Sunday, 9 April 2017


Denham Hall Students visit to the Rickmansworth Museum of Fine Arts.

It was the first week back at college after the summer break and Mr Crisis the Science teacher had been seconded to help Miss Pringle look after the sixth form Girls on a visit to the Rickmansworth Museum of Fine arts. Mr Crisis purpose was to ‘control’ the girls and was the word I was searching for that first escaped me.

It was after leaving the section on the works of the great Italian Masters we returned to the main body of the museum. We then climbed the stairs to level two of the gallery where Tamsin told us she had noticed a light on in the painting of the ‘scary old house’; she said the light was not on when they entered the Museum.


We were all aware that Tamsin had a heightened sense of the imagination so no-one paid much attention to her. Her thought patterns were also extraordinary; perhaps weird is a better description. It was Tamsin who pointed out that Elspeth, Phaedra, Rhonda, Patience and I stuck together like ones fingers after eating a Treacle sandwich. I would have never thought of that in a hundred million years.


The six of us walked back up to level two to the gallery where the painting hung that Tamsin had referred to and sure enough there was the painting of a Gothic Mansion with a light burning in the window. We explained to Tamsin it was the artists desire to show a light in the window, as he did with headstones in the garden so they must have had some significance to the painter, but the light in the house did not switch on by itself. Tamsin said it did, so that was the end of the matter or so we thought…. or hoped.


Rhonda had approached Mr Crisis and asked to be excused while she went to look for a Ladies; Elspeth and Phaedra said they would join her to keep her company. Meanwhile Tamsin sidled up to Mr Crisis and asked him when they are going to get something to eat.


The interests in Fine arts were quickly diminishing. Tamsin then out of curiosity and for the sake of conversation asked Mr Crisis if Miss Pringle had a Christian name. Tamsin was told that was a personal question that should be directed to Miss Pringle, and yes they would be having something to eat soon.


Elspeth Phaedra and Rhonda re-joined us as we headed for the restaurant leaving Mr Crisis talking to Miss Pringle. On the way down the stairs we paused again to look at the painting. Tamsin insisted “A light did come in, it did”.


As I stepped forward and peered closer to look at the lit window I heard the crunch of gravel under my feet. I also felt a hint of a soft breeze on my face. I looked down and realised we were not standing on the museum floor anymore but on the paving of the garden path that led to the house. In a panic Tamsin cried out “what’s happened, where are we? Quick let’s go back to the gallery”. Patience replied “This is bizarre, I don’t know what has happened but I think we are on the garden path in the painting”.


Extreme panic was setting in among the girls. Patience who was keeping a cool head calmly suggested “let us go to the house and ask how we got here and how we can return to the museum.”


With trepidation we followed the path up to the house, Phaedra knocked on the door. There was no reply. She gently pushed the door open and in single file we all nervously entered the house. A black cat briefly appeared and fled out of sight. I noticed that the curtains needed cleaning and that cobwebs and dust lay everywhere. The old house and the headstones in the garden completed the picture of a dark, foreboding and impermanence of an abode. A mouse scuttled over Tamsin’s feet, her scream would have wakened the dead. Perhaps it did.

A voice called out “so you have finally come to visit me”. An old lady appeared at the top of the stairs.


“Hello miss” said Tamsin.


The old woman said sternly “Young lady it is not Miss it is Mrs and it is my husband Harold, Mr. Mountjoy God bless ’im that lies dead under the headstone in the garden. If I am still officially married to 'im then I am Mrs Mountjoy and I assure you it is most unlikely I am not going to find myself another husband here. You are the first people to visit me. Many people just stand and stare at my house, but no-one ever speaks to me, I get very lonely”.


“But you live in a painting Miss…sorry Missus” replied Tamsin “we are just passing visitors we live in a different world. Mr Crisis would say  we live in different realities. A Painter painted your reality”

Elspeth said “we must not stay too long Mrs Mountjoy because Miss Pringle will be hopping mad if she cannot find us as we have to back in college in time for tea, but we can come and visit you occasionally.”


“That would be nice. In the future I will leave the light on in the window to signal that I am at home. Now girls stay awhile and talk to me.”


It was a difficult conversation, at one point I was forced to tap Tamsin on her foot when she asked Mrs. Mountjoy if she had lived here long and had she any children. I whispered to Tamsin “it’s pretty obvious isn’t it?” Mrs Mountjoy said she had always lived here and ignored the question about children. I was terrified of the question Tamsin might ask next.


