We have Rotation and Take Off!

Posted on March 7, 2014 by The Baldock Bard.

Recently I have spent too many hours in Addenbrookes Hospital at Cambridge with an elderly relative. This has led to much thinking time in waiting rooms. I suppose the surroundings have made me consider mortality. On Wednesday, I vaguely remembered something I’d heard at a funeral ages ago about a ship disappearing over the horizon. Not being able to ‘Google it’ I decided to write my own, updated version from what little I could remember…

DEPARTURE

I leave them as I collect my boarding pass to a distant land and board the plane.

Back where I existed,
Someone says,
“He’s gone.”
And one by one
they look to where I was
and say “goodbye.”

ARRIVAL

In the arrivals hall,
far,
far,
away.
People await my arrival.

Occasionally,
those waiting,
glance up
at the arrivals board.

Suddenly someone
in the crowd
shouts excitedly:
“Look,
He’s nearly here –
Landing in five minutes!”

They crowd around the arrivals gate,
excitedly leaning forward
over the barriers,
for a first glimpse.

The only difference to Stansted:
There’s no luggage to claim,
I arrive naked.

Facebook: Baldock Bard
Twitter: @baldockbard
E-mail: baldockbard@www.baldockbard.co.uk
The Baldock Boot Sale is now closed for the winter
returning for the twenty-second season on April 26^th 2014
With more FREE parking and billions of bargains!
www.u-boot.co.uk

February (an unsettling month on the farm)

Posted on February 21, 2014 by The Baldock Bard.

Years ago an old farmer warned me about February: “February is always the worst time on a farm. It’s cold with a chance of snow, the cowman is on the verge of leaving, the muck heap is close to full, forage stocks may or may not last until the grass is ready and spring seems further away than ever!” I often wonder what he’d have made of this month in the UK, especially in Somerset…

It’s been mild
Winter never came
Day on day
Nothing much but rain
Not long now
Spring will arrive
Days will be much longer
Daffodils line the drive

The cameras will leave Somerset
The news will move elsewhere
The public’s thirst sated
Still water everywhere
We shall not forget them
As we store up loads of hay
Ready to feed their livestock
And reassure them they’re OK

If you wish to donate forage, please get in touch with your local NFU or YFC branch.
If you wish to donate please go to: http://www.justgiving.com/fcn/donate
Follow #forageaid on Twitter for the latest news.
Many thanks to all those hauliers who have donated their time, trucks and diesel to help get forage to where it is needed.

In Memory of my Son, David

Posted on February 12, 2014 by The Baldock Bard.

I was unsure what to put his morning, 12^th of February. Eleven years ago Mrs Bard and I lost our son, David (pictured above surfing in North Wales) in a car crash while at university aged 22. This year his younger sister turned 30. The only thing that got us all through such a devastating loss was the love shown by friends. They show it still and this posting is as much for them as it is for David. I have chosen two verses about love by the same poet…

Katrina’s Sundial
Hours fly,
Flowers die:
New days,
New ways:
Pass by!
Love stays.

For Katrina’s Sundial
Time is too slow for those who wait,
Too swift for those who fear,
Too long for those who grieve,
Too short for those who rejoice,
But for those who love, time is  Eternity.

Henry Van Dyke, American author, academic and clergyman (1852 – 1933)

There are two things I’d like you to do today:

First of all I’d like you to give any teenager or young person that you know a simple piece of advice that may just end up saving their lives: If they are in a car and not happy with the way it is being driven or they suspect the driver may have been drinking or is stoned, say: “I think I’m going to be sick”. This may mean a long walk home, but it’s better than not reaching home at all.

Secondly I want you to ring, text, Skype, Twitter, Facebook, MSN (or better still the old-fashioned face to face), your child (or anyone who is very precious to you) and say two words: “Love You”. These are the last two words I ever said to my son. How I wish I could utter them again, so I’m asking you to do it. Not for me, not for David, but for you.

Baldock Bard 2014
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above  

Behind Closed Doors (one shoe in the gutter)

Posted on January 16, 2014 by The Baldock Bard.

I was reading yesterday about a famous couple going through difficulties in their relationship. The article focused on their war of attrition as told by an ‘insider’. I wondered how far warring couples could go before a demilitarized zone fence was built. I was quite surprised at the offensive strategies surrounding the 49th Parallel. This is fiction – do not try this at home, put away the tongue and step away from the argument…

When in an argument Monique held sway,
Something of hers Francois threw away!
First a dress, of which she said, ‘je t’adore,’
Then a favourite shoe flew out of the door!

