Below are extracts of various short stories and plays I've written over the years:-
The Topping Off
Purses and Igloos
The Cock and The Bull
Afternoon Tea
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THE ESTATE is a series of short stories set on an "overspill" estate. Lots of these estates were built in the 1960s as part of the Slum Clearance Program. They were of varying quality and really only succeeded in breaking up long established communities.
This is taken from "The Topping Off"
The dignitaries returned to their cars and tried to remove the clay and cement from their shoes. The Mayor, his face still red from fatally wounded dignity, gave up the struggle and left his shoes and socks in the mud. The Civic Rover Princess, The Chairman’s Rolls Royce and The Board’s assortment of Jaguar Mk 10s, Mercedes Benz, and Rover 90s slipped and slid their mud splattered way back to civilization. The crowd squelched through the quagmire exchanging opinions about what they had just witnessed, the mental health of the Council Planning Department and the eyesight of the surveyor who had decided that THIS was the place to build a new housing estate! Some wondered if maybe he had a grudge against the Mayor and the builder specifically or just hated people in general? The farmer, the only person besides the workmen bright enough to wear Wellingtons, joked with the workmen for a few minutes before climbing onto his brand new Massey Ferguson tractor and heading back to milking his herd. He probably reflected that it would be far less profitable than milking the council. The workmen ambled back to their allotted tasks in the way that people do when they are being paid by the hour and the boss isn't there to watch them, in a word, leisurely.
The Estate was huge. It was just one of the many built in the early sixties as part of the “Slum Clearance Programme” designed and built to get people out of the inner city areas so that substandard housing could be demolished. The scheme had its good and bad points. The plus side was that the houses were reasonably sized and comfortable, had gardens, hot and cold running water, central heating, bathrooms and toilets. The downside was that the estates were usually put up on green field sites miles away from shops and amenities, were usually big and designed in such a way that if you should find yourself dropped in any given spot it was hard to work out exactly where you were. One cul-de-sac looks very much like any other. Viewed from the air, they usually look like a deranged Mandelbrot factual, but without the colour. Their biggest fault was that they lacked the community feel that the old terraced streets had. In a terraced street everyone knew their neighbours, often they had grown up in the same area and been lifelong friends. There was always help in times of trouble or illness, doors were never locked because no one had anything worth stealing and what they did have they would gladly share, in the certain knowledge they could always borrow it back. Everyone watched out for everyone else. It was not unusual to see bedding and furniture being transferred from one house to another when a visit was expected from the Social Security officer, as most benefits then were means tested and you could not claim anything if you had things you could sell to make money! This worked in reverse if other visitors were coming. Sometimes things had been passed around so often everyone had forgotten who actually owned them, except maybe the poor bugger who did!
And this from "Purses and Igloos"
My Father repaired shoes and made purses. handbags,
slippers and belts to supplement his income. With Christmas just around the
corner he was building up his stock. One evening I was foolish enough to say
“I’m bored!” within range of his hearing aid.
“Come here, son.” He said with a leer. “Sit down here beside
your Dad.” He laid two patches of Armadillo hide on his table, one about
a third smaller then the other. He ran a spiked wheel around them leaving a
border around the outside. He laid the smaller one on top of the larger one
to check that the holes lined up. He threaded a large needle with brown cord
and ran it across a block of beeswax. He stitched the first few holes and showed
me how he missed a hole each time and then went back into the empty hole with
the next stitch and that it was alternately on the opposite side of the tread
that lay across it. It gave a nice pattern to the stitching but seemed a lot
of trouble to me just to get a nice pattern!
“Here, have a go.” He said passing me the purse. It looked easy
enough. So why did I have to push so hard to get the needle through the holes?
Why did the point insist on going the wrong side of the thread, or worse still
through it?
“No, see let me show you again.” He said in the voice he used that
said “I am being very patient with you!”
He showed me again..............a few times.
Eventually I got it. It was hard to get the needle through the tough hide even
with the pilot holes he had punched through it. I discovered I could push the
needle through better if I rested the back of it on his last and pushed the
hide down on to it. My dad said that was ok as long as I didn't break the needle
or I would have to buy another one out of my wages. “Are you paying me?”
