Saturday, 3 June 2017

The Rickmansworth Nightmare

The Rickmansworth Nightmare

Escaping the Matrix

You must first read my article “The Awakening” to fully understand what is happening here. I appear to be slipping back and fore between dreams, but they are too real to be dreams. I am also beginning to have doubts about slipping though distortions in space and time or passing through Gateways and crossing dimensions, I suggest what this man has to say might be true.

He talks a lot about Perception, Conception and Holograms. I am being asked to believe his theory that we are living in a Matrix and the Matrix is shaped by frequencies sent out from Saturn’s rings and amplified by the Moon. He is suggesting what we experience as reality is not true reality but our perceptions are being influenced by intelligence from outside. But who controls the Matrix?

We are not who we think we are. He says Quote. ‘It is the “Queen Bee” (Saturn-Moon) that broadcasts the waveform information “hack”, and humans decode this into a world they think they see, and perceptions and behaviour they think is “them”. We can be completely controlled by the Matrix and be no more than human robots responding to data input. End of quote.

I really want to believe, but it is a big ask.

He must have his finger on the pulse. He travels the world giving lectures on his theory that we are living in a hologram. He can fill the Battersea town hall to the brim explaining with video presentations to people wanting to know more about this; his 10 hour lectures are the norm.

Maybe I did not slip through a distortion in space and time, or drawn into a Worm Hole maybe there was no Gateway, maybe this is the second time I have escaped the Matrix. It was only my perception that I am a middle aged male when in fact I am a female of the opposite species. So on re-awakening it was the real me and not who I thought I was? Does that make any sense?

I would like to regard this as my second and hopefully my final awakening; I prefer reality beyond the Matrix.

All this happened a while ago but to bring you up to speed Mother seemed to know of my arrival. As I was coming down the stairs she said “Oh so you’re back?” She had just come in from the garden and was holding a pot plant. It was though I had never left.

I inquired “what’s that?”

She replied “it’s a plant”

I said “I can see it’s a plant, but what’s it called?”

Briefly hesitating and ruefully looking at the plant she shook her head and admitted apologetically “I never gave it a name “

Exasperated I said “No, no what’s the plant called?”

“You mean like Nathan or Phyllis?

“No like Rose or Lily”

“Rose and Lily are both girls’ names, it’s just a plant in a pot; it’s called a Pot Plant”

It was early Saturday morning I knew I was not going to get a lot of sense out of her so I decided to quit while I was still behind.

From here on in and for the sake of anonymity and to protect mother’s identity I will refer to her as Mrs. Flugelhorn.

When Graham and I were a unit mother took him aside and said confidentially “Look Graham I would appreciate it if you did not associate with my daughter”

He answered “Mrs. Flugelhorn I love and respect your daughter and would never do anything to hurt her”

Mrs Flugelhorn’s brow furrowed “no, no you have missed the point completely, she is weird”

I first met Graham at a Country and Western show in Rickmansworth; he was dressed in a cowboy outfit. We talked for ages and ages about everything, friends, foibles (foibles?) family and hopes and fears for the future. I was amazed we had absolutely nothing in common, a firm foundation for a long and happy marriage.

They say love is blind likewise mother’s tattooed friend Thelma, you can find her up at the Red Lion blind most Saturday evenings. On second thoughts blind is the wrong word; smashed is the word that escapes me.

It is death that stalks us all and it was a problem Uncle Crisis recently had to face. You see he has his father’s ashes but lacked a burial plot for them. He said he may be forced to lay the ashes on top of his mother, my Auntie Jekyll in the same grave. I asked him about an epitaph, he said it will read ‘In Death as In Life’ I suggested before they put chisel to marble perhaps he should re-think the epitaph.

Death? It reminds me of the sad story of poor Mr Humphries the widower up the road. His wife committed suicide you know. She did leave a note. It read your dinner is in the oven…….so am I.

Talking about Polar Bears reminds me of an incident concerning my friend Tamzin; actually Tamzin is my second best friend Patience is my very best friend. Miss Frenzi the teacher was explaining to the class that a Farrier re-shoes horse’s hooves as a shoe repairer repairs people’s shoes.

Tamzin stood up and shouted out “that’s Cobblers miss”. Miss Frenzi shouted Tamzin Lacy wash your mouth out, I will not tolerate foul language in my classroom” The last I saw of Tamzin was when she poked her head around the classroom door on leaving pleading “but miss, miss

It all started when Tamzin discovered the school photographer was going to do a 10 second time exposure thus enabling her to run around the back of the students and appear for the second time in the photo ...with blacked out teeth

Phaedra said there was “Bad Blood” whatever that means  between Tamzin and Miss Frenzi . A few days later showing her the offending photograph Miss Frenzi said crossly “Your parents will think we have no discipline here, now we will have re-assemble the whole school and get the photographer back, it’s all time and money”. I can only surmise it is small transgressions like this that has caused this ‘bad blood’.

