A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 66 Storm Éolwenna
Peter’s disguise persona, that he’d adopted in case there were to be an invasion of the Bearthwaite valley that would make him vulnerable,(1) was Jane. It had been a hard disguise for him to become accomplished at assuming because Peter’s genetic issues, notably being a genetically XX male, had been of no help to him whatsoever. From as far back as his memories reached he’d never been a girl and he knew nothing about being a girl. He and Brigitte his twin were very close and they’d never had any secrets from each other. They had always compared their developments, emotional, mental and physical and even more so as Brigitte went through puberty because Peter had been terrified that the changes that overjoyed his sister would start to destroy his life. With the help of Brigitte and Violet his girlfriend he’d gradually become able to appear as a convincingly mature older girl as seen from close quarters rather than just from a distance. One unforeseen advantage of the creation of Jane was that she became known to be studying a range of STEM(2) A’ Level(3) subjects via the BEE(4) extranet, which given her supposed age was no surprise to any. Peter had been studying the same subjects, but he’d had to work hard to keep that under wraps. It had to be that way because although he was known to be clever he and his family didn’t want any outside the family to realise just how clever he was.
Although Peter had deferred taking male hormones for security reasons, which Sun and Abbey the Bearthwaite family doctors had somewhat reluctantly agreed to, he’d been on puberty blockers(5) for a long time and Sun and Abbey had said that without either taking male hormones or allowing a natural female puberty to take place his health would be at serious risk. Peter had flinched at the use of the word natural. They’d said that another twelve month was the maximum it would be safe to do neither for. As it stood for Jane to appear convincingly female and of the appropriate age she’d had to resort to the use of breast forms, silicone hips and bottom shapers along with a careful selection of shoes that added four inches to her height without appearing to be too obvious. That was from Peter’s point of view the easy part. Even learning to use cosmetics and suffering the use of perfume he hadn’t found to be too difficult to cope with. Much harder for him was learning to walk, talk and otherwise behave like a girl, but eventually with the intensive coaching of Brigitte and Violet he became halfway acceptable, or at least halfway was as much as the two girls were prepared to concede.
All of which was fine, but there also arose unforeseen problems. “I suppose we were pretty stupid not to have anticipated that some of the older lads and young men would be interested enough in Jane to start sniffing(6) once she started being seen outside, Violet. Most Bearthwaite lads have way too much sense just to be teken in by a pretty looking unknown lass, for they’ve all heard the tales of Bearthwaite lads being badly hurt by pretty looking outsider lasses just looking for a meal ticket for life, but, despite that, being pretty does help a lass find herself a lad, and Jane is owt but plain, and you have to admit that pair of double dee forms and her bum shapers make her look pretty spectacular, if that is you weren’t aware they were silicone. The trouble is we can’t just hide her because Jane has to be seen often enough so that if we are successfully invaded none gives her away by expressing surprise at her being there with you or me, Violet. If we were to hide her away there wouldn’t be any point in her existence.”
“What about me, Brigitte?” Peter protested. “The idea of being chatted up by, or even worse touched up by, testosterone fuelled lads is repugnant, and scary too. I’ve no idea how to deal with amorous lads. That’s your territory.” He was indicating the two girls.
Violet kissed him and said, “We know and we’re gey good at it. So come here my amorous lad and kiss me again.” Peter did as he’d been told, and Violet said, “You know this is becoming crazier by the day, but I do have a solution that will enable us to manage the situation. Peter, you were born a lass who discovered that he was really a trans lad, but who has to become good at pretending to be a lass. However, in order to keep the amorous lads at bay you now have to become a lesbian which is closer to the reality of our relationship than is actually decent. Now all of the lads interested in Jane are interested in a very proper Bearthwaite way, so relax because none of them would dream of touching Jane without her express permission. Now, Brigitte has been asked totally proper questions concerning an introduction and she has deferred answering them. They’ll be asked again, of both of us, but if Brigitte and I explain when appropriate that Jane is not interested in lads and has a lass in her eye the questions will cease and the word will soon go round that Jane is gay, and that will completely sort the matter out, for the lads will simply start looking elsewhere.”
“My head hurts,” Brigitte said. “I need to find Ron for some intensive hands on therapy. Thank god my love life and identity situation is simple. I’m a lass, Ron is a lad and we fancy each other. All very straightforward. Even I can remember that and both of us enjoy the consequences.”
Violet retorted, “My love life and identity situation is just as simple. I’m a lass, Peter is a lad and we fancy each other. I don’t have a relationship with Jane because I don’t fancy her at all. What do you take me for, a bloody lesbian?”
They were all still laughing as Brigitte collected her stuff to go to Ron’s house. Before she left she telt them, “I meant to tell you maybe a month or so back about something Ron telt me concerning a deliciously naughty phrase that lads and men have seemingly used for a century or more, but I forgot. The giggling strip. It’s the bit of exposed leg at the top of a lass’s leg that’s in between the top of her stockings and the bottom of her knickers. It goes back to the days of stockings before tights had been invented.”
“Why do they refer to it as the giggling strip, Brigitte?”
“I was wearing a suspender belt and fully fashioned, Cuban heeled, black, seamed stockings and heels at the time. You must know the type I mean, Violet, because I’ve seem you wearing stockings of that type with heels too. I like wearing them and Ron says it makes me super sexy which I like even more. Ron explained, whilst mekin me giggle as he was touching me there, that once a lad gets that far he’s laughing.(7) He was right. It was so nice even if I’d wanted to I couldn’t have stopped him from reaching just that bit farther. You should try it sometime, Violet. I’m sure you’d both enjoy wherever it took you. After all to quote the menfolk, we’re wearing the kit,(8) and there’s little point in just wearing it is there since it was given to us for using too.”
After they’d all stopped laughing, Violet asked, “Where were you at the time? I don’t believe you’d risk being caught at either of your homes, and even going on two months back it was becoming gey cold out there if you weren’t in the sun, and it’s far worse now.”
“In the feed store over one of Uncle Gee and Auntie Sam Shaw’s goose houses. They’re heated and some of the heat rises. It’s really gey comfortable up there, far better than any itchy, scratchy hay barn. The twins telt me about it. It’s where they go with Theo and Finn for some privacy. Only thing is Jannine may be there with Finn or Michaela with Theo, but the spots are big enough for privacy and even if the geese are in at the time they don’t create because the twins say they’ve got used to folk up above them.”
Peter finally steeled himself to tell Violet what the doctors had said. “I haven’t a clue how to go about deciding what to do, Violet. I’ve tried weighing up the pros and cons of both options knowing that once I decide I’m committed to it because both will produce irreversible changes. Have you any ideas? Anything at all that will help me to make a decision?”