It was really lovely talking the Mrs Mountjoy. It seemed as though we had talked for ages and ages and I wondered if it was the last time we will ever have the pleasure of another visit. It was cut short by a knock on the door.


Rhonda went to answer the knock and returned followed by Mr Crisis. Slightly bowing and at the same time nodding a courteous greeting to Mrs Mountjoy Mr Crisis said “well girls how are you going to extricate yourselves from of this?”


He continued “What has happened has nothing to do with ‘warps in the fabric of space time’ or rubbish like that; if you understand Holograms it might help you to understand we have slipped into another reality, one accepts that what they see on birth as true reality and for us it is, but it is not the only reality, there are many. Realities are experiences of different species in the universe but this should never have happened”


He explained moving through realities time and space do exist; moves from one reality to another are instant as will our return to our own reality. Mr. Crisis himself an inter-dimensional traveller said it would be too long and difficult to explain in detail.

Mr Crisis said “right girls we have to get back to the museum I want you all to follow me, don’t look back. Looking back into the painting will keep you here and will prevent you from leaving.”


We said our goodbyes to Mrs Mountjoy, thanked her for a lovely afternoon adding we loved her house and that we really looked forward to visiting her again but could not promise anything.


Mr Crisis led us back to the garden path, hopefully it was the path that would take us back to the Museum and that our return would be instant.


It was, in an instant we were back in the Museum. We were not even missed by Miss. Pringle.


As we were leaving the Museum of Fine Arts Tamsin pointed out that the light in the window was now off. We really must take Tamsin more seriously in the future.





Saturday, 1 April 2017

The Third Apple


The Third Apple.

The illusionist stands in front of the table and asks for a volunteer from the audience to approach the table. On the table he has two apples. He says to the volunteer “Can tell me how many apples you can see on the table in front of you?”

The man says “I see two apples”


The illusionist replied “what would you say if I told you there were three apples on the table”


The man says “but there are only two”

The illusionist says “the reason you only see two is you lack confidence in the belief that what I am telling you is true, that there are three."


The volunteer persists. “I believe in what my eyes tell me and they tell me there are only two apples on the table why should I believe in something I cannot see?”


The illusionist says “what if I told you that there are something like over two billion people on this planet who would agree with me there is a third apple on the table. although they cannot see it”


The volunteer inquires incredulously “What! They believe in what you are telling them that  there is a third apple on the table because you said there were,  even though there are only two?”


“Yes sir”


“If they can see three apples why cannot I see three? Can anyone else in the audience see them? Would you like to select another person from the audience and ask them the same question I can only tell you what I see?"


The illusionist says “Well to be honest sir whether you can actually SEE three apples is irrelevant”


The man points out to the illusionist “surely that is the whole point. Be honest with me can YOU see three apples?”

The illusionist replied “No I cannot”


“Then why are you telling me there are three”


“Well you see sir I have blind faith that there are three, you don’t”


Blind faith in what!?"

Exasperated the illusionist said “For heaven’s sake, that there are three friggin apples on the table”

The volunteer asks “OK who was it that told you there were three apples on the table in the first place?”

“Oh another illusionist chappie”


“So you believed him? Ok let us take this one step further how do you know there are not 4 or even 6 apples on the table or that the table is overflowing with apples”


Illusionist “now Sir you are just being silly”


The volunteer says “I don’t want to appear flippant but if people knew what you are doing is not even clever sleight of hand but downright deception you would be out of a job would you not? If thousands of similar illusionists were pulling this same trick they too would be out of a job”


The exasperated person from the audience continued “do you have a head illusionist chappie with who I can thrash this out?”


The illusionist says “Indeed we do sir; we do have a Head Chappie and possibly hundreds and thousands of trainee chappies.”


The audience volunteer said “I suspect sir you are treating me as a security blanket to bolster you own misguided illusions or is that delusions. I think you had better find another victim”



Saturday, 25 March 2017

The Glory that is Rome. Triumphal Entry into Rickmansworth.


Rickmansworth Young Ladies College Remembers

The Glory that is Rome.

The Triumphal Entry into Rickmansworth.