Father is a bit Mutton Jeff; I was telling mother and Tamzin about Colonel Carter-Brown who lives at Ruthin Castle near Plaxtol Mill. I told them he organizes tours for Japanese tourists, fly fishing, arranges lovely afternoon tea parties on the lawn, hosts old time dancing and has exquisite balls; father cried out from the kitchen “wash yer mouth out Brigitte”. Exasperated I looked at my mother and whispered forcefully “MOTHER, FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE!” She closed her eyes, patted the back of my hand reassuringly saying “never mind pet, don’t fret it’s just your father”.

I shall refuse to talk anymore when father is around after the last episode when I was telling Tamsin of a movie about a gigantic Octopus. I just happened to be describing its huge tentacles when father cried out “Brigitte I will not tell you again”. I tearfully pleaded “Mother for heaven’s sake make him wear a hearing aid”

Tamzin’s mother told my mother that Tamzin moans and cries out for Gandalf in her sleep. God ONLY knows what she gets up to in her dream; that’s Tamzin not her Mother. I don’t like to pry as dreams are very personal and private things aren’t they? Trouble with Tamzin she is too trusting.

Her mother had to tell her not to do cart-wheels in front of the boys; she said all they want to do is look at your knickers. Tamzin said “I know that mother; I know thaaaaaat with emphasis on THAT,” that’s why I keep them in my bag”.

To sum up, if this is the real me and if this is to be my permanent home I am going to have to establish some guidelines here, a new set of ground rules for Graham for a start. Moon Matrix Theory Explained

Thursday, 1 June 2017

Rickmansworth Got Talent.

Rickmansworth Got Talent.
Escaping the Matrix

Like mortality, finite is a word that we as human beings use when we believe there is a beginning and an end, but in the wider scheme of things if we are not of substance but pure energy then these two words exist only due to the data being transmitted to us by the controllers of the matrix. I suspect this pure energy is the universal singular consciousness shared by all beings of interstellar origin.

But in our case it is the interference by the Matrix that gives us solidity and supposed purpose and it is the controllers of the Matrix who determine the narrative. Are we in reality pure invisible energy that exists throughout the Cosmos unlike man-made electromagnetic energy like Radio and TV signals? So the question is who controls the Matrix, is it a civilization so far advanced than ours that this floating piece of blue green space debris and its inhabitants is an experiment, but more importantly is it possible to escape this Matrix?

I have escaped the Matrix on a couple of occasions. Each time I thought it was just another dream but I recognised the faces and heard the voices. In dreams the faces are indistinguishable and there are no sounds. If I am in someone else’s play what is my part and will death be my release from the Matrix when I as a globule of pure energy move instantly elsewhere in the Cosmos, who knows. It was not to be another dream for I recognized the faces and heard the sounds. Have escaped again I am not sure?

We had arranged to meet for breakfast in the Côte d'Azur café in Rickmansworth high street next to the garage. Pastor Dickie and his wife Mildred ordered the early bird special, beans on toast. I plumped for Porridge on toast and Tamzin’s parents Mr and Mrs Lacy ordered the chef’s special; they took a courageous chance on this one as no-one was really sure what the Chefs special was. Tamzin ordered the Carte De Jour, not too well done with Béarnaise sauce, asparagus and a bowl of chips. I blushed crimson, were Miss Pringle our French teacher present she would have had convulsions or even palpitations and wondered what was the purpose of teaching schoolchildren French for years.

Tamzin does have her moments of pure genius however proved by her brave but brief foray into the beauty industry. It was an internet adventure where she hoped to rival the ‘House of Yves Saint Éclair’ in Paris. Her discovery was a beauty product for the removal of unsightly ladies moustaches and private hair. Most importantly what set it apart from the propriety brands was the user could actually harvest the base material for themselves needed for the hair removal…Tree Sap.

We agonized for days over a brand name; I suggested ‘Airs and Graces’, my best friend Patience suggested ‘air on a G String’. Finally it was Tamzin who came up with a corker, ‘Brazilian Scream’ She reasoned this was the interpretation of the sound she expected to hear from the user as one ripped off the Sap-impregnated Elastoplast from the offending hair. We all concurred. Even though we copyrighted the product sadly the idea never found real favour with the general public.

