Old hands at the bar

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It is said
That if you sit down quietly
On your own
In The Parkes Hide
At The Rye Harbour Nature Reserve,
In East Sussex, England,
Facing south west,
And train your Leica
10 x 42 Trinovid binoculars
Carefully
On The Ternery Pool,
In the distance,
And using only
Your peripheral vision,
You may see
The cloud spirits
Over Fairlight
Re-enacting
Scenes of rape and pillage
Dating back to 1377,
When the French invaded Rye
Without invitation or consent.

But who,
Exactly,
Would say such a thing?

And why has it become
Common knowledge
Among the shingle banks,
And the Sea Kale
And the lonely, deserted
Rotherside pillboxes?

These are not questions to be asked;
They are questions to be answered.
And local help is available
From old hands
At the bar
Of the Inkerman Arms,
Where you can get a decent plate
Of cod and chips
And volumes of lubrication
Of the kind which would keep
An entire saltmarsh happy.

Sadly,
Not everyone
Appreciates East Sussex.



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The Rye Harbour Nature Reserve

The Inkerman Arms at Rye Harbour

Rye Nook Fishery
100 acres of still water on the edge of the Rye Harbour Nature Reserve. Barbless hooks only. Includes a hundred peg match venue for roach, rudd, bream, dace, eels and carp.

Fairlight cliffs
A photograph

Images of Sea Kale
1 2 3 4 5



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A required tonic

#

Happy hour

#

A taxi is possible

#

Out beyond the Gas Giants

#

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A required tonic

Alcuin Bramerton profile ..... Index of blog contents ..... Home

A long slow lunch
With like-minded friends
In misty mid-winter
At the Queens Head Inn
In Icklesham,
East Sussex,
Is a required tonic
Before strolling wistfully
Over the Brede valley downland
To the ancient medieval hill towns
Of Winchelsea and Rye.

This is Old England
At its best.

There are ghosts hereabouts
And the memories of ghosts.

Creep into
The thirteenth century
Rib-vaulted cellar
Beneath The New Inn
In Winchelsea
And listen,
But do not extinguish your candle
And do not go there after dark:
The smugglers will have you still.

The liquid treasure
Of Gascony
Still lubricates life
On the other side.

And then on
Past lonely Camber Castle
To Rye
And The Mermaid Inn
Rebuilt in 1420.

Those who remember
Still talk in the tea shops
About what happened here
In 1377
And spit, politely,
At the French.

In this part of the world,
It is only the present
Which seems unreal.


................................................



The Queens Head at Icklesham
The pub's website

The New Inn (Winchelsea)
A photograph

A note on the cellars of Winchelsea

Camber Castle
A photograph

The Mermaid Inn (Rye)
A photograph


...................



Happy hour

A taxi is possible

Out beyond the Gas Giants

Old hands at the bar

More Norfolk koans

Index of blog contents

Spirituality websites worth watching

Controlled anal voicing

On a recommendation
From an ex-member's husband,
The Blythburgh branch
Of The Women's Institute
Invited Mr Cyril Middleton
Of Dunwich, Suffolk,
To address them
At their Ash Wednesday lunch.

The ladies had checked
Mr Middleton's
Bona fides
Carefully
Before he was invited.

According to the internet,
He had a good address
In the old medieval part
Of Dunwich,
And his hobbies were
Story-telling
And scuba diving.

His speciality,
According to those who
Had had
The good fortune
Of attending his celebrated
Lectures before,
Was to make funny noises
For the amusement
Of the underclass.

The ladies first noticed
That things
Were going to be a little different
At this particular lunch,
When Mr Middleton
Set up his
Amplification system.

He carefully positioned
On the stage,
Not one, but two
Microphones;
One in front of him
At mouth height,
And one behind him
At buttock height.

He then clapped his hands loudly,
Asked for silence,
And said that the ladies
Should not be alarmed
But he was going to do a quick
Sound test.

Everyone stopped talking
And listened intently.

There was a pause
And then a long,
Rasping
High-decibel fart
Echoed around the room.

An agonising split second
Of communal
Prophylactic shock
Was followed by
A wanton explosion
Of some of the most
Indelicate
Rabelaisian
Belly-laughter
Ever to have permeated
A Women's Institute
Ash Wednesday lunch.

Several members,
Indeed,
Were seen to be
Writhing on the floor,
Seriously
Injuring themselves
Laughing.

It was quite a few minutes
Before good order
Was re-established.

Mr Middleton
Urged the ladies
To control themselves
And asked that the windows
Be opened
Because the room was becoming
Rather stuffy.

He then let rip
With a second
Stentorian
Anal raspberry,
Twice as loud
And twice as long
And twice as bubbly
As the first.

The meeting once more
Degraded into
Screams and howls
Of unrestrained laughter.

Gertrude Cookley,
A new member from
Chediston Green,
Swore blind
That during this second
Mighty clarion call
She had seen a vision
Of the Archangel Gabriel
Presenting the Prophet Muhammad
With the original text
Of The Life of Brian.

Once the laughter
Had died down,
And the ladies
Had regained the power
Of coherent speech,
They began
Chatting animatedly,
With one another
Saying things like:
"Better out than in,"
And, "No need of nuclear power
With that volume
Of methane available,"
And, "That was worse than
Exchanging a sign
Of the peace."

Later in the day,
The Vicar's wife commented
To her husband
That, all in all,
It was not a good start
To Lent.


...................................


Lent in the open ocean

Worth Matravers in Dorset

A required tonic

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Magic Roundabout pyjamas

As usual,
First thing in the morning,
Horace Appleford
Slips out
Of his Magic Roundabout pyjamas,
Goes down
To Caffe Como
In the High Street
Of Wallingford,
Oxfordshire,
And orders
A lobster and cabbage
Sandwich.

