Home | U3A Writing
...I remember very clearly my first morning on the ward because the night before, there had been a big fire-raid on London. As we entered the ward all the casualties were lying on the floor. One patient had an injury to his eyes...
Marjorie Shirley tells of being a nurse during the war years.
...Sylvie tries to forget what she has seen but the shocking event has followed her into her secret place and is invading her peace...
Nancy Toohey tells a disturbing story.
Naomi Haddrick tells an intriguing tale of sibling jealousy.
Josephine Mackecknie tells a tale of unexpected revenge.
Colleen McMillan tells of a ghostly bequest.
...How wonderful life is, Jean thought, as she wrapped the baby in a soft white towel and laid her on the table. I have a good, reliable husband, a comfortable house, even though it isn't ours, and three healthy, adorable children...
Briar Stuart tells of a day which shook the foundations of domestic bliss.
Laurel Davis tells a story which is sad, satisfying and completely believable.
Shirley Buckley tells a story of flutes in harmony.
Jim Murphy tells an absorbing financial tale about a Simon who was nowhere near as simple as he first seemed.
Robin Hillard tells a choice tale of friction within a family business.
...Jimmy danced the strut of the old emu and found he was the old emu. He was becoming part of the land and the animals it supported. Feelings and ideas flooded his brain. He hopped and squatted and rolled and jumped to the beat; his being was one with the creatures and people, unlike anything he had ever experienced in the rocking night clubs of the city. So much meaning. So much contact with the land. So much understanding. The white man in him stood back looking on in amazement...
John S. Heussler's story tells how a Deputy Shire Clerk discovered his roots.
...Startled, Nana stared at her fourteen year old granddaughter. "What did you say, dear?" she asked.
"I said Dad's got the axe in the car," Belinda answered. "He said when he comes back he's going to chop down your old tree today. Said it's an eyesore and needs to come down."...
Ah but there's many a tale can save a threatened tree as Annette de Jong's delicious tale reveals.
...Then we were there! Over the road and running through thick bush sloping down to Butler's Swamp. For a nine year old, back in 1942, it was a glorious freedom which very few kids today can experience. We were free and wild, and with Dad away in the army, we had little discipline, and lots of time to explore, to wander, and to be just kids....
Fred Frank tells a profoundly shocking story.
...How convenient it would be if a bloke could tuck his nose behind his ear like a pencil, until his missus had changed the baby's soiled nappy, or put his very ears in his pocket when his teenagers were into Rap, or the neighbours flinging crockery with wild abandon.
Merle Parkin has some suggestions for redesigning the human frame.
Monica Duckering’s poem considers the worm from every angle.
D Nolan tells of the man in the hat.
Elwyn Frankel presents four haiku.
Monica Duckering's poem reflects upon the span of a life.
Elwyn Frankel sees a site to prompt serious thought.
Billy the goat is missing. What could possibly have drawn him away from his comfortable home field?
Elwyn Frankel tells a sprightly tale.
Although Jeremy the pageboy looked smart he still had to run hither and thither, as D Nolan's poem reveals.
Maureen Foreman conjures up the intensity of an Australian drought.
Jim Moore tells of an enthusiastic group of bushwalkers.
Jim Moore recalls visiting a house replete with family history.
Jim Moore says a great deal in few words.
Paul Nicolias tells of football rivalry.
Meryl Nickels reminds her fellow citizens who were born in Australia of the trauma involved in emigrating to another land.
Merle Parkin tells of a creaky old dog called Eustace.
Shirley Long’s story tells of a cricketing-mad lad.
Mick Harkin tells of a truckie who got what he deserved.
It's hard work being a grandmother, as Monica Duckering reveals.
Meryl Nickels’ poem conjures up the magic of flight.
...Ben and Harry Buckley though, could fall head first out of a tree and land on their feet like a cat. They never seemed to sustain a mark on their scrawny carcasses - and even if they had, their mother wouldn't go crook like ours.,,
Merle Parkin tells a tale of childhood innocence and wasted lives.
Paul Nicolias tells of the delight of walking his own land at day’s end.
Mick Harkin remembers bygone years.
Meryl Nickel brings a moving reminder of wars which are won, yet lost.
Monica Duckering's story tells of a conflict over a carpet.
Shirley Long tells a tale which reveals that grumpiness sometimes reaps a deserved "reward''.
Mick Harkin remembers bygone years.
Merle Parkin sees a rainbow at “drizzly dawn’’.
The scattering of Dave's ashes was more eventful than planned,as J Leary records.
...Imagine our surprise when on the first morning Auntie and I were in the town when we saw loads of houses with sandbags piled high in front of their windows as if they were expecting a full-scale invasion any minute...
Philip Hayworth recalls Word War Two days in a quiet corner of England.
Elaine Lawton's evoctive poem recalls all those Saturday nights at the pictures.
Paul Nicolias tells of his friend, Mrs Know-All.
Merle Parkin conveys in words the bluest of blues.
Shirley Long tells a tale of two chaps stuck in the “Black Hole of Calcutta’’ in a storm.
Continuing a centuries-old tradition, the villagers of Oberamergau in Bavaria willl be performing their one-every-decade re-enactment of the trial and crucifixion of Jesus.
Jennie Boothroyd recalls her visit to the village thrity years ago.
Barry Mansell tells of problems at Terminal Five.
This poem by Meryl Nickels begs for words to rebuild a fractured relationship.
J Leary, remembering his school days, tells why he can no longer eat scones, jam and cream for tea.
Word processing provides Monica Duckering with many a puzzle.
Merle Parkin writes of life-saving silver wings.
These two characters watch the new folk move into Number Two. But who are these observers? Barrie Mansell tells a surprising tale.
Meryl Nickels’ poem emphasises the power of water.
...Twitter peck - twitter peck. It got worse. As their appetites were appeased, twitter peck became twitter-twitter peck. Table after table around us had been cleared and tempting looking desserts were being carried past us. The serving staff were hovering, waiting to attend us, and the little birds chirruped on.
Finally a thunderous Heavy Jowls could contain himself no longer. ‘For God sake women will you shut up and eat.’ he exploded. Silently I blessed him for giving words to my own thoughts...
Patrick Hopton tells a lunch-time horror story.
D Nolan tells of the tough life of Ester Preston who is now in her eighties.
Mick Harkin’s poem reflects upon changing times and climes.
“It’s a good feeling when a man takes his grandson in his hands...’’