It was time for lights-out in Boadicea dormitory at the Rickmansworth Young Ladies College formally known as Denham Hall when Rhonda informed us it was a Roman Centurion named Atticus Romulus who named the tiny hamlet on the road to Londinium Rickmansworth in the year… something or other A.D. Phaedra asked how she can be sure it was not already known as Rickmansworth before the Roman Army arrived. 

Good question, however there is certainly no record of a Rickmansworth ever existing prior to the Roman invasion of Britain, so it is quite possible the Romans could well have the named it Rickmansworth, the name everyone recognizes today.

I suspected Tamsin was in for the long haul when she asked Rhonda if Atticus had any brothers or sisters. It was the ideal moment to bail out. Turning over I whispered “Rhonda I am going to sleep, goodnight” followed by a further ‘goodnight’ from Patience. Rhonda had suddenly lost her audience.

It was Mr Crisis our Science teacher who on a fly-by of Earth from an unnamed universe whose people have been traversing the Galaxies and Universes as bolts of pure energy for the last 100,000 million years was attracted to our primitive planet and decided to stay a while, but I explained all this in another article.

It was Mr Crisis that using powers we do not understand returned home the Ghosts of the Roman Soldiers that nightly wandered the corridors of Denham Hall that Rhonda and I had seen walking through the Concert Hall wall across the corridor and through the Science room wall. 

Tamsin said quote “Imagine being marooned for ever and an eternity in Rickmansworth it doesn’t bear thinking about”. I will not dwell on these events it is very sad.

Mr Crisis had not made himself popular with Miss. Pringle or Miss Sefton the Head Mistress when he accidently took Rhonda off to Epsilon Bootis by mistake using a machine he had knocked up in the science lab but he has now been re-employed and is back on staff. Rhonda’s mother was hopping mad and really tore a strip off Mr. Crisis over that debacle; you could tell she was not amused.

Today Miss. Pringle was to take the sixth form girls to Ruthin Castle near Plaxtol Mill for a history lesson. Colonel Carter–Brown said he would provide afternoon refreshments at no extra charge. I should explain Ruthin Castle was originally a Roman Fort and when the Romans left it had been gifted for services rendered by Cerdric King of Wessex to one of his Generals something like 1500 years ago.

Many years later it was restored and acquired by an early ancestor of the Carter-Brown family a man named Hagar the Bold which completely contradicts Rhonda’s version which she said was gifted to a Freeman by the name of ‘Ethelbert the Unready’. 

Hagar the Bold being the apothecary to King Henry 8th was the first to experiment using drugs to help alleviate King Henry’s painful Gout. Miss. Pringle glared crossly at Tamsin when she overheard her querulously announce “I didn’t realise Henry was on drugs"

The assembled girls boarded the school bus for the short ride to Ruthin Castle. Arriving at the Castle they were met by the man himself Colonel Carter-Brown in full country outfit wearing riding breeches and carrying a whip, or is that a Crop? The Colonel’s secretary led the girls into an Ante Room and gave them a potted history of the castle and a free souvenir brochure then led them into the huge library.

Tamsin’s first impressions of the ornate library were thinly disguised when she whispered “do you think we will get lemonade and cakes while we are here?” She had better pay attention or she would not be able to regale us with one of her famous lectures after lights out.

The tour culminated with a guide through the enormous picture gallery. There the Colonel introduced paintings of his ancestors. In pride of place hung a very large portrait of Hagar the Bold looking very grand and holding a bottle with something in it.

We were all suitably impressed. To Tamsin’s delight there was lemonade and cakes for the girls for afternoon tea. Miss. Pringle said we can roam the Picture Gallery for the next quarter of an hour before returning to College.

Phaedra, Rhonda and I went back to the table specially set up in the library to see if there was any cake left but there wasn’t. A couple of minutes later Tamsin rushed in. She said excitedly "Quick! Quick come and see what I have found in the Picture Gallery” We followed Tamsin back to the now empty Picture Gallery. “See the painting of Hagar the Bold and his dog, well I tapped on the wall to see if it was made of plywood or whatever and look what happened. I will do it again, look, watch”

She knocked twice on the mahogany wood panelling and about a foot below the painting a small disguised draw appeared as if by magic. “OOER look” cried Phaedra.

In the small draw was a small heavily illuminated manuscript. Phaedra withdrew it and turned the pages. There was a gasp from the girls; it was the long lost ‘Rickmansworth Codex’. It was the official Roman manuscript of the naming of the town by Atticus Romulus a Roman general in the invading Army.