I asked excited at the prospect of getting a bit of money. “No! But I
can wait till you leave school and get a job!” We laughed.
After a while I had the two pieces sewn together.
“What about the two edges that don’t join up?” I asked
He showed me how to bind the edge with a fancy stitch and I completed the rest
of it. I was feeling pleased with myself!
“Done it dad!” I announced. He inspected it. “Very good lad!”
He selected a lettered punch from out of his tools, held it in the centre of
the top flap and passed me a small hammer. “Make sure you hit the punch!
If you hit the hand it will hit you back!” He warned.
I struck the punch squarely. “Why put a “T” there?”
I asked. “T is for Tom! We know you made this one now. I always put a
C for Charles.”
I was chuffed! “That was good.” I said.
He reached for more hide. “Glad you enjoyed it son! We have twenty of
those to make!”
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And from "The Cock
And The Bull" ......
If you wanted to know something, Jimmy was The Man!
He had more “second homes” than a movie star! He was “Just
Jimmy.” Even in the various battles to establish pecking orders amongst
the kids he was “Just Jimmy.” No one saw him as a threat and he
just flowed over, round or through whatever was going on. He never took sides
or commented directly. Even in the most heated exchanges he would just make
a quip or blunt comment that would firstly stun the combatants to silence and
then drive them into fits of laughter.
I think he must have inherited this skill from
his father who was just an older version of Jimmy.
We kids were arguing over some trivial matter one day and Mr Liversage was on
his way home from work.
“Hey nethen! What's aww this fratchin’ abaut?” He asked in
a voice barely more than a whisper.
We all fell silent for a fraction of a second and then all started to tell him
our side of it at once, everyone shouting to be heard above the cacophony.
He simply raised his hands and whispered “Ssshh” We hushed.
“Now aww see thi problem, an tis a bit on a bugger int’ it?”
“Tha’s aww shoutin’ s’ loud tha canna hear what onyone
else sez!”
“So, what Aww reckon’s tha should aww do is raise thi arguments
an’ not tha voices!”
There was a general chorus of “What?”
“Well” He continued, “If one person sez one thing and ‘tother
sez sommat else, the rest on yer could hear’t both sides o’t’
aurgument and be able t’ mek thi own minds up who were reet. An if everybody
thought through what they were goin’ t’ say before thi sed owt........
well, thats what I mean bi raisin’ thi argument yer see! An if everybody
really thought ‘bout problem afore they went shouting Tha might just see
as how t’ other feller were reet all along like.”
I dont know if he baffled us with science, blasted us with bullshit or just confused us, but I don’t remember the argument going on afterwards and his words have always stayed with me. Sadly I do not always have his temperament to go with them. But it’s the thought that counts.
Jimmy never got into fights or arguments, he
never forced anyone to do anything either by threats or trickery. But he was
the cock of the street. If Jimmy said that was what we were going to do, that’s
what we did, good or bad! He was no “goody two shoes” and when we
were caught out he took his share of the blame with the rest of us.
He became a sort of official entertainments officer. He always suggested games
for us to play when we were bored. Even the older kids, who would have dismissed
suggestions from us lesser beings as “childish” or “Stupid”,
would fall over themselves to join in one of Jimmy’s games or schemes.
“Aww thinks we ought t’ go fer a
picnic t’day.” He announced one sunny, spring Saturday morning.
“where to?” we asked.
“Off t’ Estate, in t’ fields.” He replied.
We readily agreed and each disappeared into our own homes to cobble together
things to eat.
Ten minutes later we met up again by the street
lamp outside Martin Hutton’s house. This was our usual rendezvous point.
( Much to the annoyance of Martin’s father who worked nights.)
Each kid carried either a school satchel or, more commonly, an ex-army nap sack.
Containing such culinary delights as Sugar butties, Condensed milk butties,
Sauce butties ( both red or brown ). Usually they had a fistful of biscuits
too. And a “pop” bottle full of water.
Some of us carried toy guns ready to shoot the lions or tigers or each other
or anything else that presented it’s self as a target on this wild adventure!