So begins the poem which brings Paddy Webb’s verse biography of her great-grandfather John Ayling to a satisfying conclusion.
Merle Parkin tells the tasty tale of a notable vistory for sliced bread.
Peter Wintersgill outlines the career of Australian opera star Joan Sutherland.
...When we were growing up and would see her going to a house we would run home and tell our mother that there was going to be a new baby at the house where she had gone. We were young then and thought she used to bring a new baby in her black bag...
D Nolan recalls the local midwife, Ma Flanagan.
J Leary wrotes this poem for Jim Bowler, Australian author and geomorphologist
...Too late! Nothing for it but to continue on. Feeling very apprehensive about negotiating an eighteen foot caravan in such circumstances, I gripped the steering wheel and hoped for the best...
Maureen Freeman is no lover of driving on Freeways.
Paddy Webb, continuing her verse biography of her great-grandfather, tells of the heart-breaking loss of a young daughter.
Dharini Parameshwaran wonders if the tsunami which devastated her homeland was sent as a punishment
"Grandpa, why do you always fish here? The fish could be biting over there or downstream a bit."
"This is where old Eustace hangs out, and I know I will catch him one day. You have to be patient, Billy if you want to hook the big ones."
And old Eustace is there to teach Billy an important lesson, as this story by Meryl Nickels reveals.
Even though John Ayling was not allowed in the house when he returned home after an absence of 12 years, his father was proud of him.
Paddy Webb continues the biography in verse of her great-grandfather.
...the biggest and most tiring hurdle was trying to form a classroom of giggling, talking, constantly moving mass of children into a quiet, controlled and co-operative effective choir...
Shirley Long tells of the hard work needed to produce an effective children's speaking choir.
Dharini Parameshwaran's story tells of a frustrating encounter, and a letter that was never posted.
Jack, now a grown up and married, returns home to visit his mother.
Paddy Webb continues her autobiographical poem about her great-great-grandfather who endured great hardships.
To read earlier sections of this poem please visit http://www.openwriting.com/cgi-bin/mt-search.cgi?IncludeBlogs=1&search=paddy+webb
Jim Moore's poem celebrates simple delights.
Merle Parkin recognises kinship when she sees a pair of sad and wistful eyes.
...Hello Mum, said my Jack.
Her hand went slowly up to her mouth.
It's me, Mum, Jack, he said.
She still said nothing, just stretched out
Her hand, ran her finger down his cheek...
Paddy Webb continues the story in verse of her great-grandfather who an extraordinarily hard life.
From the depths of frustration Maureen Foreman issues a dire warning.
Ray Harman reports on a discussion of matters electronic.
Shirley Long enjoyed her stay in hospital - and it was there that she met Boris.
...I know Jack don't work here no more
But I promised long ago he could have
The back room when he got wed
A few pies, a bit of beer
and a good knees up, that's all.
Been like a son to me has Jack...
Paddy Webb continues her account in verse of the hard life of her great grandfather, one of three generations to bear the name John Charles Ayling.
...You learn to appreciate and enjoy the simple things in life. There's no better sound than life-giving rain on a corrugated-tin roof or the air suddenly filled with a frogs' chorus when for years not a croak has been heard. You watch for an hour as a caterpillar digs a hole, bringing up the sand one grain at a time, or you follow some ants to see where they are taking that huge peanut...
Joan Miles tells of happy days in Mungo National Park.
Barbara Tregonning accepts that Nature can write a better poem than any human.
Jack, now working long hours, notices a girl – and she notices him.
Paddy Webb continues the story- in verse of her greast-grandfather.
Maureen Foreman’s poem brings the very best advice.
Jack, trying to make his way in London and desperate for work, has to pay to get a job unloading trucks.
Paddy Webb continues her account in verse of the life of her great grandfather John Charles Ayling, the first of three generations of elder sons of that name.
This story. set between the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th Centuries, is based on the recollections of Paddy’s grandmother.
Barrie Mansell tells a Christmas-tide tale.
Ray Harman has a novel suggestion for members of the University of the Third Age who have seen many a dozen Christmases.
Monica Duckering relishes the sound of silence.
Paddy Webb continues her account in verse of the life of her great grandfather John Charles Ayling, the first of three generations of elder sons of that name.
This story, set between the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th Centuries, is based on the recollections of Paddy’s grandmother.
In today’s episode young John, down and out in London, finds a landlady with a heart.
Barbara Tregonning’s poem tells of the overcoming of grief.
Elaine Lawton deplores the nonsensical lack of help for smaller people.
Mick Harkin portrays in words the aftermath of a raging blaze.
Dharini Parameshwaran ponders on the reason for a destructive tsunami.
So many horses crowding the streets
Men are employed to sweep a path
So ladies may cross free of dirt.
After dark lights in glass balls
Seem to burn air;
There's a full moon's worth of lighted windows...
Jack arrives in London.
Paddy Webb continues the story of her great-grandfather
A chance encounter leaves Barbara Tregonning wondering whether she should have behaved in a different way.
Barbara Tregonning tells of the day they brought the table home.
Paddy Webb continues her account in verse of the life of her great grandfather John Charles Ayling, the first of three generations of elder sons of that name.
This story, set between the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th Centuries, is based on the recollections of Paddy’s grandmother.
Joan Miles’s limerick reveals why Miss Monda is still single.
Mick Harkin tells of the disasterous damage caused by a week of heavy rain.
....If it hadn't been for people dying of cold.
You remember, sixteen weeks it froze
The Thames solid enough for a coach and four.
There was no work to be had with the ground so hard
Nothing to be dug from the garden. We were hungry
Most of the time....
Paddy Webb continues her account in verse of the life of her great grandfather John Charles Ayling, the first of three generations of elder sons of that name.
Today’s episode brings memories of hard work and harsh times.
Vera Sanderson wrote this poem during a World War Two bombing raid.
Maureen Foreman finds an answer to her problems.
Mick Harkin reflects on the patchwork quilt that is his life.
Paddy Webb continues her account in verse of the life of her great grandfather John Charles Ayling, the first of three generations of elder sons of that name.
This story, set between the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th Centuries, is based on the recollections of Paddy’s grandmother.
Today’s episode expresses the anguish of a mother whose son has suddenly left home. Further episodes will appear on forthcoming Sundays.
Elwyn Frankel tells a magical tale about young Jackie and his pet kangaroo Joey.
