GST Voles day at Sandy Smith NR 7/3/2017

Mr T.: (rummaging in the back of the land rover).

Okay we haven't had a task in the Wet Fen before so before we start I just need to explain a few things. Firstly as you can see it's very wet here at the entrance so I will not be taking the land rover in. We will have to carry everything in from here. I want four of you strimming the few sparce areas of rushes to the right hand side and one of you mowing a few clearings on the left hand side. The rest of you can help me clear away various metal rubbish in the copse area and then start raking and forking up what's been cut. There are some drag bags here for you. Plus I shall be cutting down a small birch tree which can be cut up and burnt. So I'll need you to take......

Mr. T. turns around to see he is by himself, the voles having walked off into the distance, (well this is SSNR and we always walk off into the distance).

A little later in camp.

Mr. T.: Are you okay to strim *****? (name removed for legal reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything. Are you okay to use the mower ^^^^? (name removed for same reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything.

Right, I just need to go back and get a few things that you lot 'forgot' to bring over with you.

Mr T. returns.

*****: The strimmer's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

^^^^: The mower's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Anon.: We haven't got any forks.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Another Anon.: We need drag bags.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Yet another Anon.: Must be time for a tea break.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get my bag.

The voles settle down for a drink and a few cakes.

Anon anon anon.: Who's going to tell Mr. T. he's forgotten the donuts?

Sobbing could be heard in the distance.

Some time later on this long, drawn out morning.

Mr. T.: It's no good, the rushes are too damp to burn, we'll have to drag them into the copse and pile them there.

Mr. T. walks away.

^^^^, (don't worry Clarkie, no one will know it's you), immediately strips to the waist, covers his chest in cow dung, (last week's having dried out and beginning to flake off), turns and spits into the northeast wind. Rubbing the spittle off his face he calls out to Logi, the Norse god of fire. "Hey up lad we could do with a bit of help down here." So saying he sets light to a box of fire lighters and throws them into the smouldering embers. Flames immediately rise into the bright blue sky as the fire worshipper dances a merry jig and begins to feed the flames.

And so to lunch.

Mr. T.: No more cutting now we just need to rake up what's been cut and either burn it or pile it in the copse.

Volunteer Warden (no experience necessary): Nah, we can strim loads more, there's plenty of time.

Mr. T.: No, we need to let the fire burn down before we leave tonight.

Volunteer Warden (no experience attained): Nah, we'll have finished in half an hour.

Two hours later.

Mr. T.: Most people have left, how is the fire?

Volunteer Warden (basically no experience full stop): (kicking mud onto the flames) Nearly out, could have cut loads more. Gets dark quickly these nights doesn't it?

Any resemblance to the truth is purely coincidental and has nothing to do with the perpetrator of Myths and Legends in Bedfordshire, (out of print).

Thank you to everyone who came along and dragged their heels, ankles, toes, etc. in the mud. Special thanks to those who kept pulling Wendy out of the deep bits. Nice to see Maryla back with us for a short while (obviously having to build up to it again).

Malcolm

GST day at Flitton Moor removing Himalayan Balsam 18/7/2017 TL0536

Subject: Next Tuesday's Task

Hi All,

I hope you’ve all stopped itching from the nettle stings on Tuesday!

Next Week’s task will be balsam pulling downstream from Flitton Moor and will be led by Andrew (his last day). The site is accessible from Flitton Moor, so meet at the barn at Flitton Moor at 10am (map attached).

The good news is that there are nowhere near as many nettles as at Sandy Smith but there is plenty of balsam and it’s along steep-sided river/ditch banks and the only way to deal with it will be to get in! Fortunately, the water doesn’t look too deep!

Andrew will bring waders to the task but it might be a good idea if everyone could bring wellies – there might be some areas where wellies might be better than cumbersome waders.

There will also be some brush-cutting.

Regards,

Tim

Hello balsam pullers

A thank you from us to whoever removed the doggy doo doo bag on our behalf. We lost track of it when the bags were moved downstream and then forgot to look for it as we left. It wasn't there when Baz went back for it this evening so we must presume a kindly soul disposed of it on our behalf.

The list of emails above is a bit thin - people certainly on task but we don't have emails for them all, e.g. Barbara & Derek. Please forward to anyone you see is missing from our list.

See you soon

Jane & Baz (irresponsible dog minders)

Hi Jane & Baz & fellow Voles

Lola's bag was there when I came back to get my water/tea.

Anyway what a day, even though the gang finished earlier than usual it was just as well. It was boiling hot and very sticky. You were all a bit smelly too but you were magnificent in victory. I shall not forget Jim's giant leap and wrestle with several big stands of HB across a ditch filled mainly with un-fathomed amounts of ooze covered by a layer of Equisetum (Horsetail) or hearing about Jim's vanishing into another pool where they had to call the RNLI to drag him ashore. Or the happy look on Merv's face relating the joy of submerging into the same primordiall ooze or Dave & others who gallantly waded from Flitton Bridge toend of the track. Then there was Maryla, determined to get her full wack of HB in the 1&1/2 hours available to he, roped on a very steep bank grabbing each plant with a wicked glee, take that you naughty naughty HB you. Well you get my drift, the Voles were down and dirty but unbowed.

A bit of the atmosphere in my snaps at www.flickr.com/photos/pitzys_pyx/

Sadly we had to say farewell to Andrew who has moved on to pastures drier than Flitton Moor.

Take care & see you next week?

JP (Pitzy)

GST Voles day at Sandy Smith NR 7/3/2017

Mr T.: (rummaging in the back of the land rover).

Okay we haven't had a task in the Wet Fen before so before we start I just need to explain a few things. Firstly as you can see it's very wet here at the entrance so I will not be taking the land rover in. We will have to carry everything in from here. I want four of you strimming the few sparce areas of rushes to the right hand side and one of you mowing a few clearings on the left hand side. The rest of you can help me clear away various metal rubbish in the copse area and then start raking and forking up what's been cut. There are some drag bags here for you. Plus I shall be cutting down a small birch tree which can be cut up and burnt. So I'll need you to take......

Mr. T. turns around to see he is by himself, the voles having walked off into the distance, (well this is SSNR and we always walk off into the distance).

A little later in camp.

Mr. T.: Are you okay to strim *****? (name removed for legal reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything. Are you okay to use the mower ^^^^? (name removed for same reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything.

Right, I just need to go back and get a few things that you lot 'forgot' to bring over with you.

Mr T. returns.

*****: The strimmer's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

^^^^: The mower's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Anon.: We haven't got any forks.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Another Anon.: We need drag bags.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Yet another Anon.: Must be time for a tea break.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get my bag.

The voles settle down for a drink and a few cakes.

Anon anon anon.: Who's going to tell Mr. T. he's forgotten the donuts?

Sobbing could be heard in the distance.

Some time later on this long, drawn out morning.

Mr. T.: It's no good, the rushes are too damp to burn, we'll have to drag them into the copse and pile them there.

Mr. T. walks away.

^^^^, (don't worry Clarkie, no one will know it's you), immediately strips to the waist, covers his chest in cow dung, (last week's having dried out and beginning to flake off), turns and spits into the northeast wind. Rubbing the spittle off his face he calls out to Logi, the Norse god of fire. "Hey up lad we could do with a bit of help down here." So saying he sets light to a box of fire lighters and throws them into the smouldering embers. Flames immediately rise into the bright blue sky as the fire worshipper dances a merry jig and begins to feed the flames.

And so to lunch.

Mr. T.: No more cutting now we just need to rake up what's been cut and either burn it or pile it in the copse.

Volunteer Warden (no experience necessary): Nah, we can strim loads more, there's plenty of time.

Mr. T.: No, we need to let the fire burn down before we leave tonight.

Volunteer Warden (no experience attained): Nah, we'll have finished in half an hour.

Two hours later.

Mr. T.: Most people have left, how is the fire?

Volunteer Warden (basically no experience full stop): (kicking mud onto the flames) Nearly out, could have cut loads more. Gets dark quickly these nights doesn't it?

Any resemblance to the truth is purely coincidental and has nothing to do with the perpetrator of Myths and Legends in Bedfordshire, (out of print).

Thank you to everyone who came along and dragged their heels, ankles, toes, etc. in the mud. Special thanks to those who kept pulling Wendy out of the deep bits. Nice to see Maryla back with us for a short while (obviously having to build up to it again).

Malcolm

GST Voles day at Sandy Smith NR 7/3/2017

Mr T.: (rummaging in the back of the land rover).

Okay we haven't had a task in the Wet Fen before so before we start I just need to explain a few things. Firstly as you can see it's very wet here at the entrance so I will not be taking the land rover in. We will have to carry everything in from here. I want four of you strimming the few sparce areas of rushes to the right hand side and one of you mowing a few clearings on the left hand side. The rest of you can help me clear away various metal rubbish in the copse area and then start raking and forking up what's been cut. There are some drag bags here for you. Plus I shall be cutting down a small birch tree which can be cut up and burnt. So I'll need you to take......

Mr. T. turns around to see he is by himself, the voles having walked off into the distance, (well this is SSNR and we always walk off into the distance).

A little later in camp.

Mr. T.: Are you okay to strim *****? (name removed for legal reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything. Are you okay to use the mower ^^^^? (name removed for same reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything.

Right, I just need to go back and get a few things that you lot 'forgot' to bring over with you.

Mr T. returns.

*****: The strimmer's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

^^^^: The mower's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Anon.: We haven't got any forks.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Another Anon.: We need drag bags.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Yet another Anon.: Must be time for a tea break.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get my bag.

The voles settle down for a drink and a few cakes.

Anon anon anon.: Who's going to tell Mr. T. he's forgotten the donuts?

Sobbing could be heard in the distance.

Some time later on this long, drawn out morning.

Mr. T.: It's no good, the rushes are too damp to burn, we'll have to drag them into the copse and pile them there.

Mr. T. walks away.

^^^^, (don't worry Clarkie, no one will know it's you), immediately strips to the waist, covers his chest in cow dung, (last week's having dried out and beginning to flake off), turns and spits into the northeast wind. Rubbing the spittle off his face he calls out to Logi, the Norse god of fire. "Hey up lad we could do with a bit of help down here." So saying he sets light to a box of fire lighters and throws them into the smouldering embers. Flames immediately rise into the bright blue sky as the fire worshipper dances a merry jig and begins to feed the flames.

And so to lunch.

Mr. T.: No more cutting now we just need to rake up what's been cut and either burn it or pile it in the copse.

Volunteer Warden (no experience necessary): Nah, we can strim loads more, there's plenty of time.

Mr. T.: No, we need to let the fire burn down before we leave tonight.

Volunteer Warden (no experience attained): Nah, we'll have finished in half an hour.

Two hours later.

Mr. T.: Most people have left, how is the fire?

Volunteer Warden (basically no experience full stop): (kicking mud onto the flames) Nearly out, could have cut loads more. Gets dark quickly these nights doesn't it?

Any resemblance to the truth is purely coincidental and has nothing to do with the perpetrator of Myths and Legends in Bedfordshire, (out of print).

Thank you to everyone who came along and dragged their heels, ankles, toes, etc. in the mud. Special thanks to those who kept pulling Wendy out of the deep bits. Nice to see Maryla back with us for a short while (obviously having to build up to it again).

Malcolm

Date:Jan 15 2014, 10:51 AM

Subject:

RE: A Right Royal Do!

Show full header

Dear All

Thank you your Majesty and loyal subjects. This speedy correspondence has saved me a lot of palava etc so I shall just say my snaps are up on flickr now at www.flickr.com/photos/pitzys_pyx/.

I should like to say that we missed TWF all day (yes we did) but cold 90s humour might here say "but I couldn't" just for a snigger. I should also like to say thank you to:

Maryla for her Sandy Smith Mud Pies

Liz M for her wonderful shortcake biscuits (the choc chip ones were particularly good :))

Malcolm X for his fruit and vanilla buns, they were very very tasty.

Whoever brought the Jaffa Cakes

To you all for your laughs and banter.

Dave Lowe for his folk and Beetles songs.

For those who wondered why I had stopped by the road side on my way home see the first snap.

Cheers

JP

Now this is what makes Tuesdays such fun and keeps me nearly sane – you should see me when I’m really balmy! Very many apologies for the lack of cake – I will try hardy next time (depending on the day and the venue!).

Thanks for all the grovelling and the wonderful singing. Could you just shorten my name to She as long as I promise not to do an “Ursula Undress” and wear a chamois leather. Thanks also for the decent weather, not that it was cold where I was standing!

I can report that I was at the Rufus Centre this afternoon and there was JB, Audrey and their lovely daughter. JB allowed me to feel his new pulse and I can recommend it as a strange experience and I think he’s got a battery somewhere that gives electric twitches.

Bon voyage to the Breeds who will be sadly missed for a while. See the rest of you somewhere in the wilds of Bedfordshire and hopefully next Tuesday.

Thanks Mr. Kippling – your writing talents are beyond compare and your cakes are pretty wonderful too. Tally Ho! She

From: Steve Squire [mailto:Steve.Squire@greensandtrust.org]

Sent: 14 January 2014 21:36

To: Malcolm Willis; Tim Spencer; bazbreed@hotmail.com; 'Colin Atkins'; 'Dave Clarke'; 'David Moffatt'; 'James Miller'; 'Jane Breed'; 'John Buxton'; 'John Pitts'; 'Kelvin Horton'; 'Malcolm Willis'; 'Marie Mead'; 'Maryla Carter'; 'Peter Stafferton'; 'Roger Christopher'; 'Ros Blevins'; 'Steve Jones'; Sue Raven; 'Tim Chamen'; wendy.copper@virginmedia.com

Cc: She who must be obeyed

Subject: RE: A Right Royal Do!

Good to see you now have an official email Sue .

Well done Malcolm for making me laugh , very good thank you and to Jock with hot bum in fire.

And thank you all too for working so hard with or without Royal Cake!

Regards

Steve

From: Malcolm Willis [malcolmJwillis@btinternet.com]

Sent: 14 January 2014 21:13

To: Tim Spencer; bazbreed@hotmail.com; 'Colin Atkins'; 'Dave Clarke'; 'David Moffatt'; 'James Miller'; 'Jane Breed'; 'John Buxton'; 'John Pitts'; 'Kelvin Horton'; 'Malcolm Willis'; 'Marie Mead'; 'Maryla Carter'; 'Peter Stafferton'; 'Roger Christopher'; 'Ros Blevins'; 'Steve Jones'; Steve Squire; Sue Raven; 'Tim Chamen'; wendy.copper@virginmedia.com

Cc: She who must be obeyed

Subject: A Right Royal Do!

The stately limousine sailed into sight like a swan upon an enchanted lake. The blue eye that is heaven became bedazzled by the occasion, even the golden beams of universal eternity dipped in homage. The line of voles, once ordinary looking, became unworthy in the instant. The conveyance glided to a halt. The door opened. Hearts that only seconds ago had been pounding chests for freedom were now in suspended animation and inexplicably in mouths agog in anticipation. And then there she was. Serenely climbing down the stepladders (which had been thoughtfully placed out of view of the cameras), she emerged onto the immediately hallowed turf of SSNR [By Appointment to Her Right Royaltiness the Lady Youthfulness].

The appointed Dave stepped forward and humbled himself. An unfortunate occurrence given the magnitude of the occasion. The reserve Dave stepped into the breach. Another unfortunate occurrence! Finally the ‘if all else fails’ Dave came to the rescue.

Bowing so low it made his eyes water he addressed her Supreme Being: “Your Majestyness, if I may be so humbly bold as to..”

Her ladyship interrupted as only one of noble birth can: “Are you a Dimbleby Dave?”

‘If all else fails’ Dave: “Err no?”

Her Exquisiteness: “Then go away.” The nobility of the extended hand flutter in Dave’s direction and immediately he was dispatched as like a game bird on the 1st September.

Her Exquisite Ladyshipness: “My husband and I..” A half turn to the limo revealed a slight glitch. “Oh bother, I must have left him somewhere again. Never mind, I shall continue. Myself and I remember only too vividly the diem horribilis that was last week. But we must move on.”

So saying Her Supremeliness moved on proffering dainty dexterous digits for the gathered ensemble to pucker up their trembling lips to.

Her Regality: “Oh I say what an obnoxious hound.”

Several male voles looked even further ashamed and took several steps back towards oblivion.

Her Lady Regal Exquisiteness: “I was referring to the dog.”

The males voles teetered on the edge of the abyss that is ordinariness. One brave soul remarked: “That is Jock, a rescued dog, he was found in a large, handbag, with handles. He was probably brought up in it.”

Her Lady Ladyness:“ I must confess that I feel somewhat bewildered by what you have just told me. To be born, or at any rate bred in a handbag, whether it have handles or not, seems to me to display a contempt for the ordinary decencies of family life which reminds one of the worst excesses of the French revolution, and I presume you know what that unfortunate movement led to?

The voles shook their heads, a few too vigorously causing them to fall off!

Brave Soul: “ Err yessum your womanliness. We believe he lost his parents and so we’ve adopted him like.”

Her Lady Ladyshipness: “To lose one parent, my good man, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness.”

Little old lady with straw sticking out from under one arm (One Arm!!!!): He’s only being truthful you’re Omnipotence. He’s very earnest so he is and that’s what makes him so highly regarded by us all. ” Having said all this the little old lady retired to lie down until lunchtime.

Lady Youthfulness: “Well I suppose that’s the importance of being earnest.”

[I bet that’s made Oscar wild!]

Little old lady with straw sticking out from under one arm (One Arm!!!!): “Who’s Oscar?”

So many congratulation to Lady Sue on yet another birthday without a cake big enough to hold all the candles.

No doubt Mr Pitts will shortly be circulating a stunning array of pics so all who weren’t there today will see what the rest of us were up to. Basically following the Squire around, picking up loads of cut reeds (or in a little old lady’s case an odd bunch here and there!); carting them off to be burnt; telling the Squire not to go in the boggy bit; pulling the Squire out of the boggy bit!; showing the Squire were to cut next; sending out explorers to find where the Squire went!; telling the Squire it’s time to stop cutting; retelling the Squire it’s time to stop cutting; telling the local warden to stop telling the Squire to keep cutting!; getting bored of feeding the fire while the mound of cut reeds keeps growing; setting fire to the mound of cut reeds and blaming it on the person furthest away (Colin); eating muffins; eating biscuits (thanks Lillybeth); eating chocolate cake off the ground (thanks Maryla!); eating Jaffa cakes; moaning that there is no pudding!; moaning that Her Ladyship didn’t bring a birthday cake! and generally having fun.

Thanks to everyone who left early and didn’t stay to watch Jock walk across the ash (several times), try to make a ‘nest’ in the hot ash! (he dashed out pretty quick) and finally lie down in the ash!!!

Malcolm.

GST day at Flitton Moor removing Himalayan Balsam 18/7/2017 TL0536

Subject: Next Tuesday's Task

Hi All,

I hope you’ve all stopped itching from the nettle stings on Tuesday!