What he didn’t know, whenever he was mean,
Toilet with his toothbrush she did clean!
This in turn made him run,
To the toilet, (recycling is fun!)

Even the dog would play his part,
When they had guests, a silent fart,
A ‘Muttley’ chuckle when each other blame,
He often played this successful game!

Misty the the cat knew how to play,
Used duvet before litter tray,
So at bedtime a shocking treat,
The first to bed, smeared on their feet!

Last weekend she went too far,
Lobbed the keys to his brand new car.
As a result he was ultra-mean,
Mixed her hair dye, resulted in green!

You’d think no lower could they sink,
She put laxatives in his drink!
He with an eye to get even,
Used chicken stock even though she’s vegan!

But alas this hostility could not last,
With open warfare escalating fast,
When love is prostrate on the floor,
Lawyers queue up to knock on the door!

Surviving The Holidays!

Posted on January 7, 2014 by The Baldock Bard.

I was on the phone to Mick at L&H Transport yesterday, arranging for a lorry to collect a load of oats this morning. We both congratulated each other on surviving to see yet another New Year! Having completed the arrangements I looked from the window to see others who were counting their blessings…

It was back to work Monday morning,
The holidays were truly over,
Arranging a collection of grain,
And wearing an old work pullover!

I spied a solemn procession,
Came around honking, looking for hay,
“We really have been very lucky,
We’ve managed to survive Christmas Day!”

“Our Friend was rather unfortunate,
She went to stay with a cousin,
Was shown her room Christmas Eve,
Didn’t realise it was an oven!”

“When folks saw her next she was naked,
On her back with feet in the air!
I’d like to tell where the orange was,
But with children around, I don’t dare!”

Facebook: Baldock Bard
Twitter: @baldockbard
E-mail: baldockbard@www.baldockbard.co.uk
The Baldock Boot Sale is now closed for the winter
returning for the twenty-second season on April 26th 2014
With more FREE parking and billions of bargains!
www.u-boot.co.uk

The Sympathy Reservoir Springs a Leak

Posted on January 5, 2014 by The Baldock Bard.

For some days now high tides, damaged sea walls and flooding have filled our screens. Correspondants have carefully chosen to report from those sea walls that have the greatest ‘splash factor’. Cars and vans have been filmed on smart phones floating away in swirling water. Helicopters have been hired to show new lakes on agricultural land. However there are signs of restlessness in the cheap seats. Very soon the gaze of the media will shift and editors will sigh with relief that new disasters are available. Meanwhile the misery for others will not have gone away so easily…

Water, water, everywhere,
It’s on the news right now,
Typical farmers complaining,
Have you seen a swimming cow?
One farmer has a massive lake
Where his crops once were,
The river is somewhere down in there,
It’s causing quite a stir.

A local pub has has water,
It’s lapping at the bar,
The publican faces ruin,
(It’s time for news from afar).
An old lady has been rescued,
She’s in an inflatable in the street,
Some kids splash by on scooters,
Her misery is complete.

“The council this, the council that!”
The council caused this rain!
They shouldn’t have given permission,
To build on a flood plain!”
Viewers screens are flooded,
Their patience down the drain,
They’ll move on, sympathy gone,
‘Not Me!’ syndrome again.

The Dangers of Cheap Alcohol

Posted on December 23, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

A recent news item warned of the dangers associated with cheap alcohol, bottled in shady industrial units and sold to unsuspecting customers. It reminded me of a story my late father-in-law used to tell: During the Second World War he was a scientist in a laboratory for Royal Ordnance, discovering ever more powerful high explosives. He told about two co-scientists who were holding a party one Christmas. Wartime supplies had led to a shortfall of ingredients and as a result their mixture turned out to be lethal…

Some scientists were having a party,
They worked making TNT,
Alcohol was scarce on the high street,
But in the lab the neat stuff was free!

The two concocted a fruit punch,
Industrial alcohol glugged by the score,
With each new batch they tested,
They added just a soupçon more!

When the guests arrived at the party,
They couldn’t get in through the door,
When they looked in through the windows,
Their hosts were dead on the floor.

