Category Archives: Loss

Texting While Driving

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Texting & DrivingTexting while driving costs lives. Yesterday I followed an erratically-driven car during the morning rush hour near Watford (see pic).  When the traffic stopped I could see the driver was trying to text and drive. The car then joined the M1 South towards London…

I’m in the car,
Joining the M1,
Traffic’s heavy,
Commuting run!

In the office,
You are late!
Boss is angry,
Discussing your fate!

Driving fast,
Message swapped,
Oh good grief,
Traffic’s stopped………………

Are you there?
No reply
Traffic chaos?
Did someone die?

………………

Please drive with care and make sure you and yours have a Christmas to remember for all the right reasons.

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

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Twitter: @baldockbard
E-mail: baldockbard@www.baldockbard.co.uk

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You Can Never Go Back?

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LongstoweToday is my 900th posting and I started to look back. But the more I looked back the more I became convinced that it was a fruitless exercise. However a recent visit to a place that was very much part of my past, triggered memories. I want to tell you about when the past catches up with you…

Many years ago, when I told a friend that I was going back to visit former work colleagues at a farm I used to work on, I was told that you can never go back. So I took the advice and cancelled my planned visit.

Fast-forward thirty-six years and five months to a recent visit.

I went to a meeting to learn about the massive expansion in rules and regulations that is hitting farming right now. The venue was the Village Hall at Longstowe in Cambridgeshire, the very village I had left in 1978. Apart from a cursory look around when my children were small, I hadn’t been near the village since I left the farm.
Around fifty farmers had an instructive walk around part of the farm estate, guided by experts in the new regulations and the present owner. Much had changed, however I did recognise certain fields and that a fence that I had erected had recently been replaced! I spoke to the present owner (son of the owner that I knew), we chatted about certain parts of the farm and then he dropped a bombshell. The man who I had worked closely with all those years ago, Derek, and who I had thought so very old at the time, had only recently died.

Derek was ‘of the village’. He was born, raised and worked there.
His father was Station-Master until Beeching axed the line in the sixties. Once when young, Derek had taken the train to London. He was about to alight at Kings Cross when he saw all the people, decided that crowds were not for him and stayed on the train until he was safely back home.

Derek had a Morris Marina that despite its age had done minimal mileage. This was unsurprising as the furthest it was ever driven was an occasional trip to Gamlingay, a round trip of around twelve miles. Derek would get the car out of the garage and go through an exhaustive list of checks. During this time word would spread and his cousin ‘Wooper’, ‘Chalky’ White and anyone else nearby, would take their places in the car! Derek never complained but was always surprised how quickly word spread!

When my wife and I became engaged, Derek informed me that his mother and father wished to meet my intended. A Saturday morning was chosen and we were shown, like royalty, into the front room. Derek’s mother produced special mid-morning fare, Camp Coffee made with two heaped teaspoons of sugar, condensed milk and Woolworths finest ‘slab’ fruit-cake. We had a wonderful morning that remains as vivid thirty-six years later as it did back then.

Sad to say, after I left, I never saw Derek again. Despite all the friendship shown to a naive youngster, the many lessons and hours of companionship on the farm that this true gentle-man imparted, I just didn’t make the effort because I’d been told ‘you can’t go back’.

On a day when the change in farming could not have been more emphasised, my thoughts were with an ordinary man who taught me so much, not just about farming, but about life.

So, Derek, rest peacefully, i’m so sorry I didn’t make the effort.
If you ever get a chance to go back in time, just do it, you’ll regret it if you don’t.

