Saturday 29 October 2011

Fig Hunting in the depths of Suffolk

Well I went fig hunting today and no fresh figs could I find. What to do think, think! Coming up to Christmas there must be some pickled or something. In desperation I looked round the local farm shop in Needham Market and there sitting on a shelf calling me were ‘Figs in light Syrup and Port by the Cottage Delight Speciality Foods’ It sounded good, it sounded like my only chance so I hot footed it back home.

            I prized those plump figs out of the jar; even though they put up a fight and mixed a salad dressing and put some of the syrup in it too. I whizzed some mixed nuts and fruit with cinnamon, in my little whizzer thing and sprinkled them on the lettice mix I picked, for its colour and taste. I baked the figs with goats cheese and drizzled the salad dressing and held my breath to wait for its taste to hit my buds……… not bad, possibly even good and will let you know what my girly friends think.

To Fig or not to Fig, that is my dilemma

I had a very strange day yesterday and I’m blaming my friend Amanda! My reason for this could be considered a little bizarre and probably just a coincidence or family life in general but when ever Amanda organises a girly get together my life takes a tumble.

            I could give many examples but I will just get on with what happened yesterday and as the get together is this evening you could follow the Tilly Happenings as we go and see if I’m right.

            So I had yesterday planed, very simply, go watch a film with Sian my sister-in-law and two of her children and in the evening I had a lady coming round to talk about combining our utility’s together, saving us some money. Simple! Ya think?

            Ok started my day with putting my blog on but wanted to change the background, which took ages as I’m useless at that sort of thing. I then posted my blog later than I should of, so left the house in a mess, picked up Sian; whose car had blown a turbo the day before and was back on track with the day.

             Angus was being Angus and was like one of those African jumping fellows who you have to marvel at their stamina but unlike the singing tall African tribal men, he is just the size to hit my bottom jaw on the way up and my toes on the way down. I was a little frazzled but I’m use to that. We park up and am in full flow of having conversations while holding down my jumping full of life son, when out of the corner of my eye I saw a guy walk into a sign pole. The rebound was spectacular and I tried very hard not to laugh but we couldn’t help it. The poor man was trying to walk away to get out of sight, as you do when you feel a fool but the blood was already rushing out of the wound. I gave him a clean tissue and offered to take him to get it seen to, as I’m pretty sure he would have needed a few stitches. But being embarrassed he just wanted to make light of it, and who could blame him. I’m still wondering if he is ok though, it was one heck of a rebound.

            Well we were still discussing the man through the trailers when the screen went a vivid lime green, then they proceeded to put the wrong film on. The upshot of this was that we were late coming out and getting home for the evenings appointment. Ahrr such is life.

            Anyhow I buzzed around the house, like a worker honey bee I dashed of to the shops to get the much needed coffee and ingredients for the starter I would be doing for the girly get together. What no fresh figs for my fig and goats cheese starter. Now at this point I couldn’t think what to get instead so left the shop in a huff. Got home finished the beans on toast for Kev who had just got out of the shower in a rush to get ready for the appointment, he didn’t look well and just as the lady turned up Kev disappeared and was sick!! We both needed to be at the appointment but I carried on like a martyr as best I could.

            I tried to sleep on the sofa as Kev had taken the starfish position fully clothed and I didn’t have the heart to move him. I woke with a start as Angus jumped fully charged onto me for my morning hug and kisses, zapping any energy out of me with full on love. Then I ran around the house trying to find my phone, which was on silent and I had forgotten I had put on the floor in-case I was not awake when Axl called in the morning. Axl had forgotten to take his shin pads to a sleep over party and had away match in the morning (I knew not what time) and one in the afternoon. Kev took him to football in the car and I still have no figs! And now no car to get any figs!

            After we have retrieved our son from wherever, I then have to get my daughter Ella to a party and to be at Amanda’s for 7.30 while sorting the starter out and keeping it warm for the journey. Then I will have to time departing Amanda’s to pick up Ella with friends who are staying in the caravan and who I will be taking to football in the morning.

            What could possibly go wrong! My only concern it whether I should “Fig or not to Fig” now there is a dilemma!

Friday 28 October 2011

Last Part of Tammy's Quest for Romance

Here is the last part of 'Tammy's Quest for Romance' hope you like it. I may put all parts together and post them as a whole story, what do you think send me an e-mail to let me know. Now having to dash out (I'm possibly a little late :-) ) Hope you all had a great half term Love Tilly x

Tammy was shocked when she looked across at Sara’s Parents who’s looked mirrored her own. Well Josh and Sara had only known each nine months or so and these days people lived together a while before they married. Tammy held down the panic rising inside the questions and concerns. A leap of faith in them was called for. Life, she thought was very unpredictable and no one knew who was going to survive marriage and for what reasons. Only looking at it on the back of hindsight would anyone know the couples that had survived.
            Just over a year ago she thought she was loosing Josh the odds were so stacked against him. Yet here he was announcing their future. They were both showing off their rings. Tammy shook her head laughing at them and how indulgent of each other they were.
            ‘They are beautiful’ she exclaimed when it was her turn. She looked across at Donna and Tim who both shone with warmth and pride of parenthood and then she felt Mike’s lips on her neck she melted into his cocooned embrace.
            They had all said their goodbyes in high spirits having been shown the venue, menu, flowers and suits while discussing enjoying and sharing the excitements. How different from Tammy’s own wedding plans she tutted to herself, remembering the arguments and disappointments.
            Just as Donna, Tammy and Sara were giving each other another excited hug Sara asked if Tammy could come and help look for a wedding dress. Tammy glistened with tears. Not having a good relationship with her mother or mother-in-law picking her own wedding dress was a nightmare. She had never dared to hope to be allowed in on such an important event. She looked apprehensively over to Donna, who was already listing shops they should visit and that she could pick Tammy up and then there was their outfits. Donna was in her own frenzied heaven.
            Sitting in the car Tammy felt very blessed and kept pleasantly looking back on the days events, when she realised they were going the wrong way. Mike had a huge grin on his face.
            ‘Where are we going Mike?’
            ‘To find a bed.’
            ‘The shops are shut ya fool, it’s Sunday.’
            ‘I know.’
The car was slowing up outside the Hotel they had stayed for their wedding night. He got a small case out of the boot and led her to the reception. Her romantic dream was coming true. Little electric currents zapped through her.
            ‘I have a reservation under Mr and Mrs Smith’ He even winked at the receptionist who looked them both up and down and beamed back
            ‘Certainly sir’
When they were shown to their room Mike insisted she unpacked her bag as he wasn’t sure he had everything for tomorrow for work. He was taking the day off he explained so he could find a new bed.
            She smiled when she saw the silk night dress that was see through and giggled when she found her favourite chocolates, was impressed when she found her favourite author staring at her from her latest novel, knowing should would not be able to read it tonight anyhow. But it was the note that she will never forget. It was covered in aftershave and started
            “I love you my Tammy girl so I’ve burnt your knickers it’s thongs for us from now on.”
She looked over and there he was in cuffs with no shirt attached, dickey bow and diamante adorned pouch. But it was his face and the look he gave her that held the key to her quest, humour made him a very loving romantic.

