Blog Archives - FordeFables

Song for Today: 31st October 2018

31/10/2018

In 1964, I was living in Toronto, Canada. I had just completed a night shift as a hotel receptionist and called into a cafe that stayed open 22 hours out of every 24 hours. Canadian cafes all had mini jukeboxes at each table at the time, so feeling a bit homesick for dear old England and a tad sorry for myself, I put 10 cents in the jukebox and made a random selection. The song that played sounded complete gibberish to me but by the time it was through, it had cheered me up considerably. The song was called 'Jambalaya on the Bayou'.

Love and Peace,
Bill xxx

Song for Today: 30th October 2018

30/10/2018

My song today is a blast from the past. 'Walking Back to Happiness' is a 1961 single by Helen Shapiro. It was number one in the UK for three weeks and the single sold over a million copies and earned Helen Shapiro a golden disc.

Were one to have a chequered career, it would undoubtedly be Helen. Born in 1946, by the age of 14 years old, in 1961, she had a UK No. 3 hit with her first single, 'Don't Treat Me Like a Child'. Her rise to fame as a singer was meteoric. In the year of 1961, another two number 1 hits followed in quick succession; 'You Don't Know' and 'Walking Back to Happiness'. Her mature voice made her an overnight sensation, as well as the youngest female chart-topper in the UK.

Shapiro's final UK Top Ten hit single was with the ballad 'Little Miss Lonely', Before she was sixteen years old, Shapiro had been voted Britain's 'Top Female Singer'. After spending a few years touring the country as a supporting act with top groups and singers at the time, Helen was fast becoming a spent force on the pop scene. A few years were spent by her performing and appearing on the occasional television show, appearing in the Billy Fury film 'Play it Cool' as herself. She had another film role in Richard Lester's movie, 'It's Trad, Dad!',

By the time she was in her late teens, her career as a pop singer was on the wane. With the new wave of beat music and newer female singers such as Dusty Springfield, Cilla Black, Sandie Shaw and Lulu, Shapiro appeared old-fashioned and emblematic of the pre-Beatles, 50s era. As her pop career declined, Shapiro turned to cabaret appearances, touring the working men's clubs of the North East of England. Her final cabaret show took place at Peterlee's Senate Club on 6 May 1972, where she announced she was giving up touring as she was "travel-weary" and had had enough of "living out of a suitcase".Later, after a change of mind, she branched out as a performer in stage musicals, and jazz (being her first love musically).

Later career
She played the role of Nancy in Lionel Bart's musical, Oliver! in London's West End and appeared in a British television soap opera, Albion Market, where she played one of the main characters until it was taken off air in August 1986. Shapiro also played the part of Sally Bowles in "Cabaret" and starred in "Seesaw" to great critical acclaim. Between 1984 and 2001, she toured extensively with legendary British jazz trumpeter Humphrey Lyttelton and his band, whilst still performing her own jazz and pop concerts. Her one-woman show "Simply Shapiro" ran from 1999 to the end of 2002, when she finally bade farewell to show business.

Although I never met Helen Shapiro, during the 1990s, when I was a big fish in a small pond, we did share the same programme on a cultural extravaganza day in Bolton. Helen naturally appeared as top billing and my name, as an up and coming Yorkshire author, was very close to the bottom of the programme. You win some, you lose some!

Love and peace. Bill xxx

Song for Today: 29th October 2018

29/10/2018

"No Woman, No Cry" is a reggae song by Bob Marley and the Wailers. The song first became known in 1974 from the studio album Natty Dread. Though Bob Marley may have written the song, or at least the melody, songwriter credits were given to Vincent Ford, a friend of Marley's who ran a soup kitchen in Trenchtown, the ghetto of Kingston, Jamaica where Marley grew up. The royalty payments received by Ford ensured his efforts would continue. The title and main refrain simply mean 'Woman, don't Cry'. The song is about growing up in the ghetto and persuading a woman that things will get better, entreating her not to cry.

My visits to Jamaica and my involvement with their poorest people and school children of Trelawny (the old slave capital of the world) between 2000-2003 left me impressed by the positivism of people born into the bowels of extreme poverty; the large part of whom worked for little more than $1 a day. Jamaica is a country that deserves 'respect'. Annually, the cheaply built homes of many of the poorer villagers, their roads and bridges are ravaged and destroyed by hurricanes. They, in turn, refuse to wallow in despair; they pick themselves up, rebuild their homes and shacks and praise the Lord that their lives weren't taken in the seasonal hurricane. They remain forever grateful for what the have instead of focusing upon what they have not.