Tamzin was keen to cement her mark in Rickmansworth and perhaps encourage the Rickmansworth Council to affix a blue commemorative plaque on a wall in the high street. We decided to move one step at a time on this one. Our first opportunity came when the Red Lion Pub held a ‘Rickmansworth Has Talent’ show. We decided even without a musical agent we could have a good chance of taking this one out. A name for our act was going to be a big problem. We eventually plumped for The Irish Rovers; plural you will note.

I was to play the washboard and sing Tamzin was to play the Tin Whistle.
 We were to give a special rendering of ‘Whiskey in the Jar’. I warned the organizer our version ran for 25 minutes but if they preferred a longer rendition we could accommodate them with a special version that ran for 1¼ hours, in that one I have a washboard break of about 20 minutes. He said as he had a dozen or so contestants lined up they would have to go with the shortened version.

I thought it was going very well. It was only after about 15 minutes when the pub was almost empty the grumpy organizer walked up to the stage and ordered us to leave. When I asked why, his excuse was the patrons were fed up waiting for the ‘Daddy Oh’. Well that was their loss and Rickmansworth’s potential musical reputation down the drain.

While I have your attention I must recount one of Father’s many anecdotes. He had previously related this story to Lord and Lady Bêsant-Carter at our house over a glass of port at one of our regular Bridge party’s, a story about a warship that was hit by a torpedo in the North Atlantic. As the ship was about to keel over into the icy waters the ships Pastor gathered everyone on deck and invited them to join him in the well-known Hymn ‘Abide with Me’

A small voice was heard to call out from the back of the assembled men. ‘What key are we in Jack?’ Personally I think it is an anecdote told in bad taste, and I did not hesitate to tell Mother so.

I must tell you about my friend Graham, I hastily add he is NOT my boy-friend. I met him at a First Aid refresher course. He partnered me in the mouth to mouth resuscitation. Twice I had to remonstrate with him for attempting to put his tongue in my mouth. I warned him in no uncertain terms that I valued my virginal disposition much more than crappy first aid merit badges and one more violation of my disadvantaged helpless position of being pinned to the floor I will punch ‘is lights out.

I told mother about Graham attempting to kiss me on the……. erm escalator at the shopping centre. I told her I suspect Graham is experiencing his first sexual awakening. Mother said “Bridgette dear of course he is, he a 25 year old male for heaven’s sake”. She also warned me if I continue to frolic with males of the opposite species on escalators in shopping centres I also run the real risk of coming home with child. I did not realise mother had a sense of humour; I know father does because he married her.

It was Mother that first accused me of being gullible and I believed her. Father must also think I am gullible. He recounted another one of his ‘untold stories’ concerning the Titanic he said most people are totally unaware of. He said when it was sinking and only a few passengers and crew remained on deck the Captain ordered the orchestra to lead the survivors in the Hymn ‘Eternal Father Strong to Save’...…or something like that.

At the end of the singing they were to observe one minutes silence in memory of those still struggling in the water after which the orchestra would then segue straight into the Charleston, followed by musical chairs then the Hokey Pokey. Drinks would be served, fancy dress was optional. I asked Mother how long had Father indulged in bad taste.

Graham has just rung up and asked mother if I am free this evening. Mother exploded “free, FREE GRAHAM? She is not THAT cheap”.

I pointed out the advert to Mother. ‘WITCHCRAFT LESSONS’ to galvanize her interest I pointed out there were discounts for seniors.

She said I can forget my birthday present it is not going to happen. I think I will turn her into a frog.

Later I asked her to rethink her decision..... I pointed out to her it was a simple mistake the advert read STITCHCRAFT LESSONS.

I am afraid to sleep now because I might leave my earthly body and find myself on the outer edge of one of the universes as a bolt of pure energy …..and for all his faults I was beginning to like Graham.

Wednesday, 24 May 2017

Take a Seat Please.

Take a seat please

It was another exciting day for me but not so for my wife. We were shopping. I look after the full shopping bags so I get to talk to people I have never met in my life, they warm to me probably because I remind them of their grandfather.

In shopping centres there are usually strategically placed 3 person seats or seats for two persons and a shopping bag, or Vicky Verky a three person seat for a single person and a very large shopping bag.

Being a creature of habit I usually target the three person seat with two persons and a space in the middle for a shopping bag, where I ask the resting shopper if he/she would care to move their bag. To show them I am offering the hand of friendship and at the same time proving I have not deliberately targeted them and it is not a personal thing and that I am not looking for a full-on bare knuckle fight outside of Woolworths, I then say “we can pretend we are Magpies sitting on a telephone line”

The victim as my wife calls them usually smile weakly with muted acknowledgement, unaccompanied by words. I accept unconditionally I have intruded onto their private space. That dear reader is my invitation to start a conversation. I can usually tell what a person’s interests are.

