Journal Entries
The Vagrant and The Policeman.
Posted Apr 11, 2005
Peter Cain was a Manchester Policeman in the 1960's, his regular beat was London Road Station, that was a premier posting and he was the best. Peter was a proud descendant of the Vikings, a giant of a man in every way, over six feet tall, about sixteen stones of solid bone and muscle with a heart of solid gold.
One of the regular frequenters of the refreshment rooms was a young man with the nickname, "Dirty little Jimmy." He was not outstandingly dirty, but he was hounded by some of the officers, never by Peter, or by anyone else in his presence.
Peter wouldn’t appear to actively encourage Jimmy, but he would always allow him to finish his tea before moving him on. Peter told me that Jimmy had lost both of his parents in an air raid during the war, and he had been dug out of the remains of his home after being buried alive for days.
Jimmy had a classical way of making a few extra pounds on top of his social security money. He would get someone to write a letter applying for a job in a hotel kitchen at Bournemouth or some other seaside town. The Hotelier would send him a train ticket, and off he would go for his day out. They would take one look at him; then give him a meal and a train ticket back to Manchester. Jimmy would have had a good day out at the seaside, free travel and a good meal.
Some time later, after I had been taught the art of observation and deduction by Peter, I would learn a great deal more about the things I was seeing, but not observing. Jimmy had a damaged right arm, and he carried it low in front of his body as he shuffled his way off the station when he was moved on by some of the officers. Usually there was a wry smile on his face as he did so, as if to say, “ I know something that you don’t know,” and I found out later that he actually did.
When Peter moved him on, Jimmy actually grew taller, the shuffle was not as obvious, and the smirk completely disappeared. Eventually, one night I went into the office while Peter was having his supper, and he said, “ You haven’t thrown Jimmy off the station, have you?” “ No, he is in the Midland waiting room.”
Peter then started to leave the office and I said, “ Goodness Peter, the job is straight up and you have only just brewed the tea.” “ That’s alright, I am not suggesting that you have not done the job properly, pour a cup for yourself and I will be back soon.”
Having learned quite a lot already from Peter’s very patient lessons, I had a very speedy cup of his tea and then I followed him out onto the patch, just in time to see him escorting Jimmy off the station. Jimmy was very carefully placing an envelope into his pocket. Now all was crystal clear to me, Peter was writing Jimmy’s job applications for him. Imagine the thoughts of those hoteliers down on the South Coast as they compared Jimmy with the immaculate copperplate handwriting of Peter Cain.
Sad to relate there was no happy future for either the down and out Jimmy or his benefactor and protector Peter, a few short years later Jimmy no longer quietly appeared on the station for his regular cup of tea, and Peter my own tutor and protector, died at only forty seven years of age.
Cheers H.
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Latest reply: Apr 11, 2005
A Right Royal Intervention.
Posted Apr 11, 2005
Here is a lovely little story from an age in our history completely unknown to most of our present generation. A story almost beyond belief, fiction writers could never in a lifetime imagine it and the media have never even heard of it, but I can assure that it did happen, as I disclose this long kept secret.
Before anyone doubts the authenticity of my little story, which is condensed in my normal manner for easy reading by anyone or indeed any age group, I would respectfully mention that H.M. Our Queen does know the full story quite well, and has given her permission to publish it.
Her Majesty Queen Mary, the widow of King George the Fifth, Her Majesty The Queen’s Grandmother was a formidable lady who did not suffer fools gladly, and she certainly knew just how to deflate a pompous one when necessary. My great, long lasting friend and tutor ex Chief Inspector Terry Shelton then a young constable, and his legendary police-dog Big Ben were on night duty at the Royal Residence, and there was a very serious complaint regarding the alleged, anti -social behaviour of the police dog during the night. The Head Gardener had spotted a nasty looking yellow stain on a perfectly painted, extremely white wall and Ben was getting the blame.
Terry was furious about the matter, as he always defended his work mates to the highest degree when it was deserved. He refused to let Ben take the blame for the misdemeanour, and when Her Majesty Queen Mary heard about the incident from some source or other this very Royal lady decided to sort it out for herself. First she asked the Head Gardener to show her the evidence of his complaint and he triumphantly did so. Jubilant at being singled out to escort this very important lady around the Royal Gardens, he began to feel very important too.