Love and peace. Bill xxx

Song for Today: 28th October 2018

28/10/2018

When a young man and a woman are on the dance floor, during their dance there will come a time when the couple is inevitably drawn closer as their arms around each other are held a little bit tighter. No words are required between them to know whether or not anything is going on in the chemistry department between them and if they're 'into something good' or it's just a merry dance? In July 1964, I was living on the other side of the pond in Ontario, Canada. Back in England, Herman's Hermits was at number one in the charts with 'I'm into something good'.

Love and peace. Bill XXX

Song for Today: 27th October 2018

27/10/2018

'In the Ghetto' (originally titled "The Vicious Circle") is a song written by Mac Davis and made famous by Elvis Presley, who had a major comeback hit with it in 1969.

It is a narrative of generational poverty: a boy is born to a mother who already has more children than she can feed in the ghetto of Chicago. The boy grows up hungry, steals and fights, purchases a gun and steals a car, attempts to run but is shot and killed just as his own child is born. The song implies that the newborn will meet the same fate, continuing the cycle of poverty and violence. The feeling of an inescapable circle is created by the structure of the song, with its simple, stark phrasing; by the repetition of the phrase 'in the ghetto, along with 'and his mama cries'.It was the only political/protest song that Elvis ever sang.

Love and peace. Bill xxx

Song for Today: 26th October 2018

26/10/2018

Today's song was introduced to me yesterday afternoon by my wife, Sheila Forde who heard it on the car radio on her way home and thought it was one I would like as it suited my style of singing as well as my beliefs and way of life. I instantly fell in love with the song and its message. I was later surprised to learn that the song was composed and first recorded thirty years ago in December 1988. This just goes to show how preoccupied the years 1990-2005 were for me writing dozens of books and raising over £250,000 from their sales profits for charitable causes, along with raising awareness of so many issues in English and Jamaican schools in liaison with the Jamaican Minister for Education, Youth and Culture.

"The Living Years" is a ballad written by Mike Rutherford and B. A. Robertson, and was released in December 1988 in the United Kingdom by Mike and the Mechanics.
The song addresses a son's regret over unresolved conflict with his now-deceased father. It won the Ivor Novello Award for Best Song Musically & Lyrically in 1989 and was nominated for four Grammy awards in 1990, including Record and Song of the Year, as well as Best Pop Performance by a Duo or Group with Vocals and Best Video In 1996.

So please say all the things to your parents that you need to say to them now, during 'the living years' while the opportunity still exists. Indeed; say them to all your loved ones.

Love and peace. Bill xxx

Song for Today: 25th October 2018

25/10/2018

Today's song is 'Imagine'; a song written and performed by the late musician John Lennon. I always regarded Lennon to be much more than one of a foursome in the world's most famous group of singers. He was a deep thinker and philosopher as well as an accomplished composer and singer. He was not only a man before and of his time, but like many martyrs to their cause, he was to sadly die before his time. 'Imagine' turned out to be the best-selling single of his solo career. Its lyrics encourage the listener to imagine a world at peace without the barriers of borders or the divisions of religion and nationality and to consider the possibility that the whole of humanity would live unattached to material possessions: some might think an unusual thought for one so wealthy.

Love and peace. Bill xxx

Song for Today: 24th October 2018

24/10/2018

There are times in one's life that things are meant to be. Yesterday, Sheila was driving me home from 'The Yorkshire Clinic' after we had received a poor prognosis regarding my recent skin cancer operation and biopsies taken. Then, for reasons known only to her, she asked me if I'd ever heard the song called 'The Rose'. When I told her that I hadn't, Sheila Forde started singing the song to me and brought it up on her telephone application. I was instantly struck by the song; its simple tune, its beautiful words and its poignant message on today of all days. As soon as we arrived home and had absorbed the initial medical news we had received that afternoon, I spent the next ten minutes learning the song to record on my Facebook page this morning. I hope that I managed to do this beautiful song justice, and I will always regard it as the only 'song gift. my Sheila ever gave me at the precise moment of my life when I most needed it. It will forevermore be regarded as 'our song', Thank you, Sheila. I love you, sweetheart. x

'The Rose' was first recorded by Bette Midler for the soundtrack of the 1979 film, 'The Rose' in which it plays under the closing credits. However, the song was never intentionally written for the movie and just found its way into the film towards its ending, just like it found its way into my heart yesterday in the autumn of my life.