It showed when the Roman divisions left England it was decided if there was to be a name change the choice was to be between retaining the Anglo Saxon name of Iolanthus or a name change to the Roman name Rickmansworth. The manuscript showed beyond doubt the name Rickmansworth was officially recognized in the year 400 AD.

Tamsin said “Shall we tell Colonel Carter-Brown or Miss Pringle?” We told Miss Pringle, it was she who informed the Colonel. Phaedra pointed out that the Rickmansworth council might even declare another public holiday and we might get an extra day off.

The Concert Hall was agog with excitement, packed with the students, teachers, parents, and council luminaries. Tamsin, Rhonda, Phaedra and I stood on the stage. There were lovely things said about us and Miss Pringle actually smiled at us.

The town mayor confirmed there will be a special Day each year reserved to commemorate the finding of the lost Rickmansworth Codex. There was a reporter from the Sun Newspaper and the finding of the Codex even made it on the BBC National news. Being the heroine Tamsin was surrounded by reporters. Her parents had motored up from Cornwall to witness this very historic event.

If it was not for Tamsin the illuminated manuscript The ‘Rickmansworth Codex’ would have remained hidden for ever or an eternity, whichever is the longer. I don’t think we will be listening much to Rhonda for the next few days but rather to Tamsin and the story of her exciting find at Ruthin Castle. The college was given the keys to Ruthin Castle by Colonel Carter-Brown, whatever that means in appreciation for the huge free publicity but later he was forced to take on another two staff and a gardener to cope with the huge numbers of Japanese tourists. The history books will have to be rewritten. 

Rickmansworth had come of age.



Friday, 10 March 2017

A layman’s view on Quantum Physics


A layman’s view on Quantum Physics.

Or Possibilities, Probabilities and Uncertainties, oh and Super Position.

Here is a conundrum;

''In principle, it should make no difference whether the correlation between twin particles occurs when they are separated by a few meters or by the entire universe,'' If we are made up of atoms it follows then there is another wife and I  somewhere else in the Cosmos.

To the layperson there appears to be some dodgy maths behind Quantum Physics. We cannot actually ‘see’ any of these likelihoods above as they all part of the family of uncertainties even entanglements but they are all there and using maths we end up with an answer that might not actually hold true “because of them”. We use an example of Schrödinger’s Pussy theory to prove a point which adds another possibility which I would like to include if I may, called ‘impossibility’ but Quantum theory proves me otherwise …I think.

I will post the following word for word as it is so bizarre I don’t want to be held responsible for admitting it was my theory. “In 1936, physicist Erwin Schrödinger proposed a now-famous “thought” experiment meant to highlight the bizarre implications of quantum mechanics. In his formulation, a cat is trapped in a box with a radioactive atom. Because, according to the dominant interpretation of quantum mechanics, particles can exist in multiple states until they are measured, logic dictated that the cat would be both alive and dead at the same time until the radioactive atom was measured. If that atom decays, the cat will be poisoned and die, but if the atom has not decayed, the cat lives”.

I am not absolutely sure how in practice he intended to isolate a single radioactive sub atomic particle as I was taught that an atom is the smallest particle of matter that can exist, well that was before the discovery of Quantum Physics. You must understand not being a confidante of Einstein or Schrödinger I can only ask the questions.

The hard questions started when I inquired of our religious instructor at school where heaven might be located. I should not overly worry about the health of Schrödinger’s cat or my question did he/she survive? as his cat was only a “thought” experiment.

As most people understand the purpose of the Hadron Collider they would have also heard about the famous double-slit experiment. What I like about the “Possibilities, Probabilities, Uncertainties and Entanglements” of Quantum Physics is the Double-Slit experiment which touches on the question of what is reality? I do not particularly like the reality I live in and the slim possibility there might be another really intrigues me. 

Like Schrödinger’s cat I am prepared to go along with “Possibilities Probabilities and Uncertainties” if there was the slightest chance this reality I live in is not real but has been discovered because of Quantum Physics. With all these said uncertainties and probabilities etc. it is not surprising to understand most quantum computing concepts involve a lot of redundancy.