In this poem Elwyn Frankel tells of an ideal start to a day.
Paddy Webb presents in verse the life of her great grandfather John Charles Ayling, the first of three generations of elder sons of that name.
The story, set around 1890 to 1902, is based on the recollections of Paddy’s grandmother who appears in it as Ellen Elizabeth. It is presented as a set of monologues spoken by different characters.
Further episodes will appear on the next 14 Sundays.
Merler Parkin tells a fabulous tale of a girl who could charm fish.
Maureen Foreman tells of a very special "policeman''.
Joan Miles recalls with embarrassment her attempts to learn to swim.
...I have spoken to Chinese people who have come to this country recently, and none of them have heard of the Terra Cotta warriors. Obviously the publicity is for foreign tourists!...
Jim Moore sees the terra cotta army "recruited'' to protect an Emperor in his afterlife.
Jennie Boothroyd tells of a marvelous man, Guildford Tompkins, who has helped to brighten the lives of thousands of Africans.
Merle Parkin's poem suggests that you never forget your first love.
Dire straights can yield memorable words.
Read Paddy Webb's profoundly moving poem - and marvel!
Elizabeth Robison recalls red-faced (or should that be purple-faced?) moments.
Ray Harman presents a prayer for this Internet age.
Vera Sanderson mourns the loss of a beloved dog.
To read more of Vera's words please click on http://www.openwriting.com/cgi-bin/mt-search.cgi?IncludeBlogs=1&search=vera+sanderson
Some bus rides can take you higher than you would rather go, as Ray Harman's rhyme reveals.
...And so began a delightful day up on the Downs, our first job being to bring down a cow and her newly born calf from the meadow on the lower slopes. Then we went further up to where the sheep grazed and had our first lesson in sheep herding. We learned how to move hurdles and spent some time putting cake in the trough as a dietary extra...
Veronica Grainger remembers with affection her wartime Land Army days.
Graham Austin's prompt for a short story at a University of the Third Age writing workshop in Muizenberg, Cape Town, was "After that she felt much better."
There's a shock in store for the lady who was the first brain transplant patient, as Graeme Lindridge's tale reveals.
Vera Sanderson wants her spirit to live on in the fragrance of a rose.
Vera Sanderson’s poem encompasses profound sadness and eternal hope.
Ivy Emmerson tells of a reason to stay alive.
To read more articles, stories and poems by Sunraysia University of the Third Age writers please click on http://www.openwriting.com/cgi-bin/mt-search.cgi?IncludeBlogs=1&search=sunraysia+u3a
Vera Sanderson not only married a Yorkshireman - he was also a motorbike man.
To read more of Vera's matchless words please click on http://www.openwriting.com/cgi-bin/mt-search.cgi?IncludeBlogs=1&search=vera+sanderson
Maureen Foreman tells with delight of a young Rocket Man.
...He laughed, and his blue eyes twinkled, 'Oh, Edith,' he said. 'Now who would want to marry an silly old fool like me?'
I was standing, listening. Shaking, I went up to him and said, 'I'll marry you, Mr Faichney.'...
Shirley Henwood recalls her impulsive childhood proposal.
Shirley writes for Bonzer! magazine. Please visit www.bonzer.org.au
...How can one describe the fogs of yesteryear, which have now been almost forgotten? The thick yellow cloud moved, parted and moved again; always swirling - becoming lighter then denser - muffling all sounds. Vague figures loomed ahead - to disappear again....
M Hicks tells of a foggy beginning to a working life.
Vera Sanderson tells the wonderful tale of an encounter that was to change her life.
To read more of Vera's words please click on http://www.openwriting.com/cgi-bin/mt-search.cgi?IncludeBlogs=1&search=vera+sanderson
Monica Duckering’s poem suggests that the happy child makes for the happy man.
Vera Sanderson voices a simple yet profound prayer.
Ellie Pemberton, recalling her nursing days, tells of a most unusual patient.
..."Watch where you're putting your feet" is the criteria in the search for the elusive native orchid. When one is found there is a feeling of awe that such a remarkable, delicate flower can be found growing in the hostile environment of the Australian bush...
Maureen Foreman and her family are enthusiastic plant hunters.
Vera Sanderson sends a poetic welcome to a new arrival in the family.
To read more of VBera's poems and prose please click on
http://www.openwriting.com/cgi-bin/mt-search.cgi?IncludeBlogs=1&search=vera+sanderson
...Wherever I went the Luftwafte came too. In Swansea we had raids almost nightly because the steelworks, the dock gates and the refinery were targets. If the refinery was hit, there would be huge columns of black smoke with great bubbles of flame at their centres...
Dilys Birtwistle vividly recalls wartime days.
Mick Harkin sits and broods.
Vera Sanderson's poem tells of the price paid by a working mum.
Merle Parkin's poem tells of her Gran's much-loved piano.
Vera Sanderson gives an engaging and memorable account of meeting the love of her life.
Jim Moore’s poem tells of troubled dreams.
...The strange thing was I was the only person to realise there was an elephant in the garden...
With a first sentence like that how can you resist reading Paddy Webb's story?
...To Joan and I, Moray was a haven, a place redolent of love and caring and we were overjoyed to go there at every opportunity...
Shirley Long remembers with great joy visits to the home of her grandmother and great aunts.
...Being close to Grimsby there were many fishing boats coming and going in the area. Occasionally we would make a collection of cigarettes around the crew and signal an incoming boat to exchange them for a box of fresh fish. I have never tasted such lovely fresh plaice as we enjoyed on those occasions...
Bob Boyd joins a boat crewed by divers charged with exploring underwater wrecks and clearing dangerous ordnance and mines.
To read earlier chapters of Bob's account of his service in the Royal Navy please click on http://www.openwriting.com/cgi-bin/mt-search.cgi?IncludeBlogs=1&search=bob+boyd
Maureen Foreman presents this eulogy to a beloved cat - an eulogy with a surprise ending.
Barrie Mansell recalls the day he saw Peter Pan, Wendy and Tinkerbell on the stage.
So do you own your pet cat? Or does your pet cat own you?
Vera Sanderson's poem muses on the most enigmatic of all pets.
Maureen Foreman’s poem recalls the childhood joy of going to the fair.
Mick Harkin tells of ghostly goings on in the bush.