Monday 24 October 2011

Tammy's Quest for Romance Part 8

Have managed to get this done for all my friends who have been asking me to write the next part. Thank you for your support and I hope you enjoy it x  

Please everyone let me know if you do by clicking one of the boxes at the bottom. I will post the last part tomorrow or if I get lots of clicks I might post it later tonight x 

Have fun Tilly x

She knew before she got to the bedroom what had happened but seeing her boy’s arms and legs sprawling, curling and contorting like a bed full of snakes, had her in stitches. What was a busted bed? Some times things have to be broken before they can be fixed in a new position for life to continue.
            It had taken a long time for Josh to get his mojo back with the confidence that had been his shinning light. Her pride and love pricked the back of her eyes. Mojo was the word he would use a lot through his treatment. On his worst days he would say
            ‘I have no mojo mum and it’s never gonna come back.’ Well look at him now! She walked over to the wardrobe in a deathly hush; she knew they were waiting for her shouts and belligerent despair but she calmly took out her clothes and everything she needed and turned, tossing her head in a nonchalant fashion and walked out. The bed could be replaced, happiness couldn’t.
            The bed was only a year or so old due to Josh being violently sick all over it and no matter how hard she tried she could not get rid of the smell. Mike said they could live with it and it would go. They had a massive row about replacing that old bed. She found it hard to remember why. She was glad it was broken, now all they will remember would be, they broke a bed while wrestling and smiles instead of arguments and despaired worry would be a memory. Now it would be one of those family stories that make a bond around a family. 
            She heard their hushed silence with their low voices ‘Oh lord what are we going to do about this then.’ Normally she would have gone in, blew up and sorted the situation out, taking control but now she let them get on with it, trusting they would do their best. Well Mike will be ordering the next one as he constantly moaned about that one. Time would tell if he fared better than she at that mission.
            She had decided to ware her new grey knit dress and had brought a colourful under skirt with silky golden colours against a background of cream, very attractive through the laced detail at the bottom of the dress. Cleverly she had matched a scarf to the underskirt tying the whole ensemble together. Looking in the full length mirror she had to admit it looked stunning, admittedly with the help of the hold it all in, push it all up body controller that was fast becoming her best friend.
            Mike would be beside himself. But she had resolved until romance and seduction came into her life again, sex would be a rarity. Laughing she made busy in the tiding the kitchen, thinking how she could never resist Mike and if only he took notice he would use that fact against her, melting her into a smouldering mass. A thought just a seed of an understanding came to her, maybe if she didn’t have such preconceived ideas and was a little more patient he would learn the art of seduction and her quest for romance in real life would be realised. ‘Nar life was not like that’
            As they came down stairs and sheepishly into the kitchen the door flung open and Petra came through. James strode over to her and planted a miss you kiss on her lips. So they were an item, Tammy nodded to herself.
            Petra picked up on the atmosphere of uncertainty
            ‘Oh should I go’ James held her close and Tammy pierced the tension balloon by explaining.
            ‘Don’t be silly, they have just been very naughty boys. They broke my new bed by fighting with each other. I ask you at their age’ they all laughed and as she looked across she could see the shocked amusement on Petra’s face. What must she think?  And as she looked closely over the pretty face with its bouncy glowing deep chestnut hair that was as glossy as the conker she picked up the other day and her face like silky caramel cream with it’s warm tones of joy at her youngest son. A true gift that made her happily and a motherly glow broke out around her.
            It was then she spied mike’s look. A deep fatherly inner warmth that was more appealing than youths first flourish of excitement in finding out about each other, it gravitated her to his magnetism as a man. When their eyes met they held a gaze of knowing each other, understanding that was their shared love. Then he looked at her, while she challenged him with her eyes. Now no one had ever mentioned to her the power of old love revived. He scanned her intently his eyes appreciating her every contour. A tension of deep unease spread through the youngsters watching and was broken by Josh.
            ‘You need to book a room dad!’ the tension was broken again by laughter.       They were busy getting ready to go and Tammy was pleasantly surprised that Petra was coming too. All three cars were loaded up with chairs and the last few boxes and such to take to Josh’s new home. Tammy had made an apple and hazelnut crumble cake and knew the boys; all three of them, had been nibbling away at the edges. She rolled her eyes, she had wanted it to look good but now it had nibberly bits missing as though mousse had been at it. She looked at her watch and began to panic.
            ‘Lord you’re going to be in for the chop my boy, look at the time!’
            ‘Naar she told me to go and never come back.’ Having got the shocked response from his mum he went on,
            ‘I was panicking a bit and she wanted me out of her kitchen.’ It was true love his face held all of the signs and captured it in a smile he held just for Sara.
            They arrived and duly took things up as they went. The flat was spacious enough to give them all room even with the table out. Sara had cleverly made a stew in two slow cookers and a buffet affair with dumplings baked in the oven, crisp on the outside fluffy on the inside all piled up looking tantalisingly scrumpious .
            After they had talked, eaten and thoroughly enjoyed each others company Sara and Josh stood together holding a magnum of Champaign.
            ‘We’ve an announcement to make;’ Josh strong determined voice so full of love proclaimed. ‘We’ve booked the wedding for New Years Eve’
            ‘Bloody Hell’ Tammy shocked voice let slip. ‘Next year?’
            ‘No this year’ Josh’s voice now a tad faltering.
            ‘I’m going to be a Mother-in-Law! Well bugger me!’ She was shocked but why was she so shocked? She felt old, strange and defiantly not ready for this!
A ripple of giggles went around with hand shakes, slaps on backs and kisses they passed Tammy a glass of Champaign which she downed it in one and they filled it up again.    Did you know about this?’ She looked over to Sara’s parents.  

Monday 17 October 2011

Tammy's Queat for Romance 7

As josh ran into the house he was jovially shouting about his father’s underpants being on fire and where was it happening.

‘I’ve heard of burning your bra mum for women’s lib but your husband’s underpants now that has to be a first!’ Her sons laugh and smile was worth all the pain of childbirth and everything they had suffered in the last two years.

‘It was very liberating and I think your father felt so too.’

‘Calvin Keilns, nice! You’ve come into the millennium at last you old duffer.’

The thing about Mike that the family enjoyed the most was his sense of humour and fun, he was now impersonation a stripper. Totally comfortable with whom he was and his place in the world around him, made him irresistible to Tammy.

            His eyes danced around her face enchanting her even after all these years. It was a bit of a pity that his body had no rhythm what so ever spoiling the moment really. She smiled with that familiar fizzy pop sensation giving goosy bumps all over her. This was picked up instantly by Mike who started to shimmy over to her, focused with deep intent.

‘Watch and learn boys from a master’ Mike was now in full rotational movement and Tammy was backing off knowing if she got caught, fun and frolics would get out of hand. James had just come back into the room.

‘Woow old Grundy slow it down a pace or you’ll give yourself a pacemaker.’

‘This is how it’s done old timer’ Josh showed his moves.

‘Nar ya both hopeless look, like this!’ Now all three men where showing their moves non of which were aesthetically pleasing but good entertainment value so much so Tammy had to run away to calm herself down. Her face ached and lady’s of a certain age should not laugh too hard she thought to her self.

            She heard the kafuffle that signalled a boisterous wrestle fight between father and sons. Such antics should have been grown out of a long time ago; she knew it would end in tears. She decided to take the opportunity to have a shower.

Saturday 15 October 2011

Tilly Has no Plums! and Must Grow a Pair.

I was walking the dogs yesterday and was thinking about the covering letter I was going to write when I got back. I thought really hard about it and then I started to smile; it was going to be a very short letter.

            You see I’m a mother of three and I love to read (when given the chance) and a huge compulsion to write. But that’s not really relevant. I have helped in the local schools and do the accounts for my husband’s small business, so credentials are non existent to mildly acceptable.

            Writing experience is limited as I can’t afford good writing courses and every time I organise to go to a writing event, I have to cancel for one of life’s little spanners that are thrown carelessly in the cogs of my life and wonder if life is trying to tell me something. I’m also dyslexic so education was always a problem and I have nothing to brag about on that front either.

            Social networking they say is good as it shows you have a following and a support network but as only my best friend and I follow my blog, I can’t mention that either (it makes me laugh though). I must try and follow more people but I do feel a little like a stalker. Not sure why, maybe it’s lack of grasping or understanding what social means? Though I like to think it’s because I’m polite; it sounds better anyhow.

            So with a smile and a spring in my step I once again talked my self out of writing to an agent and wrote this blog instead. No plums you see, only shrivelled up prunes. Must grow a pair though and get on with sending my novels away.

