cleaning ghost

it is the night of Halloween
a time he came to dread
they said his house was haunted
folks often saw the dead
they say there was a woman
she could have been a witch
that did laundry and cleaning
for the local rich

he heard about the potions
to keep the dead away
about the gory pumpkin
each righteous house display
he heard about the ivy glade
where good souls must hide
the smearing of the garlic
and other rubbish people tried

so as the sun began to set
and the moon peeped round the cloud
he mumble his incantations
repetitive and loud
with his garlic and night supplies
into his den he crept
with Jack Daniels as his comforter
in a drunken haze he slept

inside the house was banging
screaming and a wailing
dust rose off the floor
and old paper bags were sailing
bubbles and soapy water splashed
rags were wet and flapping
dirty carpet rolled up and stacked
and floorboard grime was sapping

then the door banged very loud
as the spirits left the gloom
the sun was climbing in the sky
illuminating every room
he woke up with a hangover
and felt his tongue was fried
then unlocked the front door and
and slowly ventured inside

the house was finely scented
clean so spick and span
no sign of any rubbish
old pizzas or beer can
the old ghost had visited
but was no cause to fear
the cleaning ghost of bachelors
that calls once every year

a trip to the fair

Blind Alice and Madeline

went to the fair

Madeline tied a red ribbon

in Alice's hair

Alice heard of a fairground

but had never been there




she swung on the swing

on carousel spun

on stalls and the contest

prizes she won

she even saw light

as bright as the sun




her blinded eyes

could gradually see

the blind fog lifted

setting her free

as she ran round the fair

as content as could be




she could see Madeline

and saw Madeline's tear

there was no one else 

to see or to hear

the lights of the fairground

so perfectly clear




she was so happy

she was not alone

she wanted to stay

and never go home

Madeline gave her

a red engraved comb




the police car arrived

about half past ten

Alice was missing

not knowing quite when

they had check on her

now and again




A body was found

by an old farm stead

a comb in her hair

engraved and was red

the same comb as Madeline

when she was found dead

budget

need a bit more money

got to tax the poor

20 pound uplift

don't need that any more




must reward the workers

they don't need a safety net

with crooks and the scammer

out for what they'll get




reward public service

a pay rise would be fine

but swallowed by inflation

except on sparkling wine




government must play its part

midst growing discontent

must squeeze department budgets

and saving 5 percent




got to save the planet

it cost going green

lower airport taxes

and tax on kerosene

Ward cheeses

Jack Ward was a mixed farmer. He rented a farm in the Yorkshire Dales, Married Pat the girl from the farm next door, and had two children Alan and Joe. The milk went to the milk Marketing board, the wool to the wool board, the lambs to market. Money arrive regularly by cheque, work was hard. He was not poor but definitely not rich, life was good. Alan went to agricultural college, Joe to university studying bacteriology. Life was good.

When qualified Alan returned to the farm, met a girl at the Young farmers, and married. Joe met Mary who was doing business studies at university and married the year everything changed.




Pat's dad died, and they took on the tenancy of his farm. Sorting out the loft they came across old hand written books on cheese making and recipes from generations of cheese makers.

Britain decided they had too much milk, disbanded the milk marketing board and paid farmers a pittance for their milk.

The Ward family decided to use their milk to make cheese. Joe and Mary moved into his Grandfathers house, converted the out buildings into a dairy, cheese room, packaging, and storage room.

Alan expanded the milking parlour and did the milking. Jack run the stock and farms.

When all other farmers went out of native breeds and into heavy yielding Holstein. Jack bought the Ayrshires, Short Horn and Guernsey. He sold the milk to Joe, Joe sold the whey back to Jack for his pigs. After much practice trials and failures Joe found and developed 6 recipes for cheese that had local appeal and customers..

Joe entered the Melton Mowbray cheese contest, and set off with Mary (heavily pregnant ) for the show. It snowed. They arrived just in time to enter the cheeses and tried to find a place to stay as the hotel they intended to stay at was cut off by snow drifts. A local artisan cheesemaker having no room in the house offered them the cheese plant to stay in. It was better than it sounded, the place was heated although no milk got through. There was an office with seating that was converted into beds. There was a small kitchen for tea making. Mary gave birth that night to Peter. Peter was placed in the cheese vat which was a steady 36 degrees just like an incubator.




Next day three judges from the show turned up to present the prizes. Out of the six cheeses entered three won first the others were second narrowly beaten by an established cheese consortium.