And so we set off, 15 or 20 kids without a care
in the world! Our ages ranged from 5 or 6 years to 14 or 15 but we were all
behind our fearless leader, the Great White Hunter, Jimmy Liversage!
Our mothers watched us go with strict instructions to “Watch the little
ones and be home before it goes dark!”
Jimmy led us to the edge of The Estate. This
was as far as any of us had been before. If we had had a map THIS was where
it would have started saying “Here be Dragons!”
We crossed the main road that bordered this side of The Estate and climbed over
the old stone wall into the fields and the unknown.
We were not afraid of getting lost, The Estate was far too big to lose and even
if the ground should take us below the level where we could see the houses,
the tops of the tower blocks could be seen for miles!
We crossed a couple of meadows and followed
the path of an ancient Hawthorn hedge that was too dense to go through. The
land sloped into a valley and we turned right and followed a stream that flowed
along the valley floor.
Eventually we entered a wood of tall, old trees that was just coming into leaf.
The forest floor was denuded of grass or shrubs.
We ambled along playing or throwing rocks or bits of fallen tree branch into
the stream.
Suddenly, one of the kids who had run ahead shouted “Hey, come and look
at this!”
“This!” turned out to be a Badger set, though non of us knew it
at the time. In fact, when the only wild animal you have ever seen is a rat
or mouse it takes a lot of imagination to conjure up the picture of a Badger
or anything that left footprints like those around the hole in the ground in
front of us!
One or two of the older boys said it was a Boggart’s hole! They used that
urgent whisper that works better than any laxative on those of a nervous disposition.
We all knew what a Boggart was. We had all been threatened with “Aww’ll
gi thi t’ t’ Boggart!” if we misbehaved at bed time.
Non of us knew what a Boggart looked like, We didn’t need to have seen
one to know it was not a nice thing to be given to!
We knew they lived up chimneys or down in cellars or in holes in the ground.
Well this was a hole in the ground and it was surrounded with tracks of something
that had claws long enough to help it climb up a chimney!
A few of the younger kids started crying, only
to be told “shurrup or t’ boggart ‘ll come an’ get thi!”
by the big lads. Then one of them said “Come on, lets see whats over theer!”
he pointed in some vague direction well away from the hole.
We didn’t argue and I figured that a Boggart must be really, REALLY bad
if even the big lads were “Feart” of it!
It was not long, ( and after a few backward
glances to make sure T’ Boggart was not following us ) that we felt safe
enough to start playing about again. We left the woods behind and found ourselves
in open fields again. The ground rose up before us to a dilapidated farm. We
were drawn towards its ruined buildings like seagulls to a tip.
Somewhere within the first few yards it became a German army post and we became
Commandos with strict instructions to take it or die trying! We squatted down
in the shelter of a hedge to decide our battle plan. It was decided a pincer
action would be our best hope of success. Jimmy was to circle around to the
right and with his smaller force and the rest of us would proceed with a frontal
assault! We synchronised wrist hairs since non of us owned a watch. And the
Battle of Taylor’s farm began.
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"AFTERNOON TEA". Was written as an entry in a B.B.C.Local Radio Short Story Competition. and was chosen as one of the five runner-ups. It was broadcast several times as part of the prize.
Excuse me, is anyone sitting here? well I know they're not now but well, you know what I mean, don't you? Sorry about this, all the other tables are full.
Oh, that's better, My feet feel like I've run
a marathon.
Shopping is a curse, isn't it? They say there's no money about, but the shops
are full of people aren't they? Must be the crime wave they're always on about,
shoplifters and the like.
I think the stores are the biggest robbers, I seem to get less and less every
week. Still you've got to live haven't you?
Could you pass the sugar please. Thanks. I shouldn't really, the doctor says its bad for me but, well, if you listen to all that's bad for you, you wouldn't eat anything would you? He's a card my doctor. Never know what he'll say next, always there with a joke. I think it's to give him time to think of a disease that suits your symptoms.
He's not a patch on old Doctor Bennet. He knew what ailed you at a glance. Gave my Alf a note every June without fail. Ee, we had some nice day trips in them days.
