Westminster Abbey

I’ve always wanted to visit Westminster Abbey. It’s just full of history commemorating the tombs of our Kings, Queens, politicians and writers. I managed to arrive just before the daytrippers but I still had to queue for a good ten minutes. But astonishingly, the price of admission was £20! Considering that many of Britain’s cathedrals are free to visit; I felt that this was disgraceful for those of British citizenship. And what was more insulting was the fact that you weren’t allowed to take photographs of the tombs, statues and architecture. The price did include an audio guide featuring Jeremy Irons, so that’s him set for life. And because of the sheer number of visitors, there was a very set route inside and the dioceses seemed to be in all the wrong places. I was really looking forward to visiting Newton’s tomb which was out of sync with the audio guide and there was n-one there to ask. Perhaps one of the most ironic things was the hourly prayers- during my visit it was for the people of Syria but did it ever occur to anyone that the leaders of the British Government reside just across the road? I did enjoy the history but I think that they’ll have to work extremely hard to tempt me back for a second visit.

Evacuation Park

It’s been a long trip but we’ve ventured down south to Thorpe Park. In the end it was just and one other friend who was wheelchair-bound. I’d invited some other people to help share the pushing, but they all backed out. We’d journeyed down and had a super-charged breakfast and a rubbish coffee, and we only arrived thirty minutes late because of a badly marked roundabout. We knew that we wouldn't be able to get on all the rides but we were extremely disappointed with the accessibility on offer. As soon as we’d arrived we found a small roller coaster but we were told that we weren't able to ride because of evacuation procedures. The one ride that we were really looking forward to riding was actually shut. While wandering around wondering what to do, we wandered into the Angry Birds 4D cinema, which had luckily just opened and was quite miraculous since they were no showtimes displayed. After the film we headed towards the I’m a Celebrity: get out of here! maze but this had closed for the year so our next visit was to the arcade. After spending a fortune on tickets we went for another wander and did manage to convince a young couple of attendants to let us ride one of the smaller rides. But when our main attraction re-opened, we were told that we couldn't go beyond the video section in case we had to be evacuated.

A Great Summer at The Swan

Redditch and Bromsgrove CAMRA have voted the Swan in Chaddesley Corbett as their Summer Pub of the Season. Since becoming tenants of this popular Bathams pub two years ago, licensees Mark Titman and Lucy Stringer have worked hard to ensure that this village pub continues its excellent reputation of serving real ale from the Delph. Although the Swan does serve food; the majority of its business is still through wet-led sales and Mark estimates that they pull over 2,000 pints of Bathams a week! The pub is of course a great hub for the village of Chaddesley Corbett, and live entertainment happens regularly with a Jazz night every Thursday and an open mic night on the first Friday of every month. Mark also organises an annual charity bike ride as well as a classic car show; and hopes to hold a beer festival in 2017. And don’t forget Bathams XXX which goes on sale in the run up to Christmas, a 6.3% brown beer with a fruity taste. Mark hopes to order extra barrels this year to fulfil demand! Pictured receiving the award are licensees Mark Titman and Lucy Stringer (left) with Branch Chairman Gez Quinn and Branch Secretary Paul Richards (far right).    

England's Eurovision

The Eurovision song contest is such a joke nowadays. Firstly, the participants now include Russia, and even Australia so that the organisers can receive extra money for the television rights. It seems to be hosted in Eastern European countries which is very worrying considering the trouble on the borders of these countries; and where do they get the cash to host the event anyway? Apparently, the UK is the fourth biggest financial contributor to the competition, yet the other countries seldom acknowledge this when it comes to giving out points. Secondly, the artists all seem to be acts that no-one’s ever heard of. Why not ask a commercial artist who’s had a chart-topping hit to produce something for crying out loud? It’s great that we now have a national competition where the public can have a say on what our song should be; but why aren’t we relying on our award-winning talent? Our last entry was made up of people who had failed to win a TV karaoke competition. Well done to Sir Terry Wogan for highlighting the farce that it is. 

Spitting Feathers

‘It wasn’t me guv, honest.’

Clive looked into the eyes of PC Badger. He’d been caught red-handed again, and this time there was no way out. He knew that Badger didn’t trust him; not after last time. He’d have to think of a more concrete excuse.

‘Where is she then?’

‘Where’s who?’

‘Miss Featherbottom of course.’

‘Who’s that?’

‘She’s the young lady who resides at this particular address. Or used to anyway.’

