THE KROWKCOLC CHRONICLES

THE KROWKCOLC CHRONICLES

Jack pushed his chair back, slowly lifted his tired body from the seat and moved towards the office windows. He glanced downwards towards the street scape below, and noted the faint raindrops forming on the hermetically sealed window pains.

As he moved closer to the glass, he noticed the familiar shape of the church situated on the corner of Love Alley and Grope Street.The church of St Butler was consecrated during the 8th Century and had been rebuilt by the Normans just after the events of 1066. The Romanesque structure was built without a clock tower, but during the Gothic period and stone and marble tower was constructed to hold a monumental four-faced mechanical clock.

Jack looked at his wristwatch and noticed that the time was approaching 3.30 pm and time for his tea break.  As he began to withdraw from the window, he inadvertently turned his head towards the clock in the tower as if to confirm the correct time. Stopping in his tracks he noted that the time showing on the church clock was a few minutes earlier than that on his watch, and after staring to get a closer look noticed that the hands of the clock appeared to be going in a reverse direction. Moving closer to the window and pressing his face against the rain speckled glass he strained his eyes and was astonished that the hands were indeed rotating in a reverse motion and turning backwards, as if to reverse time.

At first he thought that his eyes or mind were playing tricks on him and that he needed a strong mug of coffee to bring him back to his senses. Moving slowly away from the window, he passed his empty work station and ventured towards the partitioned area of the room used as a kitchen and eating area.

Plugging in the electric kettle he noticed the lights flicker on and off a couple of times and sat at a table waiting for the water in the kettle to boil.

His fingers fidgeted as he waited and continually viewed his wrist watch to check that time was running forward in an orderly manner. As the water reached boiling point he rose to his feet and grabbing a jar of instant coffee, placed two heaped spoonful's in to his mug. As he poured the water into his mug he trembled with the inconceivable thought that the dream he had had the previous evening was coming true.

 Collapsing back on to the rigid and inflexible plastic chair he swigged the hot coffee and immediately spat the foaming liquid back across the room and his mouth blistered and burned a deep dark red. After waiting for the liquid to cool, Jack slowly drank what was left of his coffee and started back toward his desk.

The lights flickered once again and he soon became aware that he appeared to be the only person situated on that floor of his office block.

Even stranger, the carpet tiles were different and the walls and ceiling were decorated in a confusingly different fashion that he was familiar with .

As he progressed across the floor it was also apparent that most of the stud walls and freestanding screens that partitioned the floor in to separate offices and sections were missing, and that there were no desks, chairs, tables or work stations to be seen.

Now panicking, Jack ran to the window adjacent to the church clock tower and staring at the clock face could not believe his eyes, as the hands whirled backwards at an astonishing speed.

To be continued...….














     

BREXIT EXIT IN STINKING ROTTEN BOROUGH

BREXIT EXIT IN STINKING ROTTEN BOROUGH

Driver Chard has astonished all and sundry by exclaiming that he is to stand for Parliament in an election for a long forgotten parliamentary constituency.

If successful he will strive to dismiss the existing elected members of the House Of Commons and with the help of the unelected House of Lords declare Independence from the existing EU and strive to unite the country in a political and trading Confederation with a re-formed independent German Empire.

The "Rotten Borough" of "Belmont Duck" is located in a small corner of semi-rural countryside situated between the border of the London Borough of London and the county of Hertfordshire. The half acre of land was granted the status of a "Liberty" in 1313 by Pope Clement V and sanctioned by the then reigning English monarch Edward 111.

The land was managed by agents on behalf of the Abbey church at the Monastery of St Albans and sub-let to local parishioners until the Restoration, when the postage stamp sized parcel of land became associated with the Glebe land attached to St Johns church in Stanmore.

It is because of the confusion relating to the ownership of the land originally owned by the Catholic Church, transferred to the status of a safe haven - "Liberty" by the abbot of St Albans Abbey, and then sub-let to various tenants until being obtained by the Anglican church, that the "Rotten Borough" was not included in the various pieces of legislation passed in the 19th century to remove the parliamentary status and the ability to post a member of parliament to Westminster.

Having obtained the knowledge that the opportunity exists to stand for parliament and extol his own brand of Brexit politics, Driver Chard immediately informed the  Prime Minister, the Speaker and Black Rod of his intention to hold a local election, so as to allow the forgotten constituency of Belmont Duck, and those associated with the land, to be represented at Westminster.

Driver Chard has enlisted a number of fellow members of the Duck Flat Cap Society to assist him in his grab for power, and has Ray the Dust his official spokesman and Jester. Barry the Gravedigger has been appointed his official physician and issued  "Letters Patent" granting him the exclusive right to supply bicycles and scooters for his executive team.

The ageing octogenarian potentate has advised his close team of supporters that upon obtaining his seat in the House Of Commons he will publish a series of Bills seeking to abolish the existing executive and appointing himself as the saviour of the post Brexit nation.