My victim today was a lady of foreign extraction. She queried my opening gambit about the Magpies on telephone lines. I asked out of politeness if she could understand English. As it happens she could, remarkably well. It was just as well I resort to erring on the side of caution for I was about to congratulate her on her command of my language but thought better of it.

I then asked if she had studied Quantum Physics. To my utter astonishment she said she hadn’t. That gave me a clear run. I then explained to her that everything we see might not be true reality; I said even the fruit shop opposite was not really there. 

I realise for an opener it was a hard ask for her being a personal thing as her husband was still inside the said shop with all their bankcards and stuff with their mobile phone on his person. But I continued. 

I briefly touched on SchrÖdinger’s Cat and the Double slit experiment but soon realised I would have to approach this from a completely different direction.

I explained that at least a dozen Ph.D.’s. and at least 4 M.D’s and a brace of theoretical scientists and an unknown number of astrophysicists, astronomers and a lot of other people who are really clever reckon we are living in a Hologram and seeing they have letters after their name and I don’t I must accept what they say as being is gospel.

She was a lovely lady and asked me pertinent questions such as did I have the time on me and why wasn’t I shopping with my wife. I explained to her I was resting while my wife was shopping.

I am getting a little beyond myself here. When joining a person on a 3 person seat you will find that one is required to sit as far as possible from the other person as the picture above graphically shows. On taking the centre position on a three person seat it is imperative to always keep in mind when looking left or right that your gaze does not meet your fellow shopping traveller. The trick is to lean as far forward as far as possible and pretend to survey the shopping centre, eyes sweeping left to right or vice versa.

The reason for this will become blindingly apparent. If one were NOT to project their body forward then there is a possibility though slight, that one’s gaze might inadvertently or even accidentally meet the gaze of ones fellow shopper and they might get the impression true or otherwise that you are a sexual pervert or a Homothingy who trawls suburban shopping centres searching for cheap sexual thrills.

It was a new day, a new shopping adventure. This man was a stranger, we had never met before. Again I took the centre position on the bench. I observed the opening pleasantries before putting forward the hypothesis that what we are seeing all originated from the big bang billions of years ago and we are star people, we are ‘OF’ the stars but in our case we are disguised as human beings but in truth we are bolts of pure cosmic energy, just consciousness and living in matrix in a projected fake reality controlled from the other side of the universe, actors in a Hologram with a supposed purpose. I talked of the fabric of space and stuff, oh and multiple universes.

I could tell from his body language his demeanour was beginning to change, he was not going to stay long enough to digest this assertion, he clenched his teeth, turned red in the face tightly closed his eyes, like really tightly like one does when going number twos stood up and left. It was at this point my wife emerged from the fruit shop, arms weighed down with two heavy bags of fruit, shoulders hunched over and arms looking two feet longer than normal not unlike tired Albatross wings or is that Albatross’s wings. 

She said “Did your victim flee then?” My wife has a wicked sense of humour.

Saturday, 20 May 2017

A sea of Diversity at Rickmansworth Young Ladies College

Clan Campbell     Clan Macdonald

Rickmansworth Young Ladies College.

The Rich Diversity at Denham Hall

Denham Hall is an old established place of learning built in the Gothic style in the 17th century receiving its Charter from King George the something or other; I hasten to say not the mad one. With a recent name change to Rickmansworth Young ladies College it is a very expensive private boarding college for genteel young Ladies from well-to-do established Christian families whose allegiance is to the Crown, the country, its flag, traditions, culture, Queen and Empire…… well when we used to have an empire that is. It is known country-wide for its high academic achievements so to be told by a visiting Government Education person that the school lacked diversity to Miss Sefton was like waving a red flag at a bull.

Tamzin told us she overheard Miss Sefton the Headmistress who appeared visibly upset telling Miss Pringle that a visiting Government education person had pointed out that the school despite its high academic achievements appeared to be ‘struggling’ with “diversity”.

She had never seen Miss Sefton so furious in her life. Raising her voice she angrily shouted to this Government Education woman “Struggling with Diversity? Struggling with Diversity? Good heavens woman we have girls here from most of the counties of the United Kingdom.

We have Bridgette Campbell whose family can be traced back to William the Conqueror, Elspeth Macdonald who can trace her family’s descent from the Norse-Gaelic Clan Donald of the 13th century. Tamzin Lacy, daughter of a Northern Ireland Minister, there is Candice and Phaedra from Northumberland and Bedfordshire respectively we even have a girl from Essex Dakota Pugsley, incidentally her father made his fortune investing in scrap lead. 