Love and peace. Bill xxx

Song for Today: 23rd October 2018

23/10/2018

I would love to be able to tell you that my news from both of the consultants today was good news, but unfortunately, I cannot. The bone consultant said that my dislocated shoulder which the operation put back is progressing satisfactorily. He also said that if I was to have a similar fall in the future it would be much harder to deal with.

My visit to see the skin consultant this afternoon resulted in my receiving the worst result possible from the two biopsies taken from each side of my forehead seven weeks ago after a one and a half hour operation on the right hand-side of my forehead to excavate the cancer that was there. Each biopsy showed that I have malignant and invasive skin cancer and that the consultant's attempt to cut it all out of one side seven weeks ago was unsuccessful. The course of action proposed is as follows:

To place me on the emergency list for another operation and to try to cut out all the cancer from both sides of my forehead if possible. This will leave a hole in my head and will require a skin graft to tidy it up
To also discuss my case with a large assembly of consultants this Friday, to get second, third, fourth, fifth, 'second opinion'.

The overall situation is therefore extremely serious, though not wholly unexpected, given the nature of my terminal blood cancer and its consequential effects. I have to hope that like my blood that is currently in a temporary state of remission, the skin cancer invasion can be slowed down and grant me as long a rest from its inevitable spread as much as possible.

Please believe me that while I naturally feel sad about the overall situation that Sheila and I face, I am not afraid of the future; how can one when every new morning is truly welcomed by me as a bonus. I have far many more good daily experiences in my life and fewer bad ones than most people, and everything I know and believe reminds me that I have much to be grateful for.

On a more positive note, over the past few years and particularly since my lovely lady and wife, Sheila entered my life, I have never been as much loved as I now am. Indeed, I can honestly say that my wife, family, neighbours, friends and God have made me feel as loved and favourably thought of as any man deserves to feel. Thank you all for your continued kind thoughts and prayers. If you keep them coming, I'll sing you a song as to how I presently feel.

Love and peace Bill. XXX.

Song for Today: 23rd October 2018

23/10/2018

I go to see two consultant's at two hospitals today. This morning I see the bone consultant at Airedale and find out if/how much irreparable damage I did when I badly dislocated my shoulder after my fall on hard ground. This afternoon I see the skin cancer consultant at the Yorkshire Clinic to discover if the two skin biopsies I had and the operation that removed cancer from my forehead were of the benign or malignant cancer type. Whatever the result, I will adapt to and live with. Hence, today's song is highly appropriate; ' That's Life'.

Song for Today: 22nd October 2018

22/10/2018

This morning's song is one that releases the fire in all rock and roll souls, "Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On".The song was first recorded by Big Maybelle, though the best-known version is the 1957 rock and roll/rockabilly version by Jerry Lee Lewis. I just love this man's vitality and sheer magical fingers on that piano. He unlocks those piano keys with the magic wand of a rockabilly magician on high.

Jerry Lee Lewis (born September 29, 1935) is an American singer who was often known by his nickname, 'The Killer'. He has been described as 'rock & roll's first great wild man.'

Unconventional in every aspect of his life, as part of his stage act, Lewis pounded the keys with his heel, kicked the piano bench aside and played standing, raking his hands up and down the keyboard for dramatic effect, sat on the keyboard and even stood on top of the instrument. Lewis told the Pop Chronicles that kicking over the bench originally happened by accident, but when it got a favourable response, he kept it in the act'.

Lewis's turbulent personal life was hidden from the public until Ray Berry, a news agency reporter at London's Heathrow Airport in May 1958 (the only journalist present), learned about Lewis's third wife, Myra Gale Brown .and publicly confronted Jerry. She was Lewis's first cousin once removed, and was only 13 years old, even though Brown, Lewis, and his management all insisted that she was 15. The publicity caused an uproar, and the tour was cancelled after only three concerts. Despite his lax morals, or perhaps because of them, Jerry Lee's music was said by some critics to have been born in the bowels of hell and the fires of damnation.

Love and peace. Bill xxx

Song for Today: 21st October 2018

21/10/2018

Autumn Leaves" is a popular song. Originally it was a 1945 French song, "Les Feuilles Mortes" (literally 'The Dead Leaves'). My interpretation is a stripped-back version of the song with a soft and gentle piano background enabling the listener to imagine 'those falling leaves'.

Love and peace. Bill xxx

Song for Today: 20th October 2018

20/10/2018

'My Happiness' is a pop music standard which was initially made famous in the mid-twentieth century. An unpublished version of the melody with different lyrics was written by Borney Bergantine in 1933.