It gets better Heinz Pagels, like many other theorists, believed that quantum physics is a kind of code that interconnects everything in the universe, including the physical basis of life itself. If all things consist of atoms the theory is we can also exist somewhere else in the universe. They found in the realm of the very small, things could be in two places at once. That their fates are dictated by chance and that reality itself defies all common senses and that everything we thought we knew about the world might turn out to be completely wrong. It is fair to say everything in Physics is a wave. Its sounds like a contradiction but the electron obeys a wave equation although it’s a particle. (Plank)

Wednesday, 1 March 2017

Rickmansworth Young Ladies College or The Ghosts of Denham Hall..



Rickmansworth Young Ladies College or Ghosts of Denham Hall.


My name is Bridgette Campbell, I attend a very expensive and private Anglican Girl’s College presently known as Rickmansworth Young Ladies College, formally known as Denham Hall. It was originally the ancestral home of the Second Sea Lord of the Admiralty and 3rd Duke of Sussex, Lord Horatio Grantham he might have made First Sea Lord if it was not due to a careless, impetuous indiscretion with little or no heed to the resulting consequences with the daughter of the First Sea Lord, young Esmeralda. His exploits at the Battle of Trafalgar are thankfully better remembered rather than his nocturnal dalliances with this young lady Esmeralda. Well that is the story the senior girls used to tell the new students.


I will make a single exception here and refer to the Rickmansworth Young Ladies College as Denham Hall in deference to its rich history. Denham Hall was built in the 17th century. Adjacent to the Hall was a small chapel and cemetery. Denham Hall was an imposing stately mansion built in the Gothic style, rich in history and rich in ghost stories put about by successive first formers new to the school. It is now a private boarding school for young ladies whose parents are the captains of industry, leaders of men a few who had managed in the most part to avoid the courts. The college is so private that I was the only girl there. Sorry that was a poor attempt at humor.


I digress, I remember the man saying we are not watching a hologram he said we are living in it. Is our perception of reality just a Grand Illusion? I hope so. I was blessed with a vivid imagination although mother disagrees and says it is more disturbing than vivid so I would like to crank this illusion up a bit. For example with the threat of oncoming winter I would like to leave each year with the Swallows and head for the sunshine, does that make any sense?


This was one of a number of random thoughts among many I had as I waited outside Miss. Sefton’s office for Tamzin.


You see Tamzin had been reported to the college principal by an alert villager who witnessed her riding on the cross bar of the grocer boy’s delivery bike. Thankfully our moral well-being was well taken care of. Tamzin told me later that the principle Miss. Sefton reminded her that the moral and spiritual well-being of the girls had been placed in the care and trust of the college and that fraternization with the opposite dare I say it SEX or was it species, was strictly forbidden and was completely counter-productive to our studies.


Rhonda is currently my second best friend and I would like to state categorically here and now it has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with the fact her mother sends her regular food parcels. I remember thinking perhaps this generosity was atonement by her parents who mistakenly thought they had accidentally booked their daughter into a Russian gulag, who knows?


It’s not that the food was bad at Denham Hall it is just they never gave us junk food rich in salt, sugar and fat, and lolly’s in all the primary colors, supplemented by commercial grade pap. As far as I was concerned it was the only failing the school had, which I suppose did not detract from the school achievements, academically speaking.


I headed with a hurried step to the science room to inform Rhonda hoping she would treat the news of the arrival of the parcel with utmost urgency.

We had a village tuck-shop and girls suffering from sugar withdrawals could take advantage of the school crocodile walks which took us into the village and past the little sweet shop where a girl fleet of foot could dash in and purchase a Sherbet Fizz or a bottle of Tizer without being observed by the rostered teacher.


Sunday’s were very special days. The whole school would march down to the village to St Mary’s Anglican Church when the weather was fine for the morning service dressed in our best school uniforms; blue pleated skirts carefully tailored two inches below the knee, white blouses and blue blazers, wearing our white panama hats and white gloves. Rhonda once remarked that the performance reminded her of a dressage event at her local pony club.


We were by comparison to other private colleges a wealthy place of learning. Patience always referred to our college as Denham Hall, Pty. Ltd. It was Elspeth that pointed out that the school was so wealthy it was “lithted on the thtock exchanthe”. We were continually reminded we were genteel young English ladies, born of well to do privileged families whose allegiance was to England, its way of life, customs, history, flag, the King and the Empire; well when we used to have an empire, that is.


Parents open day was a sight to behold. In the car park prestige cars were parked cheek by jowl the combined value would have fed a small child in Africa for hundreds of years, maybe thousands, who knows?