Thursday 13 October 2011

Tilly on a Chicklit Soap Box


They imply (very brainy people of a certain age and income) that us plebs have boring lives and should try to read something more substantial. This makes me grumpy!!!!! Do not take chicklit from the shelves, do not call it anything else, I need to be able to run in, get my fix and run out again, quick, fast and efficient.  
            I know there is a big bad world out there and I care and some days I go looking for intellectual stimulation (perhaps they should have a shelf for that too) I don’t just read one type of book, who does? But so far this week I have had two friends having a tumour removed from their brains, one from their face, all three I send my love to, with big dollops of hugs and kisses. Two teenage children stressing over the meaning of life and what job they will be doing in a few years time, indeed if there are any they do not want to become a pleb like their mother and for that I do not blame them one jot! My youngest son, who is finding it hard to walk with a large growing marrow between his legs, is very very grouchy and who can blame him. Inland Revenue website keeps crashing as too many people are using it and the bank has charged us for services we don’t use and I can’t get anyone to understand me or me them. My dog has a lump that looks suspicious and is going in for op tomorrow. So don’t try taking my chicklit away from the shelves or belittle the joy it gives!!! I need soft romance to get through my day!!!! I know who I am and what I stand for and I'm proud of it!

            Anyhow no man can give romance like a good hunk in a chicklit book. I have a husband to put up the shelves but that’s all he is good for, alas he is a true Homo erectus which the romantic era passed by. I am a woman, I have my rights!!

Sunday 9 October 2011

Tammy's Quest for Romance Part 5

Tammy's Quest for Romance Part 5

Tammy had got up early yet again due to the internal Furness starting up. Coffee she was sure was the wrong beverage but that and a romantic novel were her only comfort at times like this. She decided to make some cinnamon bread for breakfast and flung all the windows open even though the temperature outside was decidedly chilly.
            By the time Mike had missed her and woken up, breakfast was done and smelling divine, fresh coffee circulated the air and now the flush had subsided she closed the windows. As she heard the shower go she poured the coffee and took it and the bread upstairs so that they could have a leisurely perusal of the papers together. She heard Mike’s reaction to her planned bit of spice and started to titter to her self. By the time she got to the bedroom the titter had bubbled into chuckle.
‘Bloody hell Tammy what’s going on!’ James came running into their bedroom and reiterated his dad’s sentiment.
‘What the hell dad, what ya doing in those!’
‘Ask ya mother.’ They both looked over to her.
‘Well you said; as you always do, that you needed some new underwear and could I get you some. You wouldn’t come shopping and you said you didn’t mind what sort I bought. I though I should spice things up a little.’ She beamed.
‘Very funny, now where have you put them?’
‘Put what?’
‘Put my underwear’
‘In the draw, there all there.’ The look he gave Tammy was priceless, delicious in-fact.
‘What happened to my old ones?’ He asked with some trepidation.
‘Threw them out.’
‘Where are the ones I wore last night?’
‘I burnt them this morning.’ James had had enough he had gone out of the room in fits and was texting Josh “mums gone mad. She’s burnt dads pants”.
‘You burnt my underpants.’
‘Yep.’
‘All my underpants?’
‘Yep.’ Tammy was finding speaking at this point very difficult as Mike was going through all the pouches to see if any were comfortable. He finally found the bight Calvin Keiln ones that she thought he looked rather fetching in. In-fact florescent pink suited his tanned skin.
‘Why?’
‘I’ve started to feel like the chicken stew around here; that is to say taken for granted and bland and boring. If I suggested spicing things up a bit you suggest thongs or suspenders for me which I might add require no effort from you. I tried that the other night and you took no notice, so I went out with the girls. Anyhow I asked you to come shopping with me but you turned me down. I wanted a bit of an interlude with you sipping a latte while getting your boring pants but oh no! So I thought, what is good for men must be good for women and went for the sex instead of the romantic side of things.’
‘But the pouches are uncomfortable and don’t hold me in.’
‘Exactly my point! Until you show me some romance or come shopping with me it will be pouches or Calvin Keiln for you’
‘Can we go shopping now?’
‘No remember we’re off to Josh and Sara’s moving in lunch.’
‘Aarh, what should I do.’
‘You do look sexy in florescent pink.’
‘I do?’
Just then they heard hurried footsteps running into the house. 

Saturday 8 October 2011

Tammy's Quest for Romance Part 4

Tammy’s Quest for Romance
Part 4


Just as Tammy was about to try to explain why her normal culinary master piece was bland beyond belief, she was saved by the furnace within. A hot flush waved through her body right to her face. Embarrassing as it was, it was her get out clause from the kitchen.
            Mother Nature can be a bitch sometimes and unpredictable, at least this time it worked in her favour. She took out her mist spray and hand held fan, opened the bedroom windows, put on both fans and sat on the bed. How could she think about romance in a state like this? Time should have quenched her thirst for it? Was she now in her Shirley Valentine phase of her life? She wondered if Shirley had had to put up with hot flushes when she was out in Greece. She had seen the film years ago when Pauline Collins who played the fictional character, looked vibrant but a lot older than her. Now if she saw the film Pauline would look about ten years younger than her. The story line would be more relevant to her life than she would ever have imagined possible back then. Perhaps she should find a friend and go off somewhere; French man seemed nice and clued into to middle-aged, frumpy boring women. She sighed, a heavily leaden sigh and put Mike’s underwear away. Cooler now, she switched off the fans and went back down stairs.
            ‘You ok?’ Mike was getting use to her flitting off with a hot flush his concern was mild but there all the same and sweetly touching. Antonie was clutching several bottles of her newly finished pickles. Tammy’s eyes must have questioned this as Mike asked if it was alright for him to give them to Antonie. He loved pickles and had a few recipes of his own that he would pass on to her is she liked.
‘That’s really kind.’ Tammy’s eyes lit up ‘Are they French recipes?’
‘Handed down from my Grandfather’
‘You’re Grandfather?’
‘Cooking is a big thing in our family but my Grandfather had the best pickle recipes and grew the best Cucumbers and passed all his knowledge on to me.’
‘You don’t fancy doing a WI talk about it do you? We could do with a bit of spicing up.’
‘A bit like you chicken stew!’ Mike laughed. Tammy smacked him on the arm
‘It was rather tasteless.’ She admitted.
‘All those hot flushes mum; they’ve burnt out your taste buds.’
‘Steady on James, do not, make fun out of the inflicted.’
Petra slapping James stood up for Tammy ‘Your mum’s quiche was the best I have ever tasted.’
‘And the stew?’ He now put his arm snugly around Petra’s waist
‘I was having a deflated day’
‘The chicken was defiantly deflated.’ Retorted James who received another slap from Petra, causing amusement to ripple around the group.
            Their guests got ready to leave and Mike totally out of character asked them to an “English Sunday lunch” on Monday so they could taste Tammy’s talent at its best. Petra immediately accepted and Antonie asked if Yorkshires and gravy were going to be there.
‘Beef on the bone with the best Yorkshires you have ever tasted. She gets me to beet them three times before they go in the oven.’ Mike explained.
Tammy rolled her eyes and responded ‘Nothing to do with the fact I get the quantities right then!’ She could see the excitement rising in both fathers’ faces. Her older son came in just at the end of the conversation and invited him and Sara too.
            As Tammy went up the stairs she mused, great now I have to fit in work and a roast on Monday for eight, good lord eight! Mike had forgotten he was going to be running late. He has no idea what its like to cook let alone cook with hormonal hot flushes for a French man and his family! Well he is going to pay for dumping her in hot gravy and she just couldn’t wait until the morning. As she got ready for bed she played in her minds eye what his reaction was going to be.
            What was happening to her? Midlife crisis! Well she was being a little childish and mean with just a tad of spice that was for sure. Mike had pointed out spice was missing in her cooking and wondered if Mike would be able to handle the spicy heat she had waiting for him?

