Sunday, 29 November 2020

Snippets of Downshire Life – Feast of St Andrew

The traditional seaside resort of Sharpington-by-Sea with its Victorian Pier, seafront hotels, crazy golf, The Palladium ballroom, well maintained gardens, promenade, theatre and illuminations, has all the usual things to have a great time by the seaside, as well as amusement arcades and of course the Sharpington Fun Park and it was in the grand neighbourhood of Granite Hill, which in a nod to San Francisco, the locals had nicknamed Nob Hill where local Children’s Writer, Alesha Khan, was hosting a dinner party, and among the guests were Kerry Freeborn and Sharon Blackburn, a pair of visiting thespians.

 

The hostess had first met Kerry after they both took part in the World Book Day events at Sharpington Library and they became friends, but that evening was the first time Sharon and Alesha had met.

 

There was a period of reacquaintance with the guest that she knew and formal introductions to those she didn’t but then after a brief chat with her guests Alesha had to excuse herself to check on the food, so it was upto the guests to amuse themselves.

In addition to the hostess Alesha, were a skinny young woman of a similar age, Kim Labuschagne, an illustrator, who was an old school friend, who also assisted in the kitchen, then there was Alesha’s brother Zach, an artist, Russell Glavin, the new curate of St Lucy’s, Henry Appleby, Church Warden of same, Literary agents, Jayson and Kathryn Mercer, and Tim Street who was a Local Historian, so it was an interesting bunch.

 

Kerry and Sharon got to know each other when they both worked on a very popular TV soap and during their time on the show they became very good friends, and over the years, in addition to the soap they had also worked in the theatre and even in pantomime, which was why they were both in Sharpington, at the Bluebird Theatre, doing panto, playing the ugly sisters in Cinderella, which was intended to be ironic given the way they looked.

At 30 years old, Kerry was stunningly attractive, slim with shoulder length brunette hair and hazel eyes but even Sharon, who was three years older, put her friend in the shade with her looks.

Sharon was slightly taller and a little curvier than Kerry with a shock of flame red hair, so it wasn’t their looks that kept them single.

Their problem was that in their profession it was difficult to meet men, well the right kind of men at any rate, and had over the years grown weary of being hit on by all the usual suspects.

Men who wanted to either be seen with a famous actress on their arm or wanted the glamour lifestyle they imagined went along with being a successful actor or on the baser level just wanted to have sex with a celebrity.

There was another obvious alternative to those types of men, and that was to date someone from their own world, someone on a par with them, but in their experience most actors tended to have huge egos and small personalities.

So, despite their professional success they were no different to any other human being, looking for love or companionship or a family.

What they needed was someone who would like them or love them for who they were rather than thinking of them as a backstage pass to a celebrity life.

But neither of them were actively looking for anyone so it came as a complete surprise to meet a serious candidate at dinner party in a small seaside town.

But not only had Sharon met someone, she was instantly smitten, and that was even before she knew who he was.

The man in question was Zach Khan, older brother of the hostess, and a renowned artist, and from the first minute she saw him she was besotted and she hung on his every word, not that there were a lot of them, as he was rather shy, unlike his sister, who was outgoing and bubbly, he was reflective and guarded.

But Sharon wasn’t going to let that derail her, after all she could talk enough for the two of them, and when the time came for them to take their seats she found that she was seated opposite him and she gave him her full and undivided attention.

 

“I went to your exhibition in Abbottsford last year” she said “at the Beumont Gallery”

“Really?” he said doubtfully

“Yes I was in a play at the Empire and I passed the gallery every day on my way to the theatre, so I went in every day” she confessed

“Everyday?” he said with a smile “Even I wasn’t there every day”

“I must confess that the first time was more about having time to kill, than art, but it was art that took me back again and again”

“Well thank you for that”

“I would have gone more often but it wasn’t on long enough” she said “I was horrified one Monday morning to find you had been replaced by some ill conceived art installation”

“You are clearly a woman of taste” he said and raised his glass to her and she returned his toast

“So what was you favorite piece” he asked, expecting her to say something glib in return such as

“I liked them all”

He hoped he was wrong because he liked her.

“That’s really difficult” she replied “you’ve put me on the spot now”

“Oh dear” he thought

“There are actually three”

“Excuse me?”

“I can’t pin it down to one, so I have three pieces that I particularly liked” she said

“Tell me more” he instructed her desperate now to hear

“Two of them are paintings, “Umbrella Girl” and “The Defiant Harlot”“ she said “and the other was a sculpture “Spirit of Ecstacy Aflame”.

