MINI VAN TO THE STATION!

This story comes from "It's a Rum Life" Book Two....;the period  “Boston  1953 to 1984”

MINI VAN TO THE STATION

  (Part of Lincolnshire Standard)

Looking back on these times now at the Lincolnshire Standard it is difficult to see how I managed to devote the time to my basic job when at any time I was going to be asked to imitate Stirling Moss or Mike Hawthorn in a mini van!

ALWAYS A RUSH

Another of the fairly frequent newspaper printing press breakdowns had occurred.

The first I knew of it was the works manager cornering my boss to request my services at short notice, “Just to run the Sleaford Standard down to the station for the next train. It shouldn’t take more than few minutes.”

He sounded very convincing. But he had not yet found me the van.

By the time we had, the train departure was imminent. It was a bit more than a mile to the station; up Narrow Bargate through the Market Place, round the five lamps roundabout, over the old town bridge, through the traffic lights at the top of Bridge Street and down West Street.

Everything went well for the first minute or two and then entering West Street everything changed. The road was dug up or so it seemed. In front of me was a mess of manhole covers, gulleys and pot holes.  The road was being resurfaced.

I had to choose and quickly, over the manholes that seemed to be everywhere and sticking well up above everything else, or slalom between them.

I was working up to the maximum permitted of 30mph and had virtually heard the train whistle as I had eventually departed the works.

Just half a mile to go and I daren’t slacken my speed.

I chose to go over the manholes, then, as the first one approached it seemed huge. I was driving a minivan; everything was so close to the road!

My confidence bled faster than lightening and my foot touched the brakes.

Perhaps a bit too strongly as the next thing was a tremendous grinding noise from between my feet. The van kept going and we were over.

All the others seemed much smaller after that.  I had gained the confidence not to brake any more until the van was well onto the station platform.

The newspapers caught the train, but the van was not running to well on the return journey.  A loud throaty noise came from under the bonnet and there was an oil slick following me down the road.

Reporting back to works manager with the good news that the papers had made it, I had also to impart my tale of woe.

“Take it straight round to the garage,” he said.

“Not a word to a soul, I will telephone them that you are coming.” He concluded.

Officially the van had gone in for a “service”. Plus new sump and complete exhaust system that could be see dragging along behind.

Ends  503 wds

Part of Lincolnshire Standard, copyright KS 2009

DANGEROUS TO HORSES January 2015

DANGEROUS TO HORSES.....................

As a life member of the British Percheron Horse Society I am copying an article from their latest newsletter.

January 2015

I feel all horse owners should be aware of this problem.

The article created by Society Treasurer and Newsletter editor, Mrs Linda Chapman and reprinted by kind permission of Society President Mrs Muriel Bond.

ANY READER WHO WOULD LIKE A LARGER VERSION.......JUST LET ME KNOW AND I WILL SEND YOU A PDF.
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BASIC ECONOMICS FOR A SIX YEAR OLD

this post created for "You know you're a Harrogatonian" facebook page...........
but you could find it interesting!

From It's a Rum Life...Book One “In the Beginning” 1947 to 1960

BASIC ECONOMICS

Back in Harrogate in 1950 I had to travel on the bus to school, in fact two buses; changing at the main bus station in the centre of the town.

Pocket money was always short as it came from my father who I seldom saw.

He did ensure though that I always received the “Eagle” comic by post every week, right from the very first issue, the highlight of my life!

I soon learned that if I was quick enough at the bus station I could catch a different bus from town to school.

Normally all the local buses were run by the West Yorkshire company but just on one route between Harrogate and Bradford the "Ledgard's" company ran double deckers; the route which passed my school.

I could save a half penny on each journey if I could catch the "Ledgard's" bus. It left the station about two minutes ahead of the West Yorkshire, destined for Leeds.

"Ledgard's" were based in Bradford and all their buses were very basic with wooden seats and no upholstery at all. This brought me to think ‘there must be a reason for this; perhaps folk in Bradford were not used to the comfort of upholstered seats?’

I had only been to Bradford once with my mother when she worked for a charity as a fund raiser and had an office in Bradford. My recollections of the city in the late 1940’s were one of smoke and grime but that office on Great Horton Road gave me my very first introduction to Boy Scouts. I had found a cast off book with no covers, discarded in a dusty corner of the office. I read it avidly and cherished it for years.

This was a very early copy of “Scouting for Boys”.

ONE HALF PENNY A DAY

One half penny every day was my target. One I never managed to achieve as frequently my first West Yorkshire bus from Skipton Road arrived as the "Ledgard's" was just leaving. I always tried though and ran desperately the whole uphill length of the Bus Station in the hope that "Ledgard's" bus was late leaving. These early disappointments with my budgeting as a six year old helped me get over even bigger problems in the future!

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"The Tube Pigeon" .....are you really ready for this!

By are you really ready for this..... I mean, please read it and let me know if you think the story is true or false!

 The Tube Pigeon........ 

I think before writing this piece, the only other person I have mentioned this extraordinary story to is my sister; she told me categorically, that if I wrote the piece, folk would think me totally ‘off my rocker’.

I related this story to my wife Ruth on my return from the memorable day and she did not turn a hair; so here goes, the story is quite true.

The actual day was sometime in the November of I believe 2003 It could have been 2002.

I had been National Chairman of the National Farm Attractions Network for several years and enjoyed the chance to meet other folk from various parts of the UK who were engaged in opening their properties to the public as we were doing at Northcote.  Barry Davies a surveyor and rural planning consultant from Kettering was our Secretary and hardly a week went by when we were not engaged together in some issue or other of concern to our national membership.