HE was used to seeing many attractive young ladies but there was just something special about this one which attracted him. However, being there as part of the group providing the music, he didn’t get much chance to chat with her. Nevertheless, week after week SHE turned up and sat in her usual place and they exchanged furtive glances and smiles. The short time in the interval gave them the opportunity to talk and get to know each other better, and eventually a ‘courtship’ ensued.
Shirley Lingwood tells of the meeting and marriage of her parents - and of the house in which she spent her childhood.
Ray Harman brings a report on a discussion on art by a Maldon University of the Third Age group.
Joan Miles has great hopes for her pooch Patch.
...The verger was walking down the aisle and he proceeded to the pulpit, up the half-dozen steps to whisper something in the vicar’s ear. There was a lengthy pause, followed by an announcement from the Reverend Corrin. “It is with regret that I have to tell you that, from 11 0’clock today Great Britain is at war with Germany”...
Shirley Lingwood was a seven-year-old, attending a Sunday morning church service, when she heard of the outbreak of World War Two.
Continue reading "The War Years As Seen By A Seven-Year-Old" »
Dharini Parameshwaran tells of a most painful brief encounter.
Jim Moore tells a tale of faithfulness.
Ray Harman recalls the buoyant days when nuclear power was first supplied to Britains's national grid.
Barbara Tregonning’s poem tells of the grim aftermath of battle.
Ray Harman's poem sums up a year of Maldon and District University of the Third Age activities.
Here's some sound financial advice for Christmas, and all the year round, by Mick Harkin.
Bob Boyd continues the story of his service in the Royal Navy as a telegraphist. To read earlier episodes of his story please click on http://www.openwriting.com/cgi-bin/mt-search.cgi?IncludeBlogs=1&search=Bob+Boyd
Raeline Noll's poem raises a question: Is childhood inevitably a happy time?
A swish of the broom brings order where there was disorder, as Maureen Foreman’s poem reveals.
...I had spent many nights with my parents and sister in the dark, damp Anderson shelter dug into the ground in our back garden. It was routine to hear bombs fall (we knew by the whistling effect). The tinkling of shrapnel from our anti-aircraft fire was commonplace. We’d emerge bleary-eyed in the morning when the raids ceased, my father to go to work and we children to school...
Dick Dyerson brings this vivid account of his boyhood during the war years.
Bert has a choice. Either to move to a house in the suburbs with Elizabeth or stay with his cows.
Monica Duckering tells an intriguing tale.
Zelda Margo sums up life’s gamble in this snipper of a story.
You gladly sunbathe when you’re young, but there is a price to pay as Joan Miles’s poem reveals.
There’s more than one way of successfully re-potting a cymbidium as Dorothy Robinson reveals.
Mick Harkin tells of a solitary memorial to days long gone.
...When I was nearly fifteen, my grandmother convinced me that the man who lived opposite her in Commercial St Merbein was Adolf Hitler...
John Leary tells an extraordinary tale.
Betty Kay muses on the nature of happiness.
Zelda Margo’s brief story encompasses the sadness for some people of old age.
Lesley Ward tells of family Christmases
Vera Sanderson remembers the Christmases that used to be.
For more of Vera's poems please click on http://www.openwriting.com/cgi-bin/mt-search.cgi?IncludeBlogs=1&search=vera+sanderson
Lee Cohen tells an "Alice In Wonderland'' tale.
Nola Andriske’s poem concerns the greatest of all human gifts.
Mima Fisher tells of the passing of the red gum tree.
Elwyn Frankel’s poem tells of a grandma who takes care when she makes tea.
Jennie Boothroyd tells of one of her faqvourite people.
“Larry, the cook, has his own little house with a fenced off garden and a little bit of grass. He has a big shed at the back where he keeps some chooks and gets a lot of eggs, but he also has lots of gnomes - he calls them his little fairies. They all have different colours, sort of clothes, and they have little tables and small three-legged stools,’’ says Sarah Jane, a curious and engaging eight-year-old.
Dick Nolan, in this brilliant story, conveys life on a homestead station in the Australian outback.
Alan Davy's rhymes tell of a writing group - and how to write.
Vera Sanderson’s reeling, romping, rolling song tell of the urge to spin words.
To read more of Vera's poemsplease click on http://www.openwriting.com/cgi-bin/mt-search.cgi?IncludeBlogs=1&search=vera+sanderson
Time is flowing too fast, says Maureen Foreman.
While his assigned Royal Navy ship sailed from port to port, Bob Boyd found himself chasing her around on land.
Meryl Nichols brings a brief history of Anzac Biscuits - then tells how to make them.
...My journey took exactly four weeks from Tilbury, London to Station Pier, Melbourne. A few days after disembarking, I found myself walking along Collins Street. It was a hot day in mid-March with the sun beating down upon the pavements. I looked up at the sky and yes, the sky was a deep blue. I had realised my dream at last!...
Sylvia York tells of emigrating to Australia.
...Sunday School Anniversary was the day for a new dress, white ankle socks and black patent ankle strap shoes...
Peggy MacKay recalls Sunday School days.
Sylvia York tells of migrating to Australia when she was a teenager.
Frank Garner, unable to fight in the Great War because if a minor disability, receives the most dreaded of all symbols, as Wilma Schmidt reveals.
The old and forgetful Goodmans are the recipients of a very good turn in this story by Zelda Margo.
...Mr D-- happened to leave the room for a few minutes and a few of us were fooling about, making animal and bird shapes on the screen with our hands. As he came back into the room I was startled and by accident, knocked his cup of coffee all over the table!
Guess what? Out came his pump and my hand didn't half hurt for the rest of that day!...
Hazel Dracup tells of a teacher who believed in physical punishment.
Lee Cohen tells of a person who goes in search of a brand new “me’’.
Joan Miles's poem tells of an occasion when an opened suitcase simply refused to be repacked.
Vera Sanderson’s poem pays tribute to a much-maligned bird.
Merle Parkin's evocative poem tells of a brief but purposeful life.
The character in Lee Cohen’s poem is well and truly henpecked – and delighted to be so.
Peggy MacKay pays a return visit to the village in the north of Scotland where she once lived.
Wilma Schmidt was delighted to be given a chance to return to nursing, the career which she loved.
...In this wide earth is there not one who can
By words or force bring to a mad world sanity...
Moira Marchant writes of that most elusive state - peace.
Merle Parkin’s poem heralds cold days, followed by new life.
Here are four haiku from Joyce Hinchliffe. Quick in the reading, long in the thinking.