In particular he will issue a "Bill of Attainder" as  an act of legislature declaring the entire Parliament  guilty of Treason and punishing them without a trial. They will then be banished to France, Belgium and Poland for the rest of their existence as punishment for the lack of constructive Brexit action over the last 30 moons.

Despite being advised that such Bills were abolished in the UK in 1870, the clearly deluded Driver Chard insists that he will  be successful in his endeavours to proclaim himself as the post Brexit Potentate of the United Kingdom of Greater Britannia and Germania.

More will be published when Driver Chard is released from the mental Institution that is currently holding him on behalf of the Duck Flat Cap Societies "Political and Attainder" sub-division, chaired by the ex convict and dangerous Pygmy smuggler, Little Legs Parks.

R.I.P   JOHN CHARD 1933 - 2020

DRIVER CHARD IN BREXIT ULTIMATUM

DRIVER CHARD IN BREXIT  ULTIMATUM

Driver Chard, the diminutive but headstrong ex-President of the Duck Flat Cap Society has demanded a new kind of BREXIT, in which the districts of Harrow Weald and Belmont, which are located in the London Borough of Harrow, secede from the United Kingdom and join a customs and political union with Prussia.


Even after it has been explained to the octogenarian potentate that Prussia ceased to exist in 1918, he demands that the districts are immediately removed from all current Brexit negotiations and expediently depart the constrains of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.

The elderly statements threatens that he will withdraw the payment of his council tax if his demands are not met.

He has further stated that he will refrain from his duties as a "Gentleman Imbiber and Defender of the Faith" if his ultimatum is not met in full within forty eight hours.

In an additional outburst the former trade union oligarch has indicated that he wishes Little Legs Parkes to be the premier of the new breakaway state, with the position of foreign secretary taken up by Barry the gravedigger.

However, this agreement would be subject to Little Legs Parkes changing his name to "Little Legs Metternich", and Barry the Gravedigger to "Bismarck the Gravedigger".

The remaining executive positions of the fledgling state would be decided by a "peoples vote" or plebiscite, with voting restricted to residents aged over the age of sixty.

However , the short list of acceptable candidates would consist of existing members of the Duck Flat Cap Society "Imbibing and Procrastinating" sub-committee and affiliated officers.

More to follow after an extraordinary meeting of the DFCS IP sub committee, that takes place at a secret location on a date to be confirmed.

To be continued............

R.I.P   JOHN CHARD 1933 - 2020

2.THE MAN WHO SAT ON A HILL - PART 2

2.THE MAN WHO SAT ON A HILL - PART 2
(CONTINUATION)

As Henry followed the monk-like figure and wolf, he noticed that although it was still raining quite heavily, they were leaving no trail in the grass. Suppressing an urge to flee, Henry continued after the duo and quickened his pace so as to get closer to them.

However, each time he extended his stride and energetically increased his speed, he was unable to close the gap between himself and those he pursued.  After a short time the hooded figure stopped and turned to Henry Reaper and gestured for him to come closer.

The monk grabbed Henry by his arm and pulled him gently towards him. Pointing towards a slight dip in the hillside, he declared that within a sacred glade hidden behind the depression in the hill was an entrance to a secluded valley that had been undisturbed for centuries. This valley contained an ancient monastery that had escaped the destruction and dissolution conducted by Henry Tudor, known to history as King Henry VIII, and his conniving principle secretary and chief minister, Thomas Cromwell.

Unable to respond in a coherent manner, Henry Reaper gestured to the monk to continue towards the supposed opening in the hillside so that they may proceed to the lost monastery. The mist and damp atmosphere grew thicker and before Henry was able to draw more than a few breaths, they were standing in the bright sunlight at the head of a gentle valley dominated by a huge Romanesque monastic structure, with its gleaming towers stretching in to a cloudless sky. Various outbuildings were scattered about the complex and farm animals were abundant in the fields adjacent to the monastic complex.

Soon they were seated at a table within the scriptorium where the monk disclosed his name as Aethelwulf of Ockendon and that the monastery was the seat of a particular knowledge endowed on only a few selected clerics and churchmen. He went on to explain events that had happened during the reign of Henry Tudors father, also named Henry, who as the victor of the battle of Bosworth, had seized the throne from the Yorkist claimant, Richard Plantagenet on behalf of the Lancastrian contingent of the Royal family. After gaining the throne, Henry VII had instigated the exploration of the north Atlantic by Bristol based sailors, so as to search for the fabled north west passage and to satisfy the need for new and fresh cod fishing grounds.