Wednesday 5 October 2011

Tammy’s Quest for Romance Part 3

Tammy’s Quest for Romance
Part 3


            As Tammy ran up stairs to get herself decent for who ever it was ringing the door bell Josh called out that Sara had booked a table at a restaurant and could she be ready to be picked up at seven ish? Her son by this point had made it to her bedroom door and was poking his head around it waiting for an answer. A very loving smile for both his girlfriend on the other end of the mobile and his mum beamed out. It warmed Tammy inside with gentle humour. How funny life can be when you least expect it.
‘Tell her that would be good and thank her for me’ she smiled and he left with the most relaxed and happy expression she had seen on him for a long time.
            She heard a very loud and French accent belonging, she presumed to her new neighbour. She had made a snack for them as the removal men had taken a breather. He wasn’t there, though his son and daughter who were both in their late teens early twenties were grateful and she had made coffee and tea for the removal men. Later she took round a light meal for the two of them as they had explained that their father wouldn’t be home until late.
            Intrigued to what he looked like, she checked herself in the mirror and went down stairs. A beguiling smile greeted her, warm open and grateful, full on emotion the English pull away from and as he looked her up and down instead of being affronted she appreciated his view of her. He was stylishly casual and his colour reminded her of the conker she found the other day.
‘Antoine, this is my wife, Tammy.’
Tammy went to shake hands when he grabbed her gently but firmly by the shoulders and kissed her on both cheeks, in that continental way. His warm and enthusiastic approach not exactly over whelmed her but had taken her back a little, she smiled warmly.
‘Thank you so much for helping my children the other day, I was a little stressed at work leaving the kids in charge but Peter rang to say you had helped them out and Petra enjoyed the meal you gave them.’
‘Oh I did nothing.’ She responded. He spoke near perfect English.
‘No no you were there and they…. you gave them confidence.’ His hands spoke volumes in overtones of expression. The warm lilt that the French have on English words was pleasing to her ear and he was so very genuine with his thanks, that Tammy just let him, express his gratitude. It obviously meant a lot to him though in reality she had done very little.
            Mike had already ascertained that Antonie was into football and as it was an important match a beer was thrust into his hand and an offer of being able to watch the match was accepted. Antonie’s son was eager to join in. His younger daughter looked bored though until James came running down the stairs and offered to take her to a new movie, they had obviously talked before and they both seemed smitten with each other. So by the time Sara had arrived everyone was busy doing their own thing and when Tammy said her good byes it was totally unnoticed.
            Sara’s mum and a friend were sitting in the back and waved a greeting as she climbed into the front of the red mini convertible. They apparently were meeting one of Sara’s friends at the restaurant and Tammy was a little nervous that she would feel left out. She worried that they wouldn’t have a common interest but as soon as Sara explained about the “Chicklit gang”, she immediately relaxed.
            The restaurant was a short drive away and they were greeted as well known and valued customers. Tammy could see why the wine was already chilling at their table and not the house wine either. The menu had a good range but not extensive and by the looks of it changed often, always a good sign she thought.
            Meals ordered they were already talking about the latest DVD, move and book to interest them. Even though there was an age difference between them all, they liked the same things for different reasons. Their differing backgrounds and thoughts seemed to pull their ideals together rather than pull them apart.
            It was still early when they made their move to leave, all but Sara had husbands and as they had timed it to coincide with the match it was a strategic and well planed manoeuvre.
            Tammy had had the most fun she could remember having in a long time. It saddened her a little. She had wasted years just going from day to day routine without pausing and planning how to get the best out of her life. Was it that she had to meet the right people or maybe she had to be shown the way, what ever the reason she was determined to do it again.
            When she got in Mike and Antonie were having hearty conversations about football a kin to the ones she had had with the girls about chicklit. If she had pointed the similarities to Mike he would have be horrified. She giggled at the thought of it.
            ‘Why did your love die in your stew?’ Antonie asked with respectful feeling while searching her face. He had nailed how she was feeling through her food. Tammy was stunned so what they say about the French was so true. Mortified over his perceptive revelations her reaction just jumped out of her mouth before her brain could hide the true reality.
‘You gave him the stew!’
‘It wasn’t poisoned was it?’ Mike laughed though clearly confused to why Tammy was upset over him sharing the stew with their guest.
            They all looked at her expectant and bemused what could she say, how could she explain how the boring stew was to kick-start romance back into her life? She wasn’t sure she wholly understood it herself yet. She had to say something though.

Saturday 1 October 2011

Tammy's Quest for Romance

Tammy's Quest for Romance
Part Two


Tammy stood up and took off the robe she had worn over the top of the all in-one body shaper that looked sexy and gave her a feeling of naughtiness, with the wine helping that feeling along a bit. She had always been good at applying makeup and had put her hair up with a discreet diamante hair clip. She slithered into the elegantly sexy dress, put on her shoes and like a young woman she eyed the results with her heart pounding as she heard the door go.
            She walked down the stairs suppressing her nerves and a giggle. Walked past her two sons whose jaws dropped, very pleasingly to the floor.
‘Bloody hell’ they said in unison.
‘Look out dad your in trouble’ Josh smiled at his mum while James’s expression was priceless. Tammy said nothing as she walked through the lounge and was slightly annoyed that Mike still hadn’t looked around to see her. She kept her cool though and then as he turned with the TV remote to put football on he did a double take.
‘Well what do you think?’
His face was full of vacant disbelief and he said what he always said.
‘Very nice’
            She knew it was coming but it still stung. Nonchalant as possible she turned and left the room. She went upstairs and took off the dress and put on her robe, picked up her book and walked down stairs, sat in her chair, switched on her reading light and started to read.
            All three men were looking from each other to her. Their world had gone a little mad Tammy supposed. Her sons had never seen her as a woman as such and her husband had forgotten that she was not just a wife. Why had she listened to Sara? Nothing was going to change a sixty year old mans ways.
‘Aren’t we going out now then?’ Mike in total confusion asked.
‘Going out where?’ Tammy looked over her book at him.
‘I don’t know, it was just that you’d got dressed up and I thought I had forgotten that’, He trailed off.
‘No I was trying out a new look but it didn’t have enough impact so I’ll be taking the dress back on Monday. It was a bit of a waist anyhow as we don’t go out and well’
‘Why don’t you take mum out dad?’ James asked
Perhaps she had underestimated both her husband and her son’s girlfriend.
‘Where to, its no ones birthday, is it?’ there again perhaps not!
Josh tried to get through to his dad ‘Sometimes it’s nice to give mum a rest from cooking and the clearing up’
She felt sure Sara had pre warned Josh to what was happening and she felt very grateful to the younger woman and her son. It was worth a try but it was back to the drawing board.
‘What’s for tea’ he looked at Tammy
‘Stew’
‘With dumplings?’
‘No’ their eyes met and she was sure there was a hint or a glimmer of humour in her husbands eyes. Maybe it was working.
‘We best go out then.’ That was too easy she thought, what was going on? ‘Did you want to put that frock back on?’ He smiled at her and winked.
‘Depends’ she retorted just as the door bell went. Tammy went running upstairs, they weren’t expecting anyone and she was in no fit state to be greeting who ever it was.

Friday 30 September 2011

Tammy’s Quest for Romance

Tammy’s Quest for Romance
Part One


The burning shades of autumn were magnificent and so romantic. But romance was out of Tammy’s life, not that it had ever entered it she supposed. In her thirties older couples had always said ‘that at their age they couldn’t be bothered with such things as romance’ and she had believed them, trusting that she would be the same when she reached that age. Now she was fifty five, she still fancied a bit of the soft soap as Mike would say. Mike had never been romantic, not his style he would tell her but he never gave it a chance so how would he know? You have to do it before you can say you’re no good at it, surely. She hit a stick on a conker, watched it fall, stood on it and released the glossy auburn seed. She breathed in the aroma of the chilly earth.

            She had always loved chicklit and romantic movies, old or new anything to give her a lift out of the mundane circle of clean, tidy, work, cook, clean, tidy, bed and the relentlessness of it all. It was getting her down and she could see no end in sight, there would always be clean, tidy, cook it was inevitable.