Denham Hall had gained something of a reputation at sports too. I remember quite clearly the swimming competition against Pixie Hill Camp, a government school. We had what is referred to as a ‘ring in’. What the Pixie Hill School coach was not aware was that Rebecca Tate also held the southern counties junior freestyle record for 100 meters, and was no slouch when it came to Breastroke either. Our coach Miss Frenzi thought it was pity to alert them.


She was a great believer in the old adage, what they don’t know won’t hurt them. She reminded us it’s a dog eat dog world out there and only the strong survive.


Miss. Pringle was my favorite teacher. She was the English teacher and Deputy Head. Her eyes used to light up, or perhaps glaze over whenever I approached. My friend Tamzin thought it was terror, be that as it may.


In the quadrangle during the lunchtime break I put forward the hypothesis to Miss. Pringle that archeologist may have got it all wrong. They wrongly assume that because the height of the doors of our ancestor’s houses was much smaller than they are today they must have been only about 4 foot tall. Not so I suggested; as our front door is almost seven foot tall, one day in the future the archaeologist will again assume wrongly the people’s height averaged 6 foot 6 tall. So I postulated that’s a good word by the way that by the same reasoning our ancestors might not have been five foot tall…at all, but only one foot tall. I should add here that Miss. Pringle was only 5 foot 5 inches tall.


It was at this point the conversation was cut short when Miss Pringle suggested I go to the playground and play with the other girls which were a pity as I wanted to discuss if Squirrels dream, or why dogs chase their tails but Badgers don’t.


Miss Sefton was our headmistress. She always smelt of moth balls. I put her in her late sixties; Patience currently my very best friend put her in the early hundreds. She always wore dresses that would not be out of place in a Barbara Cartland novel, that’s Miss. Sefton not Patience. Her glasses were held captive by a gold chain. I was mesmerized by the huge cameo brooch she wore, visions of the Queen Victoria and the Empire sprang to mind.


In the dorm we discussed at length if Miss Sefton ever had a male friend and if so were commitments of a permanent or personal nature ever discussed or rings exchanged, was she ever given a Christian name and did she have a childhood.


I would like to mention Mr. Crisis the Science teacher but when I mention his previous employment to non-residents of Denham Hall that he came from Proximus Centuri and at present he is on a sabbatical at Denham Hall I am accused of story-telling. He got into a lot of trouble recently when he accidentally took Rhonda off to his home planet by mistake.


Mr. Crisis was a total pain he was always showing off. One day in the science class he hypnotized Brittany into believing she was a Cocker Spaniel. I don’t think she ever came out of it.


A horrible rumor circulated that later was found to be untrue that she forsook her family and struck up a strange relationship with the gardener’s dog. On open day I overheard her parents discussing whether or not they should get her micro-chipped. Actually to be honest I am not sure if they were referring to Brittany or their family dog.


Mother on hearing of Brittany’s tragedy and being somewhat of a fatalist shrugged her shoulders raised her eyes to the ceiling and said to father at the dinner table “Ah well, nothing is certain in this life” Who could argue with that rationale?


Elspeth also wanted to join our gang; trouble was we had trouble understanding her. She told us her parents had made an appointment for her to see a Thpeeth Therapithed; she said his name was Doctor Perthy Thpenther. Using what I understood was speech therapy I had tried to get her to repeat words like disassociation and obsession.


So I conclude with the question who was the ghost that Phaedra said she saw in the Chapel, was it the ghost of Horatio still searching for his beloved Esmeralda?


Friday, 24 February 2017

conversation between Roger Fairie and his wife Bruce.



A synopsis of a conversation between Roger Fairie and his wife Bruce.
The madness gripping the Western Word in the 21st Century.

At party time in pass-the-parcel there are to be a surprise present in every layer so as not to psychologically scar the little darlings. In foot races there are no winners and no losers.

Pubescent children in their early years at school are now taught about adult sexual perversions, same sex relationships and how to pleasure themselves AND their little friend sitting next to them, male or female if so desired. I can only assume this is in preparation for the future when on reaching age 10 they might be approached by Eastern sexual groomers.


The psychological scarring in actual fact is being done by the teachers in many cases unwittingly ordering the wearing of safety goggles when playing conkers or avoiding swimming backstroke in the swimming pool for fear of killing or at least maiming another swimmer.


