Richard Sanders's Podcast

The title of this story in our books is "How Many Tablets," but I now prefer the title above!This is another Goliath and Bonnie story from Lincolnshire's Northcote Heavy Horse Centre in the 1990s.You can access Goliath's own online picture storybook from our Book Case site at http://online.flipbuilder.com/crackerbooks/All downloads are free and you can use any device you choose.There are 10 books on the bookcase, try a different one too!Thank you for listening to our Buzzsprout audio stories.You can follow many of these with added film and photographs as videos and slide showson our YouTube Channel at "cracker books on youtube".At the same time, Cracker Books have produced 10 complete page turninge-books on their own Site.All the books are free to download to any device.Have a look at our bookcase and view all the book details. http://online.flipbuilder.com/crackerbooks/ Finally for lots of further information about what we publish and why have a look at our website at www.crackerbooks.fr

Another Goliath and Bonnie story from Lincolnshire's Northcote Heavy Horse Centre in the 1990s.Drama and stress on a cold wet night.You can download Goliath's own online picture storybook from our bookcase site at:http://online.flipbuilder.com/crackerbooks/All downloads are free and there are 9 other books for you to look at.Thank you for listening to our Buzzsprout audio stories.You can follow many of these with added film and photographs as videos and slide showson our YouTube Channel at "cracker books on youtube".At the same time, Cracker Books have produced 10 complete page turninge-books on their own Site.All the books are free to download to any device.Have a look at our bookcase and view all the book details. http://online.flipbuilder.com/crackerbooks/ Finally for lots of further information about what we publish and why have a look at our website at www.crackerbooks.fr

It came about in 1986 and we were living close to Spilsby in Lincolnshire.Sir John Franklin, Spilsby's most famous “son” was born there in 1786 and subsequently lost his life together with the rest of his crew and two ships, undertaking the expedition to find the “North West Passage” in 1848.This was the most sought after route “around the top of the World” which it was hoped, could allow vessels to reach the Pacific Ocean without having to risk that long, dangerous voyage around South America and “Cape Horn”.The actual history of these explorations are covered in many publications. Indeed the Internet's Wikipedia has most comprehensive information.Back in Spilsby in 1986, the Mayor and Councillors were asked by the High Commission for Canada to commemorate the two hundredth anniversary of Franklin's birth and indeed the High Commissioner Himself wished to attend.

 Back to that interview with my lady surgeon who happened to say, “well the only little problem you might have with the new lenses is that your extreme peripheral vision might be affected when driving in the dark.” “Oh that's ok then, I replied. “I do not normally drive after dark and anyway the last time was for my last check up with Dr,…. my Opthalmologist last week when I got home at 1.30am in the morning.” “I.30am,” she exploded. “ Did I hear correctly, are you sure.” “Oh yes,” I continued. “ My appointment was for 10.30 pm oh and it was Saturday evening.  When I arrived, there were 5 folk in front of me, which is normal. Then as you know that final examination before the operations is quite lengthy.  I had to wait a bit before driving because of the drops in my eyes. I suppose it could have been nearer to 2am when I arrived home.” My surgeon was most surprised to say the least and completely dumbfounded.  In fact she nearly fell off her stool!

A  story from the Northcote Heavy Horse Centre in about 2005.On a wet and windy night one of the horses managed to dislocate my right shoulder.Unfortunately, it was the same shoulder that I had broken when falling over "that" dog only a month previously.The story goes on as I travelled to my out patients appointment on my motor bike with the sling loose around my neck!

This is a  re write of the story "Incident with Queen Mary."Just a few changes. It involves a contingent of CCF Naval Section Cadets let loose on HMS Vanguard while in Portsmouth Harbour.

 We were going into all this. Perhaps it was good that these machines had wheels, that would help when we touched the sand way out at sea. You will have to imagine that you are taking a journey into rough offshore seas with breaking waves, in a steel motorised bathtub with wheels. I do not remember anything of lifejackets or the like. If we did have them in the 1950s they would have been those dreadful double-sided cork contraptions that you would see issued to the unfortunate passengers on the Titanic! There was no evidence of ships boats from the Frigate being ready for use, or “the Captain's pinnace” available to whisk the Mayor of Skegness over for a visit. You see, at Skegness, it was just the open beach and nothing else. If the Mayor was to visit, then the Captain's pinnace would have to run ashore up the beach and then be pushed off again at the mercy of the surf pounding the beach! You should be so lucky! 