“Probably not. But I do have a few questions for you to mull over the answers to. But before then I want you to know that whatever you do won’t make any difference to me. I enjoy my relationship with you and I shall continue to do so no matter what you have between your legs. After all as we have discovered there are all sorts of alternatives. I would not only like to have a family eventually but to become pregnant too, but no matter what you do as regards surgery you will never be able to father a child. However, there are options there too that we have no need to discuss now. I suppose this is where I reach the questions. I’ll start with all the becoming female ones. How desperate are you to have a surgically created penis? How much do you wish to look like a man? How upset would you be if you grew breasts bearing in mind that Brigitte is never going to be a hugely bosomed woman so it is unlikely that you would become one either. How upset would you be if you grew hips and a female bottom, again bearing in mind that Brigitte is not going to be huge.
“She telt me your bio mum was not big, so it’s unlikely either of you would be either. How much would having periods bother you? Brigitte used to be bad with hers, but she is becoming much more stable these days. Perhaps most of all if you became female it would be difficult to spend your time working in the taproom, but initially at least I can’t see it being any less difficult for you to spend it working in the bestside. I’ll ask you a question for me. Could you be happy as a lesbian? The male options are rather different, because so many of them concern not just your safety, but the safety of the persons you care about. And of course there may be no need for you to hide your masculinity. We have long hoped that there will never be a need for Jane to exist. Male hormones will eventually give you a male body, but you will never be a big strong muscular man. Your bio dad wasn’t. Your voice will deepen and you may grow an Adam’s apple, I don’t know about that, so look it up. You will grow facial hair, maybe body hair too. Is that important? or would you rather not? As you said once those changes take place even stopping taking the testosterone will not reverse them. I don’t envy you having to make the decision, Love, but at least you have plenty of time.”
“What would you prefer?”
“No, Peter. This is not about me. This is about you. I like you as you are, but that’s the whole point isn’t it? You can’t stay like you are for much longer. Maybe it makes no difference, maybe it does, but trust me undergoing a female puberty isn’t much fun, but I imagine it’s nowhere near as traumatic as undergoing a male one courtesy of a surgeons knife would prove to be. At least you live here where nobody will care one way or the other. If you chose to live like a man with boobs and a wide bum that’ll be fine here. I’m probably saying that because the idea of you undergoing all that surgery and pain distresses me a lot. As for the security aspect of things, I’m sure there are folk you could talk to and things that could be done to improve things. Just how unhappy has being Jane made you? Could you live like that permanently? If you could why not do it? If you can’t what’s the best way to remain as Peter with all the pros and cons that that will entail. You really need to have this conversation with Brigitte and then your parents.
“I heard you and your lads finally finished replacing that cobble wall. So what was the final figure then, Uilleam? Was it round a quarter of a million like as what Beck thought?”
Uilleam McSvensen the drystun waller replied dryly, “No. It was a hell of site more than that, just short of half a million. By the time you take the cost of the written off, near enough new, Volvo waggon and the forty foot artic [US 18 wheeler] trailer into account you can reckon on round about seven hundred thousand quid maybe a bit more. To start wi’ they reckoned the trailer was okay but the two long chassis members had twisted wi’ respect to each other, so that was written off too. A quarter of a mile of trashed wall was what Beck estimated it was. That’s four hundred and fourty yards, [400m], but the wall as had to be rebuilt was a length of six hundred and fifteen yards [562m]. Though the verges had bin completely knackered for going on half a mile, for even where the wall moved back away from the lonning the lonning itself was no wider. It’s a good thing we had photos and video before the wall was destroyed because the insurance company questioned the height it had to be built to. The largest single cost was obviously the labour which came to somewhat over three hundred thousand quid just for the wallers and compo mixers and layers.
“There was about a hundred thousand quids’ worth of clean brick bats that our quarry lads usually sell for hard core to replace the auld, Victorian, soft bricks in the wall that the impact from the waggon had turned to dust and we threw some of the half brick down to eighteen mill [¾ inch] crush from the quarry lads to fill in the voids in the middle of the wall and save on compo too. All the stuff from the quarry med(9) the job much cheaper for us to do, but naturally the insurance company were presented with invoices from Beebell at the going outsiders’ rate. Add in about ten grands worth of cement, sand, plasticiser and PVA to mix into the compo because cobbles have gey smooth surfaces as don’t hold well to compo wi’ out it. We mix some PVA in the compo and have a tank of it let down wi’ watter to dip the cobbles in prior to laying ’em. It’s not the best of walls, but it does work. It’s just gey slow work and a pain in the arse for a drystun waller because you never seem to getting anywhere. I’m not sure what all the temporary fencing and the fencers’ costs came to, but it’ll probably run to going on fifty thousand, and possibly the same again to cover the costs involved in Tony Dearden reinstating the lonning verges that had been pushed down into the gutter(10) so they had to be dug out and reëstablished wi’ a ditching bucket. On top o’ that will be the environmental costs of the lads who will ensure that the wild flowers that grew there before will still be growing there.
“The insurance company were charged for the extra mileage folk had to do due to the lonning closures when any of us were working. So like as I said to repair the damage to the wall, the gutter, and the verge was close to half a million. To really rub it in the Highways Authority charged twelve hundred quid to install the new sign at the start of the lonning that restricts the size o’ vehicle that can use it. God alone knows how much the driver was fined, I looked for it in the paper, but I never saw owt about it though I heard he lost his job. Maybe he lost his licence too, but I don’t know. Just to mek you laugh. Jerry reckoned that all the auld lime compo infill that had held the wall together will mek excellent pothole crush binder. Bill had bin acomplaining that the lads were running out, so reckoned that maybe the wall coming down was a blessing in disguise. My lads didn’t agree. For them as don’t know Jerry and Bill and their lads keep all the lonnings and hard standing that Beebell maintains in a suitable state of repair. That’s not as big a job as it used to be because most of the lonning into the village has bin metalled wi’ rolled road scutchings(11) and that will be finished afore lang. After the entire lonning is done the lads will just put any excess scutchings on the lonning as an extra layer.
“We’ve always got on well wi’ the Highways lads because a number of our lads used to work wi’ ’em and they were right grateful when we provided ’em wi’ video footage of the the waggon tekin the sign out. The waggon driver took out the sign before he backed up te tek a run at the wall and there was nay way that the responsibility could be argued about . You may wonder about us getting on wi’ some o’ their folk as work in the offices. Yance ower the men as worked there were all typical keyboard warriors, computer geeks, pen pushers and desk jockeys, idiots in suits as knew nowt about owt. At least most of the lasses admitted to knowing nowt, which didn’t really help you if you had an issue. However, recently they’ve been persuaded by some of our politicians that it’s actually cheaper transferring an older lad from the road gangs who’s suffering physically, mostly just due to age, to a job in the office where he can see his time to retirement out in comfort than it is to pay for him retiring on disability due to what the job on the roads has done to him.