Next Week’s task will be balsam pulling downstream from Flitton Moor and will be led by Andrew (his last day). The site is accessible from Flitton Moor, so meet at the barn at Flitton Moor at 10am (map attached).

The good news is that there are nowhere near as many nettles as at Sandy Smith but there is plenty of balsam and it’s along steep-sided river/ditch banks and the only way to deal with it will be to get in! Fortunately, the water doesn’t look too deep!

Andrew will bring waders to the task but it might be a good idea if everyone could bring wellies – there might be some areas where wellies might be better than cumbersome waders.

There will also be some brush-cutting.

Regards,

Tim

Hello balsam pullers

A thank you from us to whoever removed the doggy doo doo bag on our behalf. We lost track of it when the bags were moved downstream and then forgot to look for it as we left. It wasn't there when Baz went back for it this evening so we must presume a kindly soul disposed of it on our behalf.

The list of emails above is a bit thin - people certainly on task but we don't have emails for them all, e.g. Barbara & Derek. Please forward to anyone you see is missing from our list.

See you soon

Jane & Baz (irresponsible dog minders)

Hi Jane & Baz & fellow Voles

Lola's bag was there when I came back to get my water/tea.

Anyway what a day, even though the gang finished earlier than usual it was just as well. It was boiling hot and very sticky. You were all a bit smelly too but you were magnificent in victory. I shall not forget Jim's giant leap and wrestle with several big stands of HB across a ditch filled mainly with un-fathomed amounts of ooze covered by a layer of Equisetum (Horsetail) or hearing about Jim's vanishing into another pool where they had to call the RNLI to drag him ashore. Or the happy look on Merv's face relating the joy of submerging into the same primordiall ooze or Dave & others who gallantly waded from Flitton Bridge toend of the track. Then there was Maryla, determined to get her full wack of HB in the 1&1/2 hours available to he, roped on a very steep bank grabbing each plant with a wicked glee, take that you naughty naughty HB you. Well you get my drift, the Voles were down and dirty but unbowed.

A bit of the atmosphere in my snaps at www.flickr.com/photos/pitzys_pyx/

Sadly we had to say farewell to Andrew who has moved on to pastures drier than Flitton Moor.

Take care & see you next week?

JP (Pitzy)

GST day at Flitton Moor removing Himalayan Balsam 18/7/2017 TL0536

Subject: Next Tuesday's Task

Hi All,

I hope you’ve all stopped itching from the nettle stings on Tuesday!

Next Week’s task will be balsam pulling downstream from Flitton Moor and will be led by Andrew (his last day). The site is accessible from Flitton Moor, so meet at the barn at Flitton Moor at 10am (map attached).

The good news is that there are nowhere near as many nettles as at Sandy Smith but there is plenty of balsam and it’s along steep-sided river/ditch banks and the only way to deal with it will be to get in! Fortunately, the water doesn’t look too deep!

Andrew will bring waders to the task but it might be a good idea if everyone could bring wellies – there might be some areas where wellies might be better than cumbersome waders.

There will also be some brush-cutting.

Regards,

Tim

Hello balsam pullers

A thank you from us to whoever removed the doggy doo doo bag on our behalf. We lost track of it when the bags were moved downstream and then forgot to look for it as we left. It wasn't there when Baz went back for it this evening so we must presume a kindly soul disposed of it on our behalf.

The list of emails above is a bit thin - people certainly on task but we don't have emails for them all, e.g. Barbara & Derek. Please forward to anyone you see is missing from our list.

See you soon

Jane & Baz (irresponsible dog minders)

Hi Jane & Baz & fellow Voles

Lola's bag was there when I came back to get my water/tea.

Anyway what a day, even though the gang finished earlier than usual it was just as well. It was boiling hot and very sticky. You were all a bit smelly too but you were magnificent in victory. I shall not forget Jim's giant leap and wrestle with several big stands of HB across a ditch filled mainly with un-fathomed amounts of ooze covered by a layer of Equisetum (Horsetail) or hearing about Jim's vanishing into another pool where they had to call the RNLI to drag him ashore. Or the happy look on Merv's face relating the joy of submerging into the same primordiall ooze or Dave & others who gallantly waded from Flitton Bridge toend of the track. Then there was Maryla, determined to get her full wack of HB in the 1&1/2 hours available to he, roped on a very steep bank grabbing each plant with a wicked glee, take that you naughty naughty HB you. Well you get my drift, the Voles were down and dirty but unbowed.

A bit of the atmosphere in my snaps at www.flickr.com/photos/pitzys_pyx/

Sadly we had to say farewell to Andrew who has moved on to pastures drier than Flitton Moor.

Take care & see you next week?

JP (Pitzy)

GST day at Flitton Moor removing Himalayan Balsam 18/7/2017 TL0536

Subject: Next Tuesday's Task

Hi All,

I hope you’ve all stopped itching from the nettle stings on Tuesday!

Next Week’s task will be balsam pulling downstream from Flitton Moor and will be led by Andrew (his last day). The site is accessible from Flitton Moor, so meet at the barn at Flitton Moor at 10am (map attached).

The good news is that there are nowhere near as many nettles as at Sandy Smith but there is plenty of balsam and it’s along steep-sided river/ditch banks and the only way to deal with it will be to get in! Fortunately, the water doesn’t look too deep!

Andrew will bring waders to the task but it might be a good idea if everyone could bring wellies – there might be some areas where wellies might be better than cumbersome waders.

There will also be some brush-cutting.

Regards,

Tim

Hello balsam pullers

A thank you from us to whoever removed the doggy doo doo bag on our behalf. We lost track of it when the bags were moved downstream and then forgot to look for it as we left. It wasn't there when Baz went back for it this evening so we must presume a kindly soul disposed of it on our behalf.

The list of emails above is a bit thin - people certainly on task but we don't have emails for them all, e.g. Barbara & Derek. Please forward to anyone you see is missing from our list.

See you soon

Jane & Baz (irresponsible dog minders)

Hi Jane & Baz & fellow Voles

Lola's bag was there when I came back to get my water/tea.

Anyway what a day, even though the gang finished earlier than usual it was just as well. It was boiling hot and very sticky. You were all a bit smelly too but you were magnificent in victory. I shall not forget Jim's giant leap and wrestle with several big stands of HB across a ditch filled mainly with un-fathomed amounts of ooze covered by a layer of Equisetum (Horsetail) or hearing about Jim's vanishing into another pool where they had to call the RNLI to drag him ashore. Or the happy look on Merv's face relating the joy of submerging into the same primordiall ooze or Dave & others who gallantly waded from Flitton Bridge toend of the track. Then there was Maryla, determined to get her full wack of HB in the 1&1/2 hours available to he, roped on a very steep bank grabbing each plant with a wicked glee, take that you naughty naughty HB you. Well you get my drift, the Voles were down and dirty but unbowed.

A bit of the atmosphere in my snaps at www.flickr.com/photos/pitzys_pyx/

Sadly we had to say farewell to Andrew who has moved on to pastures drier than Flitton Moor.

Take care & see you next week?

JP (Pitzy)

Date:Jan 15 2014, 10:51 AM

Subject:

RE: A Right Royal Do!

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Dear All

Thank you your Majesty and loyal subjects. This speedy correspondence has saved me a lot of palava etc so I shall just say my snaps are up on flickr now at www.flickr.com/photos/pitzys_pyx/.

I should like to say that we missed TWF all day (yes we did) but cold 90s humour might here say "but I couldn't" just for a snigger. I should also like to say thank you to:

Maryla for her Sandy Smith Mud Pies

Liz M for her wonderful shortcake biscuits (the choc chip ones were particularly good :))

Malcolm X for his fruit and vanilla buns, they were very very tasty.

Whoever brought the Jaffa Cakes

To you all for your laughs and banter.

Dave Lowe for his folk and Beetles songs.

For those who wondered why I had stopped by the road side on my way home see the first snap.

Cheers

JP

Now this is what makes Tuesdays such fun and keeps me nearly sane – you should see me when I’m really balmy! Very many apologies for the lack of cake – I will try hardy next time (depending on the day and the venue!).

Thanks for all the grovelling and the wonderful singing. Could you just shorten my name to She as long as I promise not to do an “Ursula Undress” and wear a chamois leather. Thanks also for the decent weather, not that it was cold where I was standing!

I can report that I was at the Rufus Centre this afternoon and there was JB, Audrey and their lovely daughter. JB allowed me to feel his new pulse and I can recommend it as a strange experience and I think he’s got a battery somewhere that gives electric twitches.

Bon voyage to the Breeds who will be sadly missed for a while. See the rest of you somewhere in the wilds of Bedfordshire and hopefully next Tuesday.

Thanks Mr. Kippling – your writing talents are beyond compare and your cakes are pretty wonderful too. Tally Ho! She

From: Steve Squire [mailto:Steve.Squire@greensandtrust.org]

Sent: 14 January 2014 21:36

To: Malcolm Willis; Tim Spencer; bazbreed@hotmail.com; 'Colin Atkins'; 'Dave Clarke'; 'David Moffatt'; 'James Miller'; 'Jane Breed'; 'John Buxton'; 'John Pitts'; 'Kelvin Horton'; 'Malcolm Willis'; 'Marie Mead'; 'Maryla Carter'; 'Peter Stafferton'; 'Roger Christopher'; 'Ros Blevins'; 'Steve Jones'; Sue Raven; 'Tim Chamen'; wendy.copper@virginmedia.com

Cc: She who must be obeyed

Subject: RE: A Right Royal Do!

Good to see you now have an official email Sue .

Well done Malcolm for making me laugh , very good thank you and to Jock with hot bum in fire.

And thank you all too for working so hard with or without Royal Cake!

Regards

Steve

From: Malcolm Willis [malcolmJwillis@btinternet.com]

Sent: 14 January 2014 21:13

To: Tim Spencer; bazbreed@hotmail.com; 'Colin Atkins'; 'Dave Clarke'; 'David Moffatt'; 'James Miller'; 'Jane Breed'; 'John Buxton'; 'John Pitts'; 'Kelvin Horton'; 'Malcolm Willis'; 'Marie Mead'; 'Maryla Carter'; 'Peter Stafferton'; 'Roger Christopher'; 'Ros Blevins'; 'Steve Jones'; Steve Squire; Sue Raven; 'Tim Chamen'; wendy.copper@virginmedia.com

Cc: She who must be obeyed

Subject: A Right Royal Do!

The stately limousine sailed into sight like a swan upon an enchanted lake. The blue eye that is heaven became bedazzled by the occasion, even the golden beams of universal eternity dipped in homage. The line of voles, once ordinary looking, became unworthy in the instant. The conveyance glided to a halt. The door opened. Hearts that only seconds ago had been pounding chests for freedom were now in suspended animation and inexplicably in mouths agog in anticipation. And then there she was. Serenely climbing down the stepladders (which had been thoughtfully placed out of view of the cameras), she emerged onto the immediately hallowed turf of SSNR [By Appointment to Her Right Royaltiness the Lady Youthfulness].

The appointed Dave stepped forward and humbled himself. An unfortunate occurrence given the magnitude of the occasion. The reserve Dave stepped into the breach. Another unfortunate occurrence! Finally the ‘if all else fails’ Dave came to the rescue.

Bowing so low it made his eyes water he addressed her Supreme Being: “Your Majestyness, if I may be so humbly bold as to..”

Her ladyship interrupted as only one of noble birth can: “Are you a Dimbleby Dave?”

‘If all else fails’ Dave: “Err no?”

Her Exquisiteness: “Then go away.” The nobility of the extended hand flutter in Dave’s direction and immediately he was dispatched as like a game bird on the 1st September.

Her Exquisite Ladyshipness: “My husband and I..” A half turn to the limo revealed a slight glitch. “Oh bother, I must have left him somewhere again. Never mind, I shall continue. Myself and I remember only too vividly the diem horribilis that was last week. But we must move on.”

So saying Her Supremeliness moved on proffering dainty dexterous digits for the gathered ensemble to pucker up their trembling lips to.

Her Regality: “Oh I say what an obnoxious hound.”

Several male voles looked even further ashamed and took several steps back towards oblivion.

Her Lady Regal Exquisiteness: “I was referring to the dog.”

The males voles teetered on the edge of the abyss that is ordinariness. One brave soul remarked: “That is Jock, a rescued dog, he was found in a large, handbag, with handles. He was probably brought up in it.”

Her Lady Ladyness:“ I must confess that I feel somewhat bewildered by what you have just told me. To be born, or at any rate bred in a handbag, whether it have handles or not, seems to me to display a contempt for the ordinary decencies of family life which reminds one of the worst excesses of the French revolution, and I presume you know what that unfortunate movement led to?

The voles shook their heads, a few too vigorously causing them to fall off!

Brave Soul: “ Err yessum your womanliness. We believe he lost his parents and so we’ve adopted him like.”

Her Lady Ladyshipness: “To lose one parent, my good man, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness.”

Little old lady with straw sticking out from under one arm (One Arm!!!!): He’s only being truthful you’re Omnipotence. He’s very earnest so he is and that’s what makes him so highly regarded by us all. ” Having said all this the little old lady retired to lie down until lunchtime.

Lady Youthfulness: “Well I suppose that’s the importance of being earnest.”

[I bet that’s made Oscar wild!]

Little old lady with straw sticking out from under one arm (One Arm!!!!): “Who’s Oscar?”

So many congratulation to Lady Sue on yet another birthday without a cake big enough to hold all the candles.

No doubt Mr Pitts will shortly be circulating a stunning array of pics so all who weren’t there today will see what the rest of us were up to. Basically following the Squire around, picking up loads of cut reeds (or in a little old lady’s case an odd bunch here and there!); carting them off to be burnt; telling the Squire not to go in the boggy bit; pulling the Squire out of the boggy bit!; showing the Squire were to cut next; sending out explorers to find where the Squire went!; telling the Squire it’s time to stop cutting; retelling the Squire it’s time to stop cutting; telling the local warden to stop telling the Squire to keep cutting!; getting bored of feeding the fire while the mound of cut reeds keeps growing; setting fire to the mound of cut reeds and blaming it on the person furthest away (Colin); eating muffins; eating biscuits (thanks Lillybeth); eating chocolate cake off the ground (thanks Maryla!); eating Jaffa cakes; moaning that there is no pudding!; moaning that Her Ladyship didn’t bring a birthday cake! and generally having fun.

Thanks to everyone who left early and didn’t stay to watch Jock walk across the ash (several times), try to make a ‘nest’ in the hot ash! (he dashed out pretty quick) and finally lie down in the ash!!!

Malcolm.

GST Voles day at Sandy Smith NR 7/3/2017

Mr T.: (rummaging in the back of the land rover).

Okay we haven't had a task in the Wet Fen before so before we start I just need to explain a few things. Firstly as you can see it's very wet here at the entrance so I will not be taking the land rover in. We will have to carry everything in from here. I want four of you strimming the few sparce areas of rushes to the right hand side and one of you mowing a few clearings on the left hand side. The rest of you can help me clear away various metal rubbish in the copse area and then start raking and forking up what's been cut. There are some drag bags here for you. Plus I shall be cutting down a small birch tree which can be cut up and burnt. So I'll need you to take......

Mr. T. turns around to see he is by himself, the voles having walked off into the distance, (well this is SSNR and we always walk off into the distance).

A little later in camp.

Mr. T.: Are you okay to strim *****? (name removed for legal reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything. Are you okay to use the mower ^^^^? (name removed for same reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything.

Right, I just need to go back and get a few things that you lot 'forgot' to bring over with you.

Mr T. returns.

*****: The strimmer's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

^^^^: The mower's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Anon.: We haven't got any forks.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Another Anon.: We need drag bags.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Yet another Anon.: Must be time for a tea break.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get my bag.

The voles settle down for a drink and a few cakes.

Anon anon anon.: Who's going to tell Mr. T. he's forgotten the donuts?

Sobbing could be heard in the distance.

Some time later on this long, drawn out morning.

Mr. T.: It's no good, the rushes are too damp to burn, we'll have to drag them into the copse and pile them there.

Mr. T. walks away.

^^^^, (don't worry Clarkie, no one will know it's you), immediately strips to the waist, covers his chest in cow dung, (last week's having dried out and beginning to flake off), turns and spits into the northeast wind. Rubbing the spittle off his face he calls out to Logi, the Norse god of fire. "Hey up lad we could do with a bit of help down here." So saying he sets light to a box of fire lighters and throws them into the smouldering embers. Flames immediately rise into the bright blue sky as the fire worshipper dances a merry jig and begins to feed the flames.

And so to lunch.

Mr. T.: No more cutting now we just need to rake up what's been cut and either burn it or pile it in the copse.

Volunteer Warden (no experience necessary): Nah, we can strim loads more, there's plenty of time.

Mr. T.: No, we need to let the fire burn down before we leave tonight.

Volunteer Warden (no experience attained): Nah, we'll have finished in half an hour.

Two hours later.

Mr. T.: Most people have left, how is the fire?

Volunteer Warden (basically no experience full stop): (kicking mud onto the flames) Nearly out, could have cut loads more. Gets dark quickly these nights doesn't it?

Any resemblance to the truth is purely coincidental and has nothing to do with the perpetrator of Myths and Legends in Bedfordshire, (out of print).

Thank you to everyone who came along and dragged their heels, ankles, toes, etc. in the mud. Special thanks to those who kept pulling Wendy out of the deep bits. Nice to see Maryla back with us for a short while (obviously having to build up to it again).

Malcolm

GST Voles day at Sandy Smith NR 7/3/2017

Mr T.: (rummaging in the back of the land rover).

Okay we haven't had a task in the Wet Fen before so before we start I just need to explain a few things. Firstly as you can see it's very wet here at the entrance so I will not be taking the land rover in. We will have to carry everything in from here. I want four of you strimming the few sparce areas of rushes to the right hand side and one of you mowing a few clearings on the left hand side. The rest of you can help me clear away various metal rubbish in the copse area and then start raking and forking up what's been cut. There are some drag bags here for you. Plus I shall be cutting down a small birch tree which can be cut up and burnt. So I'll need you to take......

Mr. T. turns around to see he is by himself, the voles having walked off into the distance, (well this is SSNR and we always walk off into the distance).

A little later in camp.

Mr. T.: Are you okay to strim *****? (name removed for legal reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything. Are you okay to use the mower ^^^^? (name removed for same reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything.

Right, I just need to go back and get a few things that you lot 'forgot' to bring over with you.

Mr T. returns.

*****: The strimmer's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

^^^^: The mower's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Anon.: We haven't got any forks.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Another Anon.: We need drag bags.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Yet another Anon.: Must be time for a tea break.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get my bag.

The voles settle down for a drink and a few cakes.

Anon anon anon.: Who's going to tell Mr. T. he's forgotten the donuts?

Sobbing could be heard in the distance.