Turkey Tales: Cyril the Turkey-Plucker’s Tale

Posted on December 18, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

One of my favourite pictures of my late mother is of her modelling ‘peasant-wear 1980’s style’ in the turkey-plucking shed. In those far-off days (pre-1990s) we’d prepare over 2,000 turkeys for London butchers. For many years we even supplied the butcher at Windsor that produced turkeys for the Queen to give to officers stationed at the castle over Christmas (the shop is now an ice-cream parlour I believe). Local hand-pluckers used to want the work and extra money for Christmas. How times change! The turkey-plucking shed is now devoid of feathers, radio and pre-Christmas chatter, these days Eastern Europeans pluck vast numbers by machine and nobody believes the old stories anymore…
Cyril (in the rear of the photo) was an engine driver on the railways who came to the farm in early December to pluck turkeys on his days off. He worked out of Kings Cross Station, London. His favourite journey was from the terminus, splitting from the main line at Hitchin and running up to Cambridge. Every year he’d ask if he could have a bag of wheat from the farm and we’d provide a sack-full thinking that maybe he had chickens in his back garden. One year he told us the purpose of the wheat: On his way through Ashwell towards Cambridge, Cyril would occasionally throw wheat from the cab of the train. On the way back he’d stop the train, climb down from the cab and pick up any dead pheasants from a local estate that subsequent trains had hit. Quite often angry commuters would wind down the window and in angry tones shout, “What’s the problem, Driver?” Cyril would shout back, “Sorry for the delay sir, something on the track!”
Cyril died suddenly, some years before retirement. He was a kind-hearted man with a cheeky grin and a wonderful way with a story. We still miss him and always remember him at this time of year.

Un-necessary Death (on the side of the road)

Posted on December 13, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

WARNING: You may find today’s posting upsetting.
Yesterday lunchtime a lady motorist stood at the door saying that a deer had been hit and was lying seriously injured in a field. In such cases it falls upon us to put the animal out of pain as soon as possible.
It is the worst job on the farm…

In their haste to arrive,
They hit a young deer.
“Oh dear,” they said.
In their haste to drive,
Their car was damaged,
“Oh dear,” they said.
“Oh look, it’s alive,” they said,
As they drove off,
“Oh dear,” they said.

“A deer has been hit,” she said,
“The car drove off,” she said,
“It’s sitting injured in a field,” she said.
“We’ll deal with it,” we said.

We arrived by the side of the road,
there was the deer,
sitting calmly.
Temptation says:
“It’s ok, we can look the other way,
and drive on, as well.”
Reality says:
“Unsleeve the gun.”

The injured deer
attempts escape
on two legs,
its rear legs dragging
uselessly on the ground.
An awful sound
issues from its very soul:
“Meeuurr,”
“Meeuurr, Meeuurr,” it pleads.

The sound dissects me in two,
it looks with big brown eyes,
and with tears running down my cheeks,
I carefully raise the gun,
pull the trigger.
Pain over,
Job done.

With anger I return to the farm,
If I could find the person responsible,
I’d give them,
what they deserved,
and the deer did not.
THOUGHTLESS BASTARDS.

Please drive carefully on country roads.
If you see the above sign – THINK WHY IT’S BEEN PUT THERE

There Goes A Man Passing By!

Posted on December 6, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

Of all the millions of words spoken about Nelson Mandela in the last 24hrs, the following are some of the most heartfelt and stirring. I have no idea who wrote these words, but all I can say is that I wish they were mine…

Quiet, brothers.
There goes a man passing by,
he waves farewell
And it’s the last.
There is only one like him,
Note him well.

ANON

We all have our ‘Mandela’ stories, this is mine!
As Nelson Mandela was being released from jail, I was kneeling in cow muck with a Channel Four news crew, trying to keep a calf from deserting the shot while attempting to explain the complex issues surrounding EEC farm policy! I could feel the warm poo soaking through my trousers. After three hours the crew called it a day and returned to London with the passing comment, “It’ll be on tonight at seven.” Needless to say I was upstaged that evening by Nelson Mandela, something I didn’t begrudge in the slightest. The trousers never recovered their ordeal and ended up on a scarecrow, I ended up on the cutting room floor and as for Nelson Mandela, the rest is history!

Baldock Bard

Verse and Worse from the Baldock Versemonger

Category Archives: Loss