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

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Twitter: @baldockbard
E-mail: baldockbard@www.baldockbard.co.uk

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Small Farms Under Attack

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Farmers MeetingYesterday I went to a meeting to learn about a whole raft of new agricultural regulations. We were shown around a two-thousand acre estate, my few hundred acres seemed very insignificant and the legislation talked about, large and frightening. Everything seemed to be verboten and penalty-laden. Somewhere deep within Whitehall, there must be a group of very angry regulators who have never seen the light of day, let alone a farm, whose sole aim is to destroy small farms…

Regulation, regulation, regulation,
Will be the death of me.
There’ll be no time to grow a crop,
Desk-bound I will be.
I know there have to be some rules,
This I understand,
But the latest tranche from DEFRA,
Have surely got out of hand.
I look back with idle longing,
To a time some years ago,
When the purpose of my job,
Was simply reap and sow!

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

Facebook: Baldock Bard
Twitter: @baldockbard
E-mail: baldockbard@www.baldockbard.co.uk

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Cyber Monday Trials!

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Bank PlasticToday is Cyber Monday. Like Boxing Day follows Christmas Day, this apparently follows Black Friday which follows Thanksgiving. What we are giving thanks for here in the UK, I’m not quite sure, maybe it was World Bread Day or similar. I won’t be taking part in Cyber Monday as I am within without. I am like the Yonder Peasant. My plastic ran out yesterday and there is no replacement from the bank…

Following various phone calls,
My wallet has no plastic,
I cannot buy, I cannot live,
My life is not fantastic.
I’ve begged them to send another card,
I’ve been on bended knee,
But the only answer that they had,
Be working days ‘just three!’
So I’ve dusted down the cheque book,
(laugh if you must!)
What do you find in your wallet?
In mine there’s only dust!
© Baldock Bard 2014
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

Facebook: Baldock Bard
Twitter: @baldockbard
E-mail: baldockbard@www.baldockbard.co.uk

The Baldock Boot Sale
Returns Saturday April 11th 2015
With more FREE parking and billions of bargains!
www.u-boot.co.uk

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The Chocolate Heist!

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Chocolate plateFor millions of us, reports that supplies of chocolate may be threatened by the year 2020 has come as a severe shock. This could well lead to civil unrest as the silent majority take to the streets, hijacking confectionery vans and removing sweets from toddlers. Jewellery shop owners will heave a sigh of relief as sweet shops install bullet-proof windows, grids on the doors and employ security guards…

I’ve heard there’s to be a delivery,
At the back of the chocolate shop,
We’ve got ourselves a cunning plan,
To force the delivery to stop!

The armored van will turn up early,
The guards will open up the door,
We will rush in and tie them up,
Leave them trussed upon the floor!

Then we will grab the chocolate,
Put it all in a great big bag,
Rush right out of the sweet shop,
To the getaway Jag!

There is just one small problem,
When our hideout we reach,
There will be no chocolate left
And I’ll be left like a whale on the beach!

© Baldock Bard 2014
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above
Facebook: Baldock Bard
Twitter: @baldockbard
E-mail: baldockbard@www.baldockbard.co.uk
The Baldock Boot Sale
Returns Saturday April 11th 2015
With more FREE parking and billions of bargains!
www.u-boot.co.uk

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Remembrance – part two

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Burnham MktWhen on holiday do you plan your excursions or just let them happen? This morning Mrs Bard and I turned left (rather than yesterday’s right from Wells next the sea), and drove! Our only wish was to next to a war memorial at 11am, on the 11th day of the 11th month. Upon finding a deserted memorial in Burnham Market with some time to spare we wondered if we’d be part of a solitary vigil, with the residents at a memorial elsewhere. How pleased I was to be so wrong. We joined many people to remember…

At eleven O’clock
On the eleventh day,
of the eleventh month,

We stood in someone else’s town,
At someone else’s memorial,
Joining in someone else’s service,

And with them,
We remembered.

Some stood,
Around the memorial,
Some stood,
In shop doorways,
Some stood,
At a distance,
But all stood,
In silent memory.

Thank you Burnham Market,
Thank you Rev Graham Hitchins (ex Royal Marine),
We will remember them,
We won’t forget.

…and I remembered my son, lost not in war, but in peacetime but always remembered.