“The result from our point of view is we can actually contact some in the Highways Authority office who actually understands the job and knows what he’s talking about. I’ll tell you a tale that ’ould be funny if it weren’t so bloody serious. I mind an auld bloke I knew maybe forty year since who telt me that in the north east coal mines when they were privately owned before nationalisation and the NCB(12) came into existence the mine bosses ’ould have jobs above ground for their older employees to see their time to retirement out. Jobs in the lamp house and the like. All of which stopped when the NCB took over. He telt me a tale from nineteen sixty of an auld man o’ not quite sixty-four who’d bin an overman,(13) which I seem to recall was a position of considerable responsibility concerning mine safety, having to go and work as an ordinary collier in a fourteen inch seam for a twelvemonth till he retired because the pit he’d worked at had closed and that was the only job available to him. In those days it was tek what was available or starve, and mind in those days at sixty-four a working man was just about fucked after having worked since the age of twelve to fourteen under what were bloody awful conditions compared with today. That wasn’t just true of the pits it was true so what a bloke had worked at. I mind well when I was a lad how old my granddad and all his mates looked. Nowadays blokes in their sixties only seem to look middle aged.”
The media had been full of it for going on for a fortnight, though mostly is was pure speculation with very little factual content. The media had initially started selling the story as a racist issue involving the British National Party,(14) which rapidly gained traction because the head quarters of the BNP was in Wigton Cumbria, not far from Bearthwaite which the dead men were said to have a grudge feud against. The circumstantial evidence, more properly it should have been described as a few entirely unrelated facts strung together with nothing more than journalistic fantasy, as presented wasn’t strong and it certainly wasn’t particularly consistent, but as folk said afterwards, since when had the media ever been concerned with the facts of an incident. However the media got one thing right, those same folk had avidly consumed their nonsense and the media had made a lot of money out of it, so from their point of view their fabrications had been huge successes. The media didn’t even have the grace to admit their fatuity when the police went public saying they considered it to be a revenge killing that had nothing to do with racism, but then none expected them to. What few facts that were available boiled down to six Pakistani brothers had not just been killed in a manner believed to be indicative of a revenge killing, for such was what police said they deemed the deaths to be due to once they had discovered the men to be brothers. They had all been killed by a single thrust through the heart with a slim bladed knife or stiletto that suggested considerable expertise.
The rumour mill talked of Assassins’ Creed(15) which was scoffed at by most folk who knew the difference between reality and a fantasy game, but naytheless many wondered. The second unassailable fact was that the men were Effa’s father and his brothers. To the police’s irritation Effa had refused to provide them with evidence to prosecute the six men for the multiple daily gang rapes that had taken place every day for nigh to twelve years and ended with her pregnancy at the age of fifteen. Now sixteen, for Effa the matter was irrelevant, for the men had faced a higher court than UK justice and she’d been known to have said that she was certain that they already been found guilty. The police had interviewed all of the men’s relatives, friends and many others too, but had concluded after detailed investigations into their backgrounds that none of them had the skill or experience to have carried out the killings and they all had alibis which would stand up in court. Given what they knew of the Pakistani population they considered, without being prepared to admit it to any, the alibis were worthless. Too, the relatives and neighbours they’d interviewed were all of the opinion that Effa was a slut who should have been stoned to death. The police were of the opinion that that was a more credible reason for believing in their innocence than their alibis, for with those views they were unlikely to have even raised a hand against her father and uncles.
They had wished to interview Effa with a view to opening other avenues of enquiry, but had had no access to Bearthwaite without a court order which they had applied for and been refused. Police sergeant Michael Graham a Bearthwaite man who lived in the village and was within a few months of retiring had refused to become involved for as he said, “The court refused to accept that there was any evidence to suggest that Effa had anything to do with the murders and I know she has been unwilling to leave the valley where she feels safe since she arrived with us. Since no outsider has entered the valley in that time and I consider it highly unlikely that she would be able to organise such a matter remotely the most I am prepared to do is inform James Claverton her legal counsel that you would like to talk to her. I suspect the best you will obtain will be a statement which James and Cooper Bell her barrister may advise her not to sign because she doesn’t have to. She has not long since married and has a new born bairn to look after, so I doubt that she will be interested in your concerns. I doubt even more that she will be bothered by the deaths of the six men who repeatedly gang raped her every day since the age of four for over a dozen years.”
When his superiors put pressure on him to do more for them they were stunned when he handed his notice in later in the day. When asked what it would take to have him withdraw it he said that if they backed off regarding the Mrs Joshua Dunne matter he would work till his normal retirement date but not a day more. He had pointed out that he was not prepared to sacrifice what he knew was a morally decent stance to take just to make the lives of folk with no morals easier. His superiors knew that the moment they considered disciplinary proceedings for his lack of respect for them he would have gone. The pressure ceased. James spoke to Effa concerning the matter and with Cooper they put together a statement which they agreed to submit on Effa’s behalf without her signature. It was Cooper’s opinion that since Effa was in no way a suspect she was literally to use the police expression ‘helping the police with their enquiries’ and no signature was required because she would be helping them on her terms or not at all. He grinned as James had added that that would upset them no end because they were aware that Bearthwaite was still not prepared to coöperate with the police unless there was an advantage for Bearthwaite as a result of doing so.
The case was never closed, but no evidence of any sort was derived from the scenes of the crimes. Joshua Dunne, Effa’s much older husband, had also provided an unsigned statement via James and Cooper, but it said little more than that he’d never met any of the six men and the only images he’d ever seen of any of them had been in the media. It was known to Bearthwaite folk that Joshua had been a friend of Harwell Stevison the chief ranger for years, and Harwell was known to have originated two hundred miles to the south in the midlands and to have an extremely dodgy past. He was also known to have any number of dodgy contacts, also mostly in the midlands, which was not far from where the murders had happened. Although a number of folk wondered in the recesses of their minds as to whether that had some connection to the men’s deaths it had never been discussed be it howsoever privately. That too was an aspect of Bearthwaite society that was not known about, never mind understood, by outsiders. Bearthwaite folk looked after their own, they all knew about Harwell’s past, and that was enough. It was well understood that there were some things that though many, if not most, were aware of they were not to be mentioned howsoever elliptically. It provided the ultimate in plausible deniability.
Weather forecasting in any particular part of Cumbria was exceedingly difficult because of the extreme variability of not just the topography, but the wider geography of the county too. What held true in one place could be wildly wrong just a few miles away. It was also true that the weather across what could be less than a mile of sand and a much narrower stretch of water at low tide, the Solway estuary, could be vastly different on the north shore in Scotland from the weather on the South shore in England. In the north of Cumbria on the coast the weather tended to be different once one came off the Solway plain, often the change could be a dramatic one. The weather in the coastal settlement of Silloth whose official postal address was the slightly larger settlement of Wigton, a mere eight miles inland, was usually much different from the weather in Wigton. Farther south the coastal weather was different from that on the fells. To the north of Morecambe Bay(16) lay the Furness peninsula, the huge tidal expanse of sand that decades ago had separated it from the rest of what is still Lancashire, and the peninsula’s weather tended to be different from anywhere else in the county.
