropomorphising like crazy -

The Met Office is assigning these things,

Which means the newspapers can get kinda lazy.

When Abi-gail blew in she brought a gale,

And Barney was described as “fighting”,

Clodagh came and went anonymous,

But was Desmond really frightening?

They talked of Eva just in passing,

And Frank was good and open,

Gertrude simply blew and blew,

So for Henry they’re really hopin’

For something more spectacular,

Something that’ll really justify its name,

A great big storm that creates a memory,

A furious lashing that deserves its fame.

But I’m not sure they’ve really thought this through -

Those meteorological bods have made an error:

With names like Imogen, Jake, Katie and Lawrence,

How are any of them ever going to introduce terror?

We’ve got to get through Mary, Nigel and Orla,

Then Phil, and Rhonda and…..Steve!

I mean who’s going to take them seriously?

Who are you going to believe?

So once we’ve used up Tegan, Vernon and Wendy,

(Notice there was no Q, U, X, Y or Z),

Let’s crank up the imagination levels,

And use handles to inspire some dread!

 My suggestions include Attila and Barabbas,

Crusher, Destroyer, Eagle and Fletcher,

Gorilla, Hercules, Ichabod and Jeremiah,

Are these a bit better – you betcha!

How about Killer, Lasher and Mephistopheles?

Nasty Norman, Odysseus and Pit-Bull?

Quasimodo, Rampant and Slayer?

Names that say it all really – in full!

Tiberius, Ulysses, and Voldemort?

Winston, Xerxes, Yogi and Zebediah?

Monikers of brimstone and fire!

Bad boys that are fearsome and dire!

So let’s cast off our British reserve,

Stop poncing about like wall-flowers,

Let’s get braver upon the world stage,

And join the storm-naming super-powers!

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016