“Wow, I’m impressed that you remembered the names” he said “Most people say, “I liked the fairy with flames instead of wings”“ he said in a Monty Python voice and she laughed and then he went thoughtful and said

“Wait a minute, you were at the Empire Theatre while the exhibition was on”

“Yes” she admitted

“In Blue Blooded Murder?” he asked, impressed that he knew the name of the rather indifferent play

“Yes that’s right” she replied and then he studied her closely and put his hands up the frame her face, they way a film director would do

“Aha” he exclaimed “You were the murderer”

“Yes I was” she giggled

“You didnt have your lovelly red mane on show though” he said and she blushed at the compliment

“No it was under a black wig” she admitted, and then she whispered “it wasn’t a very good play”

“Well I liked it” he said “I actually went twice”

 

The remainder of the evening passed in the same easy manner until it was time to leave and they were suddenly thanking Alesha, who was at the front door saying goodbye to her guests in turn, and then they were outside.

Sharon was in a bit of a quandry because she was getting on so well with Zach that she didn’t really want the evening to end, and she would really have rather gone somewhere for a quiet drink than go back to the hotel.

But she was also mindful of the fact that she had gone there with Kelly and she didn’t want to ditch her.

So she and Zach, just hung around and waited to see what Kelly was going to do, he had noticed that she was getting on really well with Jayson, and just when she was about to accept the inevitable and walk back to the hotel with her friend she heard Jayson ask

“Are you staying at the Seaview?”

“Yes, we both are” Kelly replied

“Well why don’t I walk you there” he suggested “I’m sure Zach will be happy to escort Sharon” 

“Yes indeed” he said, and Sharon nodded vigorously

“We’ll be right behind you”

 

“Are you in a hurry to get back?” Zack asked as the ambled down the road to Sharpington Promenade from the heights of Granite Hill, with the gap between them and Jayson and Kelly lengthening with every step.

“No, not really, why?”

“Well there’s a little club just off the promenade called the Tainted Angel” he said “We could have a nightcap”

“The Tainted Angel?”

“Yes, though it’s not as seedy as the name suggests” he replied with a chuckle

“Oh well that’s ok then” she said “I’m in your hands”

“I like the sound of that” he said and put his arm through hers.

 

The Tainted Angel was located in a side street very close to the Hotel and when she first saw it her first impression was that the façade certainly didn’t hint at any seediness and Sharon was also pleasantly surprised with the interior, which was quite classy with its plush seating and moody lighting.

It was ostensibly a jazz club as hinted at by the artwork on the walls and in one corner was a small stage, which suggested there was live music at times, though not then, but there were jazz tunes emanating from the speakers. 

After getting their drinks from the bar they chose a quiet corner table from where they could see everything that was going on.

“This is nice” she said

“I like it” he agreed

“The music is good too” she said

“You like listening to Jazz?” Zach asked

“I do” she replied “But I like to play it as well”

“You do not!” he said incredulously “You’re a musician? What do you play?”

“Clarinet” she replied and smiled broadly “All the best Jazz is played on the Clarinet”

“That’s a bold statement, what about the Trumpet, Armstrong is sublime” he protested

“Yes, I know, and Kenny Baker’s Sax, Bix Beiderbecke’s Cornet and Oscar Petersen’s on Piano” she said passionately “But I will just say this, Artie Shaw, Benny Goodman and Acker Bilk, and then I will rest my case”

“Wow” he said “you’re irrepressible”

“I know it’s the red hair” she retorted and laughed

“So, when do you play?”

“As and when” she replied “There is a bunch of fellow Thesps who play wherever and whenever we can, Kelly plays piano”

“You should play here while you’re in Sharpington” he suggested “The owner would be thrilled”

“You know the owner then?”

“Kind off” he replied “I am the owner”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, I also own the Jazz Shack in Abbeyvale and I co-own Beiderbecke’s in Finchbottom” he said as he got up “Another drink?”

“Please”

 

The drinks kept coming as they sat and talked and they covered a lot of ground but as the time wore on what Sharon really wanted to talk about was him, the personal stuff, she knew he was an Artist who liked Jazz and the Theatre, but there was one vital area they hadn’t covered, so as the hour reached 2am and the drink had taken effect on her she asked.

“What about you?”

“What?” he replied

“What about you?” she repeated this time with more than a hint of a slur “are you spoken for?”

And she then reran the question in her head and was alarmed by the realization of what she had actually said

“What I meant to say is… um… err… are you… erm…”

And he smiled as he watched her struggle and get more and more flustered but decided to put her out of her misery.