Many people have recorded the song. Among the most popular have been Vera Lynn (1956), Connie Francis 1958), Andy Williams (1959), Pat Boone (1959), The Andrews Sisters (1964), Slim Whitman (1968), and more latterly, Daniel O'Donnell and Elvis Presley.

Love and peace. Bill xxx

Song for Today: 19th October 2018

19/10/2018

Today's song is one that was made a huge hit by the late Jamaican troubadour, Bob Marley in 1979. At the time of writing this song, he had cancer of his toe, a condition that later took his life. The message of 'Redemption Song' was taken from a speech by the Pan-African orator, Marcus Garvey.; a Jamaican-born political leader.

Love and peace. Bill xxx

Song for Today: 18th October 2018

18/10/2018

Today's song was released in 1958 by the Everly Brothers; sixty years ago. Now, that is really showing my age!

Love and peace. Bill xxx

Song for Today: 17th October 2018

17/10/2018

Today's song is the classic foot-stomper that Tina Turner first covered in 1970; 'Proud Mary'. Tina and Ike also made a compilation album of the same name that was released in 1991 which became a huge hit. I dedicate today's song to Steven Spencer and his partner, Ken.

Love and pace. Bill xxx.

Song for Today: 16th October 2018

16/10/2018

I first heard this morning's song thirty-five years ago in 1983. It was sung by Annie Lennox of the Eurythmics. With Annie Lennox being a sort of protest singer of her time who rebelled against so many facets of society, I have never been entirely clear as to the precise meaning of the song, but have always found the Eurythmic sound mesmerising. I find it one of those songs that can mean different things to different people, dependent on the nature of one's experiences.

Love and peace. Bill xxx

Song for Today: 15th October 2018

15/10/2018

My song today is one that was a big hit for Karen Carpenter; 'Top of the World'. As a 'behaviourist', I have always felt that Karen's extreme mood swings in her daily life were mirrored in her songs sung. She had the capacity to raise one's spirits in the most uplifting of ways or induce a sad poignancy in her words.

Love and peace. Bill xxx

Song for Today: 14th October 2018

14/10/2018

"Everybody's Talkin'" is a song written and recorded by singer-songwriter Fred Neil in 1966. A version of the song performed by Harry Nilsson became a hit in 1969, reaching No. 6 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart and winning a Grammy Award after it was featured in the film 'Midnight Cowboy'. This haunting song, which describes the singer's desire to retreat from other people to the ocean, is among the most famous works of both artists. Who could possibly forget the closing scene of the film?

As Joe takes his dying friend towards the land of hope and coconut palms the morning sun kisses their faces. Hope beckons. And then Joe turns to Ratso, who has died with eyes open, staring down the road to Miami. Joe takes into his arms the most enduring love he has ever known and is once again left to face his life alone.

Love and peace. Bill xxx

Song for Today: 13th October 2018

13/10/2018

If you are a romantic, you will never have to look far for the sight, smell and touch of love, as love is always in the air.

Love and peace Bill. xxx

Song for Today: 12th October 2018

12/10/2018

Here's one I made earlier. From my days of romance; from my days of Smoky.

Love and peace. Bill xxx

October 11th, 2018

11/10/2018

Thought for October 10th.

10/10/2018

Thought for today:
Ireland, England, Italy, and France are the four foremost countries that command my eternal endearment, each for different reasons, and yet, for all their distinction, they have had a great impact upon the way I am and think today.

Ireland is a place that is centred in my heart. It is the land of my birth, the home of my deceased parents before they married and had seven children and the graveyard of my ancestors. All people know where they were born, most know who both their parents were, but very few know the precise spot where they were conceived! According to my late mother, the very ground, near to The Metal Man in Tramore, County Waterford, is the place where I was conceived during the cold month of February 1942. Kilkenny is the county that my dear late father played soccer for and excelled in this sport before going on to play for the National Irish squad. The South West of Ireland is the geographical area that my maternal grandfather, William Fanning went on the run as an I.R.A. rebel during the immediate years following the Irish Easter Rebellion of 1916. The river up the Curramorgh in Portlaw, County Waterford is the place that a precocious young, girl two years my senior, took me skinny dipping one summer afternoon during a holiday back home to my birthplace when I was 16 years old and introduced me to 'love on the rocks'. Ireland is not only the land of my birth but it forms the very nature of my history, my earliest childhood memories and the clay of my character. My very first breath of life at my birth will remain preserved in my lungs and bloodstream of my body until I finally expel it on my deathbed. When I die, part of my ashes will be buried within the graves of my maternal grandparents in Portlaw.

