Fifth series, episode 15
All five series are available here on the HebWeb.
In the latest episode, George Murphy discusses the recent flood warning, shares three tales and invited readers to share their views on identity cards.
Slow flow
A flood warning pinged on our phones:
Immediate action required!
Darkness impeded us. We couldn’t walk out, as we usually do when the siren drones, to check the level of the Calder below the weir. So, the whole neighbourhood drove their cars up the slight rise out of the floodplain. "Better to be safe than sorry."
Then we drove the cars of those who were away on holiday, and each time we walked back through the pelting rain. On Station Road, there was a large shallow pool that cars splashed through, but the pavement was fine to walk on. I stayed up late, but noticed photos on FaceBook showing mallards sitting pretty and unperturbed on the wavy steps above the hurrying River Hebden.
Next morning, the sky was blue. The river was fuller and faster. The canal reflected the azure sky and Harriet had hung her washing out to dry from her narrow boat. Despite 24 hours of incessant rain, above the floodplain, workers and volunteers and their leaky dam, Slow the Flow, constructions, had saved us once again.
On the Spice trail
Thinking of escaping to exotic places, I wrote a version of an old tale.
The third eye
Cheng was a healer and fortune teller and he had the gift of the third eye. One day he saw two demons enter the market where he had his stall. They soon got up to mischief, tripping a dignitary, robbing an apple from a stall and putting it into a poor goatherd’s hand as he passed by, causing the stall holder to shout ‘Thief!’ and chase after him.
Then a post boy came past, holding a letter in a cleft stick above his head. The demons fell into step behind him. The post boy crossed the market to the school teacher’s house. So Cheng quit his stall and followed them. As the servant girl opened the door, the demons slipped into the house.
Fearing the worst, Cheng sat in a tea room opposite the teacher’s house. In time, he saw a servant girl rush out and then return with the physician. Later he saw the physician leave, shaking his head.
Cheng paid the tea seller, then strode to the teacher’s house. He asked the servant girl if anyone had fallen ill. She took him to a room where Yan, teacher’s daughter, lay on a mattress, her desperate parents kneeling beside her.
Only Cheng could see the demons sucking the lifeblood out of Yan with long straws. He explained what the parents must do to save her life. Soon, every crack and crevice, every opening to the world outside the room, was crammed with folded paper and parchment. Then Cheng was given a saucepan and metal ladle and he ordered everyone from the room. He bashed and clattered the saucepan with the ladle.
The piercing red eyes of the demons turned towards him. He clattered the pan even louder. The demons writhed and squealed and hissed, then fell to the ground, as if in their death throes. But then, Yan’s little brother, awakened by the din, ran to the door of the room and, before his parents could stop him, he pulled the folded paper from the keyhole to see if his sister was stirring.
WHOOOSH! the demons flew out through the key hole and back into the outside world.
Yan began to recover and by the next morning she was as well as well could be. As the family celebrated the recovery of Yan, Cheng slipped away, knowing that he had not seen the last of his new demon enemies. Cheng’s fame spread. The local ruler heard of his popularity and sent for him. He wanted to see if Cheng deserved his fame.
The ruler had summoned his courtiers to witness the event. A servant brought in a small cage with a cloth draped over it.
“Well, Cheng. I am told you have miraculous powers. Let’s put them to the test. But if you fail to answer correctly you will be executed at day break! Tell me, how many animals are hidden in the cage beneath this cloth? ”
“Two,” Cheng replied calmly.
The ruler stepped forward and lifted the cloth, revealing a single plump rat. The court gasped. The ruler nodded with satisfaction.
“Cheng, we see that you are an imposter, and an enemy of my people. At daybreak you will be beheaded in the public square!”
But the ruler’s physician believed in Cheng’s powers and that night he couldn’t sleep. He sent for a servant and asked him to bring him the rat in the cage. Once he had killed the rodent, the physician saw that the rat was a pregnant female with a single foetus in her womb.
It was almost sunrise. He rushed to the ruler’s chamber with his evidence. “Quick sire,” he said. “You must stop the execution.” The ruler ordered the guards to raise the flag above the prison walls to show the populace and the executioner that the execution had been halted.