Then there is Sarah and Grace, Lady and Lord Simon De Rochefort’s twins from Buckinghamshire, Rhonda whose parents are Land Owners from Gloucestershire, Blodwyn and Myfanwy two Welsh girls from Brecknockshire and Rebecca Tate from Caernarvonshire whose father Sir Roland Tate is the British ambassador to Wallis and Fortuna Island.

“DIVERSITY” repeated Miss. Sefton under her breath “for heaven’s sake what the hell is this silly Government person talking about?”

Tamzin said she was absolutely astounded by Miss Sefton’s language, she said she had never heard Miss. Sefton use words like ‘Hell’ before. I can assure our gentle readers Miss Sefton told this Government person a thing or two in no uncertain terms and sent her packing with a flea in her ear.

But not before she pointed out that this year the school had already received applications for new enrolments for the New Year which included one girl from the Island of Skye, one from Eire and sisters from the Isle of Man and believe it or not even one girl from the Isle of Wight.

Just how diverse does this Government woman like the college to be for God’s sake?

Miss. Sefton lowered her voice and reluctantly confided to Miss. Pringle “Alice I may be wrong and I pray to God I am, but I shudder to even begin to contemplate what this Government woman may have been hinting but if it is what I think she might have been hinting she needs to understand there has not been one riot or fist fight in this school since its inception.

Not once since it was first given its charter by King George the second in the 17th century has there been any Police on duty around the classrooms or playgrounds, no knifings being recorded by Mobile Phones, the use of drugs, beatings or bare knuckle fights in my playgrounds among my girls on my watch thank you very much” adding “you can rest assured THAT is the way it is, THAT is the way it will remain, That is the end of the matter” So it was.

That sounded pretty final to us girls too. Miss Sefton pointed out ‘Diversity’ had been a rigid cornerstone of the college principles for over 400 years as shown by the above examples. The travelling Government Education woman realised she was going nowhere with the debate with her bizarre interpretation of Diversity so decided to take the conversation in another direction.

She pointed out the violation of the Education departments’ view of blatant sexual discrimination after noting the flagrant use of Gender Specific names on the toilet doors which could cause anxiety, distress and hardship to those girls that might have a history of suffering from Gender Dysphoria or Gender Identity Disorder but more alarmingly could contravene their Human Rights. Miss. Sefton assured her there was no history of “that sort of thing” at Denham Hall, thank you very much.

The Government Education lady after being taken well out of earshot of the girls was reminded by Miss. Pringle that whatever the government views were on modern day Biology or personal relationships in this college Denham Hall, they did NOT encourage discussion on the unusual sexual exploits or stories about Bill and Ben, or ‘Sailor Jacks strong relationship with the lighthouse Keeper’ which was the Government Education Departments suggested reading for 8 year olds in the Sex Education Syllabus”

Miss. Pringle said stories about Bill and Ben were all very well in their place but it is important for the Girls to learn Great Britain’s history and its place in the world, to also understand the reasons for the fall of Rome and its frightening similarity to that of Great Britain’s loss of Empire and prestige, its reduced status in the world and its subsequent loss of sovereignty but most importantly to understand the reason for its loss of direction and its slow descent into a festering quagmire of a disgusting morass of immorality. She said she preferred her Girls to read the classics rather than to discuss the unusual nocturnal comings and goings that Bill and his chum Ben might get up to.

Even Miss Frenzi the Sports teacher bought into this discussion by saying that the NEW AGE teaching dictates that no-one loses but everyone wins a prize is self-defeating it would mean Rebecca Tate did not win the 100 yards Breastroke event last year in the swimming carnival against the Government School Pixie Hill Camp but shared it with the other seven contestants and likewise with ‘pass the parcel’ everyone wins a prize, it is silliness to the extreme. She said regardless of a Governments decree that Backstroke be banned in all swimming pools, that decree will be ignored in the college pool as the likelihood of another swimmer being killed or maimed was minimal.

It did not end there I am afraid. The news spread like wildfire that Miss. Franklin the Music teacher or Lu Lu on being told about the children’s story of this ’Strong Relationship’ between the Lighthouse Keeper and another gentleman named Sailor Jack was allowed to go home after going quite pale and complaining of feeling a little queasy and the same with Nurse Mayo who after experiencing the tremor’s was allowed to lie down in the Schools infirmary.

Phaedra, who appeared quite flushed after overhearing Miss. Pringle's tirade on her views of the Governments suggested reading for 8 year olds said she did not want to experience another day like that one.