It gets better. In one suggested activity, pupils act out every-day actions, such as changing a light bulb while demonstrating a feeling they have chosen whilst undertaking this activity. Their class mates must then guess what feeling that is…I kid you not.


The madness put out by the EU where Britain is likely to adopt a ruling from the European Court of Human rights which says that trans-sexuals must be allowed to take part in sporting events under their new gender, even if they have not yet had genital reassignment surgery or sexual butchery (my words).. Opponents of the ruling have argued that this would give male-to-female trans-Sexuals an unfair advantage.


By the same token and to take this one step further. Perhaps if I identify as a Greyhound I can demand to take part in Greyhound races. I wish that was the extent of it, but no.


Kim Munro is a child-minder in the village of Whiteparish, near Salisbury – an area where ethnic minorities are extremely thin on the ground. She was visited by an Ofsted inspector who took her to task because among the dolls she used for her charges to play with there were insufficient black and brown ones. This, apparently, was indicative of ‘racism’……. Obviously.


This is an interesting one. The story of the Three Little Pigs and their escape from the Big Bad Wolf has been removed from classrooms at an infant's school for fear that it will offend Moslem pupils. I have yet to establish if there are any copies of the Koran in the school library that might offend Christian children or their parents.


And all other children's stories involving pigs, including Babe, have also been cleared off the shelves at Park Road School, Batley. West Yorkshire.


The headmistress, Mrs Barbara Harris, has defended her decision saying that she was aware of the 'religious sensitivities' of her pupils, 60 % of whom are Moslems. (April 2003) what the hell is that percentage now?


Also in 2003 this gem; a Kid's Book called 'Hello Sailor' has been going on sale for Valentine's Day telling about the 'powerful relationship’ between a lighthouse keeper and his seaman pal.


Kate Wilson of Macmillan publishers said: "It's a book you might decide to share with a child to show relationships between men are OK." Well Kate it depends a lot on just what those “powerful relationships” are.

Who is Kate Wilson? Was she the one wearing a neat 3 piece suit and tie topped off with cropped hair who won the EU diversity medal for 2003?


So I must assume that these ‘relationships’ between women are OK also well. Many years ago the expression ‘queer relationships’ springs to mind, what has changed, not much other than these relationship are now gay relationships. It is all in the wording


Wanted Lesbian, Gay, Bi-Sexual. Trans-gendered (LGBT) Community Liaison Officer. Salary £17,412 - £19,056 (plus shift and weekend allowances). Apply to Sussex Police, Brighton Police Station, John Street, Brighton BN2 0LA.rainbow people… Straight people need not apply.…. I can fully understand the requirement for specialist of this nature particularly in Brighton rather than say Knightsbridge or Chelsea……… Beam me up Spotty


Monday, 13 February 2017

Find at the Rickmansworth Roman Ruins



Exciting Find at the Rickmansworth Roman Ruins

It was the morning Sunday church service at the Rickmansworth Young Ladies College and through the open stained glass windows the girl’s voices rang out like an angel choir and were carried high on the gentle zephyrs which blew across the vast playing fields. It was John Hughes Hymn “Guide me Oh thou great Redeemer”

Guide me, O thou great Redeemer,
Pilgrim through this barren land;
I am weak, but thou art mighty;
Hold me with thy powerful hand:
Bread of heaven, bread of heaven
Feed me till I want no more

Tamzin Lacy was not present at this feast of choral music; I assumed she had been placed on detention again. Until I was brought up to speed I was not sure if it was because of the continuing vendetta with Miss Pringle or a general issue of the bad blood that existed between them that Phaedra had spoken about. As it turned out I had misjudged both Tamzin and Miss.Pringle her absence was explained as she was called to the front office to receive the news her parents had turned up unexpectedly to inform her that her father was about to leave on an immediate Government overseas posting.

So I will relate the story about a metal plate covered in mysterious Chinese symbols that was recently discovered in a field near Sparrows Nest close to the famous Roman ruins at Chenies during a dig behind the Red Lion Pub discovered by the gardener’s son, Raymond.


Incidentally it was Phaedra that reckoned Raymond had the hots for Tamzin.


Anyway initially the plate was thought to be from the first Ming Dynasty which would have put it at around 700 years old. I think they were Mongols; not that it makes any difference but I have to question what were the Ming people doing near Rickmansworth anyway.