This is a story about a Bus Journey, well several bus journeys really.A story of "Financial aspirations" of a 6 year old in 1950.The scene is Harrogate, Yorkshire, in the North of England. A very smart and affluent town with more Rolls Royce cars to the mile than any other town in England!All for the sake of a half penny!

Letter from France continued....MILOU'S FIRST BRUSH WITH THE LAW.We were driving a car originally registered in the Uk but that we had since imported into Franceand was now French registered!  Driving carefully on entering the town I had seen a light like a torch pointing in my direction.Getting closer it began to wave from side to side and eventually I could see the blue uniform behind the light.There was only very basic street lighting in the town and by now it was 9.30 in the evening.I pulled in to the right just off the road right next to the Gendarme gentleman who signed for me to lower my window.We began with pleasantries like good evening and he explained that he had stopped me because he was looking for the driver!

One of our first losses around Christmas was our very first Shire Horse Ebony.He retired from Young and Cos Brewery in 1988 and came back to live with us in Lincolnshire.He helped us with the opening of the Northcote Heavy Horse Centre, in fact, he was the star during those first few years.You see he had already been a television personality during his time at Youngs Brewery.Blue Peter the famous BBC television programme for Children had him in their studio. He was also a favourite of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother and took part in her Huge Celebration on Horse Guards Parade.He was also the principal character in a children's picture storybook published by A and A Black called “Shire Horse”.

A letter from France 1st October 2022.TODAY I MANAGED TO STOP THE TRAINS ON THE MAIN LINE!Not intentionally, well not really, but you see the local crossing barriers were stuck.I had set out on my normal dog exercise trip with Mango and hey presto we found the crossing barriers in the down position. (We cross the main line from Tours to Nantes every morning on our excursion.)No bells ringing but the lights were flashing happily.A small van had approached the crossing ahead of us, the driver got out and had a look down the line and then sasheyed through the barriers carefully.A note here, the line both ways is dead straight for miles or rather kilometeres here.You can see anything coming possibly a minute before it arrives.Why a minute, well it is a fast line here, not maximum for TGV's but everything seems to be travelling at at least 80 mph when it goes over this crossing.Goods trains just a little slower.Anyway it must have been about 10 minutes past nine when I arrived back at the crossing with Mango and the barriers still not budging.I decided to press the emergency button at the crossing and a chap came on the line virtually straight away.I explained the problem and the fact that the barriers had been down for at least half an hour without moving. I told him it was ok for the trains but not for the cars.

This particular day, I had just pulled in to the side of the road close to the depot entrance, when there was an almighty bang and the front of the roof of the tyre retail premises was lifted off the brick cladding over the main front doors.The dust and mess was considerable, covering much of the surrounding area.I moved to go inside with caution, not knowing what I would be looking at.Were there any bodies laying around? Was that the final bang or were there to be more?In fact it was the only one but that initial bang had been followed by a tremendous amount of clattering as various pieces of metal and rubber gradually fell to earth after their being propelled into the air with great force.The force was compressed air and I had been fortunate that I had not arrived a few minutes earlier!Morris the very convivial manager at this particular depot was out, calling on clients. His tyre fitting staff had been taking a few short cuts in their endeavours.When removing commercial tyres from wheels there are safety instructions that should be followed. The lads in the depot that day had their own ideas.They had removed the locking ring and one side of the split wheel and turned the wheel and tyre over on a metal stand to knock the tyre off with a breaker tool.Evidently, so the story was told to me, the tyre would not budge. After lots of tyre lubricant and more hammering and jumping around, no difference, it was fixed solid.This often happened when the tyre had been on that wheel for a long time and had not had to be removed for any reason.In these instances, the tyre and wheel has to be placed in a safety cage and slowly inflated to encourage some movement.Compressed air is very very dangerous, everyone engaged in the tyre trade has received instruction regarding this at some stage in their early career.Even me!The lads at National Tyres, Stamford were fed up with this particular wheel.The boss was out and they decided to take the short cut. They attached the air line and began to blow the tyre off the wheel, without any safety cage. It was still laying there in the middle of the floor of the workshop, on its metal stand.Its the amount of compressed air in a restricted place, contained and under increasing pressure that is dangerous.Our lads that day had a very lucky escape.Quite suddenly, the wheel and tyre began to part company and jointly were launched into the air vertically at very high speed. Within a second or so, the wheel hit the steel girders supporting the roof of the building. The whole roof was lifted off its brick supports at the front and then the tyre and wheel separated and fell to earth almost as quickly as they had been launched.Those commercial tyres weigh over a hundredweight or 200 kilos. The wheel probably weighs more than that, so all together there was getting on for a quarter of a ton of rubber and metal flying around the building at high speed and out of control.Both bits landed not far from a clients car that was having new tyres fitted. He very nearly needed a new car!