England, forgive me Granddad Fanning, is the country that has given me the most since I arrived here at the early age of 4 years. England provided my father with work as a miner when unemployment in Ireland drove millions of migrants across the Irish Sea to the shores of England to secure a better and more prosperous life for themselves and their families. We obtained a lovely newly-built council house within five years of arriving in West Yorkshire on Windybank Estate, Hightown, and not unlike the migrants of today, all the Irish Catholics on the estate kept in close contact and supported each other through thick and thin during our earlier years here. England provided us with work, accommodation, education, and national health service access. As my mother used to say whenever my Irish nationalistic father would utter some uncharitable comment about the Royal family or some other English tradition, 'Paddy Forde, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Everything we ever had in this world, we got in England. Shame on you!' Ironically, my paternal grandfather was an Englishman and it was my mother's father who had the I.R.A. connections. She was the parent who'd been reared in an Irish rebel household until her marriage at the age of 18 years, yet she was the parent who was eternally grateful to England for all it gave our family.

England is where my home will always be, while a place in my heart will always hold Ireland forever dear to me. It was within England that I enjoyed a full education up to and beyond university level. It was a West African surgeon working in an English hospital that saved my life at the early age of 11 years following a horrific traffic accident and when my multiple injuries were extensive and life-threatening. This single incident in my life shaped my attitudes towards non-white skinned people thereafter and reaffirmed my belief in fate and God. It was England that offered me the opportunity to become the youngest Youth Leader in Great Britain as well as the youngest Shop Steward in Great Britain at the age of 18 years. It was my research in England that led to me becoming the founder of Anger Management, one of the country's foremost Relaxation Trainers, a Mill Manager, a Probation Officer, an Author of 67 published books, along with making friends with hundreds of famous people on the national and international stage. It was in England where the locality, the county and the country gave recognition to my contribution to society by giving me a medal from the Queen for my services to the wider community of West Yorkshire, followed by two awards from the Borough of Kirklees Council for my services towards the local community. The National Health Service has literally been a lifesaver to me since the age of 11 years. The N.H.S. has saved my life six times with its operations performed on me and treatment given to me over the past 60 years. Even as I write this post, the care they have provided has already extended my lifespan three years beyond the average lifespan of people with my blood cancer condition.

I mention these achievements, not out of an inflated ego or sense of importance, but to illustrate that everything that has happened to me of significance since the age of five years has occurred in England, and everything my parents and family ever received of significance was given in England!

For any pair of sweethearts to visit Paris without declaring their undying love from the top of the Eiffel Tower is a sin not to be forgiven. To stride through the district of Montmartre which is renowned for its white-domed Basilica of the Sacre Coeur on its summit and not mar at its awesome architecture or to walk in the footsteps of famous artists such as Claude Monet, Pablo Picasso and Vincent van Gogh without sensing that you tread on the cultural minds and mould of history is to deliberately bar oneself from ever knowing the sheer bliss of appreciating good art.

I love being in Paris, particularly in the autumn. It is the place to be when one is in love; the place where love can be purchased in any cafe or on any corner along the Champs-Elysees by any seeker of it for no higher outlay than that of a wayward glance.

As for Italy, ah, Italy! What can one add about Italy that hasn't been said by the traveller. The Italian unification was between (1738-1870). Modern Italy became a nation-state during the Risorgimento on March 17th, 1861, when most of the states of the Italian Peninsula and the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies were united under King Victor Emmanuel 11 of the House of Savoy, hitherto the King of Sardinia. Since then, however, Italy has not adorned itself in international glory. It was 'on the wrong side' at the start of the Second World War and under the dictator, Mussolini, Italy allied itself in treaty with Adolf Hitler of Germany.

Even before Hitler ever appeared on the scene, organized crime has been prevalent in Italy, particularly, Southern Italy. Since the 19th century, organised crime has affected the social and economic life of many Italian regions, although the more heavily active Mafia-like organisations such as the Costa Nostra is known to have existed the longest and started to develop between 1500-1800. The very first time Sheila and I visited Italy, we witnessed the stranglehold power that the Mafia exercised on the Government of the day through its control of the country's unions and their ability to call instant strikes and bring the country to a standstill whenever it wished. Indeed, the influence of the Mafia pervades the entire economics and even politics of the country. If an Italian head of the family, for instance, runs a business, almost all his employees are 'kept in the family'. Not even the Vatican can free itself entirely from the influence of the Mafia and particularly the involvement of organized crime and its laundered money through Italian banks.