With the cheques came a bottle of Suntory Gold whiskey from the Japanese sponsor, French brandy from Rem Martin, and a bottle of Merlot from a wine sponsor . Shepherds and farmers popped in regularly to check all was OK, as the family was well known in farming circles.




Two years later Mary gave birth to Paul. The cheese sold well, and life was good. The Cheese consortium was not happy as at all future shows Ward cheeses beat them, and they wanted revenge.

They first tried to buy them out, But Joe refused. They then started a smear campaign to reduce sales. That didn't work as Yorkshire folk look after their own. Then they brought in the lawyers.

It was too much for Jack, who had a heart attack with the stress, six months after Pat died of breast cancer. The land owners decided to revoke the tenancy. Alan packed up farming and set up a trendy Tapas bar in Spain, selling fish and chips, and John Smiths bitter to British holiday makers, on holiday, to get away from it all. Joe and Mary headed North where smallholdings were cheaper.

They found a deserted 50 acre dairy farm near the Cheviot hills. Within weeks they were back in production with a much reduced herd. Life was good.




When old enough Peter and Paul set up with their own smallholdings Peter with a herd of Goats and Paul with sheep. They all made cheese, based on the original recipes but modified for the milk of the animal they used. Life was good, sales boomed.

The big Cheese consortium soon found the dreaded competition was back. They could not bribe the land owner to kick them off, as Joe Ward owned the land. They could not smear or intimidate them as Northern folk know what's good and are loyal. They decided to go for the politicians.

With the help of a few brown envelopes they convinced the politicians that a shortage of cheese would occur, if stricter rules on small dairies were not brought in. Farm visits and snap inspections followed.




Paul had done a course in marketing, was head of publicity and showing the unwelcome visitors round the farms. After a few months the inspectors realised that they were being used, Their visits became friendly and more like fire side chats. They visit weekly for tea and coffee and to buy cheese . A café was built overlooking the cheese room and leased out to a couple that wanted to sell organic products locally. The farm shop was the next logical step.




Peter had attended the Schumacher college , and was evangelical about small is beautiful. He studied the modern method of supermarket just in time and exposed the flaws in newspapers and periodicals, being a natural cartoonist his criticisms were devastating. He established a web site for would be reporters and satirists, and produced the how to range of books. Ward publishing soon followed employing locally, and run by a reporter and editor from a local paper bought out and closed by a national company.

life was good.




Joe was killed on the A1 In a traffic accident. He was hit by an HGV driving on the wrong side of the road at the Belford crossroad. It was good Friday the A&E department 50 miles away was full of drunks. He was alive when they arrived at the hospital , but the 3 hour wait in the ambulance did for him. He didn't stand a chance, in an overworked hospital with staff shortages. The national papers became aware of the accident and went on the offensive blaming Joe for the accident as he tried to stop much needed deliveries of cheese to the supermarket chain. The Wards hit back locally. The Sun newspaper sale plummeted, help by the Liverpool football supporters action group.




Small producers selling locally to local shops was the only way forward for the Wards. They had enough customers, regular and returning. Shops outside their delivery range wanted their cheese and tried to persuade the Wards to expand. They did not, instead they produced a free web guide on how to set up a small dairy. Everything a smallholder needs to know from getting a Holding number to EU health and safety regulations, and risk assessments. They published the recipes of how to make their cheeses. A web site was established for shops that wanted Ward style cheese, and who was up and running in the area. Shops and producers came together exchanged ideas and requests for help.

Life is good,

Ward cheeses are ever popular . At Christmas a good time for cheese sales , many customers head out to the local shops for Ward cheeses.

Today , up and down the country people are singing the praises of the Ward Cheeses

A Class Divided (full film) | FRONTLINE

green is good

green is good

it's what we need

loads of stuff

loads of greed

business as usual

take no heed

of all the critics

with the doubting seed




an economy brisk

is where its at

cheap gaudy shops

all full of tat

under a quid

I'll ave some of that

Britain is great

says the autocrat




the green shirts are coming

with sandals and carrot

economic figures

not smoke screen and tarot

drinking tea

not champagne and claret

they worked for their money

they didn't inherit

Good communication

listening to the world service with correspondents from around the world.

Each one trying to explain difficult subjects clearly but with their country accents.

I listened to what they had to say.

Then came the reporter from the Post in America. Her murder of the English language was brutal, The words were slurred, mumbled, and vowels flat. Her lazy mouth unable yo annunciate properly. Does it matter?