...At the station when my husband asked for a ticket for his wife but could not produce an allowance book, the tough skipper of a patrol boat in the Royal Navy became an embarrassed young bridegroom, very conscious of his new status as a husband...
Peggy MacKay recalls her wedding day.
Margaret Parton's school days almost ended with her being expelled.
Elwyn Frankel brings some rhyming fun.
Vera Sanderson's poem tells of an awakening that no one desires.
Monica Duckering’s poem concerns the art of writing.
John Leary brings a new take on an old rhyme.
Sometimes only one particular word will suffice., Zelda Margo tells a tale of a woman with a sharp tongue.
...As long as I draw breath
I'll chatter, natter, shout and scream..
Vera Sanderson's poem is a perfect expression of a determination to live life to the full.
“Just mention my name,’’ said Mabel – but she said it once too often.
Zelda Margo tells a tale concerning brainwashing.
Wilma Schmidt brings a forceful message: go out and sample life head on.
Monica Duckering's poem celebrates Australia's mighty Murray river.
Ida Smith tells a tale of a funeral which had more than its share of surprise drama.
...All was well until the girls became teenagers and went out dancing until late, bringing friends home to sleep and not rising early any more. Many a young visitor leapt from slumber, rudely awakened by the organ motor...
Peggy MacKay tells of surprise awakenings – and a happy home.
Monica Duckering's poem emphasises that some things are just not meant to be eaten.
Peter Wintersgill tells of Maria Caradori Allan, the soprano soloist in the first London performance of Beethoven's Ninth symphony.
Cheryl Spry tells of the dramas which unfolded while she was running a corner shop.
...In my day doctors were a last resort in illness. Everyone had their own cures: chests rubbed with camphorated oil, a Vick Vapour Rub, sore throats gargled with red sage and vinegar, a cough soothed with lemon, honey, Ipechuana, and Beecham’s powders or aspirin for easing the symptoms...
Peggy MacKay remembers the days when life seemed less complicated. This article was written at the request of Peggy’s youngest daughter.
Jennie Boothroyd recalls the joys of family life when she was a young girl.
Mima Fisher tells of taking her pupils on an outing in the Australian bush.
...I went to Sunday school at 10.30 a.m. and from there to the church service, Sunday school in the afternoon and church at 6.00 p.m. Never missed; that was unheard of. I remember changing into my play clothes in between services. When I think now of casual dress everywhere, even in church, I have to smile...
Marjory Kershaw recalls her happy Methodist upbringing.
...The coal stove in the kitchen was part of my childhood where I learnt to spell Johannesburg from the word stamped on the oven door, and many were the loaves of delicious homemade bread, cakes and puddings my mother produced from its small black interior. All the furnishings of that comfortable old kitchen remain as cherished parts of my childhood. The zinc had a chipped stone draining board and a white enamel bowl where the budgie, Pretty Boy, took baths in a lettuce leaf if the tap was left running, but the stone draining board and rigid enamel wash-bowl made short work of crockery if care was not taken...
In this satisfyingly detailed and evocative article Barbara Durlacher recalls her parents, and her childhood days in South Africa.
Continue reading "Early British Settlers in South Africa - 4" »
Merle Parkin paints a portrait of rural life in one short poem.
Nancie Dyson has some thoughts on punishment – then and now.
...On the big day we trooped off, knees scrubbed, hair slicked down, with instructions to say thank you for everything, only to take one cake at a time, and don't let the bantam go!
We let the bantam go...
Merle Parkin tells the delightful tale of a birthday gift which took wing.
Peggy MacKay's husband John served in the Royal Navy during the war as the skipper of a patrol ship on mine recovery and anti-submarine detection, based in Scapa Flow.
She was just 21-years-old when she received a call at her family home in Yorkshire saying that John was in hospital in Aberdeen...
Vera Sanderson's poem tells of the trials and tribulations of a working mother.
Barbara Tregonning's poem captures the essence of "wild'' Australia.
Who is this old dame who keeps hooting at the bloke driving a double-decker load of scrub goats?
Merle Parkin tells a tasty Aussie tale.
Vera Sanderson's poem captures the essence of that most independent of all creatures - the cat.
Anna Golitschenko tells of a day of panic which had a tasty ending.
…I yearned for the simple things in life - getting up at the crack of dawn to pick the fresh blossoms for temple offerings, to feed the needy before partaking of our meal - the little things that could give pleasure to others less fortunate, thereby deriving pleasure yourself..
Dahrini Parameshwaran realises that the old path is where the heart belongs.
Janet Richard's poem celibrates the joys of Spring.
Continue reading "Flowers that Bloom in the Spring – Tra La" »
…The moon rose, full, silver, majestic, dimming the stars with her brilliance. A moon fit for magical happenings…
In poetic prose, Cassandra Bicker tells of the dance to end all dances.
A University of the Third Age discussion group recently focused on the state of education in todfay's U.K. Mr Average summarises their thoughts.
Hazel Dracup recalls working in a motor taxation department when manual work was the norm and computers had not yet arrived on the scene.
Lee Cohen’s poem muses on the most important question ever asked.
"Later in life is a very exciting time for me,'' says positive-thinking Jim Moore.
Vera Sanderson, subtitling her poem Something in the Wind – the Tale of a Terrible Gale, tells of a breezy pair of lovers.
...On weekends we had to wear our school uniforms until 3.45 pm when we were allowed to change into our ‘weekend clothes’ for the rest of the day...
Hazel Dracup tells of the rules and routines of boarding school life some 40 years ago.
To read more articles by Hazel please type her name in the search box on this page.
Elwyn Frankel tells of a bird's life.
A first flight brings warning cries in this evocative article by Sandy Saunders.
Elaine Lawton presents a series of short poems.
Vera Sanderson pays tribute to a marvellous Yorkshireman.
Esme has a plan for retired life, and it does not include her husband Bill...
Rose Perry tells a tale of a scheming wife.
Ida Smith's story concerns a mysterious and troubled school teacher.
In this splendidly detailed article Monica Duckering tells of life on a remote Australian cattle station.
Patrick Hopton re-tells the tale of a Brief Encounter. Patrick’s version provides much more fun than the original story, which. so they tell me, ended up on the big screen.
Betty Kay suggests that it is best to just accept happiness when it is there, and to learn to live without it when it is not.
A chair can mean a lot to a family, as Rose Perry's story reveals.
Francis Barton tells of her distress as a child on an historic day.