The Official launch of the twinning with Boston and Fresnay was a big event. Spilsby took a local community Brass Band and their were representatives from local football teams, young farmers clubs and other associations.The actual event took a whole week end, Saturday and Sunday.Visitors from Lincolnshire were accomodated in local homes and several families still maintain happy relationships even today. Now to the main theme of our story......what twinning really means.I was still working for Mortons Publishers at this time, the year we had created the Spilsby News. The local newspaper for Spilsby and the villages around the area.At some stage in the proceedings in France, among many different subjects, we were discussing the fact that Spilsby had a special school for the mentally handicapped. Eresby School.I explained the kind of things that were taught at the school which were not just academic subjects but also practical things like household jobs and the kitchen and home.

The local surgery has five partners. I have tried almost all of them and my current doctor is brusque and always very much to the point.I like his straight forward “no nonsense” approach, but many do not.He began,” after everything else you have encountered this year, you will “walk” this examination.”“Anyway, he concluded it is a very expensive form of heart check up and you are getting it without waiting and for free!” End of argument.I telephoned the office of the secretary to the heart consultant at Leicester to confirm my appointment and explained that I would be travelling on my motor bike.Quite spontaneously she burst out “You can't do that, patients are normally driven home after this procedure!”“Well, I explained, it has to motor bike as that is all I have!”My Ford Escort (MX5) convertible had already been transferred to France on our large trailer to live there permanently. (See Digby locked us out story).A sigh of resignation from Leicester ended that telephone conversation.

If I remember, I won and would have liked nothing better than to drive with John thorough the French Countryside for four days or so as fast as we could go, with safety.However, and it was a big however.It was only two and a half years after I had experienced a heart attack and really thought it inadvisable to take on something so stressful when I was still not really sure how stable the old ticker was from day to day!!I believe John had second thoughts too as he was married with a young family and the event was a long return journey to one of the premier wine areas of France and back again, with the new wine.It was not without serious risk.......although defined as NOT a race!!The Cosworth was some beast and a delight to drive, certainly the fastest pair of wheels I had ever driven........we could really have had some fun with that car but with my health record at the time, I could not be certain we would return in one piece, or even return at all!

A TIME OF TRIALOur bank were trying to foreclose on our mortgage because it had not been paid for over six months, we had over 15 very large Heavy Horses of various breeds in our care. Some like Goliath and Big Bonnie had very serious and also “expensive” health problemsWe owed huge amounts to our feed merchant and vet as well as countless smaller suppliers.Here I must mention the Vet practice. At that time we owed them over £10.000. They were fully aware of the situation and our intentions and they kept coming, often more than once each week.For this kindness we were always very grateful.

“They're frightened of you in the x ray department,” he continued. “But I must have this shot down at the joint.”I couldn't for the life of me think why they should be frightened!I was in this trolley with sides, although coming to think of it one does feel something like a caged animal! And perhaps the mud and muck didn't help either!Well after that, I couldn't get the arm down again. The problem seemed to be the trolley getting in the way of the x-ray machine and all we got again was the top of the arm and no socket at all.By the time this was sorted it was lunchtime and I heard talk of moving me to the big Boston Hospital, and ambulances and all sorts. The x-ray lady had gone to lunch and we would have to wait for another go.Well the arm was stuck out at the side, it was supported on a pillow but very uncomfortable and I wiggled it about a bit. Then a bit more and there was this little “click”.When the time came, after lunch, I suggested I felt better and how about walking to x-ray. Well, we settled for a wheel chair.