Yet, the other side of Italy that tourists predominantly see is the friendliness and openly-welcome nature of its people. I love being in Italy for its food, culture and spectacular scenery more than any other country I have been to in the world. Like most/all of the Mediterranean countries, its slower pace of life and its consumption of fish, fruit, salad and olive oils makes it one of the healthier parts of the world in which to eat well and live longer. Italy has a history that dates back way beyond the Roman times and a culture that has impacted every other European country significantly. One of its current greatest economic failings is the people of the country's propensity not to pay their taxes as they ought to and still expect the coalition government of the day to pick up the tab and still provide an adequate level of services overall.

Given all the ups and downs in the world today, the nationalistic part of me says loud and clear, 'give me England to live in any day of the month or year' as all round, it beats all other countries hands down when it comes to democracy, personal freedom of its citizens, along with its educational, employment and health provisions. Where England undoubtedly lacks as an adequate provider today is in the area of housing and low pay. Over the past decade, we have established the practice of squeezing the worker until the pips squeak, thereby keeping a vast portion of the employment force earning inadequate wage levels for the work they perform and the economic responsibilities they are saddled with and cannot ignore like eating, keeping a roof over one's head and staying one day ahead of going into the red. I realise we are not alone as a country in these areas where things could/should be much better, and this is why each country across the world needs to draw on its strengths more than being preoccupied with its weaknesses."
Love and peace Bill xxx

Thought for October 9th.

9/10/2018

Thought for today:
"Is it any wonder that such a majestic-looking creature is the true king of the forest? Whom among us could ever hope to match that regal stare which seems reserved solely for monarchs who slightly disapprove; the look of absolute power that says, 'I'm here, mate and I'm staying here until I've had my afternoon nap and I choose to budge. So if you're wise, Buster, you'll hop it before I decide to dine early this evening!

There are some people in this world of unattractive look and ungainly stance and posture, that however expensively they were clothed, they'd still look like mutton dressed as lamb. And on the other side of the coin, there are men and women who could wear some old jeans or a simple-designed inexpensive dress and they would still appear to be the height of fashion. The simple truth is that some people carry themselves better than others; some with a walk and look that indicates they were made to wear the very best clothes. I will mention but one person who ideally fitted this description of always 'looking good' in whatever clothes he wore or however badly he behaved.

When he was alive, I was distant friends with the Right Honourable, Alan Kenneth Mackenzie Clark for a number of years before his death. Alan served as a junior minister in Margaret Thatcher's governments at the Departments of Employment, Trade and Defence; and in 1991 he became a privy councillor. Alan, was, like his father, a superb diarist and author of several books of military history, including his controversial work. 'The Donkeys' (1961) which is believed to have inspired the musical satire, 'Oh, what a lovely war!'

Alan was forever known for his flamboyance, wit and irreverence, and the then Chancellor of the Exchequer (1990-1993), Norman Lamont, described him as 'the most politically incorrect, outspoken, iconoclastic and reckless politician of our times'. During his time as a Minister in Margaret Thatcher's Government, Alan was to engage in his romantic flings outside his marriage with a kind of indifference/irreverence that put up two fingers to the establishment and the rest of his parliamentary colleagues, and which also drove his loving and faithful wife, Jane, to occasional distraction. Jane never abandoned her husband and tolerated his outrageous philanderings better than any other woman one could ever imagine. When her husband's adultery with three mistresses simultaneously was revealed by one of them to the national press and his wife, Jane was pressed for a response in the grounds of the family home at Saltwood Castle, she famously replied, 'If you bed people of below-stairs class, don't be surprised if they go to the papers.'

It was our mutual love of British History and joint love of animals that initially led to our friendship. We had an ongoing correspondence, and Alan was good enough to check and where necessary correct some of the historical backgrounds I would write into my own books. He also helped to support my charitable work in a number of ways.

Despite many of his peers in the establishment of stuffy Whitehall finding him a bit too much to handle, he had a way with him that endeared him even to 'The Iron Lady', with whom his favourable comments often flirted.

One of the very first things about him that interested me, however, was his sartorial dress appearance which shouted, 'style, style!' whether he wore a Savile Row suit or a tattered old pair of old gardening jeans.