As the sun rose behind the hills, Cheng was brought out to the square. The dignitaries sat on a raised dais. The executioner bowed solemnly to Cheng, who bowed in return. The people and the executioner looked up to the guards on the high wall of the prison.
The sun rose above the hills and lit up the scene. A guard marched to the flag pole and pulled on the ropes to raise the flag and signal to the dignitaries and the people of the town that there had been a reprieve. But the flag did not rise. There was a groan from the gathering. The guard pulled and pulled, but the flag would not rise and unfurl.
Only Cheng could see the two demons, grinning and waving to him as they swung from the flag pole, preventing the flag from rising. When he heard the swoosh of the executioner’s blade, he instinctively closed his eyes. But, for a moment, his third eye saw everything.
Gobsh!te at the Golden Lion
On the last Wednesday of the month, I headed to Tod’s Golden Lion for a session of Gobsh!te, hosted by Theresa Sowerby. Guest poet Ian Marriott introduced a selection from his works. Ian lived for several years in the Antarctic. He’d also been a mountaineer, and had scaled a peak in Washington state, which has a sheer climb.
I recited a new, more down to earth cautionary tale, partly inspired by seeing how many adults pick their noses when dawdling in traffic. Those of a nervous disposition should look away now …
Benjamin
This is a tale of wanton depravities, Ben loved to probe his nasal cavities.
Benjamin, when in repose,
Wor often wont to pick his nose.
This would not have been an issue,
If only Ben had used a tissue.
His parents’ love began to cool.
They sent him to a boarding school.
His habit made his masters chunter,
They called him Ben, The Bogey Hunter.
In later life, on a dating app,
Ben seemed a rather decent chap.
And Mimi, a local beauty queen,
Admired his lifestyle on her screen.
With all the money Ben could employ,
Mimi fell for her posh boy.
In a restaurant, he planned to propose,
But she went off to powder her nose.
Ben truly loved his English Maid,
But suddenly he felt afraid.
And Mimi, waiting in t’ Ladies queue,
Turned round and had a perfect view.
To calm his nerves, what d’you suppose?
Ben pushed a finger up his nose.
And when that nostril wor excavated,
Examined its contents, and then he ate it!
Mimi, as calmly as she wor able,
Returned and saw Ben’s ring on t’ table.
She swigged her wine, gave a polite cough,
And said, ‘Benjamin, I’m calling it off!’
‘But Mimi, why?’ He wanted to know.
‘Is it my looks? Or my portfolio?’
‘Ben, my dear boy, I’ll tell you what,
It’s neither of those. Truly. It’s not!’So, you young men, in wont of a Mrs,
Mind what you do with your orifices.
Shaggy Dog Club
This month, the club had a guest speaker. I especially enjoyed Maria Whatton’s Scouse wit. She was also great at making animal and atmospheric noises – a useful skill when telling trad tales. Sometimes, I nod off if tellers tell of long ago battles and legendary deeds and adopt a portentous tone. One of eight children, the highlight for me was Maria's true tale about her Liverpudlian family.
Next month, it’s tales are from the floor. It occurs on Halloween Night, so if you want to tell a frightening tale, or enjoying being frit, get along to the Stubbing Wharf by 8 o’clock.
Who are yer?
I asked online what people thought about ID cards. All mainland European countries use them and find them convenient rather than contentious. I reckon, lots of businesses and ad agencies have my details, so it doesn’t bother me that government can boost my access to its services - alongside identifying illegal immigrants, criminals, terrorists and dodgy employers.
Dave Jackson: I'm with you on this... No big deal.
J Craig Melia: Give everyone a free passport.
Valerie Dutson: Sorry George, I don't agree with it.
Andrea Louise: it's a distraction. A revival of a Blairite attempted policy. Unfortunately, trust in governments is low. A deliberate tactic it seems. Starmer seems hell bent on gouging out everything Labour is meant to stand for, essentially finishing the job Blair started. Cycles come and go. Some of the ideas around ID could be positive. Unfortunately, I think the system would be abused by current authorities. I struggle to trust their current judgement.
Abi Lupton-Levi: When ID cards were introduced in Europe we didn't have ID theft on a grand scale, massive corporations being hacked brought to a standstill by teenagers, bank accounts being emptied via Facebook fraud etc. Let's not even get started on Russia and the way Trump's America is going. Would you trust Farage with all your data?