We began to look at Ruth's Renault 4L (our local shopping runabout) at the end of last week, as it had this smell on petrol hanging around and seemed to be getting worse.I stuck a piece of cardboard under the fuel tank and yes to be sure there was a leak. Did not seem too great but obviously fuel was getting out and in the hot weather it seemed to us that it might be foolhardy to take it into town and risk someone slinging a match in our direction!I might have mentioned this earlier, Ruth and I decided that at almost 78 years old, the time has come for me to stop crawling under cars to do all the repairs.We had bought a decent 14 years old, one owner, C4 Grand Picasso last year that we very much like and hope it will last us several years.The other cars, which still number four are off the road except for the 4L.There is a nice Mk 5 Ford Escort Convertible, (exhaust fallen off). A nice Merco 190E (just not been used since covid), and the MG B GT that we were actually using the time we bought this little house in France.Long story with the MG but is sits in our garage on a ramp and I have been doing things to it over the last 7 years or so!!

“IF YOU TOUCH A HORSE, A DOG OR EVEN A CAT IN THE NEXT THREE MONTHS.....DO NOT COME BACK HERE !!”Rewrite of a story from Its a Rum Life at Northcote,Book Two 1998 to 2008These very words were spoken to me quite seriously by the consultant orthopaedic surgeon at Louth County Hospital out patients clinic after I had arrived for his clinic riding my Honda “Superdream” 250 cc motor bike.The fact that just at that particular time it was my one and only mode of transport was of no consequence. The added fact that as soon as removing my crash helmet I put the sling back on my arm, together with the fact that he had happened to see all this out of his office window, did me no favours.It was when I has asked him for a course of physiotherapy that he became apoplectic. 

A few months passed and we received a strange phone call from those farmers and produce merchants we had carted the onions for, they were in a big way of business, located to the north east of Boston and about ten miles out of town.They wanted to know if we were prepared to do them a favour by making a statement that we had never been paid for the delivery we made for them.In explanation, they said that the onions had been of poor quality and they were disputing payment.Onions are quite expensive when you are talking about 10 tons and the total was several hundreds of pounds, even in 1974.We had been paid a fair rate for the delivery we made. We mentioned all this tarry diddle to Albert and he was sure their had been nothing wrong with the onions themselves. Albert could be relied on regarding anything to do with farming.When we replied saying we could not possibly do what they asked, as it was untrue, they became very heated and difficult, offering various threats of one sort and another. As this was the one and only job we had ever be asked to do for them, and we did not work for any of their so called “friends”, we felt that their threats could do us no harm.Besides, the main issue was being honest, open and fair. Our reputation and work ethics were at stake!

Yes we have a proper cellar on the property, again all by accident as our whole coming to live here has been.There is a small house here and a huge barn, a metal built barn, high and wide, easily big enough for a couple of large combine harvesters.In one corner, the Fresneau family who built the property in about 1967, built a “cave”.Every self respecting French family living in this wine centre of France has a “cave”.Ours is half below ground and half above as the water table is relatively high, this being part of the old alluvial plain of the old river Loire.What they did was excavate and line the hole with concrete blocks. Put in a concrete floor and then keep bricking up until a good headroom was achieved. Then they put a thick concrete roof on the whole thing and pushed the soil or in this case, sand, back up level all around the structure.It is fully insulated inside and there are good steps going down and stout wooden doors. The family left us all their wine racks (sufficient for 400 bottles) and there were stands for the barrels that M. Fresneau (Pere) as he was called locally, used to make his own wine and appero.

Then just as suddenly it was all over and relative peace and quite reigned until the next group of buses from another large part of the midlands would descend on that modern “oasis” and it would all begin again.We admit to finding good reason to quit the scene rapidly. It was truly a mad house every Saturday Morning in those months that folk from the huge midlands towns and cities took their holidays on the Lincolnshire coast. This was how Hylda made a large proportion of her living. Of course there was substantial beer sales to bus passengers as well as the sandwiches and tea.Local trade for a pub stuck out in a tiny hamlet in the countryside was negligible. Hylda was a good cook and providing meals to paying clients must have been part of her regular trade too.One other result of all this summer time invasion was satisfying the VAT man!I do remember distinctly Hylda remonstrating in her usual way about how the VAT inspectors wanted her to work out how many breakfasts she provided free of charge to the bus drivers who brought their passengers to stop at the pub.They expected her to pay the VAT on those breakfasts even though they had been provided at no charge!She was typically furious and it was not a good idea to pay a visit close to any time the VAT man had also been calling, as this was not the only “weeze” that they thought up to get more income from hard working folk like Hylda.