But today
There are no lobsters
And the cabbage
Is off.

Horace has noticed before
That when he fails to wear
His Magic Roundabout pyjamas
To Caffe Como,
The menu
Is more limited
Than usual.

They offer to
Order in
More lobsters
From Abingdon
But point out,
Quite reasonably,
That today
You cannot get cabbage
For love or for money
This side
Of Didcot.

After some consideration,
Horace decides to order
A guinea fowl curry
Instead.

The waiter
Compliments him
On his choice.

A fresh consignment
Of well-hung
Guinea fowl
Has just arrived
From West Hagbourne.


Pleasantly crunchy

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A taxi is possible

They decide
To go out to a pub
For lunch.

The pub they decide
To go out to
Is called the
Fox and Hunting Horn at
Newton-on the-Moor,
Northumberland.

But there is a problem:
It is 11.55am
And they are in
Port Isaac,
Cornwall,
Which is nearly five hundred miles
Away from
Newton-on the-Moor,
Northumberland,
As the crow flies.

And they have no car;
Crows don't have cars.

A taxi is possible,
But it will cost
Several hundred pounds
And the journey will take
Several hours,
Which is several hours
Too long
Because they are hungry now.

Five hundred miles
Is a long way
To go for lunch,
If it is already
Lunch time where you are
At the moment,
Unless you are very hungry
Indeed.

Instant gratification
Is not the immediate objective,
But imminent gratification
Most certainly is.

So instead of going to
The Fox and Hunting Horn at
Newton-on the-Moor,
Northumberland,
They decide to go, instead, to
A pub called
The Ship and Mermaid
In Port Isaac,
Cornwall,
Which is just round the corner
In Middle Street,
From where they are standing now
In the rain.

It is horizontal rain
And there is a wind-chill
Factor of minus 7
Degrees Celsius.

It may be warmer
In Northumberland,
But the Cornish pasties
Are closer
In Port Isaac.

And the potential saving
On the taxi fare
Is not inconsiderable.

Scrooge-like frugality
Is not the immediate objective,
But prudent cost control
Most certainly is.

But there is a downside
To rejecting
The Northumberland option:
At the Fox and Hunting Horn at
Newton-on the-Moor,
They serve
Sheepshagger's Five Star from the wood,
Whereas at the Ship and Mermaid
In Port Isaac,
Cornwall,
The best they can manage
Is late-bottled
Amphibian urine.

In a perfect world,
The competing options
Would be less vertiginous,
And the decisions required
To navigate them
Less excruciating.

But, although, pleasant,
Neither Newton-on-the-Moor,
Northumberland,
Or Port Isaac,
Cornwall,
Is perfect.

However,
In the end,
And in the particular circumstances
Cited in this case,
Lunch turns out to be
Manifestly tolerable.

..................................................

Harriet feels a burning sensation

Olive restaurant in Bromley

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Worth Matravers in Dorset

A scantily-clad woman
With pendulous breasts,
Is driving her car
Through rush hour traffic.

A police marksman
Fires two shots at her
With a paintball rifle.

Three weeks later,
The matter is brought up
Under Any Other Business
At the monthly meeting
Of the local
Women's Institute.

After the meeting,
Members enjoy
A nicely-judged
Orange drizzle cake
Made by Deirdre Ulwell
Of Swanage.


Another woman

Into Bodmin to shop

Christmas in Keswick

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Cricket on the radio

At a quarter past two
In the afternoon,
A man with a large nose
Is listening to test match cricket
On the radio.

His wife undresses
And asks him
If he would like to have sex.

The man says
That he will consider her invitation
In two hours time,
During the tea interval.


Marriage in trouble

Women's issues

Oxford and Cambridge Boat Race

Joined-up thinking

Smelling the cat

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Joined-up thinking

A man called Bentley
Wants to enrol
In a post-graduate course
In joined-up thinking
At Oxford University.

He goes to a public lavatory
In Berlin
To speak to the academic registrar.
The academic registrar is not there.
The academic registrar
Is in a public lavatory
In Oxford.

"Why do you want to enrol
In a post-graduate course
In joined-up thinking
At Oxford University?"
He is asked.

"Because I am impressed
With the blue colour
Of yellow daffodils
As perceived by Polar Bears
In the Sahara Dessert,"
he replies.

"When you say Sahara Dessert,
Do you mean Sahara Desert?"
"Yes, I mean Kalahari main course,"
he replies,
"With noodles
And pachyderm depth psychology."

"Polar Bears
Are not pachyderms,"
Says the academic registrar.

"Some Polar Bears
May exhibit an internal predisposition
To pachydermatous behaviours
When aroused by joined-up thinking."

"What is your academic background,
Mr Bentley?"
"Zoology, Botany
And Crustacean Flower Arranging."

"Do you have an IQ?"
"I have several IQs"
"Which is your favourite IQ?"
"My favourite IQ is 156.
That is the IQ
Of a Giant Panda
On the crest
Of a whole-body orgasm."

"Your manner of speech is curious,
Mr Bentley."

"May I have an application form?"
"What kind of application form
Would you like?"
"I would like an application form
For post-graduate entry
To the select course
In joined-up thinking
At Oxford University."

"Would you like the application form
To have coloured pictures on it?"
"No. I would like the application form
To have black-and-white pictures on it
Which I can colour-in with wax crayons."

"At Oxford University,
You are allowed a choice
Of a special free gift
To go with your application form,"
Says the academic registrar.

"Thank you.
I would like a bee orchid
To go with my application form."
"Of course."
"Or a vegetable object
That is bee-orchid-like
In its visual characteristics,
Such as a tennis shoe
Or a traction engine."

"You have a fine mind, Mr Bentley."


Headhunted

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