Some time later on this long, drawn out morning.

Mr. T.: It's no good, the rushes are too damp to burn, we'll have to drag them into the copse and pile them there.

Mr. T. walks away.

^^^^, (don't worry Clarkie, no one will know it's you), immediately strips to the waist, covers his chest in cow dung, (last week's having dried out and beginning to flake off), turns and spits into the northeast wind. Rubbing the spittle off his face he calls out to Logi, the Norse god of fire. "Hey up lad we could do with a bit of help down here." So saying he sets light to a box of fire lighters and throws them into the smouldering embers. Flames immediately rise into the bright blue sky as the fire worshipper dances a merry jig and begins to feed the flames.

And so to lunch.

Mr. T.: No more cutting now we just need to rake up what's been cut and either burn it or pile it in the copse.

Volunteer Warden (no experience necessary): Nah, we can strim loads more, there's plenty of time.

Mr. T.: No, we need to let the fire burn down before we leave tonight.

Volunteer Warden (no experience attained): Nah, we'll have finished in half an hour.

Two hours later.

Mr. T.: Most people have left, how is the fire?

Volunteer Warden (basically no experience full stop): (kicking mud onto the flames) Nearly out, could have cut loads more. Gets dark quickly these nights doesn't it?

Any resemblance to the truth is purely coincidental and has nothing to do with the perpetrator of Myths and Legends in Bedfordshire, (out of print).

Thank you to everyone who came along and dragged their heels, ankles, toes, etc. in the mud. Special thanks to those who kept pulling Wendy out of the deep bits. Nice to see Maryla back with us for a short while (obviously having to build up to it again).

Malcolm

GST Voles day at Sandy Smith NR 7/3/2017

Mr T.: (rummaging in the back of the land rover).

Okay we haven't had a task in the Wet Fen before so before we start I just need to explain a few things. Firstly as you can see it's very wet here at the entrance so I will not be taking the land rover in. We will have to carry everything in from here. I want four of you strimming the few sparce areas of rushes to the right hand side and one of you mowing a few clearings on the left hand side. The rest of you can help me clear away various metal rubbish in the copse area and then start raking and forking up what's been cut. There are some drag bags here for you. Plus I shall be cutting down a small birch tree which can be cut up and burnt. So I'll need you to take......

Mr. T. turns around to see he is by himself, the voles having walked off into the distance, (well this is SSNR and we always walk off into the distance).

A little later in camp.

Mr. T.: Are you okay to strim *****? (name removed for legal reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything. Are you okay to use the mower ^^^^? (name removed for same reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything.

Right, I just need to go back and get a few things that you lot 'forgot' to bring over with you.

Mr T. returns.

*****: The strimmer's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

^^^^: The mower's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Anon.: We haven't got any forks.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Another Anon.: We need drag bags.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Yet another Anon.: Must be time for a tea break.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get my bag.

The voles settle down for a drink and a few cakes.

Anon anon anon.: Who's going to tell Mr. T. he's forgotten the donuts?

Sobbing could be heard in the distance.

Some time later on this long, drawn out morning.

Mr. T.: It's no good, the rushes are too damp to burn, we'll have to drag them into the copse and pile them there.

Mr. T. walks away.

^^^^, (don't worry Clarkie, no one will know it's you), immediately strips to the waist, covers his chest in cow dung, (last week's having dried out and beginning to flake off), turns and spits into the northeast wind. Rubbing the spittle off his face he calls out to Logi, the Norse god of fire. "Hey up lad we could do with a bit of help down here." So saying he sets light to a box of fire lighters and throws them into the smouldering embers. Flames immediately rise into the bright blue sky as the fire worshipper dances a merry jig and begins to feed the flames.

And so to lunch.

Mr. T.: No more cutting now we just need to rake up what's been cut and either burn it or pile it in the copse.

Volunteer Warden (no experience necessary): Nah, we can strim loads more, there's plenty of time.

Mr. T.: No, we need to let the fire burn down before we leave tonight.

Volunteer Warden (no experience attained): Nah, we'll have finished in half an hour.

Two hours later.

Mr. T.: Most people have left, how is the fire?

Volunteer Warden (basically no experience full stop): (kicking mud onto the flames) Nearly out, could have cut loads more. Gets dark quickly these nights doesn't it?

Any resemblance to the truth is purely coincidental and has nothing to do with the perpetrator of Myths and Legends in Bedfordshire, (out of print).

Thank you to everyone who came along and dragged their heels, ankles, toes, etc. in the mud. Special thanks to those who kept pulling Wendy out of the deep bits. Nice to see Maryla back with us for a short while (obviously having to build up to it again).

Malcolm

GST Voles day at Sandy Smith NR 7/3/2017

Mr T.: (rummaging in the back of the land rover).

Okay we haven't had a task in the Wet Fen before so before we start I just need to explain a few things. Firstly as you can see it's very wet here at the entrance so I will not be taking the land rover in. We will have to carry everything in from here. I want four of you strimming the few sparce areas of rushes to the right hand side and one of you mowing a few clearings on the left hand side. The rest of you can help me clear away various metal rubbish in the copse area and then start raking and forking up what's been cut. There are some drag bags here for you. Plus I shall be cutting down a small birch tree which can be cut up and burnt. So I'll need you to take......

Mr. T. turns around to see he is by himself, the voles having walked off into the distance, (well this is SSNR and we always walk off into the distance).

A little later in camp.

Mr. T.: Are you okay to strim *****? (name removed for legal reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything. Are you okay to use the mower ^^^^? (name removed for same reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything.

Right, I just need to go back and get a few things that you lot 'forgot' to bring over with you.

Mr T. returns.

*****: The strimmer's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

^^^^: The mower's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Anon.: We haven't got any forks.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Another Anon.: We need drag bags.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Yet another Anon.: Must be time for a tea break.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get my bag.

The voles settle down for a drink and a few cakes.

Anon anon anon.: Who's going to tell Mr. T. he's forgotten the donuts?

Sobbing could be heard in the distance.

Some time later on this long, drawn out morning.

Mr. T.: It's no good, the rushes are too damp to burn, we'll have to drag them into the copse and pile them there.

Mr. T. walks away.

^^^^, (don't worry Clarkie, no one will know it's you), immediately strips to the waist, covers his chest in cow dung, (last week's having dried out and beginning to flake off), turns and spits into the northeast wind. Rubbing the spittle off his face he calls out to Logi, the Norse god of fire. "Hey up lad we could do with a bit of help down here." So saying he sets light to a box of fire lighters and throws them into the smouldering embers. Flames immediately rise into the bright blue sky as the fire worshipper dances a merry jig and begins to feed the flames.

And so to lunch.

Mr. T.: No more cutting now we just need to rake up what's been cut and either burn it or pile it in the copse.

Volunteer Warden (no experience necessary): Nah, we can strim loads more, there's plenty of time.

Mr. T.: No, we need to let the fire burn down before we leave tonight.

Volunteer Warden (no experience attained): Nah, we'll have finished in half an hour.

Two hours later.

Mr. T.: Most people have left, how is the fire?

Volunteer Warden (basically no experience full stop): (kicking mud onto the flames) Nearly out, could have cut loads more. Gets dark quickly these nights doesn't it?

Any resemblance to the truth is purely coincidental and has nothing to do with the perpetrator of Myths and Legends in Bedfordshire, (out of print).

Thank you to everyone who came along and dragged their heels, ankles, toes, etc. in the mud. Special thanks to those who kept pulling Wendy out of the deep bits. Nice to see Maryla back with us for a short while (obviously having to build up to it again).

Malcolm

Yesterday at Voles

"The Voles started appearing in dribs and drabs.

1st Vole: That’s a nice Drab you’ve got there.

2nd Vole: Thanks, my old Drib was getting a bit drab so I thought I’d change it for a Drab.

1st Vole: Is that the one that at the mere push of the off-road button, it turns into a highly capable off-road vehicle, adept at climbing slippery slopes, descending steep hills and maintaining control on difficult terrain using the very latest 4x4 systems. Does the interior meet even the most exacting of standards, the cabin spacious, airy and flexible and containing a variety of standard features and does it take safety very seriously too, so all the trims have driver and passenger, front, side and curtain airbags as standard.

2nd Vole: I don’t know, but it’s silver.

1st Vole: Oh.

Just then Mr T. Strode into their midst.

3rd Vole: Hey, watch my midst. You’re striding right into it!

Mr T.: Right, listen up. You all remember what you did when we were last here.

1st Vole: It wasn’t me, I wasn’t here.

2nd Vole: She told me to do it, honest.

3rd Vole: I didn’t do it and even if I did, you can’t prove it ‘cause I burnt the evidence.

4th Vole: I’m clinically insane, no court in the land will convict me.

The remaining Voles looked sheepish. It was the thick Arran sweaters that did it.

Mr T.: I mean planting the trees in straight rows, two point five metres apart. However so that it doesn’t look like you’ve planted them in straight rows, two point five metres apart, you shall only plant them in straight rows in one direction and not the other. So where the canes have been put in straight lines, two point five metres apart, it will be your job to follow on behind planting the trees in a straight line in one direction but not the other and more than or less than two point five metres apart. Remember?

The Voles remembered and several fainted, two had the recurrence of their nose bleeds and three again escaped across the fields. [Note to self; must replace the razor wire with electric fencing].

Mr T.: Anyway so that we can plant another 900 this week I want you to get into four groups of three. One making holes, one planting and one putting the guards on.

1st Vole: What do the other nine do?

Mr T.: What other nine?

1st Vole: Well if three are doing what you said that leaves nine watching.

Mr T. Speaking slowly: No, I want four group of three and in each group one will make holes, one will plant and one will put guards on.

2nd Vole: So the lines are already there?

Mr T. Speaking slowly and quietly: No, one group will measure out leaving three groups to do the planting, except that I’m going to do some pruning so the other two can help the other groups.

3rd Vole: So two groups will be four?

Mr. T. Speaking very slowly and quietly: Yes.

4th Vole: So there will be one group of three measuring the lines, two groups of four doing the work of three, one group of three and one pruning?

Mr. T. Speaking very slowly and very quietly: Yes.

5th Vole: What happens when Maryla comes?

Mr. T. Speaking very slowly, very quietly and sobbing: We can have another group of three with Maryla and the two who were in the two groups of four.

6th Vole: What happens when Ros comes?

Mr. T. Speaking very slowly, very quietly, sobbing and pulling out chunks of hair: I’ll sort it out later.

1st Vole to 2nd Vole as they wander off in the general direction of where they are going: Typical management, never think things through. Anyway this Drab of yours, it seems to me it strikes the perfect balance between on road performance, family orientated practicality and rugged 4x4 styling and with a choice of two or four wheel drive systems on both diesel and petrol engines, as well as flexible varioflex rear seating, sizable boot space and higher ride height as standard, it is perfect for life in towns and cities.

2nd Vole: I like the colour.

Later that same day:

Mr T.: Okay then, I think we’re all happy now?

Voles: Oh no we’re not

Mr T.: Oh yes we are.

Voles: Oh no, we’re not.

Mr T.: I see, it’s the pantomime season is it?

Voles: Oh no it isn’t.

Mr T.: Oh yes it is.

Voles: Behind youuuuuuu.

Mr T.: I’m not falling for that.

Even later that same day:

3rd Vole to 4th Vole: Who’s going to tell him Jock peed up his leg?

Thanks to:- The Venerable Buxton for the gallons of tea and the hot pot, Lady Buxton for the Badger pudding, [no badger was culled in the making or eating of this pudding], and everyone who worked so manfully and womanfully throughout the day.

Malcolm"

See what we have to suffer on Tuesdays! I am glad I was late for the briefing so didn't hear any of the instructions as I wouldn't have understood them anyway :)

Yesterday at Voles

"The Voles started appearing in dribs and drabs.

1st Vole: That’s a nice Drab you’ve got there.

2nd Vole: Thanks, my old Drib was getting a bit drab so I thought I’d change it for a Drab.

1st Vole: Is that the one that at the mere push of the off-road button, it turns into a highly capable off-road vehicle, adept at climbing slippery slopes, descending steep hills and maintaining control on difficult terrain using the very latest 4x4 systems. Does the interior meet even the most exacting of standards, the cabin spacious, airy and flexible and containing a variety of standard features and does it take safety very seriously too, so all the trims have driver and passenger, front, side and curtain airbags as standard.

2nd Vole: I don’t know, but it’s silver.

1st Vole: Oh.

Just then Mr T. Strode into their midst.

3rd Vole: Hey, watch my midst. You’re striding right into it!

Mr T.: Right, listen up. You all remember what you did when we were last here.

1st Vole: It wasn’t me, I wasn’t here.

2nd Vole: She told me to do it, honest.

3rd Vole: I didn’t do it and even if I did, you can’t prove it ‘cause I burnt the evidence.

4th Vole: I’m clinically insane, no court in the land will convict me.

The remaining Voles looked sheepish. It was the thick Arran sweaters that did it.

Mr T.: I mean planting the trees in straight rows, two point five metres apart. However so that it doesn’t look like you’ve planted them in straight rows, two point five metres apart, you shall only plant them in straight rows in one direction and not the other. So where the canes have been put in straight lines, two point five metres apart, it will be your job to follow on behind planting the trees in a straight line in one direction but not the other and more than or less than two point five metres apart. Remember?

The Voles remembered and several fainted, two had the recurrence of their nose bleeds and three again escaped across the fields. [Note to self; must replace the razor wire with electric fencing].

Mr T.: Anyway so that we can plant another 900 this week I want you to get into four groups of three. One making holes, one planting and one putting the guards on.

1st Vole: What do the other nine do?

Mr T.: What other nine?

1st Vole: Well if three are doing what you said that leaves nine watching.

Mr T. Speaking slowly: No, I want four group of three and in each group one will make holes, one will plant and one will put guards on.

2nd Vole: So the lines are already there?

Mr T. Speaking slowly and quietly: No, one group will measure out leaving three groups to do the planting, except that I’m going to do some pruning so the other two can help the other groups.

3rd Vole: So two groups will be four?

Mr. T. Speaking very slowly and quietly: Yes.

4th Vole: So there will be one group of three measuring the lines, two groups of four doing the work of three, one group of three and one pruning?

Mr. T. Speaking very slowly and very quietly: Yes.

5th Vole: What happens when Maryla comes?

Mr. T. Speaking very slowly, very quietly and sobbing: We can have another group of three with Maryla and the two who were in the two groups of four.

6th Vole: What happens when Ros comes?

Mr. T. Speaking very slowly, very quietly, sobbing and pulling out chunks of hair: I’ll sort it out later.

1st Vole to 2nd Vole as they wander off in the general direction of where they are going: Typical management, never think things through. Anyway this Drab of yours, it seems to me it strikes the perfect balance between on road performance, family orientated practicality and rugged 4x4 styling and with a choice of two or four wheel drive systems on both diesel and petrol engines, as well as flexible varioflex rear seating, sizable boot space and higher ride height as standard, it is perfect for life in towns and cities.

2nd Vole: I like the colour.

Later that same day:

Mr T.: Okay then, I think we’re all happy now?

Voles: Oh no we’re not

Mr T.: Oh yes we are.

Voles: Oh no, we’re not.

Mr T.: I see, it’s the pantomime season is it?

Voles: Oh no it isn’t.

Mr T.: Oh yes it is.

Voles: Behind youuuuuuu.

Mr T.: I’m not falling for that.

Even later that same day:

3rd Vole to 4th Vole: Who’s going to tell him Jock peed up his leg?

Thanks to:- The Venerable Buxton for the gallons of tea and the hot pot, Lady Buxton for the Badger pudding, [no badger was culled in the making or eating of this pudding], and everyone who worked so manfully and womanfully throughout the day.

Malcolm"

See what we have to suffer on Tuesdays! I am glad I was late for the briefing so didn't hear any of the instructions as I wouldn't have understood them anyway :)

GST day at Flitton Moor removing Himalayan Balsam 18/7/2017 TL0536

Subject: Next Tuesday's Task

Hi All,

I hope you’ve all stopped itching from the nettle stings on Tuesday!

Next Week’s task will be balsam pulling downstream from Flitton Moor and will be led by Andrew (his last day). The site is accessible from Flitton Moor, so meet at the barn at Flitton Moor at 10am (map attached).

The good news is that there are nowhere near as many nettles as at Sandy Smith but there is plenty of balsam and it’s along steep-sided river/ditch banks and the only way to deal with it will be to get in! Fortunately, the water doesn’t look too deep!

Andrew will bring waders to the task but it might be a good idea if everyone could bring wellies – there might be some areas where wellies might be better than cumbersome waders.

There will also be some brush-cutting.

Regards,

Tim

Hello balsam pullers

A thank you from us to whoever removed the doggy doo doo bag on our behalf. We lost track of it when the bags were moved downstream and then forgot to look for it as we left. It wasn't there when Baz went back for it this evening so we must presume a kindly soul disposed of it on our behalf.

The list of emails above is a bit thin - people certainly on task but we don't have emails for them all, e.g. Barbara & Derek. Please forward to anyone you see is missing from our list.

See you soon

Jane & Baz (irresponsible dog minders)

Hi Jane & Baz & fellow Voles

Lola's bag was there when I came back to get my water/tea.

Anyway what a day, even though the gang finished earlier than usual it was just as well. It was boiling hot and very sticky. You were all a bit smelly too but you were magnificent in victory. I shall not forget Jim's giant leap and wrestle with several big stands of HB across a ditch filled mainly with un-fathomed amounts of ooze covered by a layer of Equisetum (Horsetail) or hearing about Jim's vanishing into another pool where they had to call the RNLI to drag him ashore. Or the happy look on Merv's face relating the joy of submerging into the same primordiall ooze or Dave & others who gallantly waded from Flitton Bridge toend of the track. Then there was Maryla, determined to get her full wack of HB in the 1&1/2 hours available to he, roped on a very steep bank grabbing each plant with a wicked glee, take that you naughty naughty HB you. Well you get my drift, the Voles were down and dirty but unbowed.

A bit of the atmosphere in my snaps at www.flickr.com/photos/pitzys_pyx/

Sadly we had to say farewell to Andrew who has moved on to pastures drier than Flitton Moor.

Take care & see you next week?

JP (Pitzy)

Yesterday at Voles

"The Voles started appearing in dribs and drabs.

1st Vole: That’s a nice Drab you’ve got there.

2nd Vole: Thanks, my old Drib was getting a bit drab so I thought I’d change it for a Drab.

1st Vole: Is that the one that at the mere push of the off-road button, it turns into a highly capable off-road vehicle, adept at climbing slippery slopes, descending steep hills and maintaining control on difficult terrain using the very latest 4x4 systems. Does the interior meet even the most exacting of standards, the cabin spacious, airy and flexible and containing a variety of standard features and does it take safety very seriously too, so all the trims have driver and passenger, front, side and curtain airbags as standard.