On the actual day of the story, I was travelling to the Earls Court Exhibition Centre in London to assist on the NFAN stand at a national Trades Fair. My aim had been to arrive in good time to set up the stand before the centre opened to visitors at 10.00am. As usual I had to travel half the distance from home by car, before I could board a train at Peterborough at about 6.30am.  By 7.45 am I was entering the Underground station at Kings Cross well on time to arrive at Earls Court by my target time of 8.30am. Then things went awry.

TRAVEL  STRESS

It could have been my lack of concentration, or just the fact that I had visited the capital so often in the past I thought I knew my way around the Underground perfectly. I bought a ticket for Earls Court and boarded a train that looked as if it was going in the correct direction. West was good and I was casually watching those unique long thin maps above the windows opposite, counting off the stations as we passed.

There were only three more stations to go, when the train suddenly turned off and headed away from my destination.  I studied the map more intently and realised we were heading for a dead end. My best laid plans were in tatters and I was not going to get to my destination on time.

The train duly stopped at the buffers, by which time I was the only occupant. A ticket collector was manning the barrier awaiting the first customers of the day and quickly explained that the train I needed for Earls Court was on the adjoining platform and would be leaving in just a few minutes.

MY ONLY COMPANION

I found the train and it was clearly marked ‘Earls Court’ on its marker board. All the carriages were completely empty; it was just as if I was the only human on the planet. This made me rather uneasy and sapped my confidence somewhat. I entered a door in the centre carriage and chose a seat three down from the doors and on the opposite side of the train facing the direction we should be going to travel.

I waited and waited, perhaps for 10 minutes. No other passengers came to join me in any of the carriages and then the whole train began to tremble as obviously the driver had arrived and activated the train systems. We were going to move shortly.

Quite suddenly and to my absolute surprise, through the same door as I had used, which was still open, a pigeon walked off the platform and into my carriage. As you probably know, some birds hop and some walk on the ground. I distinctly remember this pigeon walking. It came into the centre of the carriage, looked up and down then chose the first seat in the row in front of me, quickly flew up and perched on the hand rail on top of the seat back.

The pigeon was happily perched on the seat rail facing forwards just as I was, in the direction the train should be going. I suppose my mouth gaped open; first thoughts were to find an attendant and ensure the train did not start with a distressed pigeon fluttering about in the carriage.

It was then I realised that the bird was not distressed at all. It behaved just like any normal commuter; the only difference being I was the only human in the carriage and the pigeon my only companion. The doors closed with their usual swish and gasp of air and the train moved out of the station. 

As the train gathered speed and smoothly twisted and turned on our journey, my companion remained on his chosen ‘perch’ and simply leaned left or right as the curves came and went. It was a commuter and had quite obviously done this all before.

Still not believing, my eyes glued on the seat just six feet in front, it came as no real surprise when we stopped at the next two stations, doors opening and subsequently closing and the pigeon resolutely still remained on the seat of his choice. The pigeon obviously knew where he wanted to be and was clearly watching through the windows at everything we passed.

Earls Court Station was the next stop and as the doors opened, my friend hopped down from his seat and walked out of the door.  I was still so astonished, I almost forgot this was my stop too and only managed to get off the train before it was once more on its way.

I think the most astounding thing about the whole episode, was not that the bird had actually chosen his seat; sat on the seat back facing the direction he was going and swayed with the train motion; that all seemed so natural after the bird actually walked on board.

Everywhere you see birds, they are normally flying; in and out, here and there, they fly. This bird never flew that I saw at all, except to get on and off the seat of his choice.

It actually walked on board from the platform and then when it arrived at the bird’s destination, it walked off again onto the platform and disappeared.

As I have been writing; all the time, I have been wanting to write ‘he’ or even ‘she’, but of course we did not actually have a conversation.

Few Londoners do, do they?  

 ks 2010

If you like it please "like"!

Short story published on the web!

Canalside' Angels'  published on the web!

http://catalog.etherbooks.com/products/3107.

I submitted this ages ago and completely forgot about it!

It' a start anyway! I hope you enjoy reading it too!

Regards from

Keith Sanders

NATURAL PREVENTION OF GETTING COLDS REMEDY!

I jest not gang, but reading on facebook about my friends mucking out in the cold with colds etc prompted me to tell you of this remedy.

Everyone should know about this...... it is simple, natural and works!
Ruth and I both have different systems, what "gets" one of us misses the other...fortunately, but this is our second year using RAVINTSARA without any colds or flu!

It's the name of the oil you need..RAVINTSARA.
Last year , our pharmacy held an afternoon meeting for ladies interested in Essential Oils. One of the staff is a registered herbalist. This oil was one of the ones mentioned, so nothing to loose we began.  Firstly it tastes foul... I take it with nutella!

We have three drops morning and evening for the first ten days of each winter month. You can use any ten days but you must take it consecutively each of those ten days. Ruth uses sugar cubes!
That's all there is to it, good bye to colds and flu!
The name on the packet is the maker in this case, there will be a producer in UK.

another blog from Keith the ex horseman

Cracker Books has its own Facebook page.

It's under construction but worth a look and perhaps you may "like" it for me please?

 www.facebook.com/pages/Cracker-BOOKS/420521048076622?ref=hl

There are lots of pics of vehicles, but this one isn't there yet!  
A 1966 Ford 105E Anglia with a pair of "wellies" on the bonnet? Why?  
The answer is one of the 40 or so stories in, "It's a Rum Life" Book 2 just in the formatting stage for publishing as an ebook asap!

As the car in question belonged to Firestone GB it's bound to involve tyres in some shape!

Another blog spot from Keith and Cracker Books.