HilaOoze

I have always considered myself an animal lover but looking back this affection has really only ever been applied to dogs. Take our Winston as an example; my other half and I treat him more like a mute human than a canine. Thankfully all of this changed just a few months ago when we were awoken from our afternoon siesta by a loud thudding sound in the kitchen. I immediately went to investigate the origin of this noise and discovered what looked like a dead Wren on our patio. He must have flown into the kitchen window and knocked himself out cold with the impact. My partner quickly picked the bird up and cupped his tiny feathered body in his hands. Within a few minutes a miracle occurred, the bird came back to life and flew away. I have never seen such a miraculous event before; little did I know then that there were to be more miracles bestowed upon us in the coming months. It was about two weeks later when I spied a large looking sea gull on our garage roof. Spurred on by our recent resurrection I went out to talk to it, the bird seemed to respond to the simple conversation I had with it. The next day it returned, so I went out with some seeds and talked to it some more. This carried on for several days; I decided to call it Geronimo as it loved to swoop up and down in the sky. Things seemed to be going very well between us until I heard that Maureen’s dog had got its skull impaled by a sea gulls beak. Apparently the gull had dived bombed down whist she was taking her terrier for its morning walk and driven its beak right into the dogs head, maybe the dogs head looked like a fish from above? Well I was not going to take any chances with our Winston after that news, so for the next few days I kept him inside and scared Geronimo off with a stick whenever he turned up. Things were getting back to normal when once again I was woken in the afternoon by a thud in the kitchen, but this time the noise was much louder. I went out to discover a dead crow on the patio. This animal was far too big to fit into my partner’s hands so we took it to the vets who claimed it was a Magpie, which was wrong as the week before my partner had seen another crow that looked just like it over the road from our house. Anyway, the vet managed to resuscitate the bird and let us take it home. He could not fly so we let him live in our shed. I bring him inside when it’s cold though and put him in a box on the radiator – after he’s been there a while he goes all floppy so we know it time to take him back outside. You are probably wondering if this story is just about saving the lives of poor innocent birds but it is not, there is a final phenomenal chapter to this story. It was Christmas morning and my partner and I had just got up and were making our usual preparations for the day, we usually tidy the garden and do some sweeping just to delay the excitement of opening our presents. After we got it inside I rearranged the cushions on the sofa and opened the curtains to reveal a huge bird lime on our living room window, whoever have done this had clearly been enjoying some red berries of some sort as they were peppered in amongst the mess on the window. At first I was speechless with shock and had to sit down and have a cup of tea and a piece of cake. But as I sat and studied the window something suddenly became apparent, the bird lime splatter was in the shape of a Robin! What enhanced this even more was the way that the colour of the berries had coalesced with the lime, forming areas that flowed from a deep red to a light pink. I immediately alerted my partner who also agreed that we had had clearly been given a sort of Christmas gift from the local bird community as a kind of thank-you for all good deeds we had recently subjected them to. We set up our camera and used the timer to take a picture of us and our Winston with the splattered window as the backdrop, I have enclosed a copy with this letter and hope other readers can try to come to terms with, and learn from, the wondrous events that have been bestowed upon us.

Does it matter if we are ghosts or alive anyway?

I remember when I was afraid of the dark because I could not sleep, back then we’d work all hours seven days a week. We only got a rest on Christmas day, and then it was back out into the cold with our home made eel skin trousers and wicker vests. We never moaned about it or got paid, thats just the way it was then.

The recent consumption of a malty treat brought back fond memories of a small band of animal rights activists who one spring took it upon themselves to liberate a vat of yeast from a local factory. They chose to set the yeast free into a pond up in Graves Park. This pond was frequented by a local tramp called Greg Richards. There was small piece of dry land in the middle of the pond; Greg would swim over to the mainland in morning to spend the day consuming extra strong lager and urinating on parked cars. In the evenings he’d swim back over to his small island, Greg enjoyed the relative protection of the water that he often referred to as ‘My Moat’. Springtime was unusually warm that year and soon the yeast began to multiply – within a few weeks the pond was in a full fermentation cycle. As you can imagine people quickly picked up on this cheap source of alcohol, crowds would gather at all hours of the day brandishing glasses, scooping out pints of the fine pond liquor. Greg was none too pleased with this and would shout and rant ‘My Moat’ in a vain effort to perturb the opportunistic drinkers. As spring turned into summer the pond’s levels began to diminish, by July all that was left was a thick dark sludge. Once again the resourcefulness of the Sheffield folk shone through as it was discovered that this sludge made a tasty savory topping for toast. Greg however was beside himself as his pond was all but gone plus he could not swim though its sludgy remnants. But as luck would have it Greg’s fortunes were about to take a turn for the better. Legend had it that one August afternoon a young entrepreneur was taken to visit the pond by some prospective business partners, he was duly impressed by its contents and was also inspired by the tramp shouting at him from the island in the middle. He decided to somehow re-create the thick malty paste and market it around Britain, with Greg’s ‘My Moat’ ranting still ringing in his ears he decided to call this new product Marmite. Greg still receives royalties to this day and lives in one those big houses in Ranmoor.