2nd Vole: I don’t know, but it’s silver.

1st Vole: Oh.

Just then Mr T. Strode into their midst.

3rd Vole: Hey, watch my midst. You’re striding right into it!

Mr T.: Right, listen up. You all remember what you did when we were last here.

1st Vole: It wasn’t me, I wasn’t here.

2nd Vole: She told me to do it, honest.

3rd Vole: I didn’t do it and even if I did, you can’t prove it ‘cause I burnt the evidence.

4th Vole: I’m clinically insane, no court in the land will convict me.

The remaining Voles looked sheepish. It was the thick Arran sweaters that did it.

Mr T.: I mean planting the trees in straight rows, two point five metres apart. However so that it doesn’t look like you’ve planted them in straight rows, two point five metres apart, you shall only plant them in straight rows in one direction and not the other. So where the canes have been put in straight lines, two point five metres apart, it will be your job to follow on behind planting the trees in a straight line in one direction but not the other and more than or less than two point five metres apart. Remember?

The Voles remembered and several fainted, two had the recurrence of their nose bleeds and three again escaped across the fields. [Note to self; must replace the razor wire with electric fencing].

Mr T.: Anyway so that we can plant another 900 this week I want you to get into four groups of three. One making holes, one planting and one putting the guards on.

1st Vole: What do the other nine do?

Mr T.: What other nine?

1st Vole: Well if three are doing what you said that leaves nine watching.

Mr T. Speaking slowly: No, I want four group of three and in each group one will make holes, one will plant and one will put guards on.

2nd Vole: So the lines are already there?

Mr T. Speaking slowly and quietly: No, one group will measure out leaving three groups to do the planting, except that I’m going to do some pruning so the other two can help the other groups.

3rd Vole: So two groups will be four?

Mr. T. Speaking very slowly and quietly: Yes.

4th Vole: So there will be one group of three measuring the lines, two groups of four doing the work of three, one group of three and one pruning?

Mr. T. Speaking very slowly and very quietly: Yes.

5th Vole: What happens when Maryla comes?

Mr. T. Speaking very slowly, very quietly and sobbing: We can have another group of three with Maryla and the two who were in the two groups of four.

6th Vole: What happens when Ros comes?

Mr. T. Speaking very slowly, very quietly, sobbing and pulling out chunks of hair: I’ll sort it out later.

1st Vole to 2nd Vole as they wander off in the general direction of where they are going: Typical management, never think things through. Anyway this Drab of yours, it seems to me it strikes the perfect balance between on road performance, family orientated practicality and rugged 4x4 styling and with a choice of two or four wheel drive systems on both diesel and petrol engines, as well as flexible varioflex rear seating, sizable boot space and higher ride height as standard, it is perfect for life in towns and cities.

2nd Vole: I like the colour.

Later that same day:

Mr T.: Okay then, I think we’re all happy now?

Voles: Oh no we’re not

Mr T.: Oh yes we are.

Voles: Oh no, we’re not.

Mr T.: I see, it’s the pantomime season is it?

Voles: Oh no it isn’t.

Mr T.: Oh yes it is.

Voles: Behind youuuuuuu.

Mr T.: I’m not falling for that.

Even later that same day:

3rd Vole to 4th Vole: Who’s going to tell him Jock peed up his leg?

Thanks to:- The Venerable Buxton for the gallons of tea and the hot pot, Lady Buxton for the Badger pudding, [no badger was culled in the making or eating of this pudding], and everyone who worked so manfully and womanfully throughout the day.

Malcolm"

See what we have to suffer on Tuesdays! I am glad I was late for the briefing so didn't hear any of the instructions as I wouldn't have understood them anyway :)

GST Voles day at Sandy Smith NR 7/3/2017

Mr T.: (rummaging in the back of the land rover).

Okay we haven't had a task in the Wet Fen before so before we start I just need to explain a few things. Firstly as you can see it's very wet here at the entrance so I will not be taking the land rover in. We will have to carry everything in from here. I want four of you strimming the few sparce areas of rushes to the right hand side and one of you mowing a few clearings on the left hand side. The rest of you can help me clear away various metal rubbish in the copse area and then start raking and forking up what's been cut. There are some drag bags here for you. Plus I shall be cutting down a small birch tree which can be cut up and burnt. So I'll need you to take......

Mr. T. turns around to see he is by himself, the voles having walked off into the distance, (well this is SSNR and we always walk off into the distance).

A little later in camp.

Mr. T.: Are you okay to strim *****? (name removed for legal reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything. Are you okay to use the mower ^^^^? (name removed for same reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything.

Right, I just need to go back and get a few things that you lot 'forgot' to bring over with you.

Mr T. returns.

*****: The strimmer's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

^^^^: The mower's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Anon.: We haven't got any forks.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Another Anon.: We need drag bags.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Yet another Anon.: Must be time for a tea break.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get my bag.

The voles settle down for a drink and a few cakes.

Anon anon anon.: Who's going to tell Mr. T. he's forgotten the donuts?

Sobbing could be heard in the distance.

Some time later on this long, drawn out morning.

Mr. T.: It's no good, the rushes are too damp to burn, we'll have to drag them into the copse and pile them there.

Mr. T. walks away.

^^^^, (don't worry Clarkie, no one will know it's you), immediately strips to the waist, covers his chest in cow dung, (last week's having dried out and beginning to flake off), turns and spits into the northeast wind. Rubbing the spittle off his face he calls out to Logi, the Norse god of fire. "Hey up lad we could do with a bit of help down here." So saying he sets light to a box of fire lighters and throws them into the smouldering embers. Flames immediately rise into the bright blue sky as the fire worshipper dances a merry jig and begins to feed the flames.

And so to lunch.

Mr. T.: No more cutting now we just need to rake up what's been cut and either burn it or pile it in the copse.

Volunteer Warden (no experience necessary): Nah, we can strim loads more, there's plenty of time.

Mr. T.: No, we need to let the fire burn down before we leave tonight.

Volunteer Warden (no experience attained): Nah, we'll have finished in half an hour.

Two hours later.

Mr. T.: Most people have left, how is the fire?

Volunteer Warden (basically no experience full stop): (kicking mud onto the flames) Nearly out, could have cut loads more. Gets dark quickly these nights doesn't it?

Any resemblance to the truth is purely coincidental and has nothing to do with the perpetrator of Myths and Legends in Bedfordshire, (out of print).

Thank you to everyone who came along and dragged their heels, ankles, toes, etc. in the mud. Special thanks to those who kept pulling Wendy out of the deep bits. Nice to see Maryla back with us for a short while (obviously having to build up to it again).

Malcolm

GST Voles day at Sandy Smith NR 7/3/2017

Mr T.: (rummaging in the back of the land rover).

Okay we haven't had a task in the Wet Fen before so before we start I just need to explain a few things. Firstly as you can see it's very wet here at the entrance so I will not be taking the land rover in. We will have to carry everything in from here. I want four of you strimming the few sparce areas of rushes to the right hand side and one of you mowing a few clearings on the left hand side. The rest of you can help me clear away various metal rubbish in the copse area and then start raking and forking up what's been cut. There are some drag bags here for you. Plus I shall be cutting down a small birch tree which can be cut up and burnt. So I'll need you to take......

Mr. T. turns around to see he is by himself, the voles having walked off into the distance, (well this is SSNR and we always walk off into the distance).

A little later in camp.

Mr. T.: Are you okay to strim *****? (name removed for legal reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything. Are you okay to use the mower ^^^^? (name removed for same reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything.

Right, I just need to go back and get a few things that you lot 'forgot' to bring over with you.

Mr T. returns.

*****: The strimmer's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

^^^^: The mower's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Anon.: We haven't got any forks.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Another Anon.: We need drag bags.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Yet another Anon.: Must be time for a tea break.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get my bag.

The voles settle down for a drink and a few cakes.

Anon anon anon.: Who's going to tell Mr. T. he's forgotten the donuts?

Sobbing could be heard in the distance.

Some time later on this long, drawn out morning.

Mr. T.: It's no good, the rushes are too damp to burn, we'll have to drag them into the copse and pile them there.

Mr. T. walks away.

^^^^, (don't worry Clarkie, no one will know it's you), immediately strips to the waist, covers his chest in cow dung, (last week's having dried out and beginning to flake off), turns and spits into the northeast wind. Rubbing the spittle off his face he calls out to Logi, the Norse god of fire. "Hey up lad we could do with a bit of help down here." So saying he sets light to a box of fire lighters and throws them into the smouldering embers. Flames immediately rise into the bright blue sky as the fire worshipper dances a merry jig and begins to feed the flames.

And so to lunch.

Mr. T.: No more cutting now we just need to rake up what's been cut and either burn it or pile it in the copse.

Volunteer Warden (no experience necessary): Nah, we can strim loads more, there's plenty of time.

Mr. T.: No, we need to let the fire burn down before we leave tonight.

Volunteer Warden (no experience attained): Nah, we'll have finished in half an hour.

Two hours later.

Mr. T.: Most people have left, how is the fire?

Volunteer Warden (basically no experience full stop): (kicking mud onto the flames) Nearly out, could have cut loads more. Gets dark quickly these nights doesn't it?

Any resemblance to the truth is purely coincidental and has nothing to do with the perpetrator of Myths and Legends in Bedfordshire, (out of print).

Thank you to everyone who came along and dragged their heels, ankles, toes, etc. in the mud. Special thanks to those who kept pulling Wendy out of the deep bits. Nice to see Maryla back with us for a short while (obviously having to build up to it again).

Malcolm

Hi All,

Thanks to those who came down to the task at Sandy Smith yesterday; fortunately the weather was better than I had seen forecast!

It was a good task; it was nice to see so many of the tree we planted last year surviving and also to see more trees planted to reinforce them. The ditching crew also did a good job and Malcolm demonstrated that a little mud and water can go a long way!

There will be NO TASK next week because of Easter. After that normal service will be resumed with the ‘tartan mowing’ task at Maulden Heath on Tuesday 10th April; meet at the Picnic Area at 10am.

Have a nice Easter!

Tim

Tim Spencer

Countryside Ranger

The Greensand Trust

Malcolm J Willis

13:09 (11 minutes ago)

to Andrew, David, Wendy, daveathaynes, David, James, Steve, peter.staffert., Erika, Tim, dewinterann1, bazbreed, colinatkins23, DAVID, hgebler, janebreed, John, me, Maryla, Roger, Ros, grahamyoung1942, Tim.Chamen

So as we gathered together for morning prayers little did we expect the bombshell that was about to shatter our dreams and aspirations. Mr. T. spared nothing in blatantly announcing that we were only to work until lunchtime! This was to get us acclimatised to not working at all next week. Well, the little group of Dave’s cuddled together whimpering, holding hands, their little knees and chins quivering in the wind. Couldn’t we stay just a bit after lunch if we promised to be good and do what we were told. ‘No’ came the stern reply in Mr. T’s eyes. We could tidy up the two tree enclosures, plant another 20 trees, a few of us could play in the mud but then we would have to leave.

So we trudged off to woods. Mr. T’s heart softened a little and he let us form a ‘bucket line’ to take water from the ditch and fill a couple of large plastic Trugs so we could water in the 25 trees we were to plant. So we all got a chance to play in the water.

Three of us went off to clear another ditch of obstructions and see who could get the muddiest while the remainder cleared away the undergrowth that was overgrowing the fences and plant 15 trees in one and the remaining 15 in the other.

And so by lunchtime all 40 trees were planted and it was time to leave. The Moffatt tried to do a runner, taking a hand saw and disappearing along the bank in search of offending tree roots to remove but eventually he was called to heel. Mr. T. finally took pity on us and allowed us to take home a few logs to play with over the Easter break.

Many thanks to all who came, hope you get over the withdrawal symptoms and see you in two weeks time for some tartan mowing - och aye the g’nu.

And yes, Jackie did make me strip off on the patio before putting my clothes in the washing machine and hosing me down!

Malcolm

Admirable summary Mr W and cakes too were more than admirable even though I restrained myself from partaking in the fruit cake. (Mr T's donuts were also highly desirable) Hope you are feeling better and will soon regain your country seat.

It was good to have the great WC back with us again and Dave of the Arctic Lowe back from his Norwegian Saga.

Snaps are at usual place. www.flickr.com/photos/pitzys_pyx/ and start at www.flickr.com/photos/pitzys_pyx/26181942417/ and left click all way to www.flickr.com/photos/pitzys_pyx/40344026944/

See you on 10th April for Tartan Mowing.

Cheers

JP

Date:Jan 15 2014, 10:51 AM

Subject:

RE: A Right Royal Do!

Show full header

Dear All

Thank you your Majesty and loyal subjects. This speedy correspondence has saved me a lot of palava etc so I shall just say my snaps are up on flickr now at www.flickr.com/photos/pitzys_pyx/.

I should like to say that we missed TWF all day (yes we did) but cold 90s humour might here say "but I couldn't" just for a snigger. I should also like to say thank you to:

Maryla for her Sandy Smith Mud Pies

Liz M for her wonderful shortcake biscuits (the choc chip ones were particularly good :))

Malcolm X for his fruit and vanilla buns, they were very very tasty.

Whoever brought the Jaffa Cakes

To you all for your laughs and banter.

Dave Lowe for his folk and Beetles songs.

For those who wondered why I had stopped by the road side on my way home see the first snap.

Cheers

JP

Now this is what makes Tuesdays such fun and keeps me nearly sane – you should see me when I’m really balmy! Very many apologies for the lack of cake – I will try hardy next time (depending on the day and the venue!).

Thanks for all the grovelling and the wonderful singing. Could you just shorten my name to She as long as I promise not to do an “Ursula Undress” and wear a chamois leather. Thanks also for the decent weather, not that it was cold where I was standing!

I can report that I was at the Rufus Centre this afternoon and there was JB, Audrey and their lovely daughter. JB allowed me to feel his new pulse and I can recommend it as a strange experience and I think he’s got a battery somewhere that gives electric twitches.

Bon voyage to the Breeds who will be sadly missed for a while. See the rest of you somewhere in the wilds of Bedfordshire and hopefully next Tuesday.

Thanks Mr. Kippling – your writing talents are beyond compare and your cakes are pretty wonderful too. Tally Ho! She

From: Steve Squire [mailto:Steve.Squire@greensandtrust.org]

Sent: 14 January 2014 21:36

To: Malcolm Willis; Tim Spencer; bazbreed@hotmail.com; 'Colin Atkins'; 'Dave Clarke'; 'David Moffatt'; 'James Miller'; 'Jane Breed'; 'John Buxton'; 'John Pitts'; 'Kelvin Horton'; 'Malcolm Willis'; 'Marie Mead'; 'Maryla Carter'; 'Peter Stafferton'; 'Roger Christopher'; 'Ros Blevins'; 'Steve Jones'; Sue Raven; 'Tim Chamen'; wendy.copper@virginmedia.com

Cc: She who must be obeyed

Subject: RE: A Right Royal Do!

Good to see you now have an official email Sue .

Well done Malcolm for making me laugh , very good thank you and to Jock with hot bum in fire.

And thank you all too for working so hard with or without Royal Cake!

Regards

Steve

From: Malcolm Willis [malcolmJwillis@btinternet.com]

Sent: 14 January 2014 21:13

To: Tim Spencer; bazbreed@hotmail.com; 'Colin Atkins'; 'Dave Clarke'; 'David Moffatt'; 'James Miller'; 'Jane Breed'; 'John Buxton'; 'John Pitts'; 'Kelvin Horton'; 'Malcolm Willis'; 'Marie Mead'; 'Maryla Carter'; 'Peter Stafferton'; 'Roger Christopher'; 'Ros Blevins'; 'Steve Jones'; Steve Squire; Sue Raven; 'Tim Chamen'; wendy.copper@virginmedia.com

Cc: She who must be obeyed

Subject: A Right Royal Do!

The stately limousine sailed into sight like a swan upon an enchanted lake. The blue eye that is heaven became bedazzled by the occasion, even the golden beams of universal eternity dipped in homage. The line of voles, once ordinary looking, became unworthy in the instant. The conveyance glided to a halt. The door opened. Hearts that only seconds ago had been pounding chests for freedom were now in suspended animation and inexplicably in mouths agog in anticipation. And then there she was. Serenely climbing down the stepladders (which had been thoughtfully placed out of view of the cameras), she emerged onto the immediately hallowed turf of SSNR [By Appointment to Her Right Royaltiness the Lady Youthfulness].

The appointed Dave stepped forward and humbled himself. An unfortunate occurrence given the magnitude of the occasion. The reserve Dave stepped into the breach. Another unfortunate occurrence! Finally the ‘if all else fails’ Dave came to the rescue.

Bowing so low it made his eyes water he addressed her Supreme Being: “Your Majestyness, if I may be so humbly bold as to..”

Her ladyship interrupted as only one of noble birth can: “Are you a Dimbleby Dave?”

‘If all else fails’ Dave: “Err no?”

Her Exquisiteness: “Then go away.” The nobility of the extended hand flutter in Dave’s direction and immediately he was dispatched as like a game bird on the 1st September.

Her Exquisite Ladyshipness: “My husband and I..” A half turn to the limo revealed a slight glitch. “Oh bother, I must have left him somewhere again. Never mind, I shall continue. Myself and I remember only too vividly the diem horribilis that was last week. But we must move on.”

So saying Her Supremeliness moved on proffering dainty dexterous digits for the gathered ensemble to pucker up their trembling lips to.

Her Regality: “Oh I say what an obnoxious hound.”

Several male voles looked even further ashamed and took several steps back towards oblivion.

Her Lady Regal Exquisiteness: “I was referring to the dog.”

The males voles teetered on the edge of the abyss that is ordinariness. One brave soul remarked: “That is Jock, a rescued dog, he was found in a large, handbag, with handles. He was probably brought up in it.”

Her Lady Ladyness:“ I must confess that I feel somewhat bewildered by what you have just told me. To be born, or at any rate bred in a handbag, whether it have handles or not, seems to me to display a contempt for the ordinary decencies of family life which reminds one of the worst excesses of the French revolution, and I presume you know what that unfortunate movement led to?

The voles shook their heads, a few too vigorously causing them to fall off!

Brave Soul: “ Err yessum your womanliness. We believe he lost his parents and so we’ve adopted him like.”

Her Lady Ladyshipness: “To lose one parent, my good man, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness.”

Little old lady with straw sticking out from under one arm (One Arm!!!!): He’s only being truthful you’re Omnipotence. He’s very earnest so he is and that’s what makes him so highly regarded by us all. ” Having said all this the little old lady retired to lie down until lunchtime.

Lady Youthfulness: “Well I suppose that’s the importance of being earnest.”

[I bet that’s made Oscar wild!]

Little old lady with straw sticking out from under one arm (One Arm!!!!): “Who’s Oscar?”

So many congratulation to Lady Sue on yet another birthday without a cake big enough to hold all the candles.