Janet Richards' story highlights the need to care.
Chris Dean of Vancouver takes issue with Ken Harris of Australia on the origin of banjos.
…It was a large camp, which already held well over ten thousand, all women and children, before we arrived to add to the overcrowding. About five houses had had to be emptied to receive us newcomers, and we were met with a measure of resentment by those already there. Soon we were allocated our ration of personal space in the vacated houses. Between eighty and a hundred to each house…
Thea Sloane recalls the dreadful months she spent as a prisoner of the Japanese during World War Two.
Sandy Saunders tells of a frustrated hound.
...At night you could hear aeroplanes flying towards England and back to Germany. The Germans used to stop the trams and ask for people's identity cards. They were looking for people born in my year and the following year to take to Germany for hard labour. My younger brother was going to be taken away but got a stomach ulcer and did not pass the medical...
Françoise Taylor recalls wartime days.
Rose Perry recalls the drawer in which her grandmother kept “treasures’’.
…“My floor next,” Marek said trying to ease the tension. We were too close for comfort as the saying goes. As he said the words, the struggling lift shuddered to a stop. We were two feet short of floor two.’’…
Derek McQueen’s spooky story involves a situation we all dread.
To read more of Derek’s tales please type his name in the search box on this page.
...How do you tell a good banjo from a bad? Pick it up. Look along the neck. Is it straight? It should be. Next feel the weight. The heavier the better, because that means it has steel reinforcement to stop the pull of the strings bending the neck. If the neck is bent you'll never play chords up the neck...
Ken Harris presents a short history of the banjo.
...I've had a lifetime with horses and am still enjoying it. I have had several accidents along the way, one very serious one on the road when the horse was hit by a car and was so badly injured it was put down on the spot and I was in hospital with a fractured skull and other injuries. Even this has never deterred me, but I am very wary in traffic.
Please, all you drivers, do take care when you meet horses on the road. Please slow down and give them a wide berth. We need much more off-the-road riding, more bridleways...
Eileen Lester introduces us to her four-legged friends.
Hazel Dracup recalls happy youth hostelling days.
...According to my very favourite historian, Russell Ward, "Australia suffered from the depression rather earlier and more severely than most countries". Russell says, "For a time nearly 30% of breadwinners were unemployed. Long queues of men would be seen seeking one job and thousands tramped bush roads with a swag and billy."
Mildura in the harvest season, with hundreds of acres of sultanas to be picked, dried and packed, became a Mecca to these people. There were few cars that made the 600 km trip from Melbourne on those rough dusty roads so mostly the journey was made on shanks's pony or by "riding the rattler", which meant jumping into an empty freight carriage and hoping not to be caught by a railway security guard...
Ken Carr tells of hobos - most of them good family men who had become victims of an economic crash.
Sylvia Wiseman's poem captures the excitement of a carnival.
Ida Smith tells the story of Hester, the daughter of poor parents, who goes off to work in Johannesburg, only to return with – ahem – a bloated stomach.
It was a speed contest between horse and bike following a theft at the garden centre, as Sandy Saunders' sprightly poem reveals.
…You took my hand, palm uppermost,
And gently brushed it with your lips and tears…
Vera Sanderson’s wonderful poem captures the essence of true love.
Thea Sloane recalls the time she spent in a Japanese internment camp during the second world war.
There are things you need to know when you go to buy a computer, as E M MacPhail’s story reveals.
John Ricketts is a pallbearer at the funeral of an old soldier who fought in the Boar war.
...During one particular journey home at the end of term, when I was 14, I purchased a paperback from the book kiosk at Kings Cross Station. (It was normal for me to do this in order to relieve the monotony of the three-and-a-half hour journey home). The book was the first in the 'Whiteoak' family stories by Mazo de la Roche - the 'Jalna' series.
I started to read it on the train and finished reading it within a day or two of arriving home. Very interesting I thought - a very good read, then looked to see what the next title in the series was, purchased it on my next trip to town, and had read that before returning to school the following week...
Hazel Dracup recalls how she became an avid reader. To enjoy more of Hazel's articles please type her name in the search box on this page.
..."You know he done her in, and there's no more to be said about it." Mary was adamant, and was not going to be sidetracked. "And, anyway she deserved everything she got."...
But who did murder Jade? Elwyn Frankel's tale takes a surprising turn as the mystery is unravelled.
Is Kotie really the sort of friend that a young girl should have?
Ida Smith tells a subtle tale about learning to survive in a hostile world.
Nobody ever believed me when I told them that sausages were types of eggs. It was so obvious, why had they all to be so thick. I know very well that sausages were eggs, pork sausages were pig’s eggs and beef sausages were cow’s eggs.
David Craven confirms that young boys do not always know what they think they know.
To read more articles by David please type his name in the search box on this page.
Ken Higson tells of days when you could have lots of fun for two pence.
…In a daze I picked up and thumbed through a loose bundle. Five hundred used twenty pound notes. A rapid calculation . . . ten grand in this one bundle! And there were hundreds of them!…
Patrick Hopton tells the tasty tale of a man down on his luck, a Mercedes SL and four and a half million quid.
I you live in a certain part of the city it’s good to have a friend called Sheba, as Zelda Margo’s story reveals.
Prolonged power cuts in Johannesburg prompted Lee Cohen to write this poem.
Hazel Dracup recalls the day when she handed a jar of lemon curd to Princess Margaret.
...“First of all”, he said, “I’m telling you now that you’re not to mention anything about what I’m going to tell you to anybody outside this house.” Then he added that endearingly Irish and quite contradictory saying, “No matter what you say, say nothing.”...
Alan McConnell tells of mysterious goings-on in rural Ireland.
Alan vividly recreates the delights and mysteries of an idyllic boyhood. Settle down and enjoy a long, luxurious read.
Vera Sanderson, in sprightly rhyme, tells of a Yorkshire couple who are cautious with their brass.
Continue reading "A Yorkshire Wife’s Wedding or Fifty Thrifty Years" »
Monica Duckering's poem tells of awakening to new ideas.
John Ricketts tells of a lonely gold prospector.
Jim Moore's poem tells of a travelling man - and a cup of tea to warm the soul.
Derek McQueen definitely was not smiling when things started to go wrong during his second commission as a wedding photographer.
Janet Richards tells of the day when the Angel of Abundance came to call.
Beware who you engage in casual conversation at a conference, particularly so if they are not delegates. Derek McQueen tells a menacing tale.