However, the cause of the single largest difference was elevation. At the base of the fells the weather could often be a pleasant, sunny day and just by climbing a few hundred feet the weather could become life threatening if one were not appropriately dressed. The higher one climbed the worse it could become. Scafell Pike, or Scawfell Pike as it was locally pronounced, at 978 metres [3,209 ft] was not only the highest peak in the county but the highest in England too, and any number of walkers had died on the routes up and down there since fell walking had become a popular recreational activity in Victorian times. Long before reaching such elevations the clouds could reduce visibility to near enough nil and a moderate breeze could provide serious chill factors. In poor weather wind speeds of well in excess of a hundred miles an hour were not particularly uncommon blowing over the fell tops. Once wet due to precipitation or the clouds death from hypothermia followed rapidly under poor conditions. At lower elevations in the sunshine of a pleasant day such things seemed impossible to folk not familiar with such places.
By the beginning of that winter the weather was, typically for the time of year, wet, windy and cold, and the shepherds were avoiding all spots where the wind could blow themselves, their dogs and their sheep to their deaths. The Cumbrian police had been advised by colleagues in the East Midlands police that a large group of men, fourteen had been mentioned by name, from the area where Effa’s ex family lived had set off to enter Bearthwaite via the lonning with retribution for the deaths of the six brothers in mind. Cumbria police had found the men leaving the area in severe discomfort(17) and soaking wet. Unknown to the police they had refused when requested to leave voluntarily by some of Harwell Stevison’s rangers, and they had been encouraged to leave with the assistance of a pair of the Bearthwaite water cannons, though they had refused to answer any questions the police had asked concerning events. They had, however, made it clear that they would return in greater numbers and better equipped to ‘avenge their brothers’. Nobody from Bearthwaite was available who was prepared to comment.
It was mid spring when two Asian(18) bodies had been discovered by fell walkers from Blackburn near the fell tops on the far side of Flat Top Fell from the Bearthwaite valley. As usual Bearthwaite folk refused the request to assist in the search for bodies, so the police were assisted by the mountain rescue and the force helicopter. Seventeen bodies were recovered in all and all were subsequently deemed to have died from hypothermia many weeks before. Police enquiries in their home area revealed possibly as many as three more men were missing. By the time the three more bodies and an additional one too were discovered, there was nothing more than skeletons to be recovered. The shepherds whose sheep grazed that area disclaimed all knowledge of events. When the police insisted that since they worked the area they must have seen something. Vinny had gazed compassionately at the two officers and said, “Are you all bloody stupid? Or just pig ignorant townies? What the fuck do you think we have dogs for? Or do you actually believe that we go running up and down every bloody gully and ravine to fetch sheep back oursels?” That discussion went seriously downbank after that and Vinny walked out saying, “Since you’re so fucking clever I suggest you go and find out for yoursels because you obviously don’t need any aid from a retarded interbred like me.”
Later that week on the Saturday evening in the taproom of the Green Dragon Harmon, Vinny’s father and also a shepherd, opined, “Vinny did right telling the police where to go. The bastards treat us like retarded interbreds when it suits and expect answers from us that will solve all their problems the rest of the time. There’re few o’ ’em have any clue about life outside o’ a town and those few usually don’t last because they are despised by the rest and after they’ve bin turned down for promotion twa or three times they just say fuck it and get another job. Wi’ a bit o’ luck that’ll begin te change in a few years. Mind those bodies ’ll a bin cleaned up by bugs, flies, foxes, rats, but most likely the crows and ravens will a had the lion’s share o’ the meat, though the Peabody lads have some Tuskers(19) up on that patch o’ ground where twa on ’em were found, so maybe they had a share o’ it too which would account for the missing bones. Fact is they were all scum and the world is better off wi’ out their sort. For sure Bearthwaite is better off wi’ out ’em, and even the fells agree wi’ that.”
He laught and said, “It’s illegal for us to kill the bastards, but nay fucker can put the fells and the weather in the dock.” All the local men had roared laughing in agreement. A number of outsiders had been somewhat shaken by what they perceived to be the ruthlessness of the Bearthwaite men. There was reflective silence lasting a few minutes before Harmon added, “The legal lasses say that though there are legal rights o’ way over some o’ our fells that doesn’t entitle any to maintain the footpaths to mek ’em safer for walkers and the lasses are going te mek sure as all know that and that they’ll tek legal action for criminal damage to any who in any way alters the rights o’ way. Give the weather a bit o’ time and those rights o’ way which are only a yard wide mind you will be impassable. Elin is designing the signs already. Some of our lads have said they’ll tek steps to prevent any serious soil erosion by rain down the sheep trails wi’ out mekin ’em any easier for walkers.”
The men looked at Matt and Bruce who were married to Adalheidis and Annalísa. Matt said, “Don’t know what your looking at us for. Neither of us are stupid enough te have any intention of carting stone up there to repair bloody sheep tracks, so we’ll be safe enough.” Bruce just grinned and slapped Matt on the back as he reached for a bottle of a surprisingly innocuous looking clear liquid, though having tasted it earlier he knew that its looks were more than a little deceiving.
Joshua, Effa’s husband, obviously not keeping up with the conversation, had pushed his glass forward for Bruce to fill and said thoughtfully, “Etten by swine, and good enough for the bastards too. I reckon someone should mek that known to the community they came from because for sure that ’ll deter any Muslims.” None had disagreed with him, and Sasha had decided to have Joshua’s idea set into motion.
It would be half a century before it was discovered that the six brothers had been killed by six different members of their own community, all long dead. It was never to be known whether their killers had acted together or in isolation. By the time their killers had been identified the subtle streams of misinformation that had been posted on various social media sites that had set the stage for the killings would be long forgotten and indeed no longer retrievable. It was just before the killings that Effa gave up maintaining her on line presence because she said that with baby Jerusha, named after her father Joshua, her studies and helping Zain with the goats she no longer had the time, nor indeed the need for it when all her media activities were now focussed on promoting Bearthwaite dairy products which she was using for the practical ICT course work component of her BEE ICT course instead of her previous social media presence. Years later as a mature woman entering politics on behalf of the Bearthwaite Community she had repeatedly achieved political gains when all were convinced she would lose. When discussing politics she had always maintained that a politician’s opposition can be her best friend as long as she knows which buttons to press.
Many of the residents remembered that many years before, Suleiman, not yet then Анушка Ющенкова’s, Anoushka Yushchenkova’s, husband, had said in the taproom of the Green Dragon, “There is a certain type of inadequate Islamic male who spends his entire life looking for insult, religious outrage and reasons to become angry enough to excuse any kind of outrageous, violent behaviour. They do that to make themselves seem of more significance, yet sadly all it does is highlight their inadequacy to all of the world Muslim and non Muslim alike, except of course to their equally deluded peers. Unfortunately that makes them very easily manipulated which is why parts of the Middle East and many other places too have been at best simmering cauldrons of unrest if not outright civil war for generations, for it suits some of the powers that be in those regions to keep things that way. Within recent history there were the fedayeen and their philosophical descendants the suicide bombers. They are the tragedy of Islam not its pride, for till the rest of the Islamic world brings them under control no Muslim will be taken seriously by most of the rest of the world. It’s my truly held belief that a bacon sandwich and glass of serious chemic would solve all of their inadequacies.”