Miss. Sefton told Miss. Pringle she was convinced Denham Hall was “an island of sanity in a sea of madness”. Tamzin went one better, she said Denham Hall was “an Island of serenity in a sea of silliness”.

Now everyone is making up these comparisons like it’s a competition. Do you want to hear mine?

Friday, 12 May 2017

Rickmansworth Young ladies College Concert and Dance

Tamzin Lacy at Full Stretch.

Rickmansworth Young Ladies College Concert and Dance.

It was the end of year Concert and Dance at Denham Hall or the Rickmansworth Young Ladies College as it is known today, an Anglican college. You might inquire being a girl’s college from where did we field the boys from for this occasion. Good question, they were boys invited from the opposition, the sixth form of the St. Joan of Arc Catholic School. No sneakers, no hats on back to front and no visible tattoos, but suits, combed hair and smelling nice were the order of the day.

The venue was the Concert Hall at Denham Hall a place of learning for genteel young English ladies from well to do Christian families it was not to be a night of Dirty Dancing with the participant’s smelling like Badgers, gyrating up and down like demented Racoons at the local mobile Disco in the pub in the High Street, Rickmansworth.

Tonight was to be a night to be remembered with the chance of creating new friendships maybe romance, a night of Waltzes, Fox Trots and Quick Steps culminating with Highland dancing.

There was a short welcoming speech by our Headmistress Miss. Sefton followed by a brief reply by the head of the St. Joan of Arc Catholic School….. I have forgotten her name.

The show commenced with Candice Forsythe performing her card tricks; inviting volunteers from the audience to ‘pick a card’. Sporting a moustache made with a felt pen liberally applied by the make-up artist Miss. Franklin our Music teacher or Lu Lu as she was affectionately known, wearing a Fez and her brother’s suit proceeded with her act.

Just to set the record straight it was it was NOT Miss Franklin that was wearing a Fez and her brother’s suit doing card tricks but Candice. All in all it was a professional performance, well more or less.

This was followed by Elspeth MacDonald playing the Bagpipes which apart from the odd squeak “which had every mouse in the vicinity on edge” not my words but Rhonda’s, was also a very admirable performance. 

I had grave doubts about Sarah though, she should not have been allowed in the show as she had only been introduced to the Indian Clubs a week earlier, she was far too confident. I was not disappointed. The less said about her performance the better. Her act reminded me of the sound of skittles being knocked down in a bowling alley.

This was the part I was dreading. It was the turn of Tamsin, gymnast extraordinaire. I was about to say Tamsin cut a fine figure with a slim body much like that of a stick insect; but on second thoughts and without being catty I thought she had put on a bit of weight.

Tamsin had alerted us prior to the show she was “going for the big Four”. I suppose I have to explain what the “Big Four” was. Tamsin was well aware the stage was just about the required width to finish her act with a flourish after performing a triple reverse somersault. The ‘BIG FOUR’ was an attempt at 4 consecutive reverse somersaults not a triple. What was worrying was this had never been attempted before, well not by Tamsin…..or anyone else for that matter.

This was typical of Tamsin she had not thought this one through or rehearsed it. I suspect it was the rapturous applause she was expecting to receive after completing her performance, coming to a perfect standstill, no teetering and throwing her arms in the air that was the drug that had her fired up. I saw it rather differently as a blurred vision of Tamsin being catapulted off upstage left like a Jet leaving an aircraft Carrier.

To this point it was a perfect performance. I was so pleased for Tamsin but it was the moment of truth. It was the vision I wrote about earlier of seeing Tamsin, upside down caught in a freeze frame as a blurred flash of crimson of her leotards, pausing before exiting stage left half way to completing the fourth somersault. The triple reverse somersault completed she had run out of stage for the fourth and final reverse somersault.

It was only the pianist sitting off-stage that broke Tamsin’s fall that prevented any serious injury…… Tamsin that is.

Fortunately Nurse Mayo the duty nurse had a first aid kit handy with tweezers and everything with a box of Elastoplast, bandages and some purple stuff in a bottle to repair Tamsin’s minor flesh wound also Elastoplast for the Pianist’s facial abrasions. Tamsin gave herself quite fright; I thought she was going to sick-up all over Nurse Mayo.

I feel the less said about Tamsin’s gymnastic presentation the better. No, to be fair perhaps her performance rated seven out of ten. The evening’s entertainment of the schools talent finished with a rendition of the Hallelujah Chorus by the school choir.

It was the yearly dance that followed that was the main event of the evening. Wearing a bandage on her arm Tamsin who was wearing a spare Clan Tartan of mine was paired up in the Gay Gordons with gormless looking Pat O'Reilly, serves her right. However it was a clever out of formation manoeuvre during the Eightsome Reel that she was able to skilfully exchange him for another girl’s partner. I never ceased to be amazed at Tamsin’s tenacity.

Phaedra was paired with a hot looking boy named Grant…. er something or other and in the Military two-step I was corralled by the only height challenged student from St Joan of Arc Catholic School before I could grab hold of Grant. Life is so unfair. Personally I am really not all that fussed about these end-of-year dances.

It was lovely to see Miss. Pringle dancing with Mr. Crisis the science teacher during the Ceilidh. What did intrigue me was why Mr. Crisis was wearing a Scottish Tartan when he was presently on sabbatical leave from his Home planet in the Proxima Centuri system. I certainly did not recognize his clan colours; he must have hired them from TartansЯus in the high street.

Before I leave if anybody would like a photo of Tamsin at full stretch taken during her performance I am sure there are some copies still available in the front office……..somewhere.

Friday, 5 May 2017

The Rickmansworth Chalice

Invarary Castle
The Rickmansworth Chalice.

Mr Crisis our Science teacher explained myths and mystics still flourish on this planet. They were germinated in earlier times of yore and spawned in the quagmires of superstition and fear and are still being kept alive today by ignorance and…. yes superstition. I am from an intelligence that can exist as pure cosmic energy, a singular consciousness, a one-ness or if I wish I can be of substance.

Bridgette, you and Tamzsin and your people are not even on the first rung of the ladder of evolution, myths and mystics, thieves and scoundrels still guide you and you still listen to them.

I was explaining to Mr. Crisis the legend of the mythical Rickmansworth Chalice. The legend had been documented in the history books down through the ages. It was said the gold and jewel encrusted Chalice was used at the marriage of Prince Rolf and his consort Princess Elspeth at Rickmansworth Castle in times when knights and the people pledged their total allegiance to their King.

In those days superstition was rife and it was believed the Chalice held magical properties which promised two options, eternal existence or alternatively on death to sit at the right hand of God. Mr Crisis added by all means believe in the Golden Chalice but not in its magic.

Father had invited Mr Crisis to our home at Inveraray Castle in Scotland. Tamsin currently my very best friend was also staying for the weekend. Mr Crisis was very keen to meet father.

It was the start of the summer break when we arrived at Inveraray. I took Mr Crisis straight to the library to meet my parents.

Lord Campbell extending his hand said “Good afternoon Mr. Crisis, I have heard a lot about you from Bridgette. I would like you to meet my wife Lady Campbell, Delilah. Mr Crisis bowed slightly offered Lady Campbell his hand.

Lord Campbell with a smile continued “My daughter tells me you ‘knocked up a device’ her words I stress not mine, in the science lab and accidentally took yourself and a student named Rhonda off to Proximus Centuri or was it Epsilon Bootis either way I thought this is a man I really must meet. I know my daughter has quite a fertile imagination so I will not bother you with closer questioning.”

“I agree Lord Campbell but dreamers and humans with fertile imaginations have led to some incredible discoveries and innovations in the past and if we were to touch on the discoveries of these dreamers we can be here all day…and all night”

‘Mr Crisis my ancestors were not dreamers but defenders. It was an ancestor of mine that led an army that fought for Robert the Bruce during the wars of Scottish independence against the English and it was at the battle of Bannockburn in 1314 that he was wounded. The wound was not life threatening but he was unable to carry a sword or a lance.”

“Robert the Bruce bestowed large areas of land taken from the Lords of Lorne and conferred considerable wealth on him. It was later in the 18th century that Inveraray Castle was built”.

“It is a most magnificent home you have Lord Campbell”

“Thank you Mr Crisis but I think we can dispense with the formalities don’t you, you may call me David”

“Alright David you can call me Mr Crisis” I will be honest with you Crisis is not my real name and where I come from we do not have two names one is quite sufficient and there is no equivalent of a ‘Christian’ name.

Lord Campbell chose to ignore Mr Crisis comment and said “Right Bridgette you and Tamzin can take Mr Crisis to the front entrance to meet the tour bus and join the 2 pm castle tour”.

It was a beautiful balmy sunny day as we walked to the main Gate. Passing one of the Groomsmen I inquired of Mr Crisis did he ride?”

Mr Crisis replied “Ride what?”

There was no need to answer that question as Tamzin called out that the tour bus had just arrived. The bus disgorged its travellers many from the Asian Continent. Mr Crisis, Tamsin and I followed the lady with the flag leading the group of tourists. Thus began Mr Crisis tour of Invarary Castle. After a coffee break in the castle shop we showed Mr Crisis the stables.

Mr Crisis and Father really enjoyed their talk over drinks in the study. If Mr Crisis said it was so, it was so Father realised early on Mr Crisis was not of this planet.

After two weeks in Scotland we returned to College and the following day  Mr Crisis drove Tamzin and I to the Roman ruins at Chenies. 

Whilst Mr. Crisis studied the legend on the green board of the layout of the Roman Fort I told Mr Crisis about the mysterious plate which was recently unearthed here inscribed with Ancient Chinese symbols suspected of being from the 14 century Ming Dynasty, but after being sent to the Tate gallery people in London was found to be one of about 15 million or so plates manufactured in Shenzhen, China for the European market as a baking dish and heavily advertised on EBay.

Mr Crisis said “Girls let me wander about the ruins for a while you two look for bird’s nests or something.”

We did not find any birds nests or something and I suspect Mr Crisis just wanted to get rid of us while he wandered alone around the site. A quarter of an hour later he called us over. He pointed out “there are three large trees on the far side of the ruins I suggest you take a close look at the base of the middle tree” Mr Crisis sat on a low wall of the ruins and Tamsin and I headed for the tree.

There was a hole that looked like a rabbit-hole at the base of the tree and after looking around for a stick suitable for foraging Tamzin started poking and prodding at the dead vegetation around the hole. It was such heavy going we had to remove some of the dead leaves and dirt by hand.

Tamzin had her arm completely in the hole when she excitedly shouted “There is something here I can feel it” I warned her to be careful that it was not something that might bite her. She pulled her arm out of the hole holding a bundle that looked like potato sacking.

“Well, open it up” ordered Mr Crisis. We lay the bundle on the ground and slowly opened up the rough sacking. Tamzin screamed out “I think it’s the Gold Chalice.” It took a moment to realise what we had found. “It is! It is! It is the Rickmansworth Chalice I am sure it is. Mr Crisis what do you think?”

“Yes Tamzin I have no doubt it is the lost Rickmansworth Golden Chalice maybe it was meant to be found one day who knows?”

I suspect Mr Crisis; his credentials such as they were it did not really surprise us when he told us where to search. He talks of a singular consciousness, of pure energy and other dimensions as I and Tamzin might discuss at length about who un-friended us on Facebook and why.

The discovery of the Rickmansworth Chalice was going to be the lead story on the National News.

The breathy news reporter on cue speaking to the camera said “On this site this afternoon a discovery as important to our countries history and particularly to the Town of Rickmansworth as were the Dead Sea scrolls to the Holy Land were found hidden beneath an Oak tree at the site of the Roman Ruins at Sparrows Nest behind the Red Lion Pub at Chenies. It will go down in history that the discovery was made by two students from the Rickmansworth Young Ladies College, Tamzin Lacy and Brigitte Campbell. Legend has it Prince Rolf and Princess Elspeth once drank from this Gold and Jewel encrusted Chalice.”

Mr. Crisis leant close and whispered “girls the glory is all yours”. I turned and whispered to Tamsin “when we get back to college and tell Miss Pringle she will be beside herself.”

The Red Lion. Chenies.

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 Tamzin 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 Tamzin 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 Tamzin 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 Tamzin 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. Tamzin then out of curiosity and for the sake of conversation asked Mr Crisis if Miss Pringle had a Christian name. Tamzin 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. Tamzin 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 Tamzin 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 Tamzin.

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 Tamzin “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 Tamzin on her foot when she asked Mrs. Mountjoy if she had lived here long and had she any children. I whispered to Tamzin “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 

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.
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.”

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 Tamzin pointed out that the light in the window was now off. We really must take Tamzin 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 Roman Entry into Rickmansworth.

Rickmansworth Young Ladies College Remembers

The Glory that is Rome.

The Triumphal Roman 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 Tamzin 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 also 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. 

Tamzin 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 Tamzin 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.

Tamzin’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 Tamzin’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 Tamzin rushed in. She said excitedly "Quick! Quick come and see what I have found in the Picture Gallery” We followed Tamzin 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 drawer appeared as if by magic. “OOER look” cried Phaedra.

In the small drawer there  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.

Tamzin said “ How did the Codex end up here"

I surmised "maybe in our parlance  it was souvenired"

Tamzin said excitedly "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.

Denham Hall Concert Hall was agog with excitement, packed with the students, teachers, parents, and council luminaries. Tamzin, 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 Tamzin 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 Tamzin 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.