“I’m single”

“Oh” she responded trying to appear indifferent “still not met the right girl?”

“I wouldn’t say that exactly” he replied but didn’t elaborate.

“What about you?” he asked

“Oh, still footloose and fancy free” Sharon replied

“That’s good to know” he said and then checked his watch and added “I’d better get you home Cinders”

“I’m not Cinders” she corrected him “I’m an ugly sister, can you believe that, bloody cheek”

 

It was only a short walk from the Club to the Hotel and she held on to him very tightly, not so much out of necessity than of lust. 

“I hope you didn’t mind me asking if you were… you know” she said “But I know what you Bohemian Arty types are like”

“Oh, and what are we like?” he asked

“A muse in every Garret” she retorted and dissolved into laughter, and she laughed so much that she had tears in her eyes, but when she looked up at him through tear filled eyes he kissed her, and what a kiss, it was the sort of kiss lovers longed for, and dreamt of

“So, what does this mean?” she asked when their lips parted

“What would you like it to mean?” he asked

“That you’re my bohemian and I’m you muse” she replied

“That’s precisely what it means” he said, and they kissed again.

Snippets of Downshire Life – St Andrew’s Day

The Pepperstock Hills National Park stretched from the bare, and often barren crags of Oxley Ridge in the North to the dense wooded southern slopes on the fringe of the Finchbottom Vale and from Quarry Hill, and the Pits in the West to Pepperstock Bay in the East.

It is an area of stark contrasts and attracted a variety of visitors.

The quarry hill side of the park to the west, as the name suggests, was heavily Quarried over several hundred years, though more extensively during the industrial revolution, the Quarries had been un-worked for over fifty years and nature had reclaimed them and former pits had become lakes and were very popular with anglers and the sparse shrubbery and woodland made it popular spot with courting couples whereas the northern crags and fells were popular with climbers and more hardy folk.

To the south and east was an extensive tract of magnificent mixed forestry and was rivalled only by the ancient woodland of the Dancingdean Forest.

One of the parks many villages was Springwater which was where Graham Reynolds had lived for all 63 years of his life, in fact he’d lived his entire life in the same house, and it had never once occurred to him that he should live anywhere else.

 

He was born in the late fifties and had few recollections of that austere decade, almost all his earliest memories were from the brasher, brighter and less restrained sixties.

But the earliest memories he did have were about Christmas and in the Reynolds household Christmas began on St Andrew’s Day, November 30th.

As a result of his awareness of the time, coming on the cusp of the decades, his earliest memories of Christmas were of a bright and sparkly time when paper chains and the watery coloured paper stars, bells and balls were being replaced by dazzling foil and tinsel.

Which included the Silver Tinsel Christmas Tree, when he looked back it was a quite unspectacular specimen of a tree compared to what’s on offer in the 21st century, but he loved it.

It stood less than 5 feet tall with its fold down tinsel covered wire branches, tipped with red beads to symbolize berries.

However, by the time his Dad had worked his not inconsiderable Christmas magic and covered it with every size, shape and shade of bauble, glass birds with feathered tails, lantern lights, strands of brightly coloured tinsel, foil covered chocolate treats and tiny crackers lain on the branches, it was transformed and was absolutely stunning.

It was the only tree he’d ever known until his teenage years came to an end, when in the mid-seventies he suggested that they have a real tree just for a change.

He would never have suggested it if he had realized for a second that it would signal the death knell of the Silver Tinsel Tree.

Because the following year it was replaced by a green plastic tree much more akin to those of today.

 

After his Dad died a few years later the task of decorating the tree fell to him and he instantly realized, sadly, that he hadn’t inherited his father’s tree dressing skill and was never able to equal him.

He came very close one year, in 1983 it was, but he concluded in the end that he merely flattered to deceive.

 

The task of tree dresser fell to his wife Evelyn which she performed admirably for 36 years, and she made a far better fist of it than Graham ever could.

However, whether she possessed the necessary skill to transform a Silver Tinsel Tree into something stunning he would never know, as she passed away in October.

“What I would give to watch you dress the tree again my darling” he said as he stared at the naked branches “and then hold you in my arms beside it”

Snippets of Downshire Life – Advent

The traditional seaside resort of Sharpington-by-Sea with its Victorian Pier, seafront hotels, crazy golf, The Palladium ballroom, well maintained gardens, promenade, theatre and illuminations, has all the usual things to have a great time by the seaside, as well as amusement arcades and of course the Sharpington Fun Park and it was in the grand neighbourhood of Granite Hill, which in a nod to San Francisco, the locals had nicknamed Nob Hill, where the new Curate of St Lucy’s, 35 year old Russell Glavin, was headed.