‘How do I know? I was just…delivering a letter.’

‘So you must know her if you were delivering a letter.’

‘Sorry, not a letter. A leaflet. I’m doing a menu run for the new takeaway in town.’

‘And where are all your other leaflets?’

‘Well, I’ve ran out. Mr. Wu only gave me so many.’ He grinned.

‘And if I were to call on the neighbours of Miss Featherbottom I would discover that some of them would have received a menu for this new establishment?’

Clive suddenly coughed to stall for time; but found that his fake cough suddenly became a genuine one. As he exhaled, a feather splurged up his throat and out of his mouth… 

Sharp's Doom Bar at the Clairville, Liscard

This large Wetherspoons used to be a supermarket and the space that it now occupies is equally uninspiring. It was a huge open-plan pub full of diners, and the hand pumps were bare apart from a minimalistic portfolio. From the outside, it looked like the architects had an argument on how the pub should be built. It seems that they’ve opted for the cheapest possible option. A banner of colour occupies the panelling above the entrance to cover up the supermarket’s former logo. The pub’s name is actually underneath this and it would have looked a lot better if they had built over the panelling and put the wording on there. And you’d have thought that they would have painted the doors and windows to match. The result is not much of an attracting building at all; but once you got inside the interior seemed to say; ‘Relax, you’re in a Wetherspoon; there’s cheap prices here.’ 

Spitting Feathers Session Beer at the Stage Door, New Brighton

This pub was very popular for a Friday afternoon; and because it was so close to our previous stop everyone could make our own way over in our own time once everyone knew where they were going. Inside there was a great atmosphere and bar snacks were being passed around by the bar staff in an attempt to encourage us to make a long-haul purchase of a full meal. But one of the handy things of having a gang of old men in your party is that people will often give up their space to allow them to have a seat; and pretty soon we had commandeered a whole table to ourselves. Even though the beer wasn’t a strong one it was kept very well and was full of flavour; which is quite hard to pick out when you’ve had a variety of other beer throughout the day. We enjoyed the company of the locals so much here that we decided that it was easier for us to stay put and have another half; giving us plenty of time to catch the next train to pass underneath the river. 

Ban the buttons

It was announced yesterday that button batteries are dangerous once swallowed. Apparently, they cause some kind of chemical reaction inside the skin that irritates the insides. They’ve even simulated graphic visual displays of a battery on a giant piece of pink ham to represent skin. It’s enough to make you squirm. But I must have missed the memo announcing that it was OK to swallow batteries. Surely swallowing a battery is dangerous in any situation. If parents are actually feeding their babies batteries or leaving it to them to attempt to install batteries into their toys, we have a real problem here. Surely these screws in these things are so tight that a child won’t even ponder how it works until it matures to the point that it knows that it’s bad to swallow a battery anyway? So is this the dumbing down of society saying that we should manufacture things to be as idiot-proof as possible? Or is there a real issue of general safety combined with dwindling resources on our hospitals who can’t cope in emergency situations?  

Nelson's Midshipman at the Master Mariner, New Brighton

Our next stop was the Master Mariner, a Wetherspoon pub opposite the Mersey which offered its own picnic beer garden outside and balcony seating for riverside dining; though it being April at the time we weren’t really paying much attention to the exterior. Inside was a disappointing lack of naval objects on display as the pub was less than a year old and had been converted from a former nightclub. But as is the custom in Wetherspoon pubs there were boards depicting the history of famous local ships. The mild here was excellent; it had a lovely rich roasted flavour which really made me lick my lips. We found a nice place to prop up the bar and enjoy a quick half while contemplating our next visit; though one member of our party was a pub landlord himself and had quite a vendetta against pub chains; and was keen for us to hurry up and complete our Cask Marque stop so that we could move onto the next venue. 

Save the Children

I’ve just seen a report on war-torn children in war-torn Yemen.  It’s in areas where the hospitals have closed down and the agencies can’t get there because there’s too much fighting in the area. We’re shown footage of skinny children with huge clasping eyes pleading at the camera; alongside perfectly full-grown adults who seem to be doing just fine. But the adults seem to be just fine; they don’t show signs of a struggle or any signs of malnutrition. And if the media can get through to broadcast these images; then surely the aid workers could also find a way? Something is not right here. Yes, the resources are in the wrong place; and yes money needs to be thrown at something for action to happen; but is this actually a propaganda video trying to get people to reach for their wallets? Why can’t the aid workers take a big risk as those in the media do?