Liz Dykes: Abi Lupton-Levi, good point.
Mike Shillabeer: I think it's a distraction from the real issues the country is facing. We have more than enough ways of checking up on everybody. How much is it going to cost to implement it? If they're worried about migrants working, spend more money enforcing the laws already in place. Yet to see a benefit.
Les Gillon: People who are horrified by digital ID are complaining on Facebook but they've accessed via Google on smartphones they bought on Amazon with PayPal. Shutting this stable door long after the horse has bolted.
Abi Lupton-Levi: Les Gillon: this is true, but if so much information is already out there in various forms, all of which have their risks, why would you want to hand hackable data to a government (which isn't trustworthy even now, let alone when Reform gets in)? To be processed at vast cost when we apparently can't afford to reverse the two child limit or pay for proper social care? And this is apparently a brainchild of Blair, currently being touted to be in talks with Israel over running Gaza! And Mandelson, about whom the less said the better. Bunch of nefarious narcissists the lot of them.
Julie Murillo: I'm not bothered either way but what does make me laugh is when they say passports and driving licences aren't safe but then when we need to apply for the ID card we have to prove who we are with either a passport or a driving licence - the irony of it all!
Jenny Nicholson: No big deal. I have a passport, a driving licence and a bus pass. Why not add it to the collection.
Abi Lupton-Levi: Jenny Nicholson, those aren’t hackable.
Kathleen Smith: I had one in South Africa, George.
Dave Boardman: I have an EU identity card and it doesn't give away any more information about me than is already available to whoever may want it. My concern is that with the digital element many people struggle with many elements of digital information (tickets in your ‘wallet’, registering for apps). What else will people be excluded from once it becomes the norm for digitally aware smartphone owners and users, which is not everyone. It will benefit modern criminals more than everyday citizens.
Leah Murphy: Yes practicalities will be tricky. It makes things more difficult for poor people. Lots of young people or homeless people sofa surfing trying to get stable accommodation, work, or just people who don't have a passport or driving licence either and can't afford one.
Alacazam
At a recent Shaggy Dog floor night, my fellow monologist Andy, told a tale in verse. Later he told me it was concocted by a Geordie rhymester, called Gary, I think. I forget names these days. Here’s my prose version.
The genii in the glove
Jack was an apprentice builder, and his team used him as their runner. One lunchtime, he was sent out to buy sandwiches, and on the way to the shop he saw a discarded gauntlet on the cobbles and thought, ‘That’s handy!’ It was almost wintertime and the single glove would keep one hand warm at least.
As soon as Jack pulled on the glove, a genii flew out from a hole in the Peter Pointer finger, and declared, "Master, I am the genii of the glove. Each time you wear the glove, if you say 'Alacazam!' I will obey your every command."
When Jack got to the sandwich shop, he said the magic word and commanded the glove to remind him of the sandwiches his team had ordered. And for once, as the genii whispered the men’s orders into his ear, he got the whole order correct. Then he used the magic word to command that he flew back to his team in an instant.
On his return, the team said, "Jack, have you been helped by a genii?’
‘Yes, but how did you know?"
"Well, first of all, Jack, you are three feet up in the air. And also, you got the whole order right, without even writing it down!."
But next day, when lunchtime came and Jack donned the magic glove, he couldn’t remember the magic word. Each member of the team tried to think of magic words."‘Abracadabra!" suggested the foreman. But that didn’t work.
So, Jack was told to write everything down, as his memory was so bad, and he was sure to make a mistake at the sandwich shop.
So he wrote: "Jim has egg and mayonnaise."
"Tony has beef and onion,"
"And Alec as ham."
Straightaway, the genii appeared! So he wrote the magic word down on his order and had it delivered before his pals could blink. But as they finished off their repast, the foreman said, "Jack, tell your genii to put a bet on the gee-gees for me!"
And Jim said, "Ask him what next week’s lottery numbers are!"
Before they could make any more demands, young Jack whispered the magic word and then he vanished. He’d recently read an article about a place called Hippy Valley, which sounded like a fun place. So, he commanded the Genii to get him a new house in a place called Hebden Bridge.
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