Aethelwulf the monk then explained that during one of these expeditions, a number of Bristolian families were put ashore on the North American coast to the south of Newfoundland and that they helped to found a settlement that has since been hidden from history. The members of this settlement flourished, and in time after interbreeding with the local indigenous people, eventually made unexpected contact with surviving members of previous voyages from Europe. These earlier arrivals from the "old world" consisted of a contingent of Welsh monks who had fled from persecution inflicted by Anglo Norman barons who had plundered their estates and confiscated the monastic wealth for there own treasuries.

The welsh monks had travelled across the North Atlantic in small coracle like vessels and had survived the long and arduous journey by using the western isles, Iceland, Greenland and eventually the coast of Labrador and Newfoundland as stepping stones for obtaining fresh food and water. When they eventually made land fall on continental North America they were surprised to encounter the descendants of Norse explorers who had settled firstly in the more northern latitudes of Greenland and Newfoundland, and then abandoning there Vinland settlements had moved south to the more temperate climes of what was later to become New England.

Aethelwulf went on to disclosed that his ancestors were related to those who had settled in the lush forests and river valleys of the proto New England, and that he was a product of the mixing of the Welsh Monks, Norsemen, native indigenous inhabitants and Bristolians, who had come together to form a new community of nations in the new lands they now occupied.  In time, the religious faction from Wales came to control the community that flourished under there strict and religious administration.

Realising that there was no future for them unless they revoked their vow of celibacy, they took native maidens as wives and reproduced in numbers sufficient to maintain there dominance. The descendants of the adventurers from Bristol soon became the communities merchant class, trading prodigiously with the native inhabitants, and the Norse quickly established themselves in the vanguard as the protectors of the community by forming a militia to police and defend the settlement of "Ockendon".

Aethelwulf then explained that although the North American community had remained hidden from the other inhabitants of North America, and continued to flourish it the Kingdoms hidden location deep within the forested hills of Arcadia, the wish to return to their homeland in Europe eventually overcame the benefits of their local paradise, and a band of warriors and there kin folk returned to the ancient lands of Mercia to establish a new community in the Insular Isles of Britain.

The location remained hidden from the local inhabitants due to a mysterious power that emanated from a casket of relics that included a magnificent Dagger.The current leader of this Angelcynn commonwealth was Offa, who had taken his name from his illustrious ancestor and King of Mercia.

Drawing a deep breath, Aethelwulf then drew a jewel encrusted dagger from a hidden pocket in his habit, and placed it before Henry Reaper exclaiming that his and his worlds destiny would soon be revealed and that he was to take the dagger in his hands and hold it towards the sky.


To be continued...….    

1.THE MAN WHO SAT ON A HILL

1.THE MAN WHO SAT ON A HILL

Mist moved through the valley until it enveloped all it encountered, and as usual, a gentle drizzle filled the air.

The ground was becoming sodden, and drops of rainwater dripped from the abundant trees and bushes that scattered the landscape.
However, none of this prevented Henry G Reaper from sitting on the hill top as he did every day at the same spot overlooking the town below. As he surveyed the scene below his thoughts returned to that day many years ago when he first encountered the vision that had changed his life.

Although he was now approaching an age when he would no longer be able to climb to the summit of the hill, his memory of the events that day were still vivid in his mind, and he was soon deep in thought remembering that fateful day.

TIMES PAST

It was at least forty years ago that after a Saturday morning working in the towns mill as an apprentice weft threader, he had popped in to the Red Lion for half a pint of mild and a tuppenny bun. After his ale, bun and the appropriate ablutions, he took the church path out of town and started to climb the slopes of the steep passageway. Rain was falling gently but persistently and there was a light breeze.

He remembered that his hobnail boots clanked on the dry stone cobbles as he approached the church and as he glanced towards the graveyard he felt an unexplained chill and shiver down his spine. Although alarmed he quickly dismissed any feeling of  unease and continued his approach towards the stile and footpath that would take him through the church field, over the shallow but cold river Yabble by way of the antediluvian stone causeway, and on to the ancient wool packers trail that snaked up the hill and eventually down the other side on its way to the local port.

The area had become extremely wealthy during the middle ages due to the huge flocks of sheep that had wandered the hills and valleys throughout the county. The wool from the sheep was worth it weight in gold to the wealthy land owners who had ruthlessly thrown their tenants of their farms and small holdings so that the millions of sheep could wander the former yeomanry's agricultural strips of ridge and furrow and the peasants common pasture land and waste.

As Henry strode forward he was soon passing through the remnants of an abandoned village that disappeared as the villagers departed the land and the sheep took over the ancient fields. The tell tale depressions in the ground and the slightly raised level platforms of land reveal where the cottagers huts and buildings once stood, and slight linear depressions in the fields revealed where the village lanes ran throughout the settlement. Occasionally a wall of a crumbled village church would stand proud from the ground, standing testament to the earlier inhabitants of these bleak and windswept landscapes.