George Wright Spring Ale at The Telegraph Inn, New Brighton

One of New Brighton’s oldest pubs; this was truly a community venue with small rooms around each side allowing people to come in and chat; mainly because it was a fair distance away from the banks of the Mersey. After entering to use the facilities first, I had to tour the whole pub to find the rest of my group; much to the amusement of the locals; who also pointed out the blackboard displaying the list of ales on offer. After scanning the Cask Marque certificate, I took my place in our timber-framed room and soaked in the atmosphere of this characteristic pub. The beer was another local brew from George Wright; and even though it was a seasonal beer it still made a refreshing change from the portfolio beers that you’d expect to see on show at this kind of venue. The Telegraph has also earnt the honour of being New Brighton’s highest pub; though when you’re so close to the Mersey it doesn’t bear much of an achievement compared to that of Snowdon or the Lake District!

The Toilet Train

I’ve just been for a wee on a train. It may not sound that exciting but the carriage I was in was completely empty so I could take my time to play with all the little gadgets without having to feel guilty about an audience watching me go in and out. There wasn’t even any gear of a queue striking up behind me. I could take my time closing the door and shut myself away without people wondering whether I was off for a number one or two. As the train was late before I boarded, I decided to leave a bit chaos by folding the baby change tray down over the bowl. In fact, when I emerged, I was having so much fun that I wondered if I’d missed my stop. As I emerged I noted that there wasn’t a button to close the cubicle from the outside; so to be sure I reached in and pressed the inside button before fleeing. The whole experience interested a laughing black guy, though whether he was laughing at me or his phone call is a matter to be resolved.

Roll Out the Barrel

It was the start of another weekend. Stanley could tell by the atmosphere that it would be full of festivities. The fair was in town; there was talk of a match on; and the weather was said to be cold but dry in the paper, meaning that people would be looking for shelter while moving between places. He’d therefore got some of his biggest casks ready for the draymen who were due any minute to take the beer out. He’d spent the morning stacking them up in the yard, and all that remained was to get the biggest one inside for his own customers. He grinned. This barrel should last him for the whole weekend. He used to have to drive round knocking on the doors of the bigger breweries asking for a barrel as soon as their offices opened; but now that he brewed his own beer, he didn’t have to bother with that at all.

Shields Down

What is the point of modern-day ticket barriers? They all seem to give up after the evening rush hours; so is there any point in buying tickets for travel after that time? And if the train is overcrowded, they won’t even run a trolley service down the aisle, let alone ask a fat bloke to waddle down the train to check that everyone is travelling legitimately. In the future I may as well just buy a single day ticket to my first destination as it seems that no-one can be bothered to check them; leaving it to the goodwill of customers and the reliability of machines. The ironic thing is that you can’t rely on the machines by themselves because if someone doesn’t know how to use them or if they make a mistake then they’re going to be stuck. It really is an insult to us paying customers when we buy an expensive ticket only to find that you can just waltz your way through.  

Theakston's Vanilla Stout at Stanley's Cask, New Brighton

Our next pub was a short bus ride into the next town, and not being locals we made a palaver of all climbing on for a day out on the beer; much to the amusement of the locals. The beer here was in excellent condition and the stout was just full of flavour without being overbearingly sweet. It’s an open-plan pub but it is split into sections for those who like to hide away from the rest of the world. The bar had a very ornate antique feel and at the back was a dartboard; of which one member of our party was keen on striking up a game. However, one of his patrons reminded him just how bad it was and it might be a wise idea to give the game a miss. There’s a pub with a similar name in nearby Wallasey which is sports-bar themed; I wonder if the two are linked and that Stanley may perhaps be a very wealthy man. 

George Wright's Lion Returns at the Stock Hotel, Birkenhead

We’d managed to catch up with the others at the Stork Hotel, who had managed to grab a table just underneath the stained glassed domed ceiling in the lobby. It did feel as if we were hogging the corridor for a while, as all of the smaller rooms were full and the bar area was limited to standing and bar stools only. The layout was similar to many other Victorian pubs in that there were several rooms in the outer walls, and the bar was located in the middle with multiple ordering points. However, this made it quite difficult for the one lady that was serving; who wasn’t expecting a large crowd of visitors through her doors all seeking real ale.  As we’d joined the others, there was only time for a local beer which didn’t do the pub justice; I would have liked to have tried a more familiar beer as well to compare its quality. But the clientele and the pub’s exterior mosaic tiles have clearly stood the test of time.