Back to Ivy House and the now established wine cellar, we had plenty of storage capacity and as the years went by we learned much more about wine and how to keep it.Buy the late 1970's we were making annual trips to France ourselves and managed to bring back a variety of different wines to augment the cellar.A calamity happened one winter when the water level in the basin rose so high it came up into the garden...and the cellar flooded to a depth of about 12 inches.The wine was ok but those cardboard boxes of tinned food did not fair too well. The cardboard disintegrated and the tins were to be found floating around in varying condition of “distress”.Many had begun to “blow”. When tins of food are kept too long and experience varying differences in storage conditions, they can begin to explode!By now, what with the age of the tins and now finding them floating around the cellar, the labels had come off many of them too.This was going to make identification somewhat difficult.I telephoned my Mother who for the previous four years or so had not even mentioned her tins of food. She went ballistic....Her “valuable” store of comestibles had been violated and I was the cause.One would think I had destroyed the World food bank to hear the racket down the telephone line.When she had finished ranting, I told here they were unsafe and were going to be binned at the earliest possible moment.I was “sent to Coventry” for another period of several months, which suited me fine!

The bridge has over the years been the subject of many amusing stories, the main one was televised when a gang of locals sold it to some gullible folk in America...it was only a story of course!So, whenever we set off to visit Scarborough, I requested going by Middlesborough. Even the most mediocre student of geography can tell that Harrogate to Scarborough via Middlesborough does not make good sense. Even the return journey, it is miles and miles out of the way.Mind you I could be very persistent and dogged and difficult. I had to pay for this attitude from time to time...one memorable time was being abandoned or rather, “put out” of the car in the middle of the North Yorkshire Moors for my “persistent difficultness”! The car went off without me….completely out of sight...for what seemed like ages. But it did come back again!I was told they had missed my company or something like that.. and I was let in again, if I agreed to be somewhat better behaved!So, you see, I never did get to Middlesborough very often...it was only actually when going to visit those good friends in Whitley Bay...even then it was a very round about trip!

It was also much more exciting, not just the ferry trip but getting on to the ferry at New Holland was like taking your car onto the big dipper at the fair.I jest not, it was truly heart stopping especially in frosty or snowy weather.At the Hull end on the north bank of the River Humber everything was conventional and made of metal and strong and short and everything like that!Back on the South bank it was as if you had gone back into the middle ages before anyone had heard of steel or strong structures. It was wooden and wobbly, with piles stuck into the mud attached to wooden crosspieces and lot and lots of planks that rattled along as you crossed them.There must have been a reason for it, I know the boats were further out into the river than at Hull, so it must have been shallow and inaccessible close in to the bank?Anyway, for a small boy it was like a trip to the fair….but using your own car on the rides!I think my mother just closed her eyes, I know she did not like this part of the journey one little bit.To start with, car owners wishing to access the ferry boats had to mount the railway platform at New Holland and then just continue on the extension of the platform that quickly became a wooden structure held up by what looked like telegraph poles.I think it is fair to say it was unique, there was nothing else quite like it and doubtless the health and safety mad world we live in now would have it condemned out of hand!

Samuel Ledgard's buses operated from Bradford, the smoky rather more downmarket cousin to Leeds the main business hub of West Yorkshire.Now you see, Ledgard's buses were a bit older and more basic. They had wooden seats for a start. Have you ever travelled on a double deck bus with all wooden seats?Consequently Ledgard's did not charge as much as the West Yorkshire company.A Ledgard's double decker heading for Bradford left the Harrogate bus station a minute or two before the West Yorkshire double decker for Leeds.I had worked out carefully that if I could catch that Ledgard's bus I could save a half penny on that one journey and that money would be mine.In 12 days I could gain sixpence!

It was just as we approached the junction, I was seated in the rear with Grandmother Annie Munford when a most unusual and unpleasant smell began to drift around the interior. Mother smoked like a chimney all her life and we were all used to “Fag smoke”, but this was much different.It did not take long for smoke to begin oozing from behind the roof lining. Then quite rapidly the roof inside began to glow and the decision was made to stop and abandon ship!Fortunately the item of most immediate importance, the eggs, were in the boot and quickly accessed by opening the drop down boot lid. By now we were all out of the vehicle and stood in amazement as flames began to engulf the bodywork where we had been sitting only a few moments before. In later years and with some more knowledge I could probably have saved the car by disconnecting the battery, but as I was only almost four years old at the time my interest in cars was still purely that they were great fun to ride in, and look at, even if they were sometimes in flames!