And the reason he was going up to Granite Hill was to have dinner at the home of a local bigwig, and he was muttering to himself and shaking his head for virtually the whole of his walk, as he reran an incident that happened earlier in the evening.

 

He was at the home of the Church Warden Henry Appleby for a meeting about the beginning of Advent, when he needed to pee, so he discreetly slipped away from the meeting and went to use the down stairs bathroom and no sooner had he gone inside and locked the door than he spotted a woman sitting on the toilet, with her tights and underwear around her knees and her skirt hoisted up her thighs.
“I'm so sorry” he said in a fluster “I didn’t think, I am so, so sorry”
He was in such a state that he didn’t know where to look, but when he noticed her smiling at him he got all flustered and turned to leave, but his hand was shaking so much that he couldn’t unlock the door and then he heard her get up and replace her clothing.

“It’s ok I’m not angry” she said, and he turned around to face her

“But I’m so terribly sorry” he said, and she smiled at his discomfort and he got all flustered again and this time when he turned to unlock the door he succeeded and returned to the meeting, just in time for the end, despite the fact he still hadn’t peed.

 

But as he made the steep climb up to Granite Hill all he could think of was the incident with the young and beautiful young woman with the dark skin and bobbed brunette hair and dark, almost black eyes, and that glorious smile.

 

When he reached the house, he knocked on the door and was greeted by Henry Appleby, who he had met at the earlier meeting at his home.

“Hello Russell, the lady of the House is in the lounge” he said and pointed the way

“Thanks Henry” He responded and then headed to the lounge as directed, and no sooner had he gone inside and closed the door than he spotted the woman who’d been sitting on the toilet at Henry’s and she flashed him her glorious smile, a smile that reached her dark, almost black eyes, sharp and intelligent eyes behind her gold rimmed spectacles as they sat on her aquiline nose and with her finely chiselled features she was the beautiful side of attractive, and despite his embarrassment from earlier he found himself drawn to her.

“Ah Russell this is our hostess Alesha Khan”

“Alesha, this is our new Curate, Russell Glavin”

“Hello Russell” she said offering her hand “It’s nice to see you again so soon”

“Likewise,” he said shaking her hand and he felt a tingle of electricity pass between them.

“Oh, I didn’t realise you’d already met” Henry said

“It was on a brief hello” she said without elaboration

He knew that she wasn’t at Henry’s for the meeting, she was only there to go through the Parish accounts, so he wasn’t quite sure how they’d met.

“Alesha Khan?” he said “the Children’s Writer”

“Yes” she replied

“I just bought my niece “the Wayward Wiccan” for Christmas” he said “She’s a big fan”

“She has impeccable taste” she said with a laugh

“Now you must excuse me while I check the food”

 

He was conciderably less embarassed after having met, and been formaly introduced to her, especially as she was fully clothed, so he was able to relax and mingle with the other guests.

In addition to the hostess Alesha, there was a skinny young woman of a similar age, Kim Labuschagne, an illustrator, who was an old school friend of the hostess, and she also assisted in the kitchen, Alesha’s brother Zach, an artist, Henry Appleby, Church Warden at St Lucy’s, Literary agents, Jayson and Kathryn Mercer,

Actresses Kerry Freeborn and Sharon Blackburn and Tim Street who was a Local Historian, so it was an interesting bunch.

 

When the time came for them to take their seats he found that he was seated between the Actress, Kelly Freeborn, and Alesha, and as the actress seemed to be focusing all her attension on the man across the table from her, Jayson Mercer, he found he spent most of the meal talking to his hostess.    

She was a delightful young woman, intelligent, witty and a very good cook, toboot, he thought of her as a young woman but she was only younger than him by a year or two.

“So tell me about you niece?” she asked

“Amanda is my sister Liz’s daughter, 12 years old, incredibly bright, a voracious reader, and she can twist me round her little finger” he said proudly “and as she is an only child, I spoil her”

“Is she local?”

“Relatively, they live in Shallowfield” he said “So I see them fairly regularly”

“And do you have any other nephews and nieces?”

“No, just the one” he replied

“What about children of your own?” she asked

“No, sadly, but then I am a batchelor”

“So you’re not the marrying kind eh?” she said and winked

“I wouldn’t say that. I just havent met the right person yet” he replied

“Perhaps you’ve been looking in the wrong places” she said and raised her eyebrows, in reference to their first meeting and they both laughed.