Lazy Landlord Best Bitter at the Lazy Landlord, Liscard

We had a bit of a race to get to this pub as one of our party insisted that we carried on while he caught his breath. Unfortunately we were on the wrong side of the road while waiting for the bus; and when we’d worked out where to go we called him to say that there was still time for him to join us on the next bus. We then discovered that his rail fetish had kicked in and he’d decided to catch the train so the race was on. We then missed our bus stop and had to double back on ourselves, so we expected him to be there grinning at us with his beer in hand. Amazingly, we still managed to beat him as the rail station was miles away. But what a brilliant name for a pub. It’s a great venue for local brews, and the house bitter from Derby that I tried was superb. The landlord himself wasn’t too impressed with this group of southerners who’d invaded his quiet pub; even though we were there for a good hour supping his beers and snacking on his great value cobs. But the locals were very friendly; and were quite happy to help us on our tour; perhaps in a bid to get rid of us or direct us to pubs that they could happily avoid. We sat on a large table in the front room while the bar was behind us in a partly demolished corridor. Beyond that was a further room with a smaller seating area with photographs of the local landscape on the walls. 

Sharp's Doom Bar at the John Laird, Birkenhead

This Wetherspoon outlet was clearly the busier of the two as it took us a while to reach the bar. We eventually found some balcony seating behind a pile of empty fish n’ chip plates. To the left of us, a pair of local lads were finishing their lunch before heading off to a gig with their guitars. The beer selection wasn’t that impressive either, so it was just a quick half of Sharp’s Doom Bar and a comfort break before we re-joined the others. Neither was the atmosphere, as everyone was crowded into a large open-plan room. One of the reason for the crowds here was that it was directly behind a bus station and adjacent to a shopping centre. The bricked building wasn’t particularly inspiring, but the pub does have some local history as it was named after Birkenhead’s first Member of Parliament. On our way out we walked past the Crown which surely marked the old times with its barren wasteland and a shiny new highway adjacent to it.  

Redcoats Recalled

‘Righto chaps, look sharp. The bloody Germans are at it again so we need to meet at Gallagher’s to reaffirm the Corps. We’ll assemble at noon on Thursday. Spread the word.’

This was the e-mail that Derek got from the major. There'd been a lot of talk about the Germans trying to take over again, but he believed that there wasn't much that he could do about it and that it was all up to the politicians. Nevertheless, orders were orders and he’d found himself walking up the hill on a cold chilly morning to meet the other soldiers. As he got closer, he saw a familiar figure leaning outside the front, in a flat brown cap and brown leather jacket.

‘Morning Dave, how are you?’

‘Eh up, it's old Derek, haven't seen you in ages. Glad to see you’re still here.’

‘And the same to you, you're looking well. How’s the missus?’

‘Oh she’s fine, she's looking after the grandkids today. I’ll be joining her later as this won't take long; there's not many left of us now.’

‘Isn't Dawson coming?’

‘No, poor chap’s in a home; his arthritis got the better of him. And Stanley passed on last year, and I'm not sure how many others Sarge managed to get hold of. All we’ll be doing is having a quick reunion lunchtime pint and a plate of sandwiches if we’re lucky.’

‘So we’re not likely to be marching out then?’

‘No, I think we’ll have to merge with a troop over the river if we're going to do that, which isn't likely. I wouldn't be surprised if we disbanded today.’

‘DISBAND THE REDCOATS? THAT’S MUTINY!’ said a loud voice behind them.

‘Sarge, how are y-‘

‘Wilson, be quiet till we get inside. And that's one less tot for you. Why hasn't this establishment opened yet? And with that, Sergeant Holmes began banging on the pub's sturdy door.  

Save the Alex

In an effort to save resources, the NHS has decided to downsize the Alexandria Hospital in Redditch. This means that the hospital will mostly deal with emergencies; and any routine operations for children will have to be performed in the already overstretched Worcester Royal hospital. For patients, this could mean a forty-minute car journey or an expensive taxi fare with sick children; or even longer if public transport is required. This clearly doesn't make sense. In a commuter town with an expanding population of young children, the last thing that parents need is a long car journey to receive healthcare and treatment. So by taking these services away means that parents will have to more cautious than ever. Of course, some people will relocate themselves to avail themselves of other services; but for those who can't it really is a sink or swim situation. Local residents have formed an action group to monitor the activities of the Alexandria hospital and are desperately trying to protect our services alongside our MP Karen Lumley. But many people are pointing the blame towards her rather than the independent NHS that runs our healthcare services. 