I might ad that in the almost three years that I was engaged in Rabbit farming, I never ever had one sick rabbit.   This I considered a major achievement.Not that I can say the same for myself as just entering the second year of the enterprise I suffered a heart attack.It happened one night quite unexpectedly. Severe pain down left arm and incredible pain in my chest. A huge angry hot orange was doing its best to push its way out of my insides.All I could do was lie still on the bed. Sweat poured off me and yet I was icy cold.Ruth wanted to call for help, but I persuaded her that I could survive and if I were to be carted away what would happen to those hundreds of rabbits that depended on my twice daily care?I did survive, obviously, but come the morning, I was as weak as the proverbial kitten!I managed to crawl out of bed at 6am, fed the horses we had at that time and then began to walk across the field to the rabbits.It took me 15 minutes to cross the field that first time. I clung on to each and every fence post and the wire in between.Once in the feed store which had been a piggery before our time and was destined to be a tea room for the new visitor centre far into the future; I sat and rested for another 15 minutes.

Keith was phoning from a cafe on the M1 at Crick in Northamptonshire.The first thing he had to tell me was he had lost both rear wheels from one side of the lorry.It was fully loaded and he had been going fairly slowly through a restricted part of the motorway where it was single carriageway only.His rear wheels had come off in this section and just spun away across the remainder of the motorway.Mixed blessings here as with it being roadworks and restricted, then there was a free recovery service for vehicles breaking down in this section.Keith had been recovered to the cafe parking area and had managed to recover his wheels too.Earlier in the journey, he had needed two new rear tyres to be fitted in Brighton and the tyre fitters had been too enthusiastic with the pneumatic nut spinner and overtightened the wheel nuts. The threads had been damaged and during the journey north the wheel nuts had worked their way off the studs on the brake drum.NB The picture is not of a Mastiff, but a much more modern lorry, it shows the same type of demountable body system.

There have been tales of Lady drivers, driving examinations, first potato powder trips to Lancashire, romantic encounters in Thetford Forest and of course the demise of Wonderbun.This story happened in the middle of all the other events. I was the driver this time and engaged in delivering a load of TMC complaint tyres to their examination centre in North Lancashire.Wonderbun was an Austin FKJ140 12 ton capacity two axle diesel lorry with very large box van body, This was one of the reasons we had bought her from Glentons, plus the fact that she had a large capacity hydraulic tail lift fitted.

I could see the situation was getting worse, I stopped the dray and instructed all the passengers to get off the vehicle without delay, if not even quicker.I was by now holding Cracker on the reins with extreme difficulty. Once everyone was off the dray I also got down and went to the head of the horse. I could not ask the groom to look at the horse's head while I stayed in the seat, as the groom was not a trained horseman and I had doubts that I would be able to hold him for much longer.There was a wasp inside his blinker. The blinker is the side covering to the eyes on the bridle that prevents the horse looking sideways or being concerned by things behind. (Technical bits explained at the end.)

Then there is the period in which it was built, during the reign of Great Britain's Queen Victoria. During her period in history, ladies would be wearing wide skirts with crinolines to support their skirt structure. These were popular with Queen Victoria and consequently became a main fashion item.Ladies wearing this kind of skirt could not get into a carriage with normal door and step arrangements. Their skirts were too wide.So the “Victoria” Carriage arrived with its wide sweeping rear mudguards and plenty of room for those wide skirts. It was as simple as that, the carriage was developed to cope with the high fashion of the period. It was primarily a ladies' carriage.

This is another tale as published in the Mortons Group of Newspapers in 1999.There were a series of "Diary" type stories showing some of the "scatty" life as it was at Northcote in the late 1990's.This story is about a new volunteer helper who only stayed a couple of hours.That was not the shortest.......read Goliath's story book to hear about the girl helper on work experience brought by her Mum who only stayed 30 seconds!!

The bad weather began almost as I left Aylesbury; thunder clouds rolled in as black as black could be. The lightning began followed by thunder and torrential rain. It was the rain that stopped me, continuous, heavy downpours that drummed on the road and even louder on the roof of the pick-up truck. As the rain fell so hard the roads quickly became flooded and then the dips in the road became deep lakes and the truck stopped at every one. One of the main design faults of the Mk1 mini, car, truck, van, or what have you was that the distributor that sends the spark to each spark plug, in turn, was positioned on the front face of the engine just under the bonnet catch and immediately behind the smart designed serrated grill in the front of the vehicle. 