No doubt Mr Pitts will shortly be circulating a stunning array of pics so all who weren’t there today will see what the rest of us were up to. Basically following the Squire around, picking up loads of cut reeds (or in a little old lady’s case an odd bunch here and there!); carting them off to be burnt; telling the Squire not to go in the boggy bit; pulling the Squire out of the boggy bit!; showing the Squire were to cut next; sending out explorers to find where the Squire went!; telling the Squire it’s time to stop cutting; retelling the Squire it’s time to stop cutting; telling the local warden to stop telling the Squire to keep cutting!; getting bored of feeding the fire while the mound of cut reeds keeps growing; setting fire to the mound of cut reeds and blaming it on the person furthest away (Colin); eating muffins; eating biscuits (thanks Lillybeth); eating chocolate cake off the ground (thanks Maryla!); eating Jaffa cakes; moaning that there is no pudding!; moaning that Her Ladyship didn’t bring a birthday cake! and generally having fun.

Thanks to everyone who left early and didn’t stay to watch Jock walk across the ash (several times), try to make a ‘nest’ in the hot ash! (he dashed out pretty quick) and finally lie down in the ash!!!

Malcolm.

BIENIAKONIE

Obwód: Grodzieński

Rejon: Werenowski (12 km na północ od Werenowa)

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MARYA

Z WERESZCZAKÓW

HR. PUTTKAMMEROWA

UR. 1799 R. GRUDNIA 24

UM. 1863 R. GRUDNIA 28

WIECZNE ODPOCZNIENIE

RACZ JEJ DAĆ PANIE

Maria Wereszczakówna była córką marszałka szlachty powiatu nowogródzkiego, cioteczną siostrą Ignacego Domeyki. Przeszła do historii polskich dziejów, a w szczególności do historii literatury, jako nieszczęśliwa i niespełniona miłość Adama Mickiewicza.

Latem 1819 roku Adam Mickiewicz z Tomaszem Zanem przyjechał do Tuchanowicz do rodzinnego majątku Michała Wereszczaki, brata Maryli. Tut też zawiązała się miłość między Adamem i Marylą. Weraszczakówna wówczas była już zaręczona z hrabią Wawrzyńcem Puttkamerem, z którym wzięła ślub w 1821 r. Młodzieńcza miłość Adama Mickiewicza przetrwała w jego utworach przez wieki. Poświęcił on Maryli wiersz „Do M***”, była adresatką ballad i romansów oraz IV części „Dziadów”. Maria Wereszczakówna była inspiracją poety przez całe życie.

W 1833 roku Maryla i Wawrzyniec Puttkamerowie byli tymczasowo aresztowani za pomoc udzieloną emisariuszowi Marcelemu Szymańskiemu.

Obok usytuowana jest mogiła najmłodszej córki Marii Puttkamerowej - Karoliny Rychlewiczowej, uczęstniczki powstania 1863 r. z wysokim krzyżem i pionowo umieszczoną płytą nagrobną z inskrypcją:

S + P

KAROLINA

Z HR. PUTTKAMERÓW

JANOWA

RYCHLEWICZOWA

UCZESTNICZKA POWSTANIA 1863 R.

ZMARŁA W WILNIE W 1923 R.

W WIEKU LAT 83

CZŁOWIEK SIĘ RODZI

NIE NA ŁZY I UŚMIECHY

ALE DLA DOBRA

BLIŹNICH SWOICH BRACI

Mogiły otoczone są opieką wiernych parafii Św. Jana Chrzciciela.

Fot.051. Bieniakonie. Mogiła Marii Puttkamerowej z Wereszczaków. Stan z 2011 r.

Fot.052. Bieniakonie. Inskrypcja na pomniku. Stan z 2011 r.

Fot.053. Bieniakonie. Mogiła uczestniczki powstania 1863 r. Stan z 2011 r.

Fot.054. Bieniakonie. Nagrobek z inskrypcją. Stan z 2011 r.

Date:Jan 15 2014, 10:51 AM

Subject:

RE: A Right Royal Do!

Show full header

Dear All

Thank you your Majesty and loyal subjects. This speedy correspondence has saved me a lot of palava etc so I shall just say my snaps are up on flickr now at www.flickr.com/photos/pitzys_pyx/.

I should like to say that we missed TWF all day (yes we did) but cold 90s humour might here say "but I couldn't" just for a snigger. I should also like to say thank you to:

Maryla for her Sandy Smith Mud Pies

Liz M for her wonderful shortcake biscuits (the choc chip ones were particularly good :))

Malcolm X for his fruit and vanilla buns, they were very very tasty.

Whoever brought the Jaffa Cakes

To you all for your laughs and banter.

Dave Lowe for his folk and Beetles songs.

For those who wondered why I had stopped by the road side on my way home see the first snap.

Cheers

JP

Now this is what makes Tuesdays such fun and keeps me nearly sane – you should see me when I’m really balmy! Very many apologies for the lack of cake – I will try hardy next time (depending on the day and the venue!).

Thanks for all the grovelling and the wonderful singing. Could you just shorten my name to She as long as I promise not to do an “Ursula Undress” and wear a chamois leather. Thanks also for the decent weather, not that it was cold where I was standing!

I can report that I was at the Rufus Centre this afternoon and there was JB, Audrey and their lovely daughter. JB allowed me to feel his new pulse and I can recommend it as a strange experience and I think he’s got a battery somewhere that gives electric twitches.

Bon voyage to the Breeds who will be sadly missed for a while. See the rest of you somewhere in the wilds of Bedfordshire and hopefully next Tuesday.

Thanks Mr. Kippling – your writing talents are beyond compare and your cakes are pretty wonderful too. Tally Ho! She

From: Steve Squire [mailto:Steve.Squire@greensandtrust.org]

Sent: 14 January 2014 21:36

To: Malcolm Willis; Tim Spencer; bazbreed@hotmail.com; 'Colin Atkins'; 'Dave Clarke'; 'David Moffatt'; 'James Miller'; 'Jane Breed'; 'John Buxton'; 'John Pitts'; 'Kelvin Horton'; 'Malcolm Willis'; 'Marie Mead'; 'Maryla Carter'; 'Peter Stafferton'; 'Roger Christopher'; 'Ros Blevins'; 'Steve Jones'; Sue Raven; 'Tim Chamen'; wendy.copper@virginmedia.com

Cc: She who must be obeyed

Subject: RE: A Right Royal Do!

Good to see you now have an official email Sue .

Well done Malcolm for making me laugh , very good thank you and to Jock with hot bum in fire.

And thank you all too for working so hard with or without Royal Cake!

Regards

Steve

From: Malcolm Willis [malcolmJwillis@btinternet.com]

Sent: 14 January 2014 21:13

To: Tim Spencer; bazbreed@hotmail.com; 'Colin Atkins'; 'Dave Clarke'; 'David Moffatt'; 'James Miller'; 'Jane Breed'; 'John Buxton'; 'John Pitts'; 'Kelvin Horton'; 'Malcolm Willis'; 'Marie Mead'; 'Maryla Carter'; 'Peter Stafferton'; 'Roger Christopher'; 'Ros Blevins'; 'Steve Jones'; Steve Squire; Sue Raven; 'Tim Chamen'; wendy.copper@virginmedia.com

Cc: She who must be obeyed

Subject: A Right Royal Do!

The stately limousine sailed into sight like a swan upon an enchanted lake. The blue eye that is heaven became bedazzled by the occasion, even the golden beams of universal eternity dipped in homage. The line of voles, once ordinary looking, became unworthy in the instant. The conveyance glided to a halt. The door opened. Hearts that only seconds ago had been pounding chests for freedom were now in suspended animation and inexplicably in mouths agog in anticipation. And then there she was. Serenely climbing down the stepladders (which had been thoughtfully placed out of view of the cameras), she emerged onto the immediately hallowed turf of SSNR [By Appointment to Her Right Royaltiness the Lady Youthfulness].

The appointed Dave stepped forward and humbled himself. An unfortunate occurrence given the magnitude of the occasion. The reserve Dave stepped into the breach. Another unfortunate occurrence! Finally the ‘if all else fails’ Dave came to the rescue.

Bowing so low it made his eyes water he addressed her Supreme Being: “Your Majestyness, if I may be so humbly bold as to..”

Her ladyship interrupted as only one of noble birth can: “Are you a Dimbleby Dave?”

‘If all else fails’ Dave: “Err no?”

Her Exquisiteness: “Then go away.” The nobility of the extended hand flutter in Dave’s direction and immediately he was dispatched as like a game bird on the 1st September.

Her Exquisite Ladyshipness: “My husband and I..” A half turn to the limo revealed a slight glitch. “Oh bother, I must have left him somewhere again. Never mind, I shall continue. Myself and I remember only too vividly the diem horribilis that was last week. But we must move on.”

So saying Her Supremeliness moved on proffering dainty dexterous digits for the gathered ensemble to pucker up their trembling lips to.

Her Regality: “Oh I say what an obnoxious hound.”

Several male voles looked even further ashamed and took several steps back towards oblivion.

Her Lady Regal Exquisiteness: “I was referring to the dog.”

The males voles teetered on the edge of the abyss that is ordinariness. One brave soul remarked: “That is Jock, a rescued dog, he was found in a large, handbag, with handles. He was probably brought up in it.”

Her Lady Ladyness:“ I must confess that I feel somewhat bewildered by what you have just told me. To be born, or at any rate bred in a handbag, whether it have handles or not, seems to me to display a contempt for the ordinary decencies of family life which reminds one of the worst excesses of the French revolution, and I presume you know what that unfortunate movement led to?

The voles shook their heads, a few too vigorously causing them to fall off!

Brave Soul: “ Err yessum your womanliness. We believe he lost his parents and so we’ve adopted him like.”

Her Lady Ladyshipness: “To lose one parent, my good man, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness.”

Little old lady with straw sticking out from under one arm (One Arm!!!!): He’s only being truthful you’re Omnipotence. He’s very earnest so he is and that’s what makes him so highly regarded by us all. ” Having said all this the little old lady retired to lie down until lunchtime.

Lady Youthfulness: “Well I suppose that’s the importance of being earnest.”

[I bet that’s made Oscar wild!]

Little old lady with straw sticking out from under one arm (One Arm!!!!): “Who’s Oscar?”

So many congratulation to Lady Sue on yet another birthday without a cake big enough to hold all the candles.

No doubt Mr Pitts will shortly be circulating a stunning array of pics so all who weren’t there today will see what the rest of us were up to. Basically following the Squire around, picking up loads of cut reeds (or in a little old lady’s case an odd bunch here and there!); carting them off to be burnt; telling the Squire not to go in the boggy bit; pulling the Squire out of the boggy bit!; showing the Squire were to cut next; sending out explorers to find where the Squire went!; telling the Squire it’s time to stop cutting; retelling the Squire it’s time to stop cutting; telling the local warden to stop telling the Squire to keep cutting!; getting bored of feeding the fire while the mound of cut reeds keeps growing; setting fire to the mound of cut reeds and blaming it on the person furthest away (Colin); eating muffins; eating biscuits (thanks Lillybeth); eating chocolate cake off the ground (thanks Maryla!); eating Jaffa cakes; moaning that there is no pudding!; moaning that Her Ladyship didn’t bring a birthday cake! and generally having fun.

Thanks to everyone who left early and didn’t stay to watch Jock walk across the ash (several times), try to make a ‘nest’ in the hot ash! (he dashed out pretty quick) and finally lie down in the ash!!!

Malcolm.

Date:Jan 15 2014, 10:51 AM

Subject:

RE: A Right Royal Do!

Show full header

Dear All

Thank you your Majesty and loyal subjects. This speedy correspondence has saved me a lot of palava etc so I shall just say my snaps are up on flickr now at www.flickr.com/photos/pitzys_pyx/.

I should like to say that we missed TWF all day (yes we did) but cold 90s humour might here say "but I couldn't" just for a snigger. I should also like to say thank you to:

Maryla for her Sandy Smith Mud Pies

Liz M for her wonderful shortcake biscuits (the choc chip ones were particularly good :))

Malcolm X for his fruit and vanilla buns, they were very very tasty.

Whoever brought the Jaffa Cakes

To you all for your laughs and banter.

Dave Lowe for his folk and Beetles songs.

For those who wondered why I had stopped by the road side on my way home see the first snap.

Cheers

JP

Now this is what makes Tuesdays such fun and keeps me nearly sane – you should see me when I’m really balmy! Very many apologies for the lack of cake – I will try hardy next time (depending on the day and the venue!).

Thanks for all the grovelling and the wonderful singing. Could you just shorten my name to She as long as I promise not to do an “Ursula Undress” and wear a chamois leather. Thanks also for the decent weather, not that it was cold where I was standing!

I can report that I was at the Rufus Centre this afternoon and there was JB, Audrey and their lovely daughter. JB allowed me to feel his new pulse and I can recommend it as a strange experience and I think he’s got a battery somewhere that gives electric twitches.

Bon voyage to the Breeds who will be sadly missed for a while. See the rest of you somewhere in the wilds of Bedfordshire and hopefully next Tuesday.

Thanks Mr. Kippling – your writing talents are beyond compare and your cakes are pretty wonderful too. Tally Ho! She

From: Steve Squire [mailto:Steve.Squire@greensandtrust.org]

Sent: 14 January 2014 21:36

To: Malcolm Willis; Tim Spencer; bazbreed@hotmail.com; 'Colin Atkins'; 'Dave Clarke'; 'David Moffatt'; 'James Miller'; 'Jane Breed'; 'John Buxton'; 'John Pitts'; 'Kelvin Horton'; 'Malcolm Willis'; 'Marie Mead'; 'Maryla Carter'; 'Peter Stafferton'; 'Roger Christopher'; 'Ros Blevins'; 'Steve Jones'; Sue Raven; 'Tim Chamen'; wendy.copper@virginmedia.com

Cc: She who must be obeyed

Subject: RE: A Right Royal Do!

Good to see you now have an official email Sue .

Well done Malcolm for making me laugh , very good thank you and to Jock with hot bum in fire.

And thank you all too for working so hard with or without Royal Cake!

Regards

Steve

From: Malcolm Willis [malcolmJwillis@btinternet.com]

Sent: 14 January 2014 21:13

To: Tim Spencer; bazbreed@hotmail.com; 'Colin Atkins'; 'Dave Clarke'; 'David Moffatt'; 'James Miller'; 'Jane Breed'; 'John Buxton'; 'John Pitts'; 'Kelvin Horton'; 'Malcolm Willis'; 'Marie Mead'; 'Maryla Carter'; 'Peter Stafferton'; 'Roger Christopher'; 'Ros Blevins'; 'Steve Jones'; Steve Squire; Sue Raven; 'Tim Chamen'; wendy.copper@virginmedia.com

Cc: She who must be obeyed

Subject: A Right Royal Do!

The stately limousine sailed into sight like a swan upon an enchanted lake. The blue eye that is heaven became bedazzled by the occasion, even the golden beams of universal eternity dipped in homage. The line of voles, once ordinary looking, became unworthy in the instant. The conveyance glided to a halt. The door opened. Hearts that only seconds ago had been pounding chests for freedom were now in suspended animation and inexplicably in mouths agog in anticipation. And then there she was. Serenely climbing down the stepladders (which had been thoughtfully placed out of view of the cameras), she emerged onto the immediately hallowed turf of SSNR [By Appointment to Her Right Royaltiness the Lady Youthfulness].

The appointed Dave stepped forward and humbled himself. An unfortunate occurrence given the magnitude of the occasion. The reserve Dave stepped into the breach. Another unfortunate occurrence! Finally the ‘if all else fails’ Dave came to the rescue.

Bowing so low it made his eyes water he addressed her Supreme Being: “Your Majestyness, if I may be so humbly bold as to..”

Her ladyship interrupted as only one of noble birth can: “Are you a Dimbleby Dave?”

‘If all else fails’ Dave: “Err no?”

Her Exquisiteness: “Then go away.” The nobility of the extended hand flutter in Dave’s direction and immediately he was dispatched as like a game bird on the 1st September.

Her Exquisite Ladyshipness: “My husband and I..” A half turn to the limo revealed a slight glitch. “Oh bother, I must have left him somewhere again. Never mind, I shall continue. Myself and I remember only too vividly the diem horribilis that was last week. But we must move on.”

So saying Her Supremeliness moved on proffering dainty dexterous digits for the gathered ensemble to pucker up their trembling lips to.

Her Regality: “Oh I say what an obnoxious hound.”

Several male voles looked even further ashamed and took several steps back towards oblivion.

Her Lady Regal Exquisiteness: “I was referring to the dog.”

The males voles teetered on the edge of the abyss that is ordinariness. One brave soul remarked: “That is Jock, a rescued dog, he was found in a large, handbag, with handles. He was probably brought up in it.”

Her Lady Ladyness:“ I must confess that I feel somewhat bewildered by what you have just told me. To be born, or at any rate bred in a handbag, whether it have handles or not, seems to me to display a contempt for the ordinary decencies of family life which reminds one of the worst excesses of the French revolution, and I presume you know what that unfortunate movement led to?

The voles shook their heads, a few too vigorously causing them to fall off!

Brave Soul: “ Err yessum your womanliness. We believe he lost his parents and so we’ve adopted him like.”

Her Lady Ladyshipness: “To lose one parent, my good man, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness.”

Little old lady with straw sticking out from under one arm (One Arm!!!!): He’s only being truthful you’re Omnipotence. He’s very earnest so he is and that’s what makes him so highly regarded by us all. ” Having said all this the little old lady retired to lie down until lunchtime.

Lady Youthfulness: “Well I suppose that’s the importance of being earnest.”

[I bet that’s made Oscar wild!]

Little old lady with straw sticking out from under one arm (One Arm!!!!): “Who’s Oscar?”

So many congratulation to Lady Sue on yet another birthday without a cake big enough to hold all the candles.

No doubt Mr Pitts will shortly be circulating a stunning array of pics so all who weren’t there today will see what the rest of us were up to. Basically following the Squire around, picking up loads of cut reeds (or in a little old lady’s case an odd bunch here and there!); carting them off to be burnt; telling the Squire not to go in the boggy bit; pulling the Squire out of the boggy bit!; showing the Squire were to cut next; sending out explorers to find where the Squire went!; telling the Squire it’s time to stop cutting; retelling the Squire it’s time to stop cutting; telling the local warden to stop telling the Squire to keep cutting!; getting bored of feeding the fire while the mound of cut reeds keeps growing; setting fire to the mound of cut reeds and blaming it on the person furthest away (Colin); eating muffins; eating biscuits (thanks Lillybeth); eating chocolate cake off the ground (thanks Maryla!); eating Jaffa cakes; moaning that there is no pudding!; moaning that Her Ladyship didn’t bring a birthday cake! and generally having fun.

Thanks to everyone who left early and didn’t stay to watch Jock walk across the ash (several times), try to make a ‘nest’ in the hot ash! (he dashed out pretty quick) and finally lie down in the ash!!!