Armed with the usual knowledge possessed by most of our Royal Family, regarding the animal kingdom and its habits. Queen Mary very quickly reached a conclusion, but she did not immediately disclose her knowledge regarding animal and human behaviour.
“ I will wait here, will you please go and bring a tape measure, a pencil and a piece of paper to me “ she said to him. “ Yes Ma’am,” he replied, still unaware that a conclusion had already been reached.
On his return Queen Mary said, “ Please measure that stain from the ground to the very top where the paint is still white.” When he had done so, and at her request carefully written down the measurement, she very sweetly said, “ Do you want to go and measure the guardsman who was on duty last night or are you satisfied with the evidence that you have seen? ” In absolute silence, he just stood there with his mouth wide open as the lady walked away, unescorted by him this time. Memories are made of this!
Cheers H.
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Latest reply: Apr 11, 2005
The Long Journey.
Posted Apr 9, 2005
It is a very long journey from 1944 to the Millennium and beyond, the time span was just like a ride with The Time Traveller, and even more unbelievable because it really did happen.
From only three years education at a senior school, followed by many years at the University of Life and Hard Knocks,then polished to perfection by two Great Masters of their trade, the education was eventually complete. The final result being the emergence of a fully qualified Guardian of Her Majesty The Queen’s Peace, with not only the authority to carry out such daunting tasks, but also blessed by nature's own speed, agility, eyesight and hearing, to carry out those tasks efficiently.
In 1971, a great team was forged, the arrival of British Transport Police Dog Storm with his superhuman powers, cut the expanding crime wave on Manchester Railways and far beyond to a mere trickle. Over a thousand thieves and other criminals including two murderers, were arrested by Storm and his fame spread throughout the land.
Commendations from Magistrates, outside forces, schools and even Coroners were a constant reminder of his talents and great temperament, as he performed his superhuman crime detections, that included tracking lost persons and suicide victims at night, and socialising at school functions and police dog competitions during the day.
One of the largest hindrances today in the solving of crime, is the reluctance of Senior Police and C.I.D Officers to use police dogs efficiently and speedily. This is partly fear of an unknown quantity, and ignorance of a superhuman asset readily available at very little cost.
The same obstructions were there in the very early days of police dogs, the C.I.D. officers would not call out the police dog, except as an after-thought when the trail was cold, and usually ruined by large boots. Then miracles were usually expected, and generally they were performed, but after the officers had left the blighted crime scene.
Within a few short years, Storm was completely accepted by Detectives and Uniformed Officers of not only The British Transport Police, but by the outside forces as well. Even The Regional Crime Squad called for his services as his fame spread throughout the land and I heard him once referred to, as “Our Dog” by a Regional Crime Squad Officer, and a very experienced detective made the remark, "If Storm could type, we could all go home!" In 1969 Storm was chosen by Chief Inspector Shelton as the main stay of the Royal Protection Squad at Caernarfon for the whole of the night prior to the Investiture of The Prince of Wales.
Unfortunately, the trail-blazing path of superhuman crime detection, as taught by the Metropolitan Police Dog Training School and the Legendary Chief Inspector Terry Shelton, (real name Herbert) is now but memory. Like Terry and even Storm, the expertise and skills are now forgotten, and recent publicity highlighting the criminal behaviour of some, so called dog training establishments and their supervisory officers, has led to the imprisonment of two of the police officers and the current police dogs are no longer of a standard set so many years ago.
There used to be police dogs competitions and exhibitions, that were envy of the whole world, then later as dedicated civilians began to beat the professionals, the rules were changed, the title of Police Dog was restricted to police owned dogs only.
Cheers H.
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Latest reply: Apr 9, 2005
The Mind's Eye
Posted Mar 28, 2005
A subject of interest ?
It is a fact, it exists, the deaf will surely hear with an implant connection.
But will the blind ever see with a computer connection, camera directly to brain?
Do our computers already make impressions in our brains that stay implanted,and is it a fact that some persons can actually see a cursor and moving script in the mind's eye long after the computer is switched off, some even pictures, is it similar to still seeing a television picture or a light after it is switched off, or a completely new dimension?
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Latest reply: Mar 28, 2005
CRYSTAL CLEAR.
Posted Oct 29, 2004
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.
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Latest reply: Oct 29, 2004
LMScott
Researcher U934904
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