What possible better recommendation could one get, the LD150 had never let her down. Through thick and thin, forest, dykes, and up and down the UK that remarkable machine had put up with everything my 20-stone Aunt could throw at it for eight years or more. The only thing that had stopped it, in the end, was being driven head-on into a Daimler Limousine.Madge did get on the road again but insisted on something smaller; once back at work she bought a Honda 90 which did stalwart service for a few more years. Perhaps it was its lack of sheer power that prevented Aunt Madge from appearing in any further traffic courts. 

Ron was one of those truly wonderful people that you come across only a few times in your life.He was a volunteer helper at the Northcote Heavy Horse Centre near Spilsby in Lincolnshire for many years and regularly came to the centre two or three times every week.Ron was retired and lived in Boston, about 20 miles south of Great Steeping where the Horse Sanctuary is located.Ron never talked about his early life, so I suppose you could say he was a private person.

Once we had decided to actually go ahead with the project to create a visitor centre based around horses we began to find who our “friends “ really were!Firstly, a planning application had to be submitted for change of use at Northcote. I had been a local Parish Councillor for about five years by this time. My colleagues were not convinced it was a good idea. All kinds of stupid objections were raised locally and at the District Council. Of course, nobody actually confronted us with their suggestions, objections, questions or queries. They just assumed this and assumed that and consequently created a huge problem that took us ages to sort.

"Meldrew" is one of a series of stories written for the Mortons Group of Newspapers.Mortons were my last employers back in 1988 when I was "The" photojournalist,  ad salesman and designer and circulation manager for the new "Spilsby News".The newspapers are now owned by the Johnson Press Group who kindly gave their permission for the reproduction of these stories.The artist is Janet Allinson.

This is a story from Its a Rum Life Book Three. The action is mainly in Boston UK."As soon as 5 o' clock arrived the area suddenly teemed with white smocked Porters wearing their classic flat leather hats. The main impression I remember was the smell and ice in all the gullies and drains.The noise level increased rapidly as instant auctions took place for the countless varieties of fish and shellfish. Auctions on the back of lorries, auctions in the isles between the stalls, and auctions in the open air.As goods were sold, the porters loaded kits of fish on their heads or boxes on their quaint long low barrows. Off they went at top speed, singly or in pairs to another part of the yard where eager buyers waited patiently to load their precious purchases. Fish from all parts of the UK was destined to travel yet again to “pastures new”!

the scene is the Solent just outside Southampton Water and not far from the Isle of Wight.The year 1958....."I was hauled off the wheel rapidly with a lot of strong language and sent back down to the forecastle to continue being quizzed….especially on buoys!The lesson I learned was once at the helm, do not take your eyes of the course or “road” no matter how interesting other things are around you!!I was not allowed on the helm again on that trip! But it was a lesson well learned and put into practice in all our future family sailing and power craft to come……….well all but one, and that will have to another tale. 

The subtitle could be "How Brian our Motor Coach owner /driver had to sit all day in lemonade-soaked trousers!"The story of course involves the 1st Boston Sea Scout Cubs on another Annual outing.This time to the beautiful Norfolk Broads.A small slice from the story goes like this......"Back to our boat, and by now Philip has taken Geoffrey's remark so literally that he has begun to cast Geoffrey's sandwiches to the countless ducks and other mixed waterfowl that have by now realised they are witnessing their lifetime dream. An infinite traveling food bar."

This time the Cubs nearly had to walk home, our bus driver would not let them into his coach!Admittedly, they were a mess. They had only been on a three-hour ramble in the countryside!It was a good job we had plenty of old newspapers to cover the bus floor and seats.Yes, some of the boys were a bit wet and some a bit muddy, one or two were covered in mud from head to foot!How had they possibly got in this awful mess?We were with them all the time, three adult leaders, supposedly responsible. ...and then there was "sludge"!Who can remember who this one was, I can,  but perhaps it would be embarrassing for him now, after 56 years or so.   He might well be grown up and have a family of his own!

I announced the couple who were to perform without mentioning that neither of them had ever seen each other before. Never mind not having the chance to practice the piece together before the performance.I dare not mention that neither the pianist nor the mezzo soprano singer had any sheet music to follow either.They were both confident and enthusiastic and with a glance at each other off they went.David's beautiful playing of that most difficult of piano pieces accompanied by Heather who had a lovely commanding voice was simply magnificent.David was note-perfect, the piece went on for perhaps four minutes and he finished with that memorable very twiddly complicated beautiful music which is “the Trout”.I was enthralled as were the rest of the audience. 