            No meals out, no romantic walks or hushed moments of shared silence. But like the trees around her she was burning with late maturity an awakening that she could not halt, even if she wanted to.

            Mike had a sense of fun, his humour had been the thing she had noticed about him, his laugh could thaw her in an instant, he brought out her sun on cold and bitter days pushed away the rain when it fell heavy and gave a rainbow of joy. But that is not romance and although she was lucky, she thought she deserved a bit of romance!!!

            Over the years she had attended to Mike’s every needs and she had come to the conclusion that was the problem. Well her eldest son’s girlfriend had sparked the idea really. They had gone out to watch a girly flick and after they shared a bottle of wine at a very stunning bar, Tammy was amazed how Sara tackled her son and had sat wide eyed as she explained about having fun. ‘I only wear high heals and stockings if he wears a suit’ she explained ‘and if he buys me flowers he knows I make an effort and cook one of your recipes’. Tammy blushed and the young woman held her arm with a giggled embrace. So simple, yet so cunning a trade off, thought Tammy.

            On Sara’s advice she had stopped cooking all of Mike’s favourite meals and cooked quick and easy put together ones that left very little to clean up, mentioning this to Mike with a pleased Cheshire cat expression of “how good is that!”

            Sara had come round one evening and they had looked through fashion magazines together and had a few glasses of wine as the boys went out to football with their dad. They even looked up a few local restaurants that did a cracking steak, Mikes’ all time favourite meal; he liked it rare with homemade chips.

            Then Sara took her shopping for sexy hold it all in and push it all up, stocking an optional extra to attach but holdups are more comfortable Sara had said. They had found a lovely dress and a pair of high heal shoes to match. Tammy had to practice walking in them, it had been so long since her heals went past a very practical level. She had to admit she looked every inch sex on stilts that men like so much.  Last Saturday they had facials and a manicure, Sara’s mum had come along and it was such fun ‘the Chickslit bunch’, Sara had called them. Brenda or Bren as she preferred to be called was a little older than Tammy but enjoyed romance on every level and proud of it!

            After they left the coffee house Tammy promised them both that the next Saturday she would get dressed up and ask Mike what he thought, walk around and go for a twirl and then go get changed, give him his meal and sit and read a chicklit as he watched the football of the TV. They assured her that this would provoke romance out of a stone let alone a loving husband. She wasn’t convinced.

            The thought of it had made Tammy laugh all week and when her nerve had started to wane and had began to tut at herself for being foolish the girls at work had bought her a bottle of wine to keep her going.

            She now opened that bottle of wine as she cooked a rather boring stew that was ok but not up to her normal culinary delights. Sara had just called to make sure Tammy hadn’t chickened out and let her know the boys were on their way home with the trailer. Josh and Sara were buying their first home together and while the new flat was being finished they had stored their furniture in the garage and all over the house. Now they were taking the furniture and tomorrow they were throwing a family lunch to say thank you to both sets of parents.

            Tammy ran upstairs with her glass of wine, she had just over twenty minutes to get dressed and back down stairs. She looked at the deep red, low cut dress that showed all her best features and hid the worst ones and wondered what an earth she was doing. She was no longer a girl in youth, a woman of her age and marital status should just let go of the idea of romance and read about it in novels. She reached out and touched the flowing lines of the dress and the velvet burnt red bodice and thought of autumns passion.


Tuesday 27 September 2011

Hush your speed

Hush your speed
Great march of time
Quieten down
And slow your pace a while
Come to a stop!

My babies are sleeping
And I want to watch.

The thing is the great march of time didn’t stop and in their beds; which they fill but still make me wonder how amazing life is.
            A smile in slumber is a joy to behold.

Sunday 25 September 2011

One Young Man Goes Looking For Cows And enlist the help of some Germans

J. D. Vervoorn and the Dutch Resistance

I was very privileged to have met and personally thank Professor J.D Vervoorn (Hans) and he has read; in most part what I have written here. I was told that he was surprised that I remembered or knew about him, and was amused that he had four pages to himself. I hope to soon go to Oosterbeek and pay my deepest respects to all.


    
        ____________________________________________________

Sitting in the summer sun eating Mr Springs peas while reading, I was aware that I could get caught. Although I knew his daily routine, through the summer months they were a little unpredictable. I knew, he knew I ate his peas and have no idea why he tolerated me so, but he did. Hidden well beneath an old man’s grumpiness, was a whole spectrum of humour and understanding, I am sure he planted more peas near my side of the hedge.
          
I was suddenly was aware of his presence; it was too late to make a dash for it. On the back of his house was a big rain butt on a brick and slab plinth, perched upon it was the man himself. I felt a little guilty watching him, studying his face as I did but I knew that if I moved it would break the trance he was in and this would be a bad thing. So I sat there and in those moments I witnessed the legacy that war bestows on the ones that survive.
          
On his taught cheek bones his muscles flexed and his unseeing eyes of the here and now were in the memories of the past. I have no idea why I thought this as a child, but somehow, deep down I know this to be true. For each year I saw the same expression and I recall it was in those summer months of reflection that his stories flowed at their best. This face has stayed with me not haunting exactly but ever present in my consciousness. In my time of need and strength I pull this face to my mind’s eye to strengthen and to remember his teaching.
          
Shortly after the pea-pod moment I had walked over to say hello as I often did, I remember I was in my teens and wanted to get away quickly but didn’t want to appear rude so entered into a conversation.
           
That taught face took over the normal congenial face that I was used to seeing. I knew that I couldn’t ask questions as this would break that trance state, and he would abruptly finish the conversation. I had asked him once to write down his accounts of the war but he told me that it was quite enough to have lived and survived it. I had no right to ask more from a man that had seen and felt what he had. So I would intently cling on to every word to keep, while searching his face for meaning.

He started by telling me how astonished he was over the resilience of the Dutch people. How their country had been bombarded. I held in my mind that he was talking about operation ‘Market Garden’ the drop over Arnhem of the allied troops. I had seen the pictures. He recounted how men were shot from the skies as they parachuted down and inadequate gliders stumbled and stalled to the ground. Men burning while trying to save others, each had imprinted how futile war was on him. 
           
I knew Mr Spring was dropped off un-ceremonially at Arnhem. Caught by some hot shrapnel his glider had caught fire. The pilot hit an over head cable to slow down the glider. This man was on fire and knew he was dying. Having made sure all his men jumped as safely as he could, he then went to the cockpit where the American pilots were trying to control the aircraft while burning. He was ordered to jump out and join his men. 
           
After bailing out and before he rounded his men up he searched for one of his comrades, he had noticed that his parachute had caught alight. Having dropped 200 ft with no parachute to speak of, he found this man in a very bad way and so he gave him morphine to ease the man’s passing. His name was Alfred Penwill and was a Norfolk lad who was expecting his first child.
           
It would have taken Mr Spring very little time to assess the situation on the ground, he, by now had enough experience to know that - weather, communication difficulties, and the amount of Germans on the ground meant he would be lucky if he or any of his men would survive that day. 
           
Rounding up his men they found the glider and recovered both pilot’s; the co pilot had broken both legs and wrists but was still alive. by this time the Dutch resistance were already on the scene, Mr Spring was ready to shoot not knowing whether they were friend or foe and this is where he met Hans for the first time as Hans whistled the national Anthem to indicate that they were freinds. Hans he said was very important boy to his men, as he spoke very good English. He showed me a paper telling me a few of these facts. In those days we had no photo copiers so I could not keep a copy, it is with my memory checking what I know with what others have written on the internet that I’m able substantiate events. After he folded the paper and put it away he continued, with one of the greatest escapes I have ever heard.
           