Gervin Maxwell the fencing manager for Bearthwaite properties took a goodly pull on his pint and said, “The fencing, the gates and the cattle grids were all completely installed around and on Barra Fell and Lower Barra Estate by the new year despite the rain because the wind was only moderate and the teams were prepared to work every hour of daylight because they wanted to be finished for Burn’s night. I suspect that was so they could tek a few days off to recover from the chemic. We’re all looking forward to it.” A number of the fencing crews were in the taproom and they weren’t in the least abashed, for all knew that Gervin had taken a week off the previous year for that very reason. “The wallers have finished doing away with many of the stiles(20) requiring regular maintenance, mostly the ones made from wood because they have a life span of at most ten years, and have replaced them with squeeze styles(21) and stainless steel self closing gates. Bertie’s folk have come up with a design for a kiss gate that is wheelchair and pram access friendly. Annalísa telt us that as far as she and Adalheidis were concerned Beebell and its staff needed to have no face to face dealings with any member of the McCuillin family for the foreseeable future. My crews will continue to maintain fencing and the like on the McCuillin estates regardless of who actually owns ’em and we have instructions to ignore any of the family under all and any conditions.
“Adalheidis said both their solicitrix and their land agent were far easier to deal with, and the family can neither fire nor instruct either of ’em because Edward McCuillin had specified via his will that only Beebell could do so. Legally they work on behalf of the estate not the McCuillin family which means effectively for Beebell. I haven’t met Julia Fitzgibbon their solicitrix yet, but she’s said to be a feisty lady who won’t tek any slaver(22) off any of the family. However, I was talking to Jake McGill, their land agent recently and he said if any of the family were a problem they’d be easy enough for any of my lads and lasses too to deal with. He said they were all arrogant, full o’ ’emsels, hot tempered, flew of the handle for next to nowt and then were ready to sport their canvas,(23) but none of ’em had ever done any more than a bit o’ sparring in a gym, usually wi’ an opponent the gym owner paid to allow’ em to look good. He didn’t even suggest it, but it was clear he meant if one of us provoked any o’ ’em which we would do just by ignoring ’em, they would throw the first punch and we could then deal wi’ ’em wi’ impunity. The implication was it would only happen the yance. He was right. One o’ ’em tried to give Abigail Burns a hard time and was stupid enough to try to slap her when she ignored him. He should be out of hospital in a few days. Fortunately one of the other lasses had it all on video and he’ll be right embarrassed when he realises it’s all over social media because he’s at least twice her size.”
It was Vada and Níls Nílsson, a married couple of Street Rangers who found the seven pregnant schoolgirls in Aberdeen. All had pretty much the same story. None were intellectually challenged as the currently flavour of the month expression went, but none were overbright either. All had been flattered by the attentions of older men who had then left them once they’d discovered they were pregnant. All were the daughters of bigoted Calvinistic fathers who were more concerned with what their daughters’ pregnancies would do to their own social standing than what it would do to their daughters’ lives. The first to be found were three of the girls at a soup kitchen, and all admitted that they had no idea where they were going to sleep that night. Cathy, one of the three girls, mentioned that they knew of four other girls in a similar situation. They’d all been on the streets for going on a week and were tired because they had kept being moved on when they had found somewhere that was slightly warmer than the miserable rain and clammy cold of the nights. Clearly they couldn’t last much longer with little food, less warmth and even less sleep. Cathy had said that neither of the mother and children units would give them a bed because they didn’t look pregnant enough yet.
It didn’t take much to persuade them to go to Bearthwaite. They located the other four girls and went through the same explanations. The girls were amazed when escorted onto the Bearthwaite bus which was a huge single decker coach that had been completely refitted after purchase. It had sophisticated first aid facilities, a couple of dozen bunk beds, a well fitted out kitchen and rows of comfortable adjustable æroplane like seats set up like theatre seats in front of the top of the range media centre. The lavatory was larger than such facilities were on most coaches and had a drop down shelf for baby changing above a cupboard containing a complete array of baby changing accessories. Perhaps most importantly the coach had a superb heating and air conditioning system and a large supply of dry clothing and shoes of all sizes. Vada drove them south down the coast road heading towards Dundee whilst Níls cooked them all a hot lunch in the kitchen located towards the rear of the coach. The route would take them to Perth and then Stirling which they would reach at dinner time. The plan was that Níls would get a few hours of sleep before dinner ready to drive the last part of their journey back to Bearthwaite. Vada had already been in contact with Elle and others too, and all would be ready for the girls long before they arrived at their new homes. None of them were sorry to leave Aberdeen and it seemed none had had any thing like a decent family life. Most felt sorry for their mothers who were dominated by their fathers who none of them liked. The girls not surprisingly had all known each other for years having attended the same hard line Presbyterian secondary schools. “Aberdeen is no that big a place, maybe two hundred thousand folk in all, and we all came from the same area, because it’s where folk like our dads chose to live because all the neighbours are just like them,” Cathy had explained.
The girls had asked endless questions about Bearthwaite, but Vada and Níls were used to that and they had a pile of leaflets and literature that assisted their answers. Naturally enough it was the unique aspects of Bearthwaite culture that fascinated and frightened them most. Níls explained his past of criminality even though he’d never been caught, and how Bearthwaite had not just provided him with a new beginning, but its culture was such that he was entitled and expected to claim its past as his own too. “My mum was a junkie and worked as a prostitute to feed her habit till she overdosed. I grew up on the streets. I didn’t even have a proper name or a birth certificate and nothing in the way of a future to look forward to. I got lucky and met someone from Bearthwaite. A couple of days after going to Bearthwaite, I officially became Níls Nílsson, which sounds authentically Bearthwaitesque, if there is such a word. A week after that I was a member of Arathane’s rangers, he’s the head ranger, and as a ranger I am a member of the British Territorial Army too. That’s usually just called the TA.
“I thought this job was a job worth doing, they call us the Street Rangers, and it’s how I met Vada who was a Street Ranger too. We were scouring Cardiff for homeless kids, and by the time we returned to Bearthwaite we were a couple with four daughters off the streets ranging from nine to twelve and we’d all made a family out of each other. Two months after that I was a fully legitimate UK citizen. Seven months later Vada was three months pregnant and I was doing my first duty day at Warcop as a member of the TA. I completely become a man of Bearthwaite, with a name, a history and doing a worthwhile job. Thing is though, I’m nobody special. I’m just a person that none had a use for till I went to Bearthwaite which definitely is special. All you have to do is want it and it’ll want you. Don’t worry. All you have to do is care about other folk and they will care about you. Bearthwaite is the nation’s largest collection of social misfits, who it turns out aren’t social misfits at all. It’s society outside Bearthwaite that doesn’t fit. You’ll find a family who want you and your bairn. Now I’ll get a bit of sleep, so I can drive us the last bit of the way home.”