© Baldock Bard 2014
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above
Facebook: Baldock Bard
Twitter: @baldockbard
E-mail: baldockbard@www.baldockbard.co.uk

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We Shall Remember Them

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ET2Yesterday on Remembrance Day I watched a piper lead a procession up a narrow street in a town in North Norfolk.
I wonder if you have been remembering someone over the Remembrance Weekend?
I have been remembering someone I never met and never knew existed until 17th June 2012. I was walking around the enormous cemetery at Etaples in Northern France. Row upon row of headstones told the story of loss far better than words could ever do.

Wandering away from the orderly lines and shiny white headstones I discovered a grave all on its own, hidden amongst bushes, away from the vast majority. It is Chinese Labour Corps No 9436 that I have been remembering. Perhaps we should all take something from the inscription on his headstone:

A Good Reputation Endures For Ever

Thank You
Number 9436

Died September 23rd 1917
© Baldock Bard 2014
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above
Facebook: Baldock Bard
Twitter: @baldockbard
E-mail: baldockbard@www.baldockbard.co.uk

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The Wait For Welsh Hooks!

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Missing KeysWe have had a friend to stay fo a couple of nights. Apparently when she last stayed with us I was desperately searching for keys that I had mislaid. With this in mind she bought me a remedy which is now installed, in use and already irreplaceable…

“Where are those bloody keys?
I put them on the table,
Someone must have picked them up,
Didn’t drop them in the stable!”
I really must get hooks,
On which to put my keys,
Then they’ll always be to hand,
I’ll find them all with ease!”

But the job of finding hooks,
Became one to do ‘tomorrow’,
And keys were still being mislaid,
Causing grief and sorrow.
Friend Sian came to stay,
And bought me a prescription,
Inscribed above some useful hooks
This simple Welsh Inscription…

“Here’s a place to keep the keys,
instead of looking
all over the house for hours!”

Diolch Sian, Angharad & Rhodri!

© Baldock Bard 2014
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above
Facebook: Baldock Bard
Twitter: @baldockbard
E-mail: baldockbard@www.baldockbard.co.uk
The Baldock Boot Sale
Every Saturday until October 18th
With more FREE parking and billions of bargains!
www.u-boot.co.uk

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Mrs Wallet and The Boot Sale… a true(ish) story

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Mrs WalletA few weeks ago a couple handed in a wallet at the car boot sale. Inside was some money, cards, driving licence and credit cards, everything needed for modern daily life. I tried in vain to get one of the card suppliers to contact the lady who had lost the card, I even tried the roadside recovery organisation, all to no avail. Later on, the wallet and the lady were re-united. I wrote this to thank the couple who handed the wallet in…

Once upon a time, a small dark-blue wallet called ‘Mrs Wallet’ lived with her human in a small village in Bedfordshire. She had a very important job. It was her duty to look after everything her human needed when she went shopping: credit cards, drivers licence, road rescue card and of course money! She took this responsibility very seriously and was happy in her work. So happy was she that that every time her human opened her up, her Velcro strip sang with pleasure!

One Saturday morning, Mrs Wallet’s human said, “We’re off to a boot sale!” Mrs Wallet froze with terror. Was it not a fortnight ago that a purse she had met in the supermarket had told her that car boot sales were full of ‘pirates, brigands and cut-throats’, that stole purses and wallets, emptied their contents and abandoned them in skips, litter bins or on the side of the road!

Mrs Wallet and her human arrived in a field just outside Baldock, the sun was shining, the grass was green and the sky was blue. They parked the car and walked into the selling area. It didn’t look like a field full of pirates, brigands and cut-throats. Everyone there, whether behind a table full of exciting things or walking about shopping, looked very normal. In fact Mrs Wallet thought they looked as normal as in the supermarket or any other shop she’d ever visited.