Beerd Cubic at the Brass Balance, Birkenhead

Our first Wetherspoon of the day was the Brass Balance, which was hidden on what seemed to be the older and former high street. We’d actually been here before for breakfast as it wasn't included at our hotel, so it gave us some free time to travel and tour. It was also the first and only time that I heard a Scouser say “Calm down, calm down” on the trip. It seemed that there were two neighbouring tables who were at war with each other, pinching someone’s chair and newspaper spot while he'd gone outside for a smoke. Our breakfast arrived very quickly and the pub was quite quiet; but when we came in with our pub crawl party the place seemed to be swarming with builders with menus in hand ordering breakfasts at the bar. As we’d already visited; we decided to have a swift half of the Cubic pale ale from the Beerd Brewery and grab an extra Cask Marque scan from the other Wetherspoon on the opposite side of town. 

Treemendous Trees

Many town centres have nothing but paved stones in their pedestrian high streets and shopping areas and perhaps there’s space for the odd bench if you’re lucky. But here in Redditch we have some beautiful oak trees sprawling out from underneath the concrete. They’re easy to miss; on a busy market day they’ll be hidden behind stallholders and shoppers; while at night you’ll be distracted by people coming in and out of the bars and clubs. These trees must have seen a lot of changes over the years; not just to the buildings and shops surrounding them but the people as well; their accents, their nationality and their period dress. I often like to think that they’re trying to reclaim the land as there’s quite a few open cracks in the concrete near their trunk and roots. I really hope that there’s a Tree Preservation Order on them as their age and shape really add to the character of the high street. 

Hook Norton Hop To It at the Argyle Ale House, Birkenhead

We were on our way to our second pub when we just happened to spot the Argyle Ale House by chance. It was in an old municipal-styled stone building which had been refurbished and painted blue, which gave it quite a contrast to the rest of the property. Inside was a modern-day chrome bar with plenty of new wood. The barmaid told us that it had only opened the week before; and after exhausting her supply of half pint glasses we gathered around a bench between the bar and the window. It had just turned noon, but we were still the pub’s only customers. The beer was in good condition and four beers were on offer; I chose the Hook Norton seasonal beer as I knew that it wouldn’t be on my tick list. As we toasted absent friends and watched the world go by through the art of television; only two other people came in. Later on when we were waiting for the bus, we did try and persuade other people to venture inside when they stopped and looked inquisitively, but they carried onto their usual local. 

Canada's Worst Handyman

Created with the same format of Canada’s Worst Driver, I’ve now discovered Canada’s Worst Handyman. It’s hosted by the same host and puts idiots on display who haven’t got a clue about what they are doing. With a bold title like this you’d think that this show would focus on practicing tradesmen; but instead this looks at people in their own home which is more hilarious. Perhaps it’s not as successful as the driver format as it has fewer seasons, but there’s still the tears, the dramas and the stereotypical male abusing his partner. But what’s less apparent in this show is the necessity to coach and help the participants. They do get a basic lesson in the task involved but it’s far more entertaining to let them proceed after the advice has been given to test their knowledge of common sense. I especially enjoyed the fourth season when tempers shot to an all-time high and they had to kick someone off.

Idevai 568 at Gallaghers Pub & Barber Shop, Birkenhead

We started our pub tour of Birkenhead at Gallagher’s Pub and Barber Shop. We didn’t meet Mr. Gallagher (who I assume the pub was renamed after its new owners six years ago) but it does have some novel features. Above the bar, regimental flags adorned the walls alongside uniforms, officer’s hats and shields, and a Spitfire was suspended from the ceiling. The beer was beautiful, and was from a brewery that I’d never heard of before, and our party requested me to take several trips to the bars to record the name and its ABV. To the rear of the pub was an actual barber’s shop, complete with chair, though no-one was in having their hair cut today. Perhaps it was a bit nippy, or perhaps it was the thought of trusting the barber with a razor while wondering how many beers he’s had. Outside in the beer garden, we were also treated to a tremendous view of the Hamilton Square Tower by a local who told us some more of the town’s history. 

Frog Life

Sing to the tune of Blur’s Park Life.

Down in my garden I’ve got some new guests. They’re slimy, ‘orrible and green. Frog Life.

They’ve found some great hiding places around the pond and they only come out at night. Frog Life.

Hundreds of frogs are just jumping about, and they’re romping all over my lawn. Frog Life.