The plate was dispatched to London to the Tate people for evaluation. It was discovered it was not actually from the Ming Dynasty at all but one of 15 million or so made for the European market by a Chinese company as a baking dish and heavily marketed on EBay.


This find triggered a lot of interest by the girls speculating that the painting that hung in the library of a Chinese Girl was a lost Rembrandt. Miss Sefton googled the painting and found it was one of millions of mass produced prints referred to as the ‘Green Lady’ a picture as kitsch as three flying ducks that graced the living room walls of people in the West with copies still appearing from Nigeria and India.


Google informs us the original painting sold for 1.5 Million pounds, even today a fair copy could fetch as much as 2 pound 50 pee, or even more.


I heard some terribly exciting news late this afternoon, Mr Crisis the Science teacher was back on staff. Patience said she overhead Miss. Sefton say to Miss. Pringle “He may well have come from the Constellation of Epsilon Boötes but he was good at his job and therefore I see no reason why I should not re-employ him”. This was a bad omen for stuck up Madeline Carter-Brown as the girls used to enjoy watching Mr. Crisis hypnotising Madeline during the Science lesson into believing she was a chicken.


Her fears were unfounded as Miss Sefton had since forbid Mr. Crisis to hypnotise ‘ANY’ of the girls during the science class. Rhonda had the presence of mind to keep well away from him after the last debacle of being accidentally taken to Bootis and needless to say Rhonda’s mother also had a word or two to say to Mr. Crisis about the matter. Nevertheless it was fortuitous that Mr. Crisis did return.


We had four houses, Boadicea, Nightingale, Victoria and Pankhurst and although we were a comparatively small college what we lacked in student numbers was made up by the fees the governors charged our parents. The money channeled into my education would have bought a small African country or at least the Isle of Wight.


In our dorm Boadicea, there were 20 beds, 10 girls each side. My bed was placed between Patience and Rhonda’s. After lights out we used to whisper to each other about things that only boarders would understand. I always thought Rhonda’s imagination could be termed wild and somewhat disturbing.


Before the German warship story she told me she has seen ghosts. She recounted at length of seeing a legion of Roman soldiers walk through the Concert Hall wall, across the corridor and through the Science room wall. She said they looked dirty, tired and generally fed up as if they just wanted to get home and have a bath. I don’t know if she was trying to frighten me, but if she was it was working.


The truth of Rhonda’s imaginations took a frightening turn a few weeks later. It was the night after the yearly prize giving and Rhonda and I were detailed to tidy up the concert hall. We were to put the chairs back in their positions, push the piano to its normal position and pick up any pieces of paper lying around.


We left the concert hall around 9 pm and were walking along the corridor between the concert hall and the class rooms when Rhonda who was ahead of me turned round and went instantly white. She pointed her finger over my shoulder and said “My God, they’re here” I turned to see an apparition of a number of Roman Legionaries with shields and spears appearing through the concert hall wall, marching straight cross the corridor and into the science room wall. They looked tired, dirty, unkempt, and without expression. There were no sounds


I clutched at Rhonda’s arm. “I’m scared”


Rhonda said “don’t be, they won’t hurt us, they are just ghosts”


I had a lot of respect for Rhonda after that night. I also took her fantasies a lot more seriously too. I suggested that we keep this ghostly sighting to ourselves, we don’t want any teasing by the other girls, and the doctor might put us both on some sort of medication followed by a course of intensive counselling. Rhonda instantly understood.


I had a change of heart the following morning; I couldn’t stop thinking about the poor Roman soldiers that couldn’t get home so I suggested to Rhonda we tell Mr. Crisis, he was a man of science he would have an answer. If we told Miss Pringle or Miss Sefton no doubt they would say it’s a result of a rush of pubescent estrogen or something just as silly.


“In the lunch hour let’s talk to Mr. Crisis he usually sits on the bench in the quadrangle doing the Times crossword.” I suggested.


The following day as we approached Mr. Crisis we were a little apprehensive as to who was going to broach the subject, for as far as he was concerned there were no reports of girls with psychological problems. I was still in awe of Rhonda’s bravery on the ‘night of the Romans’ that I said I would ask him.


I recounted everything that happened that evening. Mr. Crisis listened without interrupting and just nodded. He waited until I had finished, paused then said, “look come and see me after the holidays, they won’t be going anywhere they will still b
e here after the holiday break, I promise you I will get them home”.


But that is another story.