Harwell had had a phone call that had taken him aback. “How many did you say?…Twenty-eight‽…Oh no of course we want them!…Yes all of them. It’s just that it was a bit of a shock…Twenty eight pregnant school girls all threwn out by their families is going to take some explaining to folks in my part of the world because that’s just not done here. We tek a pretty dim view of that sort of behaviour. It’s considered to be unmanly to do that to a lass, if that meks sense. Right, Lucille, I’ll have a word with some of my lasses with a view to having a group of them down with you in say four or five hours. My computer tells me it’s a three and a half hour trip by car. I’ll be sending a large coach so any as wish to join us can, either late this evening or first thing tomorrow if that’s okay? Even the coach driver will be female because we don’t tek any chances under these sorts of conditions. I know you won’t give out details, but you know how it is. I have to ask you that if any asks you know nowt about owt concerning these girls.
“For your records, our midwives and nurses will have the girls attending ante natal clinics and they’ll be back in school probably by next Monday at the latest.… No I don’t know how they manage to persuade ’em either, but they always do. Probably because being pregnant at school here isn’t considered to be a big deal. Well it is by the little lasses who are always excited by it, especially if it means they’re going to become an auntie. It’s not a matter of concern to our teenage lads either because there’re any number o’ men here have wed lasses in the family way. In a way it’s kind of like being LGBT, it’s just not considered to be an issue here.… Well the reverse o’ that is true too. We don’t understand folk to whom it is an issue. I suppose we tek the view that we’ve got much more important things to worry about than who shares a bed wi’ whom. Something you may not be aware of is that Jill our librarienne who dreamt up and oversees the upper school community care courses at the BEE, that’s our school, and Susanna our senior midwife have put some special community care course units together for pregnant lasses still at school which credits ’em for attendance at the ante natal classes. Once their babies are born they’ll be credited for attending the mother and baby unit instead which is overseen by Karen our senior nurse…. Aye, thanks for the call, Lucille. I’ll be setting things in motion. Bye.”
For the immediate future the Bearthwaite legal team had nothing that they wanted to purchase from SPM(24) from whom the Lower Barra Estate and Flat Top Fell had been purchased, if not to say finessed. Adalheidis and Annalísa had their eyes on ultimately acquiring Ullswater Low Fell Estate, a sixteen thousand acre estate of medium quality, but potentially fertile, farmland owned by SPM not far from Ullswater that was contiguous with both a twenty-two thousand acre estate of now high quality land that Beebell had bought going on fifteen years ago in impoverished condition on one side of it and a smaller recently purchased sixty-two acre farm nearby that had been bought in good condition. Despite its name it was not fell land, but the land was in very poor heart and deteriorating, albeit slowly. The land was currently leased on a medium term tenancy to an industrial scale farming company whose headquarters were in France. The company were abusing the land and their farming practices were extremely short termist in nature. According to Clerkwell James the Bearthwaite legal researcher he’d been advised that their accountancy and farming practices were such that they were making a lot of money and SPM were making very little and the land was paying the price of that difference.
However, Annalísa opined it would take SPM somewhere between two and five years before they mismanaged and bungled their affairs sufficiently badly to be receptive to offers from Beebell. Meanwhile, Annalísa and Adalheidis had all in readiness for the purchase and were being patient, though they naturally had a very close watch kept on SPM’s dealings and finances, and those of their tenant too. Clerkwell, who was still researching the situation because he was convinced there was more ‘useful information’ to be discovered, opined that once Beebell owned the land the current tenants could be evicted immediately for numerous breaches of contractual terms that SPM seemed to be unaware of the significance of. He’d had the matter of the tenant’s farming practices looked into by various Bearthwaite farming experts who’d all agreed that the deleterious practices could be stopped virtually immediately and that the worst of the effects could be undone in a couple of years.
They opined all those effects could be undone and completely reversed in a handful of years if money were to be considered to be no object. Chance’s response to that was that it be better to spend the money on the land than to give it to the taxman. A plan was drawn up ready to be implemented as soon as the contracts were exchanged. First the tenants would be evicted by bailiffs with a court order and then if they didn’t remove their over large herd of poor quality dairy cows within a month they would be sold to make room for some quality stock. Failing finding a purchaser Vincent would slaughter them for meat. The entire enterprise would be returned to mixed farming in its first year of new ownership and most of the cost of so doing would be paid for by the taxman. With Environment Agency approval Chance was looking into the possibilities of a combined local water supply and sewage disposal contract with the water authority. The sewage once aerobically digested would all be easily dealt with by injecting it into the forty-odd thousand acres that Beebell now owned in the area.
It was Saturday the first of February and the weather and life in general a mere eight days after Storm Éolwenna(25) was remarkably calm at Bearthwaite after the rest of the nation had been hammered by what had been the worst storm for decades. The ladies in the bestside of the Green dragon had left their homes well wrapped up for it was quite cold, but they were wearing sensible shoes or boots rather than feeling any need for rubber wellington boots. Many had stayed at home the previous Saturday for though the storm had passed over the area by then the wind and the rain had still been unpleasant. That of course had not deterred their menfolk and their dogs from hazarding the weather in search of their traditional Saturday evening sustenance and a reasonable supply of tales, jokes, anecdotes and outright lies. All of which the storm had provided a source of in abundance. Tonight, however, was calm if chilly and whilst the central heating in the bestside was doing stalwart duty, as it was in the taproom too servicing the old fashioned, cast iron, self supporting, Victorian radiators that had been installed in the taproom during the last extension and upgrade of the Dragon, which all served to support custom made insulated table tops that deflected the heat to the side into the room thus avoiding becoming more than lukewarm, the men preferred to enjoy the somewhat more primitive open fires of the taproom, both of which were stacked high with now dried timber recovered from the effects of poor weather months ago. As auld Joey had said many a time, “There’s sumat about fire where there’s nowt twixt you and the flames. Even auld Jasper there wi’ hiss(26) nose on the fender ’ll tek hiss chance on scorching hiss nose and setting afire to hiss whiskers just te get to the warm rather than curling up under one of the tables.”
“What the hell are they doing in here,” asked Stan with curiosity but no heat in his voice pointing to a pair rusty coloured ferrets curled up in between two sheepdogs.
“Enjoying the warmth of the fire, same as the dogs,” replied William, a fourteen year old friend of Peter who’d spent the afternoon with several other lads of similar age pumping various dodgy spirituous liquors from two hundred litre drums into two gallon ex whisky bottles ready for the men’s evening drinking.
Pete said, “Leave the little buggers be, Stan. They did us proud in the cellars earlier. I knew we had the odd rat or twa(27) down there, but the pair o’ ’em nailed six o’ the damned things in under an hour. They’ll be sleeping off the steak I paid ’em wi’. The dogs ain’t fashed about ’em, so as I said leave ’em be.”
Stan shrugged his shoulders. He’d known Pete a long time, since they were toddlers, but his friend could still surprise him. Who else would give ferrets steak for doing what they would do quite naturally for no reward at all?