Malcolm.

Date:Jan 15 2014, 10:51 AM

Subject:

RE: A Right Royal Do!

Show full header

Dear All

Thank you your Majesty and loyal subjects. This speedy correspondence has saved me a lot of palava etc so I shall just say my snaps are up on flickr now at www.flickr.com/photos/pitzys_pyx/.

I should like to say that we missed TWF all day (yes we did) but cold 90s humour might here say "but I couldn't" just for a snigger. I should also like to say thank you to:

Maryla for her Sandy Smith Mud Pies

Liz M for her wonderful shortcake biscuits (the choc chip ones were particularly good :))

Malcolm X for his fruit and vanilla buns, they were very very tasty.

Whoever brought the Jaffa Cakes

To you all for your laughs and banter.

Dave Lowe for his folk and Beetles songs.

For those who wondered why I had stopped by the road side on my way home see the first snap.

Cheers

JP

Now this is what makes Tuesdays such fun and keeps me nearly sane – you should see me when I’m really balmy! Very many apologies for the lack of cake – I will try hardy next time (depending on the day and the venue!).

Thanks for all the grovelling and the wonderful singing. Could you just shorten my name to She as long as I promise not to do an “Ursula Undress” and wear a chamois leather. Thanks also for the decent weather, not that it was cold where I was standing!

I can report that I was at the Rufus Centre this afternoon and there was JB, Audrey and their lovely daughter. JB allowed me to feel his new pulse and I can recommend it as a strange experience and I think he’s got a battery somewhere that gives electric twitches.

Bon voyage to the Breeds who will be sadly missed for a while. See the rest of you somewhere in the wilds of Bedfordshire and hopefully next Tuesday.

Thanks Mr. Kippling – your writing talents are beyond compare and your cakes are pretty wonderful too. Tally Ho! She

From: Steve Squire [mailto:Steve.Squire@greensandtrust.org]

Sent: 14 January 2014 21:36

To: Malcolm Willis; Tim Spencer; bazbreed@hotmail.com; 'Colin Atkins'; 'Dave Clarke'; 'David Moffatt'; 'James Miller'; 'Jane Breed'; 'John Buxton'; 'John Pitts'; 'Kelvin Horton'; 'Malcolm Willis'; 'Marie Mead'; 'Maryla Carter'; 'Peter Stafferton'; 'Roger Christopher'; 'Ros Blevins'; 'Steve Jones'; Sue Raven; 'Tim Chamen'; wendy.copper@virginmedia.com

Cc: She who must be obeyed

Subject: RE: A Right Royal Do!

Good to see you now have an official email Sue .

Well done Malcolm for making me laugh , very good thank you and to Jock with hot bum in fire.

And thank you all too for working so hard with or without Royal Cake!

Regards

Steve

From: Malcolm Willis [malcolmJwillis@btinternet.com]

Sent: 14 January 2014 21:13

To: Tim Spencer; bazbreed@hotmail.com; 'Colin Atkins'; 'Dave Clarke'; 'David Moffatt'; 'James Miller'; 'Jane Breed'; 'John Buxton'; 'John Pitts'; 'Kelvin Horton'; 'Malcolm Willis'; 'Marie Mead'; 'Maryla Carter'; 'Peter Stafferton'; 'Roger Christopher'; 'Ros Blevins'; 'Steve Jones'; Steve Squire; Sue Raven; 'Tim Chamen'; wendy.copper@virginmedia.com

Cc: She who must be obeyed

Subject: A Right Royal Do!

The stately limousine sailed into sight like a swan upon an enchanted lake. The blue eye that is heaven became bedazzled by the occasion, even the golden beams of universal eternity dipped in homage. The line of voles, once ordinary looking, became unworthy in the instant. The conveyance glided to a halt. The door opened. Hearts that only seconds ago had been pounding chests for freedom were now in suspended animation and inexplicably in mouths agog in anticipation. And then there she was. Serenely climbing down the stepladders (which had been thoughtfully placed out of view of the cameras), she emerged onto the immediately hallowed turf of SSNR [By Appointment to Her Right Royaltiness the Lady Youthfulness].

The appointed Dave stepped forward and humbled himself. An unfortunate occurrence given the magnitude of the occasion. The reserve Dave stepped into the breach. Another unfortunate occurrence! Finally the ‘if all else fails’ Dave came to the rescue.

Bowing so low it made his eyes water he addressed her Supreme Being: “Your Majestyness, if I may be so humbly bold as to..”

Her ladyship interrupted as only one of noble birth can: “Are you a Dimbleby Dave?”

‘If all else fails’ Dave: “Err no?”

Her Exquisiteness: “Then go away.” The nobility of the extended hand flutter in Dave’s direction and immediately he was dispatched as like a game bird on the 1st September.

Her Exquisite Ladyshipness: “My husband and I..” A half turn to the limo revealed a slight glitch. “Oh bother, I must have left him somewhere again. Never mind, I shall continue. Myself and I remember only too vividly the diem horribilis that was last week. But we must move on.”

So saying Her Supremeliness moved on proffering dainty dexterous digits for the gathered ensemble to pucker up their trembling lips to.

Her Regality: “Oh I say what an obnoxious hound.”

Several male voles looked even further ashamed and took several steps back towards oblivion.

Her Lady Regal Exquisiteness: “I was referring to the dog.”

The males voles teetered on the edge of the abyss that is ordinariness. One brave soul remarked: “That is Jock, a rescued dog, he was found in a large, handbag, with handles. He was probably brought up in it.”

Her Lady Ladyness:“ I must confess that I feel somewhat bewildered by what you have just told me. To be born, or at any rate bred in a handbag, whether it have handles or not, seems to me to display a contempt for the ordinary decencies of family life which reminds one of the worst excesses of the French revolution, and I presume you know what that unfortunate movement led to?

The voles shook their heads, a few too vigorously causing them to fall off!

Brave Soul: “ Err yessum your womanliness. We believe he lost his parents and so we’ve adopted him like.”

Her Lady Ladyshipness: “To lose one parent, my good man, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness.”

Little old lady with straw sticking out from under one arm (One Arm!!!!): He’s only being truthful you’re Omnipotence. He’s very earnest so he is and that’s what makes him so highly regarded by us all. ” Having said all this the little old lady retired to lie down until lunchtime.

Lady Youthfulness: “Well I suppose that’s the importance of being earnest.”

[I bet that’s made Oscar wild!]

Little old lady with straw sticking out from under one arm (One Arm!!!!): “Who’s Oscar?”

So many congratulation to Lady Sue on yet another birthday without a cake big enough to hold all the candles.

No doubt Mr Pitts will shortly be circulating a stunning array of pics so all who weren’t there today will see what the rest of us were up to. Basically following the Squire around, picking up loads of cut reeds (or in a little old lady’s case an odd bunch here and there!); carting them off to be burnt; telling the Squire not to go in the boggy bit; pulling the Squire out of the boggy bit!; showing the Squire were to cut next; sending out explorers to find where the Squire went!; telling the Squire it’s time to stop cutting; retelling the Squire it’s time to stop cutting; telling the local warden to stop telling the Squire to keep cutting!; getting bored of feeding the fire while the mound of cut reeds keeps growing; setting fire to the mound of cut reeds and blaming it on the person furthest away (Colin); eating muffins; eating biscuits (thanks Lillybeth); eating chocolate cake off the ground (thanks Maryla!); eating Jaffa cakes; moaning that there is no pudding!; moaning that Her Ladyship didn’t bring a birthday cake! and generally having fun.

Thanks to everyone who left early and didn’t stay to watch Jock walk across the ash (several times), try to make a ‘nest’ in the hot ash! (he dashed out pretty quick) and finally lie down in the ash!!!

Malcolm.

GST Voles day at Sandy Smith NR 7/3/2017

Mr T.: (rummaging in the back of the land rover).

Okay we haven't had a task in the Wet Fen before so before we start I just need to explain a few things. Firstly as you can see it's very wet here at the entrance so I will not be taking the land rover in. We will have to carry everything in from here. I want four of you strimming the few sparce areas of rushes to the right hand side and one of you mowing a few clearings on the left hand side. The rest of you can help me clear away various metal rubbish in the copse area and then start raking and forking up what's been cut. There are some drag bags here for you. Plus I shall be cutting down a small birch tree which can be cut up and burnt. So I'll need you to take......

Mr. T. turns around to see he is by himself, the voles having walked off into the distance, (well this is SSNR and we always walk off into the distance).

A little later in camp.

Mr. T.: Are you okay to strim *****? (name removed for legal reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything. Are you okay to use the mower ^^^^? (name removed for same reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything.

Right, I just need to go back and get a few things that you lot 'forgot' to bring over with you.

Mr T. returns.

*****: The strimmer's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

^^^^: The mower's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Anon.: We haven't got any forks.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Another Anon.: We need drag bags.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Yet another Anon.: Must be time for a tea break.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get my bag.

The voles settle down for a drink and a few cakes.

Anon anon anon.: Who's going to tell Mr. T. he's forgotten the donuts?

Sobbing could be heard in the distance.

Some time later on this long, drawn out morning.

Mr. T.: It's no good, the rushes are too damp to burn, we'll have to drag them into the copse and pile them there.

Mr. T. walks away.

^^^^, (don't worry Clarkie, no one will know it's you), immediately strips to the waist, covers his chest in cow dung, (last week's having dried out and beginning to flake off), turns and spits into the northeast wind. Rubbing the spittle off his face he calls out to Logi, the Norse god of fire. "Hey up lad we could do with a bit of help down here." So saying he sets light to a box of fire lighters and throws them into the smouldering embers. Flames immediately rise into the bright blue sky as the fire worshipper dances a merry jig and begins to feed the flames.

And so to lunch.

Mr. T.: No more cutting now we just need to rake up what's been cut and either burn it or pile it in the copse.

Volunteer Warden (no experience necessary): Nah, we can strim loads more, there's plenty of time.

Mr. T.: No, we need to let the fire burn down before we leave tonight.

Volunteer Warden (no experience attained): Nah, we'll have finished in half an hour.

Two hours later.

Mr. T.: Most people have left, how is the fire?

Volunteer Warden (basically no experience full stop): (kicking mud onto the flames) Nearly out, could have cut loads more. Gets dark quickly these nights doesn't it?

Any resemblance to the truth is purely coincidental and has nothing to do with the perpetrator of Myths and Legends in Bedfordshire, (out of print).

Thank you to everyone who came along and dragged their heels, ankles, toes, etc. in the mud. Special thanks to those who kept pulling Wendy out of the deep bits. Nice to see Maryla back with us for a short while (obviously having to build up to it again).

Malcolm

GST Voles day at Sandy Smith NR 7/3/2017

Mr T.: (rummaging in the back of the land rover).

Okay we haven't had a task in the Wet Fen before so before we start I just need to explain a few things. Firstly as you can see it's very wet here at the entrance so I will not be taking the land rover in. We will have to carry everything in from here. I want four of you strimming the few sparce areas of rushes to the right hand side and one of you mowing a few clearings on the left hand side. The rest of you can help me clear away various metal rubbish in the copse area and then start raking and forking up what's been cut. There are some drag bags here for you. Plus I shall be cutting down a small birch tree which can be cut up and burnt. So I'll need you to take......

Mr. T. turns around to see he is by himself, the voles having walked off into the distance, (well this is SSNR and we always walk off into the distance).

A little later in camp.

Mr. T.: Are you okay to strim *****? (name removed for legal reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything. Are you okay to use the mower ^^^^? (name removed for same reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything.

Right, I just need to go back and get a few things that you lot 'forgot' to bring over with you.

Mr T. returns.

*****: The strimmer's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

^^^^: The mower's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Anon.: We haven't got any forks.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Another Anon.: We need drag bags.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Yet another Anon.: Must be time for a tea break.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get my bag.

The voles settle down for a drink and a few cakes.

Anon anon anon.: Who's going to tell Mr. T. he's forgotten the donuts?

Sobbing could be heard in the distance.

Some time later on this long, drawn out morning.

Mr. T.: It's no good, the rushes are too damp to burn, we'll have to drag them into the copse and pile them there.

Mr. T. walks away.

^^^^, (don't worry Clarkie, no one will know it's you), immediately strips to the waist, covers his chest in cow dung, (last week's having dried out and beginning to flake off), turns and spits into the northeast wind. Rubbing the spittle off his face he calls out to Logi, the Norse god of fire. "Hey up lad we could do with a bit of help down here." So saying he sets light to a box of fire lighters and throws them into the smouldering embers. Flames immediately rise into the bright blue sky as the fire worshipper dances a merry jig and begins to feed the flames.

And so to lunch.

Mr. T.: No more cutting now we just need to rake up what's been cut and either burn it or pile it in the copse.

Volunteer Warden (no experience necessary): Nah, we can strim loads more, there's plenty of time.

Mr. T.: No, we need to let the fire burn down before we leave tonight.

Volunteer Warden (no experience attained): Nah, we'll have finished in half an hour.

Two hours later.

Mr. T.: Most people have left, how is the fire?

Volunteer Warden (basically no experience full stop): (kicking mud onto the flames) Nearly out, could have cut loads more. Gets dark quickly these nights doesn't it?

Any resemblance to the truth is purely coincidental and has nothing to do with the perpetrator of Myths and Legends in Bedfordshire, (out of print).

Thank you to everyone who came along and dragged their heels, ankles, toes, etc. in the mud. Special thanks to those who kept pulling Wendy out of the deep bits. Nice to see Maryla back with us for a short while (obviously having to build up to it again).

Malcolm

Date:Jan 15 2014, 10:51 AM

Subject:

RE: A Right Royal Do!

Show full header

Dear All

Thank you your Majesty and loyal subjects. This speedy correspondence has saved me a lot of palava etc so I shall just say my snaps are up on flickr now at www.flickr.com/photos/pitzys_pyx/.

I should like to say that we missed TWF all day (yes we did) but cold 90s humour might here say "but I couldn't" just for a snigger. I should also like to say thank you to:

Maryla for her Sandy Smith Mud Pies

Liz M for her wonderful shortcake biscuits (the choc chip ones were particularly good :))

Malcolm X for his fruit and vanilla buns, they were very very tasty.

Whoever brought the Jaffa Cakes

To you all for your laughs and banter.

Dave Lowe for his folk and Beetles songs.

For those who wondered why I had stopped by the road side on my way home see the first snap.

Cheers

JP

Now this is what makes Tuesdays such fun and keeps me nearly sane – you should see me when I’m really balmy! Very many apologies for the lack of cake – I will try hardy next time (depending on the day and the venue!).

Thanks for all the grovelling and the wonderful singing. Could you just shorten my name to She as long as I promise not to do an “Ursula Undress” and wear a chamois leather. Thanks also for the decent weather, not that it was cold where I was standing!

I can report that I was at the Rufus Centre this afternoon and there was JB, Audrey and their lovely daughter. JB allowed me to feel his new pulse and I can recommend it as a strange experience and I think he’s got a battery somewhere that gives electric twitches.

Bon voyage to the Breeds who will be sadly missed for a while. See the rest of you somewhere in the wilds of Bedfordshire and hopefully next Tuesday.

Thanks Mr. Kippling – your writing talents are beyond compare and your cakes are pretty wonderful too. Tally Ho! She

From: Steve Squire [mailto:Steve.Squire@greensandtrust.org]

Sent: 14 January 2014 21:36

To: Malcolm Willis; Tim Spencer; bazbreed@hotmail.com; 'Colin Atkins'; 'Dave Clarke'; 'David Moffatt'; 'James Miller'; 'Jane Breed'; 'John Buxton'; 'John Pitts'; 'Kelvin Horton'; 'Malcolm Willis'; 'Marie Mead'; 'Maryla Carter'; 'Peter Stafferton'; 'Roger Christopher'; 'Ros Blevins'; 'Steve Jones'; Sue Raven; 'Tim Chamen'; wendy.copper@virginmedia.com

Cc: She who must be obeyed

Subject: RE: A Right Royal Do!

Good to see you now have an official email Sue .

Well done Malcolm for making me laugh , very good thank you and to Jock with hot bum in fire.

And thank you all too for working so hard with or without Royal Cake!

Regards

Steve

From: Malcolm Willis [malcolmJwillis@btinternet.com]

Sent: 14 January 2014 21:13

To: Tim Spencer; bazbreed@hotmail.com; 'Colin Atkins'; 'Dave Clarke'; 'David Moffatt'; 'James Miller'; 'Jane Breed'; 'John Buxton'; 'John Pitts'; 'Kelvin Horton'; 'Malcolm Willis'; 'Marie Mead'; 'Maryla Carter'; 'Peter Stafferton'; 'Roger Christopher'; 'Ros Blevins'; 'Steve Jones'; Steve Squire; Sue Raven; 'Tim Chamen'; wendy.copper@virginmedia.com

Cc: She who must be obeyed

Subject: A Right Royal Do!

The stately limousine sailed into sight like a swan upon an enchanted lake. The blue eye that is heaven became bedazzled by the occasion, even the golden beams of universal eternity dipped in homage. The line of voles, once ordinary looking, became unworthy in the instant. The conveyance glided to a halt. The door opened. Hearts that only seconds ago had been pounding chests for freedom were now in suspended animation and inexplicably in mouths agog in anticipation. And then there she was. Serenely climbing down the stepladders (which had been thoughtfully placed out of view of the cameras), she emerged onto the immediately hallowed turf of SSNR [By Appointment to Her Right Royaltiness the Lady Youthfulness].

The appointed Dave stepped forward and humbled himself. An unfortunate occurrence given the magnitude of the occasion. The reserve Dave stepped into the breach. Another unfortunate occurrence! Finally the ‘if all else fails’ Dave came to the rescue.

Bowing so low it made his eyes water he addressed her Supreme Being: “Your Majestyness, if I may be so humbly bold as to..”

Her ladyship interrupted as only one of noble birth can: “Are you a Dimbleby Dave?”

‘If all else fails’ Dave: “Err no?”

Her Exquisiteness: “Then go away.” The nobility of the extended hand flutter in Dave’s direction and immediately he was dispatched as like a game bird on the 1st September.

Her Exquisite Ladyshipness: “My husband and I..” A half turn to the limo revealed a slight glitch. “Oh bother, I must have left him somewhere again. Never mind, I shall continue. Myself and I remember only too vividly the diem horribilis that was last week. But we must move on.”

So saying Her Supremeliness moved on proffering dainty dexterous digits for the gathered ensemble to pucker up their trembling lips to.

Her Regality: “Oh I say what an obnoxious hound.”

Several male voles looked even further ashamed and took several steps back towards oblivion.

Her Lady Regal Exquisiteness: “I was referring to the dog.”

The males voles teetered on the edge of the abyss that is ordinariness. One brave soul remarked: “That is Jock, a rescued dog, he was found in a large, handbag, with handles. He was probably brought up in it.”