He set the scene of five or six men made up from the Dutch resistance and his regiment going for a bike ride in the Dutch countryside. He was dressed in civi clothes of that region and played the part of a deaf dumb Dutchman. As he couldn’t speak the language nor understand it, the part suited him he would tell me, with that humours twinkle. When they came across ‘a few Germans out on patrol’ he would say. It was the way he said this that always got me hooked, and on less stressed days we would always laugh at that throw away comment. But this day as I looked into those globes of that other world, I saw an intensity that gave away the true tension of the situation. He would tell how little details made all the difference like; remembering that you had to get on and off the bike the opposite way to what you were used to. These small details would arouse curiosity and suspicion of the soldiers who were on high alert. 
           
At some point Mr. Spring felt that things were getting tricky so he pulled the pin out of a hand grenade that he held it in his pocket; I’m not sure how much he had thought this through. He would say it was ‘fool hardy’ with a glint in his eye that would forever perplex me. 
           
Hans and Harri Tomason of the Dutch resistance had worked their magic and talked the soldiers into letting them pass. A way down the road and out of earshot Mr. Spring asked for some advice on what to do. He would say to me ‘It takes fifteen pounds of pressure to hold the leaver down, you know’ and I would think and only seconds for it to explode. His hand was getting tired and cramp had set in. Hans commented that the soldiers didn’t know how close they were to being killed and suggested that Mr Spring lob it in the dyke.
           
Now this is where my version of the events take a slightly different path. As I am under the impression that they caught some fish that day but as no one else reports this in their telling I may have got it wrong. You see Mr Spring liked to throw a humorous twist to things. Now many years have passed and I’m not sure if this particular twist is in my imagination. Perhaps, what he meant was that they should have caught some fish. A spot of poaching under the noses of the Germans and to have made good use of the limited amount of hand grenades they had, would have made it worthwhile in his opinion. But it was how he told me how they ate the fish and the family who were looking after the co-pilot were grateful and the fact so many of my remembered stories have been proven facts, that I think this could be true and highly likely. 
           
One thing that has puzzled me through the years was why did they take the risk in the first place? Even more so when I found out later that the Germans were bombarding anything that moved or that the allied forces could hide behind, leaving Oosterbeek resembling a pile of matchsticks. All Mr Spring and his comrades had, were their bren machine guns and grenades, no room in their backpack for a tank or two. It was for a funeral or funerals under the watchful eyes of the German soldiers. There you have it, humanity in adversity with humour showing us the light. Thanks to Hans and the Dutch resistance Albert was able to attend the funeral of Alfred Penwill; the father to be, radio operator Hollis and pilot Spurrier who had gallantly fought to save his passengers and land as safely as possible.
           
He tried to re-join his platoon and was in some skirmishes around Opheasden, Kesteren and Dodeward but on this point I could never get him to open up and talk.
           
Now after a little banter about the fish there came another story that he only ever told me once. It was short and simply told. The Germans were hot on their tail and a few of the men could not swim or not that well at any rate. Good men that would rather have been drowned than be caught by the Gestapo. His concentrated face held a meaning behind this story that I can only guess at. With five or more men clinging to him he lost one. This man had saved his life and his regret in the telling of this made me numb and still does.

Piecing together accounts off Wikipedia, my dad (Mike Alderman) and Phillip (Mr Springs youngest son) version, gives some background to these events. They were only days apart. Mr Spring was dropped on 18th September 1944 and due to bad weather a lot of the backup and equipment never made it. The 10th Battalion were fragmented and communication was poor. They were ordered to get to Oosterbeek and were to hold their positions and wait for reinforcements. The Germans unleashed a self-propelled gun up and down the battalions, shooting high explosives shells into any building, followed by infantry fighting at close quarters forcing the allies out of their defensive positions. Small isolated units managed to hold until the 22nd September for the Pathfinders 21st independent Parachute Company and the 1st Polish Parachute Brigade to drop down. Although they drew off some of the Germans attention, they still had 100 or so artillery guns firing onto their positions. They were then ordered to with draw. The last few men were evacuated over the nights of the 25th and 26th of September 1944. Out of 582 men that were dropped from this regiment 404 were taken as prisoners, many of which were injured, some critical, 92 were killed and 96 were evacuated. Due to this the 10th Battalion was disbanded. 
           
Without the Dutch resistance the numbers would have been much worse and Mr Spring became reliant on that one young Dutchman who was resourceful, determined and probably most importantly of all had a good sound sense of humanity and humour. This young man took that swim with Mr Spring and it was the last time they saw each other for many years, although they did keep in touch from time to time. It was across the River Waal that was as big as the river Rhine. Searchlights were looking for anything that moved and after a cup of tea Hans swam back….. Hold that thought, Yep, he swam back over the river, where agitated Germans were shooting anything that moved in the dark!
           
When he reached the other side he laid low until the morning and when the Germans caught him he explained that he was a farmer’s boy who had lost his COWS! And that the farmer would be very cross with him. So there they were, German SAS soldiers’, one young medical student who had just helped the allied forces to escape, looking for non-existing cows together. 
           
Whenever Hans name cropped up Mr Spring would marvel at the warmth that the Dutch people showed him. Looking at the few pictures I found on the internet I have begun to understand his reasoning behind this more. In his opinion whenever he turned up it was bad news but for the civilians of this area in particular, it was catastrophic.        
           
It was Hans’s humanity and humour that touched Mr Spring and through the years and the telling of his stories, Hans and the Dutch people have dwelt through my thoughts, shining a light on my path. I would like to convey my deepest and heartfelt thanks.
           
Having learnt that his brother Albert had made it back from Arnham and not seeing him at all from 1941 John paid Mr Spring a visit just outside Grantham. John Wrote “In Albert’s corner hanging up behind a blanket were numerous rabbits, pheasants, and bundles of snares. On top of the black coke-fired stove was a Dixie full of rabbit stew. I only had to close my eyes and I was back in the humble cottage at Winwick hill. I thought, good God, he will never change. Talking to his comrades I gathered that my brother was held in very high esteem because with the help of the wartime Dutch Resistance he had been mainly responsible for their escape from the enemy-occupied Holland, but one of his fellow men told me, ‘It’s terrible being back; I never know when I am going to get into one of his bloody snares.’ I can just see the amusement on Mr Springs face as he read his brothers words.       
           
Albert wrote to Penwills family to let them know what had happened to him and made a point of going to his grave whenever he could and laid flowers there, Phil and Danny now carries on that tradition.
           
In Oosterbeek it was estimated 10,000 people attended 65th commemorative service of the battle. The Dutch children are told of how it was and flowers have always been laid for the men who fought courageously and yet were defeated. The Dutch suffered many hardships after the Allied Forces left. So yet again I can see Mr Spring reluctance to say too much about it all. But like the Dutch people I think this event in History should be noted. Because of these men women and children, who at great personal cost both physically and mentally, with so many paying the ultimate price, we can without tyrant or oppressors stamp our feet in indignation and oust the government!


Tina Rodwell © All rights reserved.


Friday 23 September 2011

The Unsung Heros Of Arnham and one mans parth that took him there.


On the 6th May 1916 Edith May Spring gave birth to one of the many unsung heroes of the Second World War, Albert Edward Spring. Borne in a humble cottage on the top of Winwick Hill, he was the second child and her first son, his sister Grace being the Eldest. His father Edward Spring was to die in the First World War and just before his third child John was borne.

             (At this point I will apologise to Mr Spring as from now on I will call him Albert, which I never did when he was alive, though he asked me too once. I know it’s a bit silly maybe, as sadly he will never get to read this and to him it would not matter one jot but for me it’s a respect thing).

            He was brought up; he would say ‘lean and mean’. He was an outdoors person from the very start with a good ear and eye on detail in every respect. Reading his two books ‘Gamekeeping at Hamerton’ and ‘Characters’ and papers that he had given to my dad, who passed them on to me you can see that clearly. These papers and books have made up most of what I have written about the 10th Para and how it was formed. His youngest son Phil has also kindly given me his account so that a more rounded version of some of his exploits in the Second World War. Albert himself had a wonderful gift of telling you dry facts in a humours way. Feelings such as respect with a sense of fun were always present and I have done my best to carry that on.