Do vegetarians have to lay eggs for the B12?

About three years ago a pleasant couple from Kentucky, in America, moved to Sheffield with their young pet Airedale Terrier, they had come to fulfill their dream of spreading the word about the Western style of horse riding. They opened a fairly unpopular Equestrian riding center on the fringes of the city, but after a few years in business they had had not made any profits. Things went from bad to worse when they found out that an aunt back home had been in an accident with a tractor and had sustained a squashed foot. They prayed that foul play had not been involved but still decided to pack up and head back to the U.S. One of the biggest problems they faced in moving was getting their now fully grown dog back to America, three years before they had managed to smuggle the puppy over in a pile of old laundry. After exploring their options they came to tragic realization that they would have to leave their canine friend behind in Sheffield. Luckily the parents of one of their few customers at the centre, Noreen and Jake Curry, agreed to look after the terrier with the understanding that they would send it over if the pet immigration laws ever changed. You are probably wondering how I know this tale, well Noreen and Jake are friends of mine and I am lucky enough to be trusted with dog-sitting from time to time when they are either too busy to take the dog for a walk or need to get away from it for a weekend.

Two years ago I found a cassette in a wellington boot that I bought at a local jumble sale, curiosity got the better of me so I decided to listen to what was recorded on it. To my amazement and delight I discovered it was a compilation of old stories read by elderly women. I listened to that cassette over and over again it was the most marvelous thing I had ever heard in my life. Being an enterprising fellow with a keen eye for a good idea to make some money I got to thinking that others would enjoy owning a cassette like mine so I decided to copy the idea but put my own spin on the finished product. I made a 45 minute recording of different grandma's telling stories of their pasts, these stories were perfected as the women had to told them so many times in the past. I then made another 45 minute recording of a room full of these women telling all manner of stories, it created a compelling Yorkshire vocal montage to which I added sounds recoded from around their homes, kettles boiling, dishes getting washed up, baths running etc. I copied these recordings onto C-90 cassette tapes and made a home made sleeve for the cases. I called this production Nanny Voices and sold copies in local pubs, clubs and petrol stations. People in Barnsely didn't really understand what I was trying to do with this, but still bought it anyway.

We are all on what seems like a never ending journey to discover why we are here on earth, part of this journey must be to first try and understand who we are as people and to do this we must understand and accept our nature as humans. One component of our nature is the ability to adapt, we naturally change our minds from one thing to another and progress if the outcome is preferable. This is a fact I learnt to accept the hard way, often life's lessons are learnt the hard way, but in the end we are better off with the knowledge these lessons provide us.

What has happened to our communities? It seems that they have all slowly been eroding over the years. I currently reside in a residential home for the aged and to be honest I have never felt more alone even though I am surrounded by many ancient people all day. In the 50's, after the war, Sheffield was a different place to what it is now. As you approached the city you could feel the community spirit in the air. As you crossed the city boundaries this feeling only grew stronger, and you headed toward Attercliff this sense intensified and came to a zenith when you reached the road where I lived. This was just a simple row of terraced houses but but everyone in our street had this incredible gift of community. We actually felt more like we'd all been father by the same man. One autumn afternoon, during one of our meetings, we came up with the idea of knocking down the triangular walls that separated our attic's, thus creating one long room which could also serve as an aerial connection to all our houses. And so we set to work, after knocking the walls through we fitted lights and flooring across the beams, which was later carpeted. Soon we had meeting areas, games rooms and relaxation zones. On top of all of this was the ability to pop down into any of the houses in the street. Within a few months I barley had an idea which house was my own. It was probably the best and most tight knit community that has ever existed.

Just a quick word of warning to the readers. We are all bought up being made to believe that love is truly a beautiful thing that should be aspired too and cherished. This may be true most of the time not always, people should be wary or they fall foul to loves dark side. I would like to illustrate this via an example. Many years ago my brother Colin fell madly in love with his girlfriend who even on the surface was somewhat simian in not only look but nature too. Their relationship though amazing and unique to them followed the usual predictable patterns. They were inseparable and did even the most mundane things together, although she did seem to make most of the decisions and Colin had always been easily led. As their feelings for each other grew so did her monkey like ways, her influence over Colin also intensified until one day she willingly led him into the world of the primate where they remained till Colin was fully assimilated into their ways. Then one morning she returned from this world but left Colin behind. Their relationship continued but seemed to have lost some of its sparkle. He was a monkey and she was a human friend, more of a guardian to be accurate. So beware of loves dark side or you could be taken to another another world and left behind.

Have you tried worrying elves or wolf herding?

Is it a camping shop?

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It depends on how its made.

Seems like a long way to go for a theme park, in my day we went to the coast in Wales or Cornwall. Those were the days! If was to go over 4000 miles I'd want to go and my homies in the east village, or check out the parties in LA or even go skying in Colorado.