To read more of Derek's stories please type his name in the search box on this page.
Vera Sanderson mourns the passing of the roast beef of old England.
John Ricketts tells of an early example of keyhole surgery.
Kind actions can echo down the years, says Merle Parkin.
Barbara Patterson tells of a lady who conquered her fear of flying.
...Dad would go in his tanker which was painted in blue with the ICI logo on it. Tanker 148 was my dad’s. He would go to Cheshire in the morning, go into the Huddersfield ICI to empty the load, and then go back again in the afternoon for another load.
Every now and again in the summer holidays I would have the opportunity to go with him on the afternoon run...
Hazel Dracup tells of afternoons out with her Dad.
John Ricketts, who was the headmaster of a school in Africa for a number of years, tells of lions in the classroom.
Marjorie Upson paints a word portrait of her father, James Harker, who was taken prisoner during the First World War.
Brenda Hellawell discovers that her accent identifies her as being from a specific town.
A nice watercolour of Bakewell Bridge is better than 'owt in yon Tate Modern.
Derek McQueen tells the tale of a Barnsley couple who take the bus to London to see modern art.
Back in November we ran a story by George Brierly who told how he came to be arrested by Americans while taking part in Operation Dragoon during World War Two.
Frank Thomas of Tiverton also took part in that airborne and seaborne assault on Nazi occupied Europe.
Today we are re-running George's story, and also Frank's memories of those epic events.
Barbara Tregonning's atmospheric poem shines a light on an Australian landmark.
John Ricketts recalls his first African game viewing trip.
On a grey day, the queue is waiting, waiting… Vera Sanderson tells of a queue one would not wish to join.
Barbara Patterson tells of those little monsters - sons and grandsons.
Have you ever wondered what she was thinking while her portrait was being painted? Mary Bourne goes inside the head of a very famous lady.
Vera Sanderson expresses her abhorrence of hunting.
Zelda Margo tells a sad South African tale.
...Why did we not intervene? In that quiet, peaceful square where we had been so at ease there was now a feeling of a strange inadequacy, of things not being right with the world. lt was as though a cloud had descended to destroy what had previously seemed a perfect day?...
Betty Kay recalls an astonishing incident witnessed in a beautiful tree-lined square in a Spanish town.
…“Oh, hallo , Mr. Ricketts. Good News! A boy born yesterday at a few minutes to twelve. Yes your wife is fine though I’m not pleased with her at all. When I gave her the baby she burst out laughing. When I asked why, she said he was the funniest baby she’d ever seen; that he was all nose.”…
John Ricketts tells of a mad Christmas-time dash along bumpy African roads.
...Christmas times were always happy times. We didn't have much, but the family get-togethers were magical for me. The local brass band and choir would come round the village to welcome in Christmas, and people would take out cake, mince pies and a warm drink for them. Sometimes when it was snowing it seemed to me like an old fashioned Christmas card with the adults and children in their colourful winter clothing carrying lanterns and singing carols and the snow falling all around them...
Brenda Hayler tells of a two-hour bus journey which carries her back to her early life.
John Bayley tells as story for December 26 - St Stephen's Day.
...Beneath a cloudless star-filled sky several hundred worshippers, each with a lighted taper in one hand and a hymn sheet in the other, faced a candle-lit altar, and moments later to the words of 'O Come all ye Faithful' St. George's Cathedral Choir led in the Anglican Bishop of Jerusalem and his retinue.
As the last notes of the first carol died away, the Great Bell of Bethlehem sent its message booming across the world: Jesus Christ is born....
Tom Swallow tells of being in Bethlehem on Christmas Day, 1939.
Pat Rollnik presents a poem for this special day.
...When we found a compartment it was already occupied by two elderly gentlemen, but once again in those days you never gave it a second thought. As we settled down to speculate about where we were going and what we were going to buy, we became aware that the two men were rehearsing some sort of script. We became curious and listened to them reading.
They realised that they were being watched so explained who they were. We were fascinated. They were Tom Forrest and Ned Larkin from 'The Archers'. Although we were both far too hip then to listen to the program, we had both been brought up on it and knew exactly who the characters were. Although The Archers was normally recorded in Birmingham, Tom and Ned were off to record an episode at the Smithfield Christmas Fat Stock Show...
Wendy Bower tells of meeting two famous radio characters on a shopping trip to London.
Pat Rollnick sums up this special time in a poem.
No eletricity...no dinner...rain coming through the bedroom roof....
John Ricketts tells of a soggy and dismal Christmas Day in Africa.
Mima Fisher tells of the war fought by Australian farmers against the common enemy - rabbits.
Nancie Dyson recalls the stern days of wartime rationing.
...We sang Fill Thou my Life or The King of Love my Shepherd is with There is a Green Hill at Easter and harvest hymns at the appropriate time and of course carols at Christmas.
November 11th was kept every year with 2 minutes silence which seemed like an eternity, and nearly always somebody fainted which added a bit of drama to things...
Peggy MacKay recalls her school days.
Lonely Jenny finds the hope of happiness in her local supermarket.
Barbara Adams tells a heart-warming Christmas story.
John Ricketts' dad was not one to sing him lullabies. Instead he gave voice to classic music hall songs.
...Now I have two young grandchildren. I can look back on my experiences with my grandparents and am able to take the positive things I learnt and pass them onto my grandchildren and hopefully enrich their lives in the same way that mine did for me...
Hazel Dracup remembers her grand parents with deep affection
….My teacher was Miss Walker. We wrote on slates with slate pencils, which made squeaky noises when we used them. I remember dried beans for learning how to count, add and subtract.
When leaving school on Fridays Miss Walker rewarded those who had been very good, or had done exceptional work, with boiled sweets (fishes and pear drops). I never qualified in either category. No surprises there!…
Nancie Dyson recalls her primary school days.
Gerald Newman became an astonishingly different person after being struck by a Sheffield tram. But was it a change for the better?
Derek McQueen tells a tale about a man who knew too much.
...Going for walks up Liley Lane and across the various fields with Grandad as he told me stories of the area, including Shuttle Eye Colliery where he had worked for over 50 years. We collected ladybirds and brought them home in matchboxes...
Hazel Dracup tells of her affection for a Yorkshire mining village.
John Ricketts considers some of the numbers which have ruled his life.
There were Cowboys and Knights, Andy Pandy and Looby Loo...