As a listener I had to concentrate on what she was saying like I was hearing a foreign language. My concentration slipped to noting the murder of her words, the context of what she was saying not so important.

My impression of the interview was , she could not be bothered what I thought. She would speak as she wanted to, and I would have to put up and shut up. This in a nutshell is the American attitude. America first, the only country that matters, you will have to take it and shut up.


Sadly I found myself listening to the Russian correspondent and the Chinese contributor more. It was a bit like an Essex barrow boy speaking on behalf of the Scottish Government !

Halloween birth

It was so romantic

the exchange of the rings

a date in late October

nuptials gift will bring




the flat would be too crowded

new houses they would view

a cottage outside a village

too good to be true




they moved in so quickly

the villages shook their head

no one would live in that house

with a history best not said




as the bump began to grow

a apparition spied

a woman dressed in white

out the corner of he eye




she thought she saw the same again

daily but getting nearer

and the white dress turning grey

the vision getting clearer




now the vision stood looking in

the stomach looking hollow

moving to another room

the apparition would follow




asking the villages what could it be

no one would reply

as she became insistent

they would not look in her eye.




The kicking and discomfort grew

twas a baby from hell

the apparition became more concave

as she began to swell




the child was born premature

didn't take a breath

she too faint to understand

far too close to death.




The apparition came into view

now was dressed in black

the concave waist had disappeared

a normal shape was back




as she passed the birthing bed

no one else could see

she seemed to sing a happy tune

to one in misery




the apparition smiled

and revealed her mouth beneath

rows and rows of baby skulls

look just like teeth




the villages came to see her

tried to bring some cheer

the hunger of the barren witch

is quenched for a year

Small is beautiful impressions of Fritz Schumacher

a poet writes

In garret high on bitter fruit

a poet writes and wasted youth

with words not of loving pursuit

but against the mighty seeking truth




as anger and resentment flow

the corrupted seek the poetic ire

and money passed that they should know

to seize and snuff that patriotic fire




there is a blue plaque on the wall

years since the disappearance

where the poet wrote defying all

rehabilitated by inference

a title

The head man wanted a new tittle

to put behind his name

wants to stand out from the crowd

and not call the same

fed up with a consultant

adviser, and director

team leader, manager

controller, and inspector

so he asked the workforce

to help in his request

they unanimously agreed

the bugger was a pest

Causes of fuel shortage

Causes of fuel shortage

Boris!


After a year of lockdowns and working from home. Fuel needs slumped. World wide there was a glut of fuel and prices hit the floor. Production eased.

People told to work from home. The air was cleaner the countryside recovered. Less litter and dumping.

Public transport companies went bust and handed back contracts to government.

People using public transport, found a seat, was comfortable, and not crowded. They had to sanitize and wear masks for the journey.

City centres were clean, free of litter, homeless, and traffic jams. We can't have that!



Tory donors like Wetherspoons needed the day time economy. In response eat out to help out. A second spike, a rise in deaths, and further lockdown.

Now with the second jab and ending furlough back to normal.


The public do not want crowded tubes and trains so have taken to the car. Work from home discourages and staff force back into the office. Many staff working from home moved to the country, to houses with gardens and space to work.


The result, more cars on the streets, more congestion , less rail and tube commuters, fewer buses, more fuel needed.


With less HGV drivers (Covid or Brexit or both) Fuel runs short. When it comes to delivery  of fuel, Rural garages with low turn over sacrificed for busy garages in towns, . More fuel needed to find a garage in town. The rural folks fill up because there is no fuel locally, pressure on town garages and they begin to run out. City garages and service station experience higher fuel demands, some run out. People ask if any one knows where you can get fuel on social network sites. Media hear about it, Media storm and panic.


Response from Boris, blame the drivers for filling up and panic buying. No need to panic. British public now aware there is a government shit show, panic buy.


What should have happened , delay driving people back into the office until infrastructure is capable of attracting commuters to train and bus. Lower prices of public transport. Train HGV drivers to replace and restore fuel and food supplies. Open up and support essential sectors first. Slow ending of lockdown. Preplanning precludes piss poor performance.


That didn't happen, we have more sickness, hospitalisation and daily deaths, a crumbling infrastructure.



First steps should have been, back to working from home, and furlough, not bring in the Army and tell everyone not to panic.


Collect your toys, Time to go Boris