Mrs Wallet’s human seemed to be enjoying herself; she chatted to stallholders, had a cup of tea at the burger van and bought an ornament (which wasn’t to Mrs Wallet’s taste) to go on the windowsill in the kitchen. Mrs Wallet was happy, her Velcro sang with joy.
They were just about to leave for home when Mrs Wallet’s human noticed a china doll on a stall next to the exit. Mrs Wallet was put down onto the pasting table next to a rather scruffy bear while the doll was examined. Mrs Wallet didn’t like the doll, her human had too many already and all they did was collect dust in the old chair by the front door. She heaved a sigh of relief when her human put down the doll, told the seller that it wasn’t quite what she wanted, and walked away towards the exit.

Mrs Wallet tried to scream but her Velcro mouth was stuck solid. She’d been left behind, abandoned and forgotten. She looked around. All the humans looked like pirates, brigands and cut-throats! Little old ladies had knives hidden in their knitting bags, old men brandished walking sticks that were swords in disguise and wasn’t that child’s water pistol full of acid? She was terrified.

A hand picked her up. “That lady left her wallet behind,” a pirate’s voice rang out. Another voice, this time not unlike her human said, “We could take it to the Organiser?” The lady, whose hands were soft, picked her up and Mrs Wallet felt a little safer. However her terror returned as she saw that she was being taken to a terrifying old man dressed in a fluorescent jacket. She was being delivered into the hands of the Pirate Captain!
A rough hand tore open her Velcro, she felt cards being removed. This was it, this is what the purse in the supermarket had warned her about. The next stop for her was a skip, litter bin or roadside verge.

She heard the Pirate Captain speaking on the phone, “Yes, I know you’re roadside assistance, but could you contact this lady and tell her she left her wallet at the bootsale?” and “Yes, I realize it’s not my credit card. No, I don’t want to cancel it, it’s not mine to cancel, could you just let the lady know that she’s left it at the bootsale?” The pirate then said a word that made Mrs Wallet blush and she was forced into the dark glovebox of his pirate-mobile.

Some minutes later she heard a muffled phone ring and the pirate’s gruff voice: “Yes,” she heard him say, “a couple handed it in, we’ll see you soon.” Mrs Wallet hardly dared believe what she was hearing, was her human going to rescue her? Sometime later, sunlight streamed into her glovebox of captivity. The rough Pirate Captain’s hand reached in and grabbed her, and handed her over… to her human! She was so happy that her Velcro sung with joy again.

She would never listen to what a purse told her ever again and she’d always enjoy coming to the Baldock Car Boot Sale where most people were helpful, kind and honest, with very few pirates, brigands and cut-throats!

© Baldock Bard 2014
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above
Facebook: Baldock Bard
Twitter: @baldockbard
E-mail: baldockbard@www.baldockbard.co.uk
The Baldock Boot Sale
Every Saturday until October!
With more FREE parking and billions of bargains!
www.u-boot.co.uk

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Our Home-Bred Visitors!

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Last SwallowsOver the last few days a group of visitors has visibly decreased in numbers. I always enjoy seeing Swallows arrive at the end of April and am sad to see them go at this time of year. This year so many have hatched that I’m surprised that there were no mid-air collisions during their feeding flights. It is remarkable when you consider that this has been going on for hundreds and hundreds of years and while war and turmoil affected nations, the Swallows migration was a constant that us country-folk could cling to…

The swallows are almost gone,
Only very few remain,
They’ve popped down to South Africa,
They’ll be back next year again.
They’ll travel down through France,
And then through Eastern Spain,
They’ll cross the Sahara Desert,
By this time they’ll be feeling the strain.
On and on they’ll fly,
Cover some 200 miles a day,
And if they’re very lucky,
They’ll survive to be back next May.
It’s a shame that they don’t know,
How they’ll be missed back here,
And how joyfully they’ll be welcomed,
When they return next year.

Last Swallows 2© Baldock Bard 2014
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

Facebook: Baldock Bard
Twitter: @baldockbard
E-mail: baldockbard@www.baldockbard.co.uk
The Baldock Boot Sale
Every Saturday until October!
With more FREE parking and billions of bargains!
www.u-boot.co.uk

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