Irene Grundy tells of a fancy dress party.
George Brierly tells how he came to be arrested by Americans while taking part in Operation Dragoon during World War Two.
Vera Sanderson presents a cautionary poem. I do hope you are not smoking a cigarette while reading it!
…Suddenly, there in the water near where I and two other me were not just one but three crocodiles. Three crocs each fifteen feet long. I can see you have visions of us each wrestling with one of them. Actually there were three crocodiles each fifteen inches long. We each grabbed one and took them ashore and put them into large bowl. After that we were much more careful as little crocs meant that there must be big ones somewhere about. However none was ever found…
John Ricketts recalls an astonishing family holiday on the shores of Lake Nyasa.
…The Advanced Driving test itself covers a course of approxomately 40 miles and incorporates all the different types of road. It covers town centres, dual and single carriageways, motorways and country lanes. During this time the examiner, besides giving instructions as to where to turn etc, asks questions at random about what signs or road markings one has just passed and it is important to keep your eyes peeled for as many signs as you can. You also have to watch the speedometer regularly as you have to keep within the speed limit wherever you are…
Hazel Dracup tells of facing up to a stern driving challenge.
Best not to have a pet dog about when sweets were rationed, as Marjorie Hicks recalls.
Dahrini Parameshwaran tells of a family heirloom - a string of pearls.
Barbara Adams tells a delicious tale of progressive attitudes at a 50-year school re-union.
Virginia Nasmyth's thoughts float far and wide as she considers the meaning of flight.
Jim Moore tells of the trials and tribulations of building a new home.
...There was another surprise in store when I discovered that I could shoot straight and hit the target. The 303 Lee Enfield was the rifle, but my weapon of choice was the LMG, the Bren gun. When a new consignment of weapons arrived at the barracks, Sgt. Bennett, Corporal Mathews, Alan Heppenstall and myself were chosen to take the guns onto the range and zero them in. We were told to take refreshments with us, and my wife had cooked sausage pies. These were absolutely gorgeous and were probably the reason why I was chosen for two similar outings. On both subsequent occasions I was told by Corporal Mathews not to forget the pies...
David Bennett tells of his days in the Army as a National Serviceman.
Hazel Dracup tells of her first holiday abroad in a beautiful small town in Southern France.
Lesley Baxter tells of an "aunt'' who lived a solitary life in a one-room home in less-affluent times.
John Ricketts tells of grim situations he had to face as the head of a city primary school.
Gerry Collins tells of a once-in-a-lifetime event that we all experience.
Virginia Nasmyth tells of a day in the life of a city.
In this computer age John Ricketts is thinking about pen and ink.
Derek McQueen "eavesdrops'' when two giants of modern art, Georges Braque and Pablo Picasso, meet in Paris to discuss the future of cubism.
Jan Kennedy's story concerns a new outlook on the world.
All is not as it first seems to be in this intriguing tale of different lifestyles by Mary Cryer.
…It soon became apparent that we were fighting a loosing battle . Our beating was achieving nothing. Suddenly a wind came up again, and we saw the fire, fifteen foot high, racing towards us. We dropped our beaters and ran. In front of us was the Anglican Church which had been built almost to roof level. Fortunately there was no glass in the windows and we dived in, minus eyebrows, arm hairs and with smouldering scalps and clothing which we managed to beat out…
John Ricketts learns at first-hand the danger of lighting a fire in the African dry season.
...All these years she had managed to avoid flying anywhere since that one time when all her worst fears had been confirmed. Edgar, her husband, had been the only person who knew about and understood her terror of heights and confined spaces. The very thought of being shut in a plane, or watching a film of people balancing on precarious heights turned her legs to jelly...
Beryl Roper tells an encouraging tale about Anna, and her jelly legs.
Cecily Cross’s poem tells of endurance.
Patrick Hopton tells a delicious tale concerning the annual village fete at Little Bogbury.
Story telling at its very best….
Margaret John recalls her wartime days in the Royal Air Force.
When John Ricketts was headmaster of a school in Africa he encouraged children to gain in confidence by standing up before the class to tell the news.
But the news which young Bill eventually brought to the class was more interesting than he realised.
Ken is trapped in a pit, and the water is rising. Will his wife Jeannie save him from drowning?
Derek McQueen tells a dramatic tale.
...On one occasion after we had done our piece and were sitting quietly as usual, the compere came up to Auntie to ask if we could do something else. One of the artistes had failed to arrive and a fill-in was needed. As I have said, we were not naturally gifted dancers and our repetoire was limited. Auntie had to reluctantly decline, saying that we had nothing else prepared just at that time as rehearsals for our new routine were only in their early stages.
However, the compere did not give up. "Can they sing?" he asked. We did know a few songs and had sung in the chorus with the others at Auntie's other shows, but never on our own...
Muriel Spencer may have been the smallest girl in her class, but she proved that she had the loudest voice.
Patrick Hopton tells a hot tale concerning incidents on a freezing day.
...Judaism teaches that to help others is a privilege and an obligation, a sacred duty embodied in the unique Hebrew word, “Mitzvah”. That duty has been performed down the centuries by countless Jews in their quest for truth, justice, peace and human happiness and their desire to build a better life and to contribute to the well-being of their fellow citizens in whatever countries they have adopted as their home...
Stanley Solomons, with words that come from both the head and the heart, tells of the immense - almost immeasurable - contribution Jews have made to the advancement of civilisation.
Marjory Kershaw’s delightful article proves that the best way to cope with senior moments is to keep hold of one’s sense of humour.
...When I was ten years old in February 1937, it became my duty to be Dinner Girl for the Smithy Men (my uncles). My mother was the only married member of the family and because I was the eldest grandchild it became my honour to take the job.
I went to Deane Church of England School, three doors from the family home, so, as soon as the twelve noon dinner bell went, I had to grab my clothes and collect the dinners. Aunt Mary had them ready in a basket, a dinner for each of the uncles, placed in individual enamel dishes with saucers on top, (no cling film in those days). There were also smaller dishes for the puddings, plus spoons to eat with and everything covered with a thick cotton terry towel to keep warm...
Myra Higson recalls her early days in Bolton, Lancashire.
Poor Mark! A young man without a girlfriend. Then he meets the beautiful Maria, an enchanting Italian girl and they arrange a meeting. But there is a clash of dates. City have a vital Cup re-play game. What should football fan Mark do?
Patrick Hopton tells a suspensful tale.