However, what really attracted my interest in him the most wasn't his sartorial style or the easy way he could pick up mistresses by the score and still retain the love of his wife and his castle intact; it was 'the majesty of his walk'. When Alan moved across the television screen in 1993 giving a half-hour 'Opinions' lecture, televised by Channel 4, each step he took commanded the full attention of his viewing audience. He didn't so much 'walk across the floor', but like that of a swan, 'he glided majestically' before one's eyes. I suspect that like the preying lion, also of majestic status, he stalked his prey with a gliding certainty of foot that is rarely seen beyond the jaws of the jungle or the castle wall.

At the early age of 11 years, an accident which wrapped my body around the shaft axle of a lorry left me crippled and fighting for my life. Then, over fifty leg operations over the year left one of my legs 3 inches shorter than the other. While I was unable to walk for almost three years, when I did walk again, because of the 3-inch height difference between my left and right leg, I was left with an ungainly and inelegantly pronounced limp of considerable magnitude.

After my childhood accident, much of my life was devoted to finding differing methods and exercises to minimise my degree of limp when I walked. In large measure, I was extremely successful, not in the least by imagining myself often in the shoes of the late Alan Clark as he majestically glided across the floor.

The next time you are in a position that you want to impress, you could do much worse than adopting the regal posture and effortless stride of the lion adorned in his smooth coat and majestic mane."
Love and peace Bill xxx

Thought for October 8th.

8/10/2018

Thought for today:
"Have you noticed how women are now branching out into realms of society that were once considered the sole domain of the man? I am not referring to the political, electoral, educational, employment, sexual and social advancement that the law has enacted and enshrined over the past century that confers equality of access and status between the sexes, but a much more important aspect in the hearts of men. Women are now touching bases and are entering those manly places that were once the exclusive sanctums of masculinity personified.

Once, a gentrified man was able to visit his Private Club to get away from the responsibilities of domesticity. Even the working man had his Working Man's Club to go to escape the presence and attention seeking behaviour of children and wives. The sporty types also had their 'all male' Golf Clubs. After the women had secured equality in all things with their menfolk, a Martian observing from outer space would have assumed that they'd broken through every glass ceiling and burned every bra there was and that was the battle of the sexes well and truly won. How wrong and presumptuous such an observation would have been to make!

When I was a boy during the early post-war years of the 1950s, many men and women who had been persuaded between 1939 and 1945 to 'grow for England' had uprooted their manicured lawns and flower beds and exchanged them for fruit and vegetables to supplement the family table during times of want and food shortage. After the war, many men found that they no longer had the exclusivity of their garden to retire to for a bit of peace and quiet, so gradually over the next decade, they developed new havens to escape the screams of children and the chattering of wives often half a mile away. These places were called 'allotments'; small plots of land that became the established domain of a man and upon whose earth, no woman's foot ever trod.

The first such plot of land I ever saw belonged to my maternal grandfather, William Fanning in Ireland; fifty yards away from the house in which he lived and the one where I was born in November 1942. William Fanning, who was affectionately called Willie by his wife and the people of Portlaw had an eventful early life as an Irish rebel who was 'on the run' in the I.R.A. after the Easter Uprising of 1916 in Dublin. He managed to escape the British soldiers and before he was twenty-five years old he discovered he had a dodgy heart. His running days being over, he found himself no longer being able to escape the clutches of young Mary Lanning nor the consequences of the child she was carrying (my mother), whom he subsequently married. The couple set up home in the village of Portlaw, County Waterford and parented seven surviving children of whom my mother was the oldest.

My grandfather was a handsome man who was highly popular in the village. After developing a dodgy heart condition, being unable to hold down a conventional job, he became the man in Portlaw who mended the damaged bicycles and repaired their punctures. He performed this work in a shed that he built and occupied in his backyard, between 9.00 am daily and 4.00 pm. At first, all seemed to go well and granddad enjoyed the fact that he could work within yards from his wife in the event of him ever getting a heart attack as my grandmother could see him at work in his shed through her kitchen window as she cleaned and made copious amounts of soda bread that I loved. One thing soon led to another, and grandmother no longer remained satisfied to have her husband in constant sight; she needed to inform him when his meals were ready and she also desired to talk with him whenever she wanted to. Granddad Fanning was a kind of mad inventor, the Heath Robinson of Portlaw who could turn his hand to anything.( Heath Robinson was the unsung hero of British eccentricity and innovation).

Initially, my granddad designed a sort of jungle-type telephone aided by two tin cans, a long piece of string and a bicycle bell. The string stretched from his work shed to grandma's kitchen via her small kitchen window. Each end of the string was placed through a hole in the base of the tin can. In granddad's shed was a bell from a bicycle that rang whenever grandmother pulled her end of the string tight to inform her husband she had something to say. The couple would then manage to speak somehow through the tin cans. I thought this invention to be nothing less than sheer magic, but granddad soon started to realise that although his wife had something she wanted to say to him, he didn't always like what it was that was said, as she usually pestered him and reminded him about other work she wanted doing and which he hadn't got around to.

