Journal Entries
HIGH FLYERS.
Posted Apr 12, 2005
The Blitz of 1944, had been quite bad in Manchester and Liverpool, and it was quite common to see a German plane trapped in the beam of a searchlight at night. Even so they seemed to drone on and on forever, none of them appeared to be affected by the ack- ack gunfire or the barrage balloons and cables below them.
Following one such night, my best friend Colin and I were on the Moor enjoying another perfect day, having no thoughts at all concerning the war, or anything else for that matter that was not directly in our line of vision. We were exceedingly busy doing nothing, except enjoying another beautiful winter’s day. Then we saw it, what a sight to behold, a real barrage balloon and it was loose, only partially inflated the tail being crumpled and flat and it was dragging a wire cable behind it.
It was enormous, and despite its neglected appearance, the Silver monster was bobbing merrily along the ground propelled by a fresh cold breeze. One impetuous youth cried out, “ We’ll have that. “ I decline to take credit for that stupid remark but we both jumped up and grabbed the cable.
The balloon obliged, and lifted us both deceptively in a very gentle manner about ten feet or so in the air and then across a small gully for about fifty yards. But then fear, discretion, or just plain old common sense prevailed, and I yelled out, “ Let go.” Colin was very strong for his size and his age, quite capable of holding his own weight for ten minutes or so.
He was very reluctant to let go of his prize but he did, his face was a picture swiftly changing from adrenaline rich elation to pure fear. In the blink of an eye, a sudden gust of air or a thermal had taken charge and whipped our wonderful new flying machine away, up into the clear Blue Sky.
Then we watched as it soared sedately across the Rossendale Valley at about four hundred feet, with the very tall chimney of Ross Mill smoking away far below it. We both sat down on the grass and not a word was spoken for some considerable time, I presume that my own face was somewhere about the same colour as his, a bit like fresh putty. I really do not know about Colin, but I never told anyone about our wonderful flying machine, perhaps someone would have wanted to know why we were not at school.
Cheers H.
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Latest reply: Apr 12, 2005
DEFINITELY AN INSIDE JOB.
Posted Apr 12, 2005
Truth is stranger than fiction, and usually fictional crime writing bears no resemblance at all to the real thing, so herewith a real life crime scene.
Weeks of investigation and observations had got nowhere and I had spent night after night laid out under the stars with my police dog Storm, no one came and the only thing worth putting in the book was the fact that Yuri Gagarin passed over head at high speed, even Storm could not have caught him.
It took weeks of fruitless observations and I now can write the full story in a few paragraphs, case solved!
There were some peculiar goings on at Fleetwood Docks and a bullion theft had recently taken place there. A CID investigation with searches of the area and detailed enquiries, had failed to solve the mystery of the missing cash.
It is amazing that this type of theft was so rare, in view of the pathetic security attached to the movement of coin around the country.
The thieves of Manchester, especially from the Ardwick and Collyhurst areas would have had a field day had they known about it. Because the drums of coin, delivered each week to the city banks in King St Manchester, had always spent most of the night completely unguarded in Ardwick West Goods Yard.
The entire railway staff most certainly knew about it, because the railway drivers had to deliver the bullion with the three wheeled mechanical horse and trailer, and the shunting staff had to put the containers into position for unloading.
Everyone had full knowledge of the contents of those containers, and that information had been well known for many years. I think that everyone could see the vulnerability of the bullion, except for our inspectors who should have arranged it’s protection, and the local thieves.
Perhaps some of these thieves preferred to do it the hard way, because there was another siding nearby at Ashton Road where Billy Redfern had a huge scrap yard, and he suffered some losses from his enormous store of copper and brass.
The thieves knew where the non-ferrous metals were kept, because they had usually brought it in and sold it to him. They just came back, stole it once more and then sold it again somewhere else.
To get to the copper and brass in store they had to climb over a high fence, negotiate a very steep hill and break into the building where the metals were kept.
What they did not know, was that the very steep hill in the centre of the yard was actually a mountain of copper wire, it had been stored there since the First World War, and had lain there undisturbed for more than thirty years.
Also in the very next sidings, there was occasionally a goods train carrying the drums of bullion for delivery to the city banks the following morning. Amazingly these drums of coin seemed to be reasonably safe, despite a total lack of security during the hours of darkness.
The missing drum of bullion at Fleetwood may also have been more secure with less security as it happened. Shortly after the disappearance of the drum of bullion from Fleetwood Docks, a certain police officer was on a rest day, and another officer had run out of tea and sugar for a brew?
By a very strange coincidence, his key just happened to fit the other Bobbies locker, and inside the locker there were stacks and stacks of brand new sixpences, all arranged in neat little rows across the top shelf of the locker.
When the policeman was arrested, and shown the contents of his locker he denied all knowledge of the missing bullion, and he said that he had been collecting sixpences for some considerable time.
When it was pointed out to him that all of the coins had the same date he changed his mind, and led the way to the rest of the loot. A steel barrel containing the missing bullion was found suspended by a rope beneath twenty feet of water, in the trawler dock at Fleetwood near to the police office.
Cheers H.
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Latest reply: Apr 12, 2005
RODENTATION.
Posted Apr 12, 2005
SSH! THERE IS A MOUSE, ABOUT THE HOUSE.
That reminds me, but don't laugh! well go on then, do.
Screams from our kitchen long ago, top note, a very high C! I think, maybe not quite.
"There a mouse in the house!"
I don't think so, not with that bloody noise."
Yes is still here." "It can not possibly be, it will be miles away by now"
" Yes it is, it's behind the fridge."
"Not a chance."
"Go and look!"
Always right! aren't they?
There it was the poor little sod, all four little feet going like the clappers, no grip at all on the highly polished floor, due to the fact that one highly adrenaline charged female, had dropped one of my best spanners right on the end of it's little tail.
You can ask? but I am not telling!
Oh alright then, I put it in the garden. I believe the local shop had thousands of them later, I don't think they looked a bit like ours though, no kink in their tails at all.
Cheers H.
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Latest reply: Apr 12, 2005
REFLECTIONS.
Posted Apr 12, 2005
CHRYSTAL CLEAR.
To look in that mirror, just what do we see, is someone in there or can that be me?
To look on the back it is just the same, no picture at all, just an unpainted frame.
But check out the edge and see what you see, somewhere in there is the real little me.
Cheers H.
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Latest reply: Apr 12, 2005
THE PRICE TO PAY.
Posted Apr 12, 2005
THE FUGITIVE.
Who am I now, can I be seen? Is that me,
but where have I been?
Yet, where am I going, perhaps there’s new scenes!
The land of dreams was not what it seems.
To try to be real, I must make a deal.
To get it just right, a new mind I must steal.
A flash of light another fright.
As off they rush into the night.
A mocking laugh that lingers still.
For Maxine, a taste of that bitter pill.
Cheers H.
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Latest reply: Apr 12, 2005
LMScott
Researcher U934904
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