Who’s that croaking out there in the dark? Belt down mate, I’m knackered!

Chorus:

Oh the froggies. So many froggies.

All sitting on lillypads

Croaking day and night.

Frog Life.

It’s a well-known fact that frogs are energetic than those toad types. Frog Life.

They’ve got smooth skin, they’re wart-free and they just love hoping about. Frog Life.

A fly is a feast for our Freddy, as well as those slimy sluggy worm things. Frog Life.

And he’s just glued to anything leafy to hide away from those French types.

Chorus

It must be a Magnolia year, or a leap year for this many frogs to be gathered. Frog Life.

And there ain’t no Kermit in this festival of tadpoles, lilies and sperm. Frog Life.

It’s gonna be cruel to splat them but they’re just making a mess of my garden pond. Frog Life.

Where’s a hedgehog when you need one, or a lizard, or a snake, or a bird?

Chorus

Birkenhead County Court at Hamilton Square

Just a short stroll away from Wallesey Town Hall is Hamilton Square. It’s odd that there’s another municipal building that’s so close to the Town Hall, but who are we to argue with our Liverpudian friends? The court looks very patriotic with its Union Jacks hanging outside, and with the view of the war memorial in front it’s much more majestic than the courthouse in Liverpool. Just behind me is a beautifully landscaped garden which is well maintained; most courts are usually in the grottiest parts of the town centre because of the people who use the building. The nature of the surrounding offices blends in around the square perfectly, and they are all Grade II listed buildings. To the north lies Hamilton Square Tower which represent the town’s connection to the Liverpool Metro. Underneath the courthouse lies Birkenhead Tunnel, which I only just discovered by re-visiting the square on Google Street View. But it only takes one accidental click and you’re instantly in some grotty backstreet.

Coffee on the Cheap

I’ve forgotten my wallet. It’s frustrating because I’m pretty sure that it shouldn’t have left my satchel. I only opened it yesterday to use an expired voucher and I mentioned to a friend before I went in that they don’t always check the dates. And before I departed on my delivery run today, I even had time to work out where the drops were and where the best place was to have a coffee break and to use a voucher for a free cup ‘o’ joe. But when I reached the shop, my pockets were bare and I walked out empty-handed. Then in a flash of inspiration I remembered that some retailers have an app for their loyalty cards; which meant that I could download it and spend my points through my phone. After trying to steal their free Wi-Fi outside, I gave up and turned on the 3G. But alas, while the app downloaded OK, it wouldn’t load past the first screen. Luckily, I found some coins at the bottom of my bag. Then in another flash of inspiration, I took out a new loyalty card which meant that I could open a new points account and get £1 off my next coffee. Quality on the cheap.

Wallasey Town Hall

This civic building as seen from the Mersey with its stone steps leading up to its grand entrance, is actually Wallasey Town Hall. It’s an odd location for a public building that isn’t in the centre of town, but the developers wanted to add to the river’s landscape to encourage people to come over and visit. In fact, because they were that desperate to attract people from the city they actually built the building back to front so its best side would only be seen from the promenade and the river rather than from the town itself. As most of the town’s business came from the river, it also made sense for its administrative hub to be centred in this area rather than the surrounding cottages. Nevertheless, to the residents of Wallasey, it must seem as if their backwards councillors have turned on them, centering their priorities elsewhere while blocking their view of the river.

Toilet of the Apocalypse

Jim needed to go. He’d had a huge breakfast at the supermarket; bought a bouquet of flowers off the pretty girl on the market; and he’d just carried them on a five-mile walk to plant them on his mother’s grave. Naturally, he was bursting. So when he saw that the cemetery had just finished restoring the toilets, he leapt at the chance to go. Inside there was no electric light; instead there was blue sky visible through a hole in the ceiling. He sighed with relief as his pants went down followed by himself. And then nature followed and he did what he needed to do. He didn’t notice the sky growing dark; he knew the effects that clouds had on sunlight. Instead he just concentrated on what he was doing; ignoring the sounds of foreign plumbing around him. When he’d finished, he zipped up, flushed, then turned to go. The door didn’t budge. He pushed and pushed but it failed to move, as if someone had deliberately barricaded him from the outside. As he turned around, he saw that the toilet bowl wasn’t filling up with water but with a rich, dark, red liquid; which just kept rising and rising and rising. He panicked then and gave the door a good hard kick. It burst open this time but what was on the other side was beyond belief…