In conclusion, I felt confident that the Inspector of Taxes had good acceptable answers to all his questions and could find no reason to take the matter further. Indeed, I did not hear anything more from that Government Office.But you can read or listen to other unpleasant incidents where various folk have seen fit to “have a go “ at us in other ways over the years.The worst and longest-lasting is covered in the story “Litigation”.It all began in 1982 during the time I was a Parish Councillor at New Bolingbroke and Carrington and continued for over 20 years!The final one was when Barclays Bank tried to “grab” the Northcote property and close the Animal Sanctuary back in 2012.You can follow this later incident in two stories, “A Lesson in Faith in the 21st Century” and “Travel Nightmare, I am a Terrorist!” 

All my efforts had been vindicated; two years or so of acute stress had been worthwhile. Teamwork had won in the end but overall, my continued faith in finding a suitable solution had worked out.During the prolonged interval, while I was seeking a new mortgage, all kinds of weird and wonderful solutions had been on offer. None of them were good common sense and all of them very expensive.Arranging the new ‘proper' mortgage had not been cheap, it had cost us in the region of £6000 but was the right thing to do, and then there was the final hurdle, I had to get home! (See train troubles)

Such is the case of dictators who rely on their power to terrify and bully by force. “Inside”, they truly know they are wrong but will never, ever, accept the fact.They become so used to their actions it becomes their way of life.This is normally their undoing eventually, simply because it is “Wrong”.But it can take a little time.Never deviate from the truth, never try to follow their tactics.

With the Mayor and Lynn were Dennis McCarthy the local presenter from BBC Radio Nottingham who was giving their support to Lynn's efforts. Dennis was also a well-respected dog breeder from Nottinghamshire. We traveled to Butterwick with our ancient BMC lorry with trailer and Victoria Carriage. In the box,  we had Juno and her son Jupiter who was to become an equine “celebrity” of some note up and down the County during his future career as a working Carriage Horse for Horse Drawn Weddings.He also became “unforgettable” when he was asked to take Ruth and me to numerous “Sunday meets” of the British Driving Society within the County. There are several audio stories about his “equine escapades”!

Bags and coats went through a scanner and humans passed through an even larger one. It all seemed fine until it was my turn. I duly took off anything metal and pushed my coat and bag into a box that disappeared. I walked through the scanner and caused an immediate alert. The noise was deafening and a smart security guard quickly grabbed me and placed me against the nearest wall. Just like the films, my legs were spread and my arms extended while he passed a handheld scanner over my entire body. I was apparently a terrorist.I could not imagine what on earth was causing the problem. I had forgotten to take off my watch and showed him that. The problem was far greater than a watch and he was determined to find whatever I had hidden on me!The whole world seemed to be focused on me. All those long queues of people were goggling in amazement at the scene. Had they really found a terrorist?The problem was isolated to my left leg, was there something hidden in my pocket or the seam of my trousers, was I going to have to take off all my clothes here and now?

These silver teaspoons with the crest of the RNLI have prompted this story which takes us back as far as 1950.We will begin the saga here, this was in fact the year that the chap who I assume is my father took his escape from my mother to seek his “fortune” in pastures new.BACKGROUNDI should explain to avoid further complications that my father is not my father on my birth certificate. The certificate names another chap who was married to my mother previously. It is just that she did not bother to have any changes made when she became divorced and remarried in 1947.

This story has an unfortunate ending for those of you with as they say “a nervous disposition! “There was a violent hammering on the side door of our house and we opened it to behold an accident right on our doorstep.Parked on the road and just a few feet from our driveway entrance was a Reliant Robin three-wheel car. Some way in front and on the same side of the road was a small normal four-wheel saloon. Who actually hammered on our door I cannot rightly remember now, but it could have been one of the Picker children who lived just across from our garden on the south side of the house.

I asked Sid for his help and explained what it was all about.He very kindly loaned us a proper towable shellfish ‘food sales trailer'. Permission was granted for us to sell our produce at the rally and then we had to decide what it was we were actually going to try and sell?It was left entirely in my hands as our Hall committee only amounted to four or five who included Les Langstaff's father, Bert Langstaff, John Rundle's father, “Jack” Rundle, Ivor Bush the owner of B.A. Bush Tyres and Harry Hubbard our retired postman. None of them were shellfish fans!