Dougal Woodrington, now a dairy farmer with his wife Arabella, took a goodly pull on his pint before saying, “This last few days I’ve been talking to a load a folk about the damage caused by the recent storm Éolwenna. I reckon we Bearthwaite folk, both inside and outside the valley, did right well because we took precautions as other folk aren’t willing to pay for, because they reckon the government should sort it all out. Stupid buggers can’t see that it’s not down to the government because if they flexed their muscles hard enough and often enough the government would do what it was telt to do, as it should. The tragedy is even if they could see that they still wouldn’t understand that so whatever happens it’ll be done wi’ their brass,(28) and at least if they spent it ’emsels it would be spent right instead o’ lining some thieving taxman’s or politician’s pockets. Stupid buggers just don’t understand how it all works. They’ve let other folk run their lives for so lang now they’re incapable of doing it for ’emsels.
“It was on the BBC(29) news that the Meteorological Office weather folk said during Éolwenna a one hundred and fourteen mile an hour wind speed had been recorded somewhere in Ireland, but the kids’ weather station equipment up on Flat Top Fell as Joel and Harwell’s rangers set up for ’em to send the data to the house, the school and Joel’s computer had read a few one hundred and twenty-one mile an hour gusts, one was just short of a hundred and twenty-two. It’s professional heavy duty equipment rated at up to two hundred mile an hour for extreme hurricanes in the tropics and the equipment is bolted down using half inch [13mm] high tensile, stainless steel bolts to a stand that is four inch [100mm] welded and galvanised, half inch [13mm] thick angle iron set wi’ concrete into twa foot [600mm] deep holes drilled into the bed rock. The kids use the data for Joel’s weather lessons. He reckons with ownership of their own data, real data, the kids get better learning because they’re more interested, more invested was the expression he used. Out of curiosity he had the anemometer gadget that measures wind speed checked once the wind had died down and it didn’t need recalibrating, so he reckoned it was reading correctly up on the fell when it said a hundred and twenty-twa mile an hour.
“At home, we only suffered a wheel barrow and a fish crate blown half a mile [800m] down the lonning which we should a put away, so that was our fault. The end ridge tile on the house as was facing into the wind was ripped off the compo it was bedded on. It must a hit a piece of metal garden furniture behind the house on its way down, but it only brock in two pieces, so we’ll compo the bits back. Locally there was a lot of damage to outsiders’ property, but our folk had little te fash(30) about. Most of the serious damage was due to trees blowing ower falling onto the roads. We had none, well a few bits of light branches came down, but nowt to fash oursels ower.(31) The trees that came down were well past their sell by dates and should a bin felled decades since, but the local incompetent authorities(32) had slapped TPOs(33) on ’em more than half a century since. City born college lads and lasses wi’ the ink still wet on their degrees as don’t understand that there is a life cycle for everything and that includes trees, despite how long lived they can be.
“Most o’ ’em had considerable rot where it mattered and the trees had trunks that were in no better condition either.” Dougal had to pause for the laughter at his witticism. “Truth is their replacements should a bin planted a century or more since. We suffered no inconvenience from fallen trees that were rotted on our land because we’d arranged for their entirely natural demise a lang time ower when at the same time we planted their successors. After every storm for thirty years, we had awah wi’ some o’ ’em and cut ’em up straight away before the authorities were aware owt a bin done. If we’d a bin asked we’d a said it was due to storm damage, but none ever asked, so I reckon they still don’t know owt has ever bin done. Any roads, some of our folk joined Joe’s road maintenance lads and Edward’s foresters and Beebell is being paid by the county for road clearance. There must a bin well ower a hundred o’ our lads and lasses out there wi’ chainsaws and two dozen o’ our farmers and wagon drivers along wi’ several wi’ lifting gear like tractor front loaders or Hiabs(34) clearing the roads and leading(35) it in to local barns and the building in the Auld Quarry ready for processing into fire fuel. I love it when as a result o’ our sorting oursels out we get paid twice for the same job. Yance(36) in brass paid to Beebell and a second time in fuel for whoever needs it. The Council still can’t understand how Beebell can afford to employ a workforce they reckon runs to thousands. The idea that whenever manpower is needed they just send a text out to the entire Bearthwaite community population asking for volunteers is something that they just can’t get their heads around.
“Mind I reckon as we buy more land Thorbjörn Sveinsson’s folk at the tree nurseries need to be raising enough ready to plant a hell of a sight more, not just to prepare for what will come down, but to replace the thousands, if not tens ’o thousands, as already have. There’s a mile lang stretch o’ minor road down Silloth way, Blackdyke the area is called, as is known to aulder folk as the Avenue. No youngster calls it that and they don’t know why their grandparents’ generation do. Fifty year since there were standard oaks every fifteen to twenty yards [15-20m] in the hedges on both sides. If reckoning on both sides together there be ten trees left now that’s as many as there are. They were all subject to TPOs and ower the years they’ve all bin blown down rotten te fuck and only fit for fire fuel, and they weren’t ower good for that for there was little burning left in ’em. It’s a bloody miracle none a bin hurt when they came down. They should a bin felled for quality timber fifty year since. More to the point their replacements should a bin planted just after world war one, [WWI 1914 – 1918]. It’s happening all ower. Standard trees in hedges as provide wind shelter, specimen trees in fields as provide shade, woodland trees in copses and bigger woodlands as provide timber and fuel, they’re all disappearing. In some areas there ain’t any left at all. We can’t plant trees a century back, but we can and should plant ’em now. It’s lang bin said as the best time to plant trees was a century since and the second best time to plant ’em is now.
“Any roads, the storm was ower by midnight Friday evening, but there must a bin lots o’ damage for the electricity lads to repair. Our power went off at half past two on Saturday morning by which
time the sky was solid overcast, not even Venus could be seen, but the wind was gey(37) calm, ten maybe twelve mile an hour. The electricity maintenance lads couldn’t possibly have repaired much if owt of the damage during the storm, so I reckon they must a started work in the small hours, midnight at the earliest. I rang the electricity company’s loss of supply number, and the recorded message said that there was that much to do as power wouldn’t be restored till Sunday afternoon. So I turned the mains off and the small house generator on. That runs on the alcohol that substitutes for petrol [US gasoline] some of the clever folk make at the distillery. Which was okay till it ran out of fuel Then I had a whooer(38) of a job restarting it due to fuel not getting through. I changed the fuel filter in case the new can of fuel had dirt in it, but it still wouldn’t run. I put a never used before squeezy type hand pump in the fuel line, but god knows how long I’d had it on the shelf because the rubber was perished and it leaked, so I took it out. I’ll order some new ones as it was my last one. By the time I’d done it had taken me two hours working in artificial light. After that once I got it running I made sure I kept refilling the tank afore it ran dry.”
“I thought you used a big diesel genny(39) in one of your outbuildings as Alf’s lads converted to run on the vegetable oil biodiesel the boffins mek at the workshops next to Alf’s spot, Dougal.”