Henry continued along a sunken Holloway and was soon approaching the remains of an ancient cemetery. The graveyard had not been tended for centuries and most of the bodies had been exhumed and transferred to a charnel house when the land was ripped from the villagers grasp to make way for the flocks of sheep which miraculously turned the Lord of the Manors grass pastures and hill slopes to gold.

It was rumoured by many old-timers in the town below, that the ancient graveyard had included those who had perished during the numerous episodes of the Black Death or Plague that had ravished the country during the centuries that the village flourished. Indeed, an analysis of the soil would still show traces of the caustic lime that was spread over corpses that had perished from the Plague. These lime pits were often some way from an area of habitation, and this was why the graves were located further from the abandoned village than any other buildings.

Pausing a short while to glance back down the hill, Henry trudged upwards towards a small clump of trees that offered some shelter from the  rain that had started to fall more persistently. Henry was starting to notice that there was a chill in the air and for a moment a tingling sensation ran the length of his body, from head to toes, resulting in a shake of his head and the hunching of his shoulders. His hobnail boots were not waterproof and his feet were starting to feel uncomfortably wet due to a combination of leakage and sweat. The loose fitting boots were also rubbing against his toes and heels and a trickle of blood was mixing with the sweat and rain water to stain his linen socks a dark red. Sucking in his cheeks he began to breath heavily due to his quickened pace as he tried to reach the shelter of the copse before  the rain fell any harder.

Minutes later he was under the branches of a large Ash tree and washing the rain from his face with a handkerchief that he recovered from his waistcoat pocket. As he regained his composure he suddenly felt the presence of somebody or something behind him. Frozen to the spot and unable to move, his mind was flashing through various thoughts as to how he should react, because he was certain that an entity of some kind was behind his left shoulder. As if immobilised, he was at first unable to make his body respond to his brains signals. Moments later he spun his neck and head to his left and jumped back a stride as he turned to face the presence he sensed behind him.

Standing about three yards from him, only slightly obscured by the branches of a small conifer sapling, appeared to be the figures of a huge black wolf and a hooded figure with a shepherds crock in its left hand. Henry was startled by  the vision before him but as the blood began to flow back in to his limbs and his brain regain some composure, he reached out to the apparition exclaiming "who are you and where have you come from ?"

After a brief pause the entity responded by stating in a strongly accented speech that he was in the service of his lord Offa, King of the Mercian's, and that he was to lead Henry to his destiny and salvation..........

To be continued.....




 

CIDER WITH CANNEY - PART 1

CIDER WITH CANNEY - PART 1

The air was still and infused with the putrid smell if stale sweat and dry sick, and strewn about the room bodies twitched as they continued their cider induced slumber.

Newspapers partially covered the floor, the date 1983 prominent at the top of the red banner tabloids.

In North West London the early morning sun  started to penetrate the windows of the dingy ground floor apartment, and in the corner of the small room a record player continued to spin emitting an eerie screech as the blunt needle scraped the Bakelite base of the player.

Beside the record player were a couple of dozen empty litre bottles of strong cider together with scores of empty cider cans.

In the bathroom the toilet was overflowing with indescribable filth and tissue paper was scattered throughout the room, stuck to the walls, floor and ceiling.

Hanging from the light fitting was a soiled pair of boxer shorts that were embroidered in green with the initials MDC, and covered in thick puke.

On the floor of the room that was occupied by at least five inebriate sleeping and flatulating beasts was a electric kettle and dozens of cups and glasses lined with the residue of copious Irish coffees and southern comfort. The evidence lay beside the kettle with empty cartons of cream, cubes of brown sugar and empty bottles of Irish whiskey and southern comfort. Stale cigarette butts littered the room and the stench of stale tobacco was overwhelming.

The telephone began to ring and after a couple of minutes an overweight body of medium height began to slumber. In response to the incessant ringing the rotund figure rose to his feet and stumbled through the detritus and immobile bodies strewn about the room to answer the phone. As if injected with a dose of smelling salts the obese troglodyte threw down the phone and screamed out loud..

"Sue is on her way, we have to clear up !" .

The remainder of the occupants were quickly on there feet and struggling to clean the room of the nights boojar session.



To be continued......

ZOMBIE VERSUS SLOP BUCKET

ZOMBIE VERSUS SLOP BUCKET

Dr Winyard Washington Brown and Lord Loafington Barron have stunned the world by confirming the biggest mismatch in the history of the unlicensed sport of caged imbibing.

Dr Brown has chosen the Zombie as his alcoholic weapon and Lord Barron the Slop Bucket.

Due to the difference in size of the standard slop bucket and the regulation Zombie, Dr Brown will need to consume double the volume to obtain the title.

Dr Brown who obtained his title as Emeritus professor of Luther Vandross studies, and Lord Barron who is to be stripped of his ennoblement are unavailable for comment at this time but more will be divulged in due course after the event scheduled for 31August 2018.