            So by 1921 Edith had married again and now had five step sons to contend with. That closely knit community on top of Winwick hill could and did field their own football and cricket teams. His mother who was by all accounts the kindest person and had a big influence on her son and most of the people she met, including my dad. Unfortunately the man that became Albert’s stepdad was not and due possibly to a head injury sustained in the First World War and drink, his character could turn ugly.

            Albert from an early age helped out with the filling of the family cook pot by catching with his catapult and snares, all manor of wildlife, sometimes this would get him a spot of bother in a very Albert way. For instance there was an elderly gentleman who lived in one of the eight cottages, who worked for farmers that needed hedges trimmed and ditches cleaned. So at the bottom of his garden he had constructed an earthen shed with a wood and straw roof to store his tools in. Another of his neighbours, Arthur White was thirteen years Albert’s’ senior. Arthur had a muzzle loader gun that Albert would watch intently, gleaning everything there was to know about the gun by observing.

            Arthur had come up with a cunning plan to draw some sparrows in the line of fire so that as many of these birds could be killed with one shot. Yes they did eat the sparrows and glad of them, they were tasty but you had to be careful how you ate them apparently, not much meat on them and you had to nibble not munch. I never pressed him on that point, having a vivid imagination and a delicate disposition.

            So there they were on a dry and windy day putting bread crumbs on the roof. Now at this point in the story he would find something to do while I sat there building the scene in my mind.  He left me thinking so long sometimes I was sure I smelt the dry earth and straw. I knew what was coming but his pause always added to the story, that and his smile as he would recount the happenings in his minds eye. Now they were fifteen yards away when the gun was deployed. The thing is a mussel shot was a very messy affair, shot and burning paper went all over John’s shed killing a lot of sparrows. Albert’s grin spread all over his face and his eyes would sparkle at this point. In the first instance they were out to retrieve the barbequing birds until they thought about Old John’s tools.

            Sadly by the time they had taken a few tools each it was well alight and the heat too much for the boys to go back in. They saw Old John coming up the path with a youngster’s vigour and there was no doubt in Albert’s mind that if he had caught them they would suffer the same fate as the sparrows. ‘Not sure he would’ve ate us afterwards’ he would wink at me ‘I was a bit tough even as a youngster’. I know he enjoyed seeing the contortions on my face at the telling of this story and as I write it down I still marvel at his antics that could have gone so horribly wrong. As it was John Jolly’s livelihood had been taken away in that instant and if it had happened today allsorts of mayhem would have been caused with social workers and police claiming lots of overtime on his behalf.

             As it was everyone rallied around with each family finding at least one tool for John Jolly. This story goes to demonstrate Mr Springs Character. He always thought of himself as a rogue heading for trouble in his younger days and even to his last breath he was a hunter gatherer, it was his biggest passion in life. But if he had been caught that day he would have taken what was coming to him without qualm or disquiet on his part. It would have played on his mind that this man was put out by his actions but it would have not deterred him from trying other foolish ideas or enjoying the fun of it.

            As a young man he was still living at home but now there were, just his mum, stepfather, younger brother John, their half brother Victor and himself. They would go cycle on Sunday afternoon’s weather permitting. On one such afternoon they met two sisters, Ivy and Olive Taylor. After finding out her name and spending some years getting to know Olive they got married in April 1939. By that September war was declared and on 7th February 1940 he was a conscript of what was known as the 23 Group at Spring Hill Barracks in Lincon.

            He was Six feet tall and a lean mean fighter and had trained with an ex-boxer named Jack Sharman at Kettering, biking the twenty miles there and back, so it was no wonder he made Lance Corporal in the Eleventh Scottish Commando by Christmas. By the time Dunkirk had taken place Lincolnshire had become part of the frontline with Norfolk and Kent. Being the closest to the enemy territory, aircraft was now part of the daily scene in the sky. Now the new recruits were issued with live ammunition and their fighting skills were sharpened and made ready to fight.

            There was a notice put up asking for volunteers for a specialist unit that was being formed. So 200 of them; incited no doubt by each others banter to put their names down, had packed their kitbags to go to join The Sixth Battalion Seaforth Highlanders, who had lost heavily at Dunkirk.

            Having spent two weeks at Fort George they were then off to Doune in Perthshire for a very pleasant yet all too short time. He was camped next to a river with lovely fish in it, and I’m sure when he left it had quiet a few less lovely fish and many more contented tummies. Up on the board again came his name; he was now to become one of the commandos and went off to Netherdale Mill at Galshiels.

            In his account of what happened shortly after they arrived he wrote “Our commanding Officer who had marched with us, addressed us like this, his first words was ‘Gentlemen, you are all volunteers and, as such you must be ready to fight against all tyrants and oppressors, so when we are welded into a well trained body of men, I hope it will be my privilege to lead you’. His name was Lt. Col R. N Pedder who was from the Black Watch Regiment, who then told us that we were the Eleven Scottis Commandos.” When ever he spoke of Col Pedder and Black Watch you could tell that he had felt he had met his calling, he understood and respect Col Pedder as all his men did.

            They then trained hard for almost a year to form 10 troops and trained on three well equipped ships Glen Gyle, Glen Roy and Glen Hearn. One night in Lamlash Bay Isle of Arron they loaded up to set sail on those ships. The ships were capable of 28 knots and were taking them to Egypt. The sea was rough and sick or not the training continued.

            Their base was at Kabrit and this is where the First Special Air Services was formed that is the S.A.S It was the idea of Lt. Col Stirling who had gone to great lengths to get his idea up and running. Looking back this is an extraordinary thought that someone had to convince the powers to be, that the S.A.S should be formed. I found this on Wikipedia and thought you might like to have a look. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Stirling  this website is of Lt. Col Pedder http://www.commandoveterans.org/cdoGallery/v/units/11/Dick+Pedder+HLI++copy.jpg.html



Training in Egypt, he had told me was enjoyable and was he privilege to have bathed in the same river as Cleopatra had. He asked me if I could tell turning his face to see if any of her beauty had rubbed off. I told him he had to use milk to make a difference, we both found this most amusing and given the chance I’m sure he would have given bathing in milk a go.

            Of the Egyptians he said that they were resourceful and his type of people. He would have studies their ways and found out how to get the best out of his new surroundings. He wrote that he was “fortunate enough to be on a couple of four week patrols; I loved it. There was wonderful variety of wild life in the western desert. There were sand plover and wild turkey, a lot of gazelle, these usually weighed about 30lb and, of course, snakes and lizards, also foxes. It was the foxes that were captured when they asked him to get something very special for some visiting brass. He asked the Chef (who was a local of the area) to spice it up (if you have ever smelt a fox you will understand how musky the creature is and must have been fairly unpalatable). He said that the chef smiled a knowing smile. He would not tell me why those poor guests were going to get a desert fox for their just deserts? He would always say ‘Now look, I have met many idiots in my time but the worst idiots, it has ever been my misfortunes to know have been covered in brass.’ I would ask if they ate the meal and apparently they not only ate it but enjoyed it! ‘No accounting for taste’ he would say. This episode would have lightened the step and load he knew his men had been carrying and am sure this was his intention.

            When wondering out on one patrol, he and his mate came across some old mattresses stacked up in piles, now being resourceful and not ever wasting any opportunity they grabbed them and took them back to base. He told me that he got a restful nights’ sleep but his friend did not fare as well, he had been eaten alive by fleas. We should have known, he would say that they were put out for a reason; they were burning them the next morning. ‘I’ve always known I had bad blood, not even the fleas would touch me.’ We would chuckle knowing how unpleasant that would have been for his mate and jolly glad he had not suffered the same fate.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

            In the Month of May 1941 the Germans Airborne Forces attacked and captured the Island of Crete, so sailing on Lord Louis Mountbatten’s destroyer, The Kelly they set off to lend a hand but they were under constant attack and ordered to turn back to Alexandria. The men knew how lucky they were to arrive. They disembarked and The Kelly was refuelled, re-armed and set off to see if they could evacuate any of the troops. By the time they reached the island it was under German control and The Kelly was sunk.