“We do, Þorbjörn, but we don’t usually power the house with the big oil generator because it’s thirsty and over kill for the house. We can power the house using it, but normally it’s only used for milking and other heavier power requirements on the farm when of course it powers the house at the same time. The house genny is a tiny ten kVA(40) job which is more than enough for lights, the fridges and freezers and any relatively low power requirement like the central heating hot water pump. Talking of which the way those things are rated is criminal. That ten kVA genny can just about power Arabella’s three kilowatt kitchen kettle. I know that kVA is the output no load power and kilowatts is under load but still ten kVA is whooer of long way from three kilowatts given that kVA and kilowatts are nominally measuring the same thing, power. Mind when I got it it wasn’t working and I swapped it for a lawn mower as wasn’t working either. Yuli sorted it for me and said it was working well and up to spec,(41) so I guess it was well worth what I paid for it. On motors the difference is worse because the kVA is the juice going in and the kilowatts is the work you can get out of it, which is okay if you know about these things, but most folk don’t.
“At two forty volts, three kilowatts pulls twelve and a half amps. That genny only actually puts out about two thirty volts, I’ve measured it, not two forty as it says on the plate. Three kilowatts at two thirty volts pulls a gnat’s dick(42) over thirteen amps and the kettle is on a house socket circuit for thirteen amp fused square pin plugs, so I’m amazed it doesn’t blow the fuse. Fact is if the genny is on and you turn the kettle on you can hear the genny just about keep going, though it teks for ever to boil the kettle, and if you then turn a couple of LED lights on it dies, so the kettle is about its absolute limit. Mind, I don’t think Arabella has used that kettle for years because the big heavy kettle with a machined flat base that she uses is permanently simmering on the back of the wood stove as we built into one wall of the kitchen, but I had to try it just to see what happened. I tell outsider folk that a cheap two kVA genny off Ebay would do the job for most properties because it would power any number of LED lights, better mind if they only turn on what they actually need. If they minimised the opening of fridges and freezers so as not to lose the cold air it would manage to keep them going too. A chest freezer is a better bet than an upright because it doesn’t lose much cold air and warm up much when you lift the lid. For them as need one, a modern telly doesn’t draw much power and an internet connection uses even less. Having said all that, it’s having lights that meks the biggest single difference, and I recommend they get a camping stove to brew up on. Mind one of those tiny gennys won’t do for powering a more sophisticated kero stove like a Rayburn or an Aga because even though they pull bugger all power their electronics require a pretty clean sine wave input voltage and those small cheap gennys put out a signal that is owt but. Result is they just won’t turn on.
“Sunday afternoon came and went with no mains power. After we’d finished milking and the diesel genny was turned off, I turned the small generator back on. The Electricity North West’s supply loss recorded message then said that the damage was more extensive than they had anticipated. At first there was no information concerning when they expected to be able to fix it, but I searched online and found Electricity North West on enwl.co.uk, presumably the ell is for Limited. That was at ten thirty on Sunday evening. The website said that most of our area had had power restored and the remaining thirty-four properties were expected to have power restored by thirteen fourteen on Monday. How they can estimate that to the minute when the site also said that they would be sending a team out to investigate as soon as possible, which maybe implied they hadn’t yet sent anyone, beats the hell out of me. I watched as thirteen fourteen came and went, and I went to fill the little genny fuel tank again. It’s only got a daft small one gallon tank. I keep meaning to fabricate a twenty-five litre tank for it, but other jobs keep rising to the top o’ the list. You know how it is. It’s hard to see how much fuel is in the tank unless you dip it, so it’s best to top it up every couple of hours.
“When I went into Spatri(43) for a newspaper and a couple of odds and sods the power was on there and the lass in the paper shop telt me they hadn’t had any loss of power at all, but she’d heard that a pylon had collapsed out Clifton way and another somewhere else too. Another lass as lived on Tanglewood, one of the caravan parks out Silloth way, and one as lived at Aikton said they’d lost power when we did and like us it still wasn’t restored. The lass from Tanglewood said that Silloth town had never lost supply. The estimated restoration of supply time kept sliding forwards, and eventually the website said they had a team on site and the time of supply restoration was under review. It was ten pm on Monday when the lights came back on. It’s no real compensation, but Ofgem’s(44) Guaranteed Standards for a category two storm like Éolwenna say, amongst other things, that for loss of your supply, you are entitled to eighty-five quid if your power has been cut off for forty-eight hours or more and you are entitled to a further forty quid for every complete six hour period after forty-eight hours, so we should be getting two hundred and five quid. The ENWL website says they’ll contact us and arrange payment, but I doubt if it’ll be that easy.
“Looking round our spot an outsider wouldn’t believe the storm was over just eight days ago on the twenty-fourth of last month and that it had barely fashed us at all. Here we are on the first of February and talking about it as if it were just history, which I suppose to us it is, whilst huge numbers of folk elsewhere will be suffering for months. All of the Bearthwaite folk that live outside the valley have had independent water supplies and sewage treatment and disposal facilities for a couple of years now. We don’t use a gas supply other than our own bottled biogas and bought in welding gases and we’re looking forward to the day when we can disconnect from the electricity company’s supply. Like Bearthwaite folk who live in the valley we won’t be using one large single source of supply. The folk as are doing the planning and designing of our new electricity supply are not prepared to even consider any overhead supply cables or owt else.” What Dougal had not referred to was that once underground no outsider, especially any from officialdom, could actually be aware of what was there. “Everything in the way of supply cables will be underground and all transformers, switch gear and other controls will be situated inside proper, masonry built, custom buildings where no matter how fierce the weather conditions become everything will be completely unaffected. That’ll all tek longer to do and ’ould cost more if we were using outside contractors, but none is fashed about us doing the work and we can wait.
“The boffins reckon that it’ll all be done and dusted within a couple of years and then none of us, and by that I mean Bearthwaite folk as live outside o’ the valley, will ever be in this situation again no matter how hard it blows. Of course all the work done will be done by Beebell contracting the work out to Bearthwaite folk at prices that Chance and his gang o’ tax pirates will work out to ensure that HM Government(45) take as little off us in any form of taxation as possible. The trench digging and cable laying can be done by any number of the lads wi’ back actor machines [US back hoes], and where necessary shovels and trenching tools.” The building work can be done by any o’ our tradesmen. It’s only the actual electrical work that has to be done by our lads able to do that but we’ve enough o’ ’em to cope. All the Bearthwaite men there knew that what Dougal had not said was that the money would then be redistributed according to what was considered proper and any not required for immediate use would be held by Beebell and like as not used in some other way in the meantime as was deemed most appropriate. Should any require money that was not immediately available it would be found from somewhere and appropriate credit records would be created.
Dougal was chuckling as he said, “The funny thing, or at least I think it’s funny, is that despite the expense of doing it all underground or under cover, which is not only a lot more time consuming it’s a lot more costly than the way the electricity supply companies do the job, with overhead cables and final transformers up at the top of leccipoles,(46) Chance and the shysters and bean counters(47) who do our tax returns say that Beebell investing its profits in itself in this way is all cash that can be offset against its corporation tax(48) liabilities. I don’t understand how it works, but Emily, Bertie’s missus, said it means that by the time you add that to what