 

Over coffee Alesha said

“As your niece Amanda is a fan, why don’t you pop round with the book some time and I’ll sign it for you”

“That’s very kind but I wouldn’t wish to presume on your good nature” he protested

“Nonsense, I insist” she said and touched the back of his had, and he felt that tingle of electricity again and he could tell by her expression that she felt it too.   

“Thank you” he said after she removed her hand

“That would be great Kudos for me, She’ll think I’m the best Uncle in the World”

“I’m sure she does already” she said and smiled and then people started getting up to leave so he felt that he should too.

 

Alesha was at the front door saying goodbye to her guests and Russell was the last of them

“So I know you’re going to be busy for the next few days at St Lucy’s as it’s the first Sunday of Advent, and then I’m in Abbottsford for a couple of days, seeing my publisher among other things, so is Wednesday eveing ok with you?”

“That would be perfect” he said and shook her hand, “Good night”

“Good night, Russell I’ll see you Wednesday”

  

Alesha was right about him being busy on Sunday, St Lucy’s was such a well attended Church that they ran three services, at his previous Parish they barely had enough Parishioners to run one.

When he called round to her house on Wednesday Evening he related his thoughts to her while they sat in her lounge drinking coffee.

“So how did you motivate yourself to so few, was it Matthew 18:20 “For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them”” she asked

“No I used an old joke that my Uncle Walter told me many years ago, he was also a clergyman, and a very funny man” he said

“Well do tell” she said in ernest

“Ok then” he said “It was a bitterly cold and bleak Christmas morning and the snow had been falling heavily for hours, and the Vicar stood at the door waiting to greet his congregation, but none came, then just as he had decided to cancel the service, one solitary parishioner arrived, a farmer named John, “Merry Christmas john”, the Vicar said, but alas you’ve had a wasted journey because even though it’s Christmas day I’ve decided there’s no point in having a service today”

“Well Vicar when I go to the fields at feeding time and only one cow turns up, I still feed it””

“That’s a great analogy” Alesha said and laughed delightfully

“Not as poetic as Matthew but very funny”

 

“Now wheres that book?” she asked and put a lap tray in place in preparation and he gave her it to her and she opened the fly leaf and began to write, and write.

“That’s a very long inscription” he said

“Hush, I’m busy giving you more kudos” she said and chuckled

“There” she said offering the book to him, and snatching it back imediately

“No peeking until she’s read it, promise”

“Promise” he said and she handed the book to him which he put straight in his bag.

 

When it was time for him to leave Alesha took the cups to the kitchen while he slipped his coat on and when she came back she said

“Its absolutely bucketing down out there”

“That’s ok I don’t have far to go”

“I’ll drive you in the car” she offered

“I’ll be fine really”

“Nonsence you’ll catch your death, and you’ve got a busy time ahead, you still have three advent services, St Lucy’s Day, the Carol Concert, Christingle and then theres Christmas itself, so if you think I’m going to let you get soakd to the skin you are very much mistaken” she said forcefully and found herself buttoning his coat when she was finished “So we’ll go in the car”

“Ok then” he conceeded

 

As she walked him to the front door he added

“I have to confess I was surprised to find the Author of “the Wayward Wiccan” was a christian”

“Do you mean because my heroine is a pagan?”

“Yes I suppose so”

“Well first of all despite her being a Wiccan she is also a force for good” she said

“And its very difficult to completely sepearate paganism and christianity, especially at this time of year, Christmas itself takes place at the time of the old Roman festival of Saturnalia”

“Well yes that’s true” he agreed

“And the bringing of evergreens in to the home, a wreath on the door, holly boughs, Christmas Trees and of course this…” she said pointing upwards to the mistletoe hanging above them.

“Ah” he exckaimed

“A very potent pagan symbol” she said

“I don’t suppose we could just ignore it” he enquired

“Not really”

“We could pretend we havent seen it” he suggested

“I wouldn’t recommend it” Alesha said gravely

“You wouldn’t?”

“No, it might anger the Gods”

“The pagan Gods?”

“No, the Christmas Gods” she said and kissed him, and it was a gentle tender kiss that made his knees go weak.

“Oh my, that’s very potent” Russell sighed

“Well I think that should appease the Gods” she said and opened the door “For now”

“Oh I think so” he agreed

 

When she pulled up outside Jubilee Court he was hoping for another taste of pagan potensy but he was to be dissapointed

“I’m off on my travels again” she said “but I should be back on St Lucy’s Day”

“Ok, good night then, and thanks for the lift”

“My pleasure, good night, I hope to see you at the party” she said