             It was thought that the Germans would try to joint up with the Vichy French holding the northern end of the Mediterranean. Having lost many of their finest Officers in the battle for Crete the Germans found it hard and time consuming to regroup, the numbers are truly staggering http://www.explorecrete.com/preveli/battle-of-crete.html gives you a full flavour of the battle.

            With the generosity of the United States the allied forces were building up their fighting strength once again while the Germans licked their wounds. The U.S sent tanks, aircraft and Lorries loaded with beer; a present by the workers and greatly received and enjoyed. Even many years later Albert fondly remembered the strong taste of the bottles of Dow and Black Label.

            The 11th Scottish Commando’s were called in to help the Austrailian forces that were jammed on the one vehicle track leading up to the iron bridge that was still intact. The Vichy troops had dug into the banks of the Litani that were approximately two hundred feet above the river bed. This caused a stalemate. It was decided to attack from the sea and on the west side. It was the first time Col Pedder was to lead his commandos into action. He was killed within the first ten minutes of the battle. He was 36 and had indeed welded his men into a well trained body that could carry on; even though their leaders were shot. Albert wrote that he believed 176 men died with Col Pedder that day. Another 200 men were wounded with many dying later of their wounds. Albert himself was hit by a piece of shrapnel in his left thigh, he was patched up and carried on the best he could. “They had nowhere to run to” he wrote

            Knowing Albert some years, I knew there was more to it than what he wrote. Putting the Litani river 1941 I came across http://www.combinedops.com and marvelled and smiled at it all.

            I gathered from reading this site that as they were sailing out, there were hasty meetings to organise their plan of action with heated arguments about the timing. One thing that Albert said of Pedder was that he trained the men hard and made sure everything was in place, this was not always under his control though. Reading through this web site you can see why it all went wrong and how the men must have felt about the maps not being adequate enough.

            There were highly trained snipers that seemed to target the higher ranks. Col Pedder had been given a map that did not cover the full area and others were not aware that a small dot on a map could be so big on the ground. These small facts make all the difference to the men on the fighting and could have been responsible for many of the deaths that day.  

            The French blew up the bridge and captured many men. The Australians built a pontoon bridge and freed them again. Albert wrote it took the Australian’s a further three months to gain control of the Syrian coast road.

            When they went back to their training headquarter at Kabrit, there was a change in the atmosphere. They had suffered a great loss as so many good men had been let down by the rush to get the job done. So I have begun to understand why Albert fed the top brass the foxes. Albert chose to put his name down to join the 10th Para.

            Albert wrote about The Rommel’s Raid which took some of the men 200 miles behind the German’s front line. Albert put it down like this “Understand that General Rommel’s brilliant and courageous way of leading his highly mobile Africa Corp had allowed the Eighth Army to regard his as invincible, which meant that the moral of the whole of that force were very disheartened.” So with as much intelligence (no doubt some gleaned out on patrol) as they could muster the attack was planned and reading through the accounts of the men as ever, you are left with your mouth open in wonderment. It was found out later that Rummel was in Rome when they tried to track him down.

            Albert and his comrades were now becoming experienced soldiers together and were going through a terrible time in the western Desert. The African Corp had driven them out of Lybia. At this point General Montgfomery came and took over. He told the men “From this day on, the only movement will be forward”. Albert would tell me in his straight forward factual voice ‘He was absolutely correct for the simple reason he would never make a move until everything was in place for his men.’

            The next bit in his write up of how the 10th Par was formed explains what they got up to as the Commandos disbanded and the official forming of the 10th para was made and is so typical of the man and the men around him. He begins ‘In the waiting’ a flippant use of the word waiting I must say. They carried out a lot of patrols to try to obtain as much knowledge as they could about the Africa Corp’s and caused a lot of irritation to them I would hazard a guess. They also trained with the newly formed S.A.S Commanded by Lt.Col Jock Stirling. At the end of this training they gained their wings. In November 1942 he was given the opportunity to join, not everyone was asked to.

            They were soon in action gaining enemy information, strength and armaments. Training was usually from a submarine. In his son Phil’s account; apparently they would ‘jump overboard into fell boats with full kit on their backs; it was so dark they could not tell whether they had made the safety of the boats to go ashore or not. So they use to tie a rope to their pack and on to the rail of the submarine and if the rope stayed tight for two minutes the crew knew they had missed the fell boat and would pull them out of the water and they would have another go.’ This must have been a bit like the blind leading the blind I would guess and where trust played a big part.

            After they had defeated the German Afrika Korps his Company Commander told them to tighten up on discipline and generally smarten up. When the platoon officer and Albert were inspecting the troops they told Joe Beet to get a hair cut. The next morning parading in battle order, they were inspected again. When they got almost abreast of Joe, Joe stepped forward, took off his helmet and showed off his new haircut. His comrades had shaved his head until it was as Albert would say ‘as bald as a pound of lard.’ Joe was so well liked and it caused a lot of amusement within the platoon.

            They were then off to Taranto and then onto Casttstellanceta. I wrote a piece in my blog about this and the link below will take you there.


            When they advanced to the out skirts of the town, by Albert’s account they advanced section by section he wrote “there was a road that went off to the right at that point a machine gun opened up from our immediate front and another from the side street. We did not have any real cover and two of my men were hit, one of them a young soldier, his surname was Martin: he always looked so boyish and young that we always called him young Martin: he died during the night. The other wounded man eventually made a good recovery and came back to the unit after we returned to England. That is war and that is how it goes. Also lost that day by machine gun fire was their divisional commander General Hopkinson. When we were ambushed, the first man to get his machine gun into action was Jim Westbury.”

            I find it so chilling, hidden under these words are the emotions of a man who understood the consequence of those scattered life’s littered around him. There is no mention of the sight, sound or smell of it all. He would have considered it too dramatic but I know he would have relived every one of his senses that were highly tuned from a very young age. He is quite correct, to have lived through it for him was enough.

            Their next objective was Goiya, they advanced but were driven back so they pushed harder, eventually driving out the Germans. There they found a fiat lorry that had broken down which they got going again, they loaded it up with supplies and set off again, forever the resourceful hunter gatherer.

            As they entered Bari they were met by Italian civilians headed by the Lord Mayor, this would have pleased Albert. They stopped and had some food and took a bath in hot water with plenty of soap and he recalled how good it felt.

            At Bari they were to get ready for a seaborne attack but their heavier units advanced more quickly than expected he wrote “We thanked them in our minds and toasted them in wine. The Comfort Funds Officer used 3 pounds sterling to buy 75 gallons of red wine for the unit.” So they would have thanked them well!

            They stayed for a month in Bari in luxury and comfort a much needed rest and recoup for them. 19th December 1943 they were back in England. The Tenth Para Campaign in Italy was over and it was back to waiting and training. On their journeys he was fortunate enough to pass by Col Pedders grave and a Comrade of his one Q.M Sgt. Knobby Clarke took a few photographs of the graves there.

            One very telling sentence Albert put “Little did we think of the carnage that we were to be sent into in the following September at Arnhem.

            After all he had been through, for him to use the words ‘carnage’ it must have been a hell on earth and reading a lot of accounts by all who took part, he was as ever, correct.


I give my thanks to all that have helped me with getting Mr Springs facts together. All the websites I visited I have added as I looked them up. They in the most part are run on a voulantry basis and great reads, they have included as many orriginal accounts as possible. I have written with Mr Springs facts, as he requested no facts to be changed.

www.pegasusarchive.org/arnhem I have found out from Mark that Joe Beet was taken prisoner at Arnham and if anyone has any information about him I would be very greatful indead.

Tina Rodwell © All rights reserved