Oh, look, that's my bus. I'll have twenty minutes to wait now. They seem to run on muffins these days. They're either early or late, that's when they bother to come at all. I mean, it's alright saying they've got to be profitable, but where's the sense in not running at all? They can't be making anything when they don't run can they?
My Alf worked on the railways, G.W.R., God's Wonderful Railway they used to call it. If they still had the initials it would stand for Gremlins, Won't Run, that's what my son says.
He never uses the trains, or the buses come to that. Drives everywhere. Got a lovely car, one of those big Japanese ones with electric this and electric that. More buttons than Cadburys.
I don't see him very often now, he's always
busy. Funny really, we moved up here to be near him and the family when Alf
retired and I seem to see less of him than I did before.
Alf used to play golf with him on Sunday mornings but, since Alf died, well,
he was always closer to his dad.
He rings me up sometimes, especially if they want me to baby sit. Don't get me wrong, I love my grandchildren, but, like I say to Brian, I'd like to see them on a regular basis, not just when it suits them. He always says how busy he is, and he'll sort something out with Susan, but he never does.
It's busy in here today isn't it? I usually try and get in before this, but today I got held up by the electricity man.
Held up! that's just about right. Do you know how much my electricity bill was? well, no you wouldn't would you. Sixty eight pounds! Well, I thought they'd made a mistake, so I got Mr Harlow, that's my next door neighbour, nice man but terrible teeth, to check the reading. Actually, it’s not a reading because they estimate it now don't they? Another way of getting money for nothing.
Anyway I got Mr Harlow to check the bill and he said that it was only a couple of pounds off. But I thought it must be wrong so I 'phoned the Electricity Company up and told them I disagreed with their estimate.
It must happen all the time because I got this young woman who didn't seem a bit interested, as if she'd heard it all a thousand times, do you know what I mean?
Anyway she passed me to their engineering department and the man there said they could send someone out to check the meter.
So I said "O.K."
I said "Send him at eleven o'clock on Friday and I'll be ready for him."
"I'm sorry" he says, "but I can't give you a definite time, but
I'll try and fit you in on Friday"
Blooming cheek I thought, you're not doing me a favour mate, I'm a customer, you work for me. Well, I was a bit cross I can tell you. Anyway he said he would do his best to get there before lunchtime, so I had to be content with that.
Well, on Friday morning I was upstairs, You know? and there's a knock on the door. I thought the bailiffs were coming! Well, by the time I'd flushed the loo and got down to the door, they'd gone! Left a card, something about being unable to gain access. Well I rang them up right away but the girl said they were on a very tight schedule, and that it was unlikely that she could get them back to me and I'd have to make another appointment. So I did, for this morning.
Well, by dinnertime they hadn't arrived so I started to get ready to come out and blow me, just as I'm about to step out of the door, he came.
"I thought you were coming before dinner?"
I said.
"It's before my dinner" he says. "Where's the meter?"
"Will you be long?" I asked him.
"Dunno" he says, and disappears under the stairs.
Ten minutes later he reappears.
"I'll take this for testing, I've put you a new one on, the office will
contact you with the results, sign here please. Thank you." And he's gone.
I thought, my! you could be an auctioneer! I wonder how they test them? I'd be none the wiser if they tested them or not would I?
Anyway, I'd missed my bus so I was late. But I thought, Ivy, just because you've been messed about, doesn't mean you should miss your afternoon tea.
So here I am, and now I've missed the five and twenty to, it means I'll be on the school bus with all the idiots, throwing stuff about and swearing.
Alf used to say "They should have conductors on the school buses, and wire the kids to them." I never really knew what he meant but he thought it was funny.
You never really feel safe going to the shops anymore. Kids hanging around the precinct.
Mind, you can't blame them, there's not many places they can go that don't cost a fortune. They don't even have youth clubs, not like we had. We used to go playing tennis, or go for bicycle rides, but with all the traffic the young ones can't do that, can they? Not to mention all the funny people there are about.
Well, I'd better make a move. Yes, 'bye, it's been nice talking to you too.