Having broken the peace of his work shed that he once enjoyed, most of his hours were gradually increased in his lengthy back garden where he grew his home production of potatoes and cabbages all year round. Granddad liked being in his allotment more than his work shed in the backyard where grandma was able to see him 24/7. Eventually, grandma, who'd never previously entered the gate of the allotment started visiting to complain to her husband about this or that. My granddad's response was to build himself another shed, an impregnable fortress that she or no other woman would ever be able to enter. The lock on the door of the shed was substantial and it had two bolts on its inside and was made wholly soundproof. After he had completed his bicycle repairs for the day, granddad would make a hasty retreat to his allotment shed with two flasks of strong sugared tea, a packet of Woodbines and a bottle of porter. If grandmother tried to get his attention in the allotment shed by banging on the door, he always pleaded ignorance saying that he'd never heard her. There was only one key to the allotment shed that he wore around his neck twenty-four hours a day. The key was on a string with some little bells on that would chime whenever it moved, just in case grandma tried to relieve him of it when he was fast asleep.

Granddad was one of the early allotment holders who had managed to find a quiet haven away from the chattering clatter of his dear wife. I came to England at the age of four/five years and my father started work as a miner. He would often tell me about the harsh conditions of the pit. These stories fascinated me and eventually became the background for one of my most favourite books that I was to go on and write in my fiftieth year of life.

When I was a boy, many miners who worked below ground for most of the week and who never saw the sunlight until the arrival of Saturday would spend most of the weekend in their gardens or garden sheds. Those lucky ones who were fortunate enough to have an allotment used to spend many a peaceful hour there in the certain knowledge that their manly peace would not be interrupted by the clatter of a house full of children, the constant drone of domestic drivel in the background and household chores waiting to be done.

I still recall my father telling me that 'a man's shed is just that.....a man's shed. It is his castle and the garden that surrounds it is the moat that no woman shall ever be allowed to cross.'

Well..... being a lad at the time, I could clearly understand this common-sense view and sympathise with such natural male feelings. My grandfather was a very wise Irish man who used to frequently remind his drinking pals in the pub whenever referring to the fairer sex, 'Be very careful my friend, Give them an inch and they'll want a yard. Let them know what you earn weekly and they'll expect you to hand your weekly wage packet over unopened every week.... why, I wouldn't put it past them to ask for pocket money next and then where will we all be? They'll expect the vote next!'

It was partly my memories of my grandfather's sheds along with my father's mining background and his love of the garden that led me to write one of the books I most enjoyed writing, 'Tales from the Allotment'. While dad never had an allotment but would have dearly loved one, when I married Sheila, an allotment nearby came as part of her dowry. At first, it was a nice place to visit in between our busy social life, but since I developed a terminal blood cancer six years ago, it has become a refuge and haven for me. Having no effective immune system with which to fend off infections, being in the company of more than two people at once can be highly dangerous for me. Any cold they have in my presence will result in me catching immediate pneumonia and risk dying as a consequence.

For the first five years of my terminal illness, I was confined to a mixture of hospital, bed and house for nine months out of each year. It is only the past year that I have experienced my best ever year, since contracting my cancer, and that is largely due to my daily visits to the allotment with Sheila. Being at the allotment effectively swaps the infectious presence of human beings for the non-infectious contact of birds, flowers and vegetables, plus the sight of the occasional squirrel, a frog and a rat.

Where I do distinctly differ from my father and grandfather, however, is that my wife Sheila attends 'our allotment' with me and I am so pleased that she does. Our allotment has become an ongoing project that we both love. Being less able to use both hands and feet today, Sheila willingly does the bulk of the labouring while I point her in the right direction and teach her what knowledge I have about plants, gardening, laying pathways and working out pleasant designing features Over the past six months, Sheila has become so skilled at many gardening crafts that we have almost completed the paving over of the lawn area of the allotment as a safety factor to prevent the likelihood of me accidentally falling. Merely falling can reawaken my resting cancer which is presently in hibernation.

Ah........the joys of progress. My father and grandfather would turn in their graves if they knew that I'd not only allowed my wife into my garden/allotment shed but that I actually invited her and gave her her own key to the shed so that she may enter it when I am not about!"
Love and peace Bill xxx