Her Lady Ladyness:“ I must confess that I feel somewhat bewildered by what you have just told me. To be born, or at any rate bred in a handbag, whether it have handles or not, seems to me to display a contempt for the ordinary decencies of family life which reminds one of the worst excesses of the French revolution, and I presume you know what that unfortunate movement led to?

The voles shook their heads, a few too vigorously causing them to fall off!

Brave Soul: “ Err yessum your womanliness. We believe he lost his parents and so we’ve adopted him like.”

Her Lady Ladyshipness: “To lose one parent, my good man, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness.”

Little old lady with straw sticking out from under one arm (One Arm!!!!): He’s only being truthful you’re Omnipotence. He’s very earnest so he is and that’s what makes him so highly regarded by us all. ” Having said all this the little old lady retired to lie down until lunchtime.

Lady Youthfulness: “Well I suppose that’s the importance of being earnest.”

[I bet that’s made Oscar wild!]

Little old lady with straw sticking out from under one arm (One Arm!!!!): “Who’s Oscar?”

So many congratulation to Lady Sue on yet another birthday without a cake big enough to hold all the candles.

No doubt Mr Pitts will shortly be circulating a stunning array of pics so all who weren’t there today will see what the rest of us were up to. Basically following the Squire around, picking up loads of cut reeds (or in a little old lady’s case an odd bunch here and there!); carting them off to be burnt; telling the Squire not to go in the boggy bit; pulling the Squire out of the boggy bit!; showing the Squire were to cut next; sending out explorers to find where the Squire went!; telling the Squire it’s time to stop cutting; retelling the Squire it’s time to stop cutting; telling the local warden to stop telling the Squire to keep cutting!; getting bored of feeding the fire while the mound of cut reeds keeps growing; setting fire to the mound of cut reeds and blaming it on the person furthest away (Colin); eating muffins; eating biscuits (thanks Lillybeth); eating chocolate cake off the ground (thanks Maryla!); eating Jaffa cakes; moaning that there is no pudding!; moaning that Her Ladyship didn’t bring a birthday cake! and generally having fun.

Thanks to everyone who left early and didn’t stay to watch Jock walk across the ash (several times), try to make a ‘nest’ in the hot ash! (he dashed out pretty quick) and finally lie down in the ash!!!

Malcolm.

Some kind of Prog Musical by Marek Grechuka with Maryla Rodowicz on vocals.

1978 Polish pressing on Pronit label.

GST Voles day at Sandy Smith NR 7/3/2017

Mr T.: (rummaging in the back of the land rover).

Okay we haven't had a task in the Wet Fen before so before we start I just need to explain a few things. Firstly as you can see it's very wet here at the entrance so I will not be taking the land rover in. We will have to carry everything in from here. I want four of you strimming the few sparce areas of rushes to the right hand side and one of you mowing a few clearings on the left hand side. The rest of you can help me clear away various metal rubbish in the copse area and then start raking and forking up what's been cut. There are some drag bags here for you. Plus I shall be cutting down a small birch tree which can be cut up and burnt. So I'll need you to take......

Mr. T. turns around to see he is by himself, the voles having walked off into the distance, (well this is SSNR and we always walk off into the distance).

A little later in camp.

Mr. T.: Are you okay to strim *****? (name removed for legal reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything. Are you okay to use the mower ^^^^? (name removed for same reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything.

Right, I just need to go back and get a few things that you lot 'forgot' to bring over with you.

Mr T. returns.

*****: The strimmer's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

^^^^: The mower's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Anon.: We haven't got any forks.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Another Anon.: We need drag bags.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Yet another Anon.: Must be time for a tea break.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get my bag.

The voles settle down for a drink and a few cakes.

Anon anon anon.: Who's going to tell Mr. T. he's forgotten the donuts?

Sobbing could be heard in the distance.

Some time later on this long, drawn out morning.

Mr. T.: It's no good, the rushes are too damp to burn, we'll have to drag them into the copse and pile them there.

Mr. T. walks away.

^^^^, (don't worry Clarkie, no one will know it's you), immediately strips to the waist, covers his chest in cow dung, (last week's having dried out and beginning to flake off), turns and spits into the northeast wind. Rubbing the spittle off his face he calls out to Logi, the Norse god of fire. "Hey up lad we could do with a bit of help down here." So saying he sets light to a box of fire lighters and throws them into the smouldering embers. Flames immediately rise into the bright blue sky as the fire worshipper dances a merry jig and begins to feed the flames.

And so to lunch.

Mr. T.: No more cutting now we just need to rake up what's been cut and either burn it or pile it in the copse.

Volunteer Warden (no experience necessary): Nah, we can strim loads more, there's plenty of time.

Mr. T.: No, we need to let the fire burn down before we leave tonight.

Volunteer Warden (no experience attained): Nah, we'll have finished in half an hour.

Two hours later.

Mr. T.: Most people have left, how is the fire?

Volunteer Warden (basically no experience full stop): (kicking mud onto the flames) Nearly out, could have cut loads more. Gets dark quickly these nights doesn't it?

Any resemblance to the truth is purely coincidental and has nothing to do with the perpetrator of Myths and Legends in Bedfordshire, (out of print).

Thank you to everyone who came along and dragged their heels, ankles, toes, etc. in the mud. Special thanks to those who kept pulling Wendy out of the deep bits. Nice to see Maryla back with us for a short while (obviously having to build up to it again).

Malcolm

Date:Jan 15 2014, 10:51 AM

Subject:

RE: A Right Royal Do!

Show full header

Dear All

Thank you your Majesty and loyal subjects. This speedy correspondence has saved me a lot of palava etc so I shall just say my snaps are up on flickr now at www.flickr.com/photos/pitzys_pyx/.

I should like to say that we missed TWF all day (yes we did) but cold 90s humour might here say "but I couldn't" just for a snigger. I should also like to say thank you to:

Maryla for her Sandy Smith Mud Pies

Liz M for her wonderful shortcake biscuits (the choc chip ones were particularly good :))

Malcolm X for his fruit and vanilla buns, they were very very tasty.

Whoever brought the Jaffa Cakes

To you all for your laughs and banter.

Dave Lowe for his folk and Beetles songs.

For those who wondered why I had stopped by the road side on my way home see the first snap.

Cheers

JP

Now this is what makes Tuesdays such fun and keeps me nearly sane – you should see me when I’m really balmy! Very many apologies for the lack of cake – I will try hardy next time (depending on the day and the venue!).

Thanks for all the grovelling and the wonderful singing. Could you just shorten my name to She as long as I promise not to do an “Ursula Undress” and wear a chamois leather. Thanks also for the decent weather, not that it was cold where I was standing!

I can report that I was at the Rufus Centre this afternoon and there was JB, Audrey and their lovely daughter. JB allowed me to feel his new pulse and I can recommend it as a strange experience and I think he’s got a battery somewhere that gives electric twitches.

Bon voyage to the Breeds who will be sadly missed for a while. See the rest of you somewhere in the wilds of Bedfordshire and hopefully next Tuesday.

Thanks Mr. Kippling – your writing talents are beyond compare and your cakes are pretty wonderful too. Tally Ho! She

From: Steve Squire [mailto:Steve.Squire@greensandtrust.org]

Sent: 14 January 2014 21:36

To: Malcolm Willis; Tim Spencer; bazbreed@hotmail.com; 'Colin Atkins'; 'Dave Clarke'; 'David Moffatt'; 'James Miller'; 'Jane Breed'; 'John Buxton'; 'John Pitts'; 'Kelvin Horton'; 'Malcolm Willis'; 'Marie Mead'; 'Maryla Carter'; 'Peter Stafferton'; 'Roger Christopher'; 'Ros Blevins'; 'Steve Jones'; Sue Raven; 'Tim Chamen'; wendy.copper@virginmedia.com

Cc: She who must be obeyed

Subject: RE: A Right Royal Do!

Good to see you now have an official email Sue .

Well done Malcolm for making me laugh , very good thank you and to Jock with hot bum in fire.

And thank you all too for working so hard with or without Royal Cake!

Regards

Steve

From: Malcolm Willis [malcolmJwillis@btinternet.com]

Sent: 14 January 2014 21:13

To: Tim Spencer; bazbreed@hotmail.com; 'Colin Atkins'; 'Dave Clarke'; 'David Moffatt'; 'James Miller'; 'Jane Breed'; 'John Buxton'; 'John Pitts'; 'Kelvin Horton'; 'Malcolm Willis'; 'Marie Mead'; 'Maryla Carter'; 'Peter Stafferton'; 'Roger Christopher'; 'Ros Blevins'; 'Steve Jones'; Steve Squire; Sue Raven; 'Tim Chamen'; wendy.copper@virginmedia.com

Cc: She who must be obeyed

Subject: A Right Royal Do!

The stately limousine sailed into sight like a swan upon an enchanted lake. The blue eye that is heaven became bedazzled by the occasion, even the golden beams of universal eternity dipped in homage. The line of voles, once ordinary looking, became unworthy in the instant. The conveyance glided to a halt. The door opened. Hearts that only seconds ago had been pounding chests for freedom were now in suspended animation and inexplicably in mouths agog in anticipation. And then there she was. Serenely climbing down the stepladders (which had been thoughtfully placed out of view of the cameras), she emerged onto the immediately hallowed turf of SSNR [By Appointment to Her Right Royaltiness the Lady Youthfulness].

The appointed Dave stepped forward and humbled himself. An unfortunate occurrence given the magnitude of the occasion. The reserve Dave stepped into the breach. Another unfortunate occurrence! Finally the ‘if all else fails’ Dave came to the rescue.

Bowing so low it made his eyes water he addressed her Supreme Being: “Your Majestyness, if I may be so humbly bold as to..”

Her ladyship interrupted as only one of noble birth can: “Are you a Dimbleby Dave?”

‘If all else fails’ Dave: “Err no?”

Her Exquisiteness: “Then go away.” The nobility of the extended hand flutter in Dave’s direction and immediately he was dispatched as like a game bird on the 1st September.

Her Exquisite Ladyshipness: “My husband and I..” A half turn to the limo revealed a slight glitch. “Oh bother, I must have left him somewhere again. Never mind, I shall continue. Myself and I remember only too vividly the diem horribilis that was last week. But we must move on.”

So saying Her Supremeliness moved on proffering dainty dexterous digits for the gathered ensemble to pucker up their trembling lips to.

Her Regality: “Oh I say what an obnoxious hound.”

Several male voles looked even further ashamed and took several steps back towards oblivion.

Her Lady Regal Exquisiteness: “I was referring to the dog.”

The males voles teetered on the edge of the abyss that is ordinariness. One brave soul remarked: “That is Jock, a rescued dog, he was found in a large, handbag, with handles. He was probably brought up in it.”

Her Lady Ladyness:“ I must confess that I feel somewhat bewildered by what you have just told me. To be born, or at any rate bred in a handbag, whether it have handles or not, seems to me to display a contempt for the ordinary decencies of family life which reminds one of the worst excesses of the French revolution, and I presume you know what that unfortunate movement led to?

The voles shook their heads, a few too vigorously causing them to fall off!

Brave Soul: “ Err yessum your womanliness. We believe he lost his parents and so we’ve adopted him like.”

Her Lady Ladyshipness: “To lose one parent, my good man, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness.”

Little old lady with straw sticking out from under one arm (One Arm!!!!): He’s only being truthful you’re Omnipotence. He’s very earnest so he is and that’s what makes him so highly regarded by us all. ” Having said all this the little old lady retired to lie down until lunchtime.

Lady Youthfulness: “Well I suppose that’s the importance of being earnest.”

[I bet that’s made Oscar wild!]

Little old lady with straw sticking out from under one arm (One Arm!!!!): “Who’s Oscar?”

So many congratulation to Lady Sue on yet another birthday without a cake big enough to hold all the candles.

No doubt Mr Pitts will shortly be circulating a stunning array of pics so all who weren’t there today will see what the rest of us were up to. Basically following the Squire around, picking up loads of cut reeds (or in a little old lady’s case an odd bunch here and there!); carting them off to be burnt; telling the Squire not to go in the boggy bit; pulling the Squire out of the boggy bit!; showing the Squire were to cut next; sending out explorers to find where the Squire went!; telling the Squire it’s time to stop cutting; retelling the Squire it’s time to stop cutting; telling the local warden to stop telling the Squire to keep cutting!; getting bored of feeding the fire while the mound of cut reeds keeps growing; setting fire to the mound of cut reeds and blaming it on the person furthest away (Colin); eating muffins; eating biscuits (thanks Lillybeth); eating chocolate cake off the ground (thanks Maryla!); eating Jaffa cakes; moaning that there is no pudding!; moaning that Her Ladyship didn’t bring a birthday cake! and generally having fun.

Thanks to everyone who left early and didn’t stay to watch Jock walk across the ash (several times), try to make a ‘nest’ in the hot ash! (he dashed out pretty quick) and finally lie down in the ash!!!

Malcolm.

GST day at Flitton Moor removing Himalayan Balsam 18/7/2017 TL0536

Subject: Next Tuesday's Task

Hi All,

I hope you’ve all stopped itching from the nettle stings on Tuesday!

Next Week’s task will be balsam pulling downstream from Flitton Moor and will be led by Andrew (his last day). The site is accessible from Flitton Moor, so meet at the barn at Flitton Moor at 10am (map attached).

The good news is that there are nowhere near as many nettles as at Sandy Smith but there is plenty of balsam and it’s along steep-sided river/ditch banks and the only way to deal with it will be to get in! Fortunately, the water doesn’t look too deep!

Andrew will bring waders to the task but it might be a good idea if everyone could bring wellies – there might be some areas where wellies might be better than cumbersome waders.

There will also be some brush-cutting.

Regards,

Tim

Hello balsam pullers

A thank you from us to whoever removed the doggy doo doo bag on our behalf. We lost track of it when the bags were moved downstream and then forgot to look for it as we left. It wasn't there when Baz went back for it this evening so we must presume a kindly soul disposed of it on our behalf.

The list of emails above is a bit thin - people certainly on task but we don't have emails for them all, e.g. Barbara & Derek. Please forward to anyone you see is missing from our list.

See you soon

Jane & Baz (irresponsible dog minders)

Hi Jane & Baz & fellow Voles

Lola's bag was there when I came back to get my water/tea.

Anyway what a day, even though the gang finished earlier than usual it was just as well. It was boiling hot and very sticky. You were all a bit smelly too but you were magnificent in victory. I shall not forget Jim's giant leap and wrestle with several big stands of HB across a ditch filled mainly with un-fathomed amounts of ooze covered by a layer of Equisetum (Horsetail) or hearing about Jim's vanishing into another pool where they had to call the RNLI to drag him ashore. Or the happy look on Merv's face relating the joy of submerging into the same primordiall ooze or Dave & others who gallantly waded from Flitton Bridge toend of the track. Then there was Maryla, determined to get her full wack of HB in the 1&1/2 hours available to he, roped on a very steep bank grabbing each plant with a wicked glee, take that you naughty naughty HB you. Well you get my drift, the Voles were down and dirty but unbowed.

A bit of the atmosphere in my snaps at www.flickr.com/photos/pitzys_pyx/

Sadly we had to say farewell to Andrew who has moved on to pastures drier than Flitton Moor.

Take care & see you next week?

JP (Pitzy)

GST day at Flitton Moor removing Himalayan Balsam 18/7/2017 TL0536

Subject: Next Tuesday's Task

Hi All,

I hope you’ve all stopped itching from the nettle stings on Tuesday!

Next Week’s task will be balsam pulling downstream from Flitton Moor and will be led by Andrew (his last day). The site is accessible from Flitton Moor, so meet at the barn at Flitton Moor at 10am (map attached).

The good news is that there are nowhere near as many nettles as at Sandy Smith but there is plenty of balsam and it’s along steep-sided river/ditch banks and the only way to deal with it will be to get in! Fortunately, the water doesn’t look too deep!

Andrew will bring waders to the task but it might be a good idea if everyone could bring wellies – there might be some areas where wellies might be better than cumbersome waders.

There will also be some brush-cutting.

Regards,

Tim

Hello balsam pullers

A thank you from us to whoever removed the doggy doo doo bag on our behalf. We lost track of it when the bags were moved downstream and then forgot to look for it as we left. It wasn't there when Baz went back for it this evening so we must presume a kindly soul disposed of it on our behalf.

The list of emails above is a bit thin - people certainly on task but we don't have emails for them all, e.g. Barbara & Derek. Please forward to anyone you see is missing from our list.

See you soon

Jane & Baz (irresponsible dog minders)

Hi Jane & Baz & fellow Voles

Lola's bag was there when I came back to get my water/tea.

Anyway what a day, even though the gang finished earlier than usual it was just as well. It was boiling hot and very sticky. You were all a bit smelly too but you were magnificent in victory. I shall not forget Jim's giant leap and wrestle with several big stands of HB across a ditch filled mainly with un-fathomed amounts of ooze covered by a layer of Equisetum (Horsetail) or hearing about Jim's vanishing into another pool where they had to call the RNLI to drag him ashore. Or the happy look on Merv's face relating the joy of submerging into the same primordiall ooze or Dave & others who gallantly waded from Flitton Bridge toend of the track. Then there was Maryla, determined to get her full wack of HB in the 1&1/2 hours available to he, roped on a very steep bank grabbing each plant with a wicked glee, take that you naughty naughty HB you. Well you get my drift, the Voles were down and dirty but unbowed.

A bit of the atmosphere in my snaps at www.flickr.com/photos/pitzys_pyx/

Sadly we had to say farewell to Andrew who has moved on to pastures drier than Flitton Moor.

Take care & see you next week?

JP (Pitzy)

GST Voles day at Sandy Smith NR 7/3/2017

Mr T.: (rummaging in the back of the land rover).

Okay we haven't had a task in the Wet Fen before so before we start I just need to explain a few things. Firstly as you can see it's very wet here at the entrance so I will not be taking the land rover in. We will have to carry everything in from here. I want four of you strimming the few sparce areas of rushes to the right hand side and one of you mowing a few clearings on the left hand side. The rest of you can help me clear away various metal rubbish in the copse area and then start raking and forking up what's been cut. There are some drag bags here for you. Plus I shall be cutting down a small birch tree which can be cut up and burnt. So I'll need you to take......

Mr. T. turns around to see he is by himself, the voles having walked off into the distance, (well this is SSNR and we always walk off into the distance).

A little later in camp.

Mr. T.: Are you okay to strim *****? (name removed for legal reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything. Are you okay to use the mower ^^^^? (name removed for same reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything.

Right, I just need to go back and get a few things that you lot 'forgot' to bring over with you.

Mr T. returns.

*****: The strimmer's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

^^^^: The mower's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Anon.: We haven't got any forks.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Another Anon.: We need drag bags.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Yet another Anon.: Must be time for a tea break.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get my bag.

The voles settle down for a drink and a few cakes.

Anon anon anon.: Who's going to tell Mr. T. he's forgotten the donuts?

Sobbing could be heard in the distance.

Some time later on this long, drawn out morning.

Mr. T.: It's no good, the rushes are too damp to burn, we'll have to drag them into the copse and pile them there.

Mr. T. walks away.

^^^^, (don't worry Clarkie, no one will know it's you), immediately strips to the waist, covers his chest in cow dung, (last week's having dried out and beginning to flake off), turns and spits into the northeast wind. Rubbing the spittle off his face he calls out to Logi, the Norse god of fire. "Hey up lad we could do with a bit of help down here." So saying he sets light to a box of fire lighters and throws them into the smouldering embers. Flames immediately rise into the bright blue sky as the fire worshipper dances a merry jig and begins to feed the flames.

And so to lunch.

Mr. T.: No more cutting now we just need to rake up what's been cut and either burn it or pile it in the copse.

Volunteer Warden (no experience necessary): Nah, we can strim loads more, there's plenty of time.

Mr. T.: No, we need to let the fire burn down before we leave tonight.

Volunteer Warden (no experience attained): Nah, we'll have finished in half an hour.

Two hours later.

Mr. T.: Most people have left, how is the fire?

Volunteer Warden (basically no experience full stop): (kicking mud onto the flames) Nearly out, could have cut loads more. Gets dark quickly these nights doesn't it?

Any resemblance to the truth is purely coincidental and has nothing to do with the perpetrator of Myths and Legends in Bedfordshire, (out of print).

Thank you to everyone who came along and dragged their heels, ankles, toes, etc. in the mud. Special thanks to those who kept pulling Wendy out of the deep bits. Nice to see Maryla back with us for a short while (obviously having to build up to it again).

Malcolm

GST Voles day at Sandy Smith NR 7/3/2017

Mr T.: (rummaging in the back of the land rover).

Okay we haven't had a task in the Wet Fen before so before we start I just need to explain a few things. Firstly as you can see it's very wet here at the entrance so I will not be taking the land rover in. We will have to carry everything in from here. I want four of you strimming the few sparce areas of rushes to the right hand side and one of you mowing a few clearings on the left hand side. The rest of you can help me clear away various metal rubbish in the copse area and then start raking and forking up what's been cut. There are some drag bags here for you. Plus I shall be cutting down a small birch tree which can be cut up and burnt. So I'll need you to take......

Mr. T. turns around to see he is by himself, the voles having walked off into the distance, (well this is SSNR and we always walk off into the distance).

A little later in camp.

Mr. T.: Are you okay to strim *****? (name removed for legal reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything. Are you okay to use the mower ^^^^? (name removed for same reasons). Just make sure you don't break anything.

Right, I just need to go back and get a few things that you lot 'forgot' to bring over with you.

Mr T. returns.

*****: The strimmer's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

^^^^: The mower's broke.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get the tools to mend it for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Anon.: We haven't got any forks.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Another Anon.: We need drag bags.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get them for you.

Mr. T. returns.

Yet another Anon.: Must be time for a tea break.

Mr. T.: Right, I just need to go back and get my bag.

The voles settle down for a drink and a few cakes.

Anon anon anon.: Who's going to tell Mr. T. he's forgotten the donuts?

Sobbing could be heard in the distance.

Some time later on this long, drawn out morning.

Mr. T.: It's no good, the rushes are too damp to burn, we'll have to drag them into the copse and pile them there.

Mr. T. walks away.

^^^^, (don't worry Clarkie, no one will know it's you), immediately strips to the waist, covers his chest in cow dung, (last week's having dried out and beginning to flake off), turns and spits into the northeast wind. Rubbing the spittle off his face he calls out to Logi, the Norse god of fire. "Hey up lad we could do with a bit of help down here." So saying he sets light to a box of fire lighters and throws them into the smouldering embers. Flames immediately rise into the bright blue sky as the fire worshipper dances a merry jig and begins to feed the flames.

And so to lunch.

Mr. T.: No more cutting now we just need to rake up what's been cut and either burn it or pile it in the copse.

Volunteer Warden (no experience necessary): Nah, we can strim loads more, there's plenty of time.

Mr. T.: No, we need to let the fire burn down before we leave tonight.

Volunteer Warden (no experience attained): Nah, we'll have finished in half an hour.

Two hours later.

Mr. T.: Most people have left, how is the fire?

Volunteer Warden (basically no experience full stop): (kicking mud onto the flames) Nearly out, could have cut loads more. Gets dark quickly these nights doesn't it?

Any resemblance to the truth is purely coincidental and has nothing to do with the perpetrator of Myths and Legends in Bedfordshire, (out of print).

Thank you to everyone who came along and dragged their heels, ankles, toes, etc. in the mud. Special thanks to those who kept pulling Wendy out of the deep bits. Nice to see Maryla back with us for a short while (obviously having to build up to it again).

Malcolm

GST day at Flitton Moor removing Himalayan Balsam 18/7/2017 TL0536

Subject: Next Tuesday's Task

Hi All,

I hope you’ve all stopped itching from the nettle stings on Tuesday!

Next Week’s task will be balsam pulling downstream from Flitton Moor and will be led by Andrew (his last day). The site is accessible from Flitton Moor, so meet at the barn at Flitton Moor at 10am (map attached).

The good news is that there are nowhere near as many nettles as at Sandy Smith but there is plenty of balsam and it’s along steep-sided river/ditch banks and the only way to deal with it will be to get in! Fortunately, the water doesn’t look too deep!

Andrew will bring waders to the task but it might be a good idea if everyone could bring wellies – there might be some areas where wellies might be better than cumbersome waders.

There will also be some brush-cutting.

Regards,

Tim

Hello balsam pullers

A thank you from us to whoever removed the doggy doo doo bag on our behalf. We lost track of it when the bags were moved downstream and then forgot to look for it as we left. It wasn't there when Baz went back for it this evening so we must presume a kindly soul disposed of it on our behalf.

The list of emails above is a bit thin - people certainly on task but we don't have emails for them all, e.g. Barbara & Derek. Please forward to anyone you see is missing from our list.

See you soon

Jane & Baz (irresponsible dog minders)

Hi Jane & Baz & fellow Voles

Lola's bag was there when I came back to get my water/tea.

Anyway what a day, even though the gang finished earlier than usual it was just as well. It was boiling hot and very sticky. You were all a bit smelly too but you were magnificent in victory. I shall not forget Jim's giant leap and wrestle with several big stands of HB across a ditch filled mainly with un-fathomed amounts of ooze covered by a layer of Equisetum (Horsetail) or hearing about Jim's vanishing into another pool where they had to call the RNLI to drag him ashore. Or the happy look on Merv's face relating the joy of submerging into the same primordiall ooze or Dave & others who gallantly waded from Flitton Bridge toend of the track. Then there was Maryla, determined to get her full wack of HB in the 1&1/2 hours available to he, roped on a very steep bank grabbing each plant with a wicked glee, take that you naughty naughty HB you. Well you get my drift, the Voles were down and dirty but unbowed.

A bit of the atmosphere in my snaps at www.flickr.com/photos/pitzys_pyx/

Sadly we had to say farewell to Andrew who has moved on to pastures drier than Flitton Moor.

Take care & see you next week?

JP (Pitzy)

Yesterday at Voles

"The Voles started appearing in dribs and drabs.

1st Vole: That’s a nice Drab you’ve got there.

2nd Vole: Thanks, my old Drib was getting a bit drab so I thought I’d change it for a Drab.

1st Vole: Is that the one that at the mere push of the off-road button, it turns into a highly capable off-road vehicle, adept at climbing slippery slopes, descending steep hills and maintaining control on difficult terrain using the very latest 4x4 systems. Does the interior meet even the most exacting of standards, the cabin spacious, airy and flexible and containing a variety of standard features and does it take safety very seriously too, so all the trims have driver and passenger, front, side and curtain airbags as standard.

2nd Vole: I don’t know, but it’s silver.

1st Vole: Oh.

Just then Mr T. Strode into their midst.

3rd Vole: Hey, watch my midst. You’re striding right into it!

Mr T.: Right, listen up. You all remember what you did when we were last here.

1st Vole: It wasn’t me, I wasn’t here.

2nd Vole: She told me to do it, honest.

3rd Vole: I didn’t do it and even if I did, you can’t prove it ‘cause I burnt the evidence.

4th Vole: I’m clinically insane, no court in the land will convict me.

The remaining Voles looked sheepish. It was the thick Arran sweaters that did it.

Mr T.: I mean planting the trees in straight rows, two point five metres apart. However so that it doesn’t look like you’ve planted them in straight rows, two point five metres apart, you shall only plant them in straight rows in one direction and not the other. So where the canes have been put in straight lines, two point five metres apart, it will be your job to follow on behind planting the trees in a straight line in one direction but not the other and more than or less than two point five metres apart. Remember?

The Voles remembered and several fainted, two had the recurrence of their nose bleeds and three again escaped across the fields. [Note to self; must replace the razor wire with electric fencing].

Mr T.: Anyway so that we can plant another 900 this week I want you to get into four groups of three. One making holes, one planting and one putting the guards on.

1st Vole: What do the other nine do?

Mr T.: What other nine?

1st Vole: Well if three are doing what you said that leaves nine watching.

Mr T. Speaking slowly: No, I want four group of three and in each group one will make holes, one will plant and one will put guards on.

2nd Vole: So the lines are already there?

Mr T. Speaking slowly and quietly: No, one group will measure out leaving three groups to do the planting, except that I’m going to do some pruning so the other two can help the other groups.

3rd Vole: So two groups will be four?

Mr. T. Speaking very slowly and quietly: Yes.

4th Vole: So there will be one group of three measuring the lines, two groups of four doing the work of three, one group of three and one pruning?

Mr. T. Speaking very slowly and very quietly: Yes.

5th Vole: What happens when Maryla comes?

Mr. T. Speaking very slowly, very quietly and sobbing: We can have another group of three with Maryla and the two who were in the two groups of four.

6th Vole: What happens when Ros comes?

Mr. T. Speaking very slowly, very quietly, sobbing and pulling out chunks of hair: I’ll sort it out later.

1st Vole to 2nd Vole as they wander off in the general direction of where they are going: Typical management, never think things through. Anyway this Drab of yours, it seems to me it strikes the perfect balance between on road performance, family orientated practicality and rugged 4x4 styling and with a choice of two or four wheel drive systems on both diesel and petrol engines, as well as flexible varioflex rear seating, sizable boot space and higher ride height as standard, it is perfect for life in towns and cities.

2nd Vole: I like the colour.

Later that same day:

Mr T.: Okay then, I think we’re all happy now?

Voles: Oh no we’re not

Mr T.: Oh yes we are.

Voles: Oh no, we’re not.

Mr T.: I see, it’s the pantomime season is it?

Voles: Oh no it isn’t.

Mr T.: Oh yes it is.

Voles: Behind youuuuuuu.

Mr T.: I’m not falling for that.

Even later that same day:

3rd Vole to 4th Vole: Who’s going to tell him Jock peed up his leg?

Thanks to:- The Venerable Buxton for the gallons of tea and the hot pot, Lady Buxton for the Badger pudding, [no badger was culled in the making or eating of this pudding], and everyone who worked so manfully and womanfully throughout the day.

Malcolm"

See what we have to suffer on Tuesdays! I am glad I was late for the briefing so didn't hear any of the instructions as I wouldn't have understood them anyway :)

Date:Jan 15 2014, 10:51 AM

Subject:

RE: A Right Royal Do!

Show full header

Dear All

Thank you your Majesty and loyal subjects. This speedy correspondence has saved me a lot of palava etc so I shall just say my snaps are up on flickr now at www.flickr.com/photos/pitzys_pyx/.

I should like to say that we missed TWF all day (yes we did) but cold 90s humour might here say "but I couldn't" just for a snigger. I should also like to say thank you to:

Maryla for her Sandy Smith Mud Pies

Liz M for her wonderful shortcake biscuits (the choc chip ones were particularly good :))

Malcolm X for his fruit and vanilla buns, they were very very tasty.

Whoever brought the Jaffa Cakes

To you all for your laughs and banter.

Dave Lowe for his folk and Beetles songs.

For those who wondered why I had stopped by the road side on my way home see the first snap.

Cheers

JP

Now this is what makes Tuesdays such fun and keeps me nearly sane – you should see me when I’m really balmy! Very many apologies for the lack of cake – I will try hardy next time (depending on the day and the venue!).

Thanks for all the grovelling and the wonderful singing. Could you just shorten my name to She as long as I promise not to do an “Ursula Undress” and wear a chamois leather. Thanks also for the decent weather, not that it was cold where I was standing!

I can report that I was at the Rufus Centre this afternoon and there was JB, Audrey and their lovely daughter. JB allowed me to feel his new pulse and I can recommend it as a strange experience and I think he’s got a battery somewhere that gives electric twitches.

Bon voyage to the Breeds who will be sadly missed for a while. See the rest of you somewhere in the wilds of Bedfordshire and hopefully next Tuesday.

Thanks Mr. Kippling – your writing talents are beyond compare and your cakes are pretty wonderful too. Tally Ho! She

From: Steve Squire [mailto:Steve.Squire@greensandtrust.org]

Sent: 14 January 2014 21:36

To: Malcolm Willis; Tim Spencer; bazbreed@hotmail.com; 'Colin Atkins'; 'Dave Clarke'; 'David Moffatt'; 'James Miller'; 'Jane Breed'; 'John Buxton'; 'John Pitts'; 'Kelvin Horton'; 'Malcolm Willis'; 'Marie Mead'; 'Maryla Carter'; 'Peter Stafferton'; 'Roger Christopher'; 'Ros Blevins'; 'Steve Jones'; Sue Raven; 'Tim Chamen'; wendy.copper@virginmedia.com

Cc: She who must be obeyed

Subject: RE: A Right Royal Do!

Good to see you now have an official email Sue .

Well done Malcolm for making me laugh , very good thank you and to Jock with hot bum in fire.

And thank you all too for working so hard with or without Royal Cake!

Regards

Steve

From: Malcolm Willis [malcolmJwillis@btinternet.com]

Sent: 14 January 2014 21:13

To: Tim Spencer; bazbreed@hotmail.com; 'Colin Atkins'; 'Dave Clarke'; 'David Moffatt'; 'James Miller'; 'Jane Breed'; 'John Buxton'; 'John Pitts'; 'Kelvin Horton'; 'Malcolm Willis'; 'Marie Mead'; 'Maryla Carter'; 'Peter Stafferton'; 'Roger Christopher'; 'Ros Blevins'; 'Steve Jones'; Steve Squire; Sue Raven; 'Tim Chamen'; wendy.copper@virginmedia.com

Cc: She who must be obeyed

Subject: A Right Royal Do!

The stately limousine sailed into sight like a swan upon an enchanted lake. The blue eye that is heaven became bedazzled by the occasion, even the golden beams of universal eternity dipped in homage. The line of voles, once ordinary looking, became unworthy in the instant. The conveyance glided to a halt. The door opened. Hearts that only seconds ago had been pounding chests for freedom were now in suspended animation and inexplicably in mouths agog in anticipation. And then there she was. Serenely climbing down the stepladders (which had been thoughtfully placed out of view of the cameras), she emerged onto the immediately hallowed turf of SSNR [By Appointment to Her Right Royaltiness the Lady Youthfulness].

The appointed Dave stepped forward and humbled himself. An unfortunate occurrence given the magnitude of the occasion. The reserve Dave stepped into the breach. Another unfortunate occurrence! Finally the ‘if all else fails’ Dave came to the rescue.

Bowing so low it made his eyes water he addressed her Supreme Being: “Your Majestyness, if I may be so humbly bold as to..”

Her ladyship interrupted as only one of noble birth can: “Are you a Dimbleby Dave?”

‘If all else fails’ Dave: “Err no?”

Her Exquisiteness: “Then go away.” The nobility of the extended hand flutter in Dave’s direction and immediately he was dispatched as like a game bird on the 1st September.

Her Exquisite Ladyshipness: “My husband and I..” A half turn to the limo revealed a slight glitch. “Oh bother, I must have left him somewhere again. Never mind, I shall continue. Myself and I remember only too vividly the diem horribilis that was last week. But we must move on.”

So saying Her Supremeliness moved on proffering dainty dexterous digits for the gathered ensemble to pucker up their trembling lips to.

Her Regality: “Oh I say what an obnoxious hound.”

Several male voles looked even further ashamed and took several steps back towards oblivion.

Her Lady Regal Exquisiteness: “I was referring to the dog.”

The males voles teetered on the edge of the abyss that is ordinariness. One brave soul remarked: “That is Jock, a rescued dog, he was found in a large, handbag, with handles. He was probably brought up in it.”

Her Lady Ladyness:“ I must confess that I feel somewhat bewildered by what you have just told me. To be born, or at any rate bred in a handbag, whether it have handles or not, seems to me to display a contempt for the ordinary decencies of family life which reminds one of the worst excesses of the French revolution, and I presume you know what that unfortunate movement led to?

The voles shook their heads, a few too vigorously causing them to fall off!

Brave Soul: “ Err yessum your womanliness. We believe he lost his parents and so we’ve adopted him like.”

Her Lady Ladyshipness: “To lose one parent, my good man, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness.”

Little old lady with straw sticking out from under one arm (One Arm!!!!): He’s only being truthful you’re Omnipotence. He’s very earnest so he is and that’s what makes him so highly regarded by us all. ” Having said all this the little old lady retired to lie down until lunchtime.

Lady Youthfulness: “Well I suppose that’s the importance of being earnest.”

[I bet that’s made Oscar wild!]

Little old lady with straw sticking out from under one arm (One Arm!!!!): “Who’s Oscar?”

So many congratulation to Lady Sue on yet another birthday without a cake big enough to hold all the candles.

No doubt Mr Pitts will shortly be circulating a stunning array of pics so all who weren’t there today will see what the rest of us were up to. Basically following the Squire around, picking up loads of cut reeds (or in a little old lady’s case an odd bunch here and there!); carting them off to be burnt; telling the Squire not to go in the boggy bit; pulling the Squire out of the boggy bit!; showing the Squire were to cut next; sending out explorers to find where the Squire went!; telling the Squire it’s time to stop cutting; retelling the Squire it’s time to stop cutting; telling the local warden to stop telling the Squire to keep cutting!; getting bored of feeding the fire while the mound of cut reeds keeps growing; setting fire to the mound of cut reeds and blaming it on the person furthest away (Colin); eating muffins; eating biscuits (thanks Lillybeth); eating chocolate cake off the ground (thanks Maryla!); eating Jaffa cakes; moaning that there is no pudding!; moaning that Her Ladyship didn’t bring a birthday cake! and generally having fun.

Thanks to everyone who left early and didn’t stay to watch Jock walk across the ash (several times), try to make a ‘nest’ in the hot ash! (he dashed out pretty quick) and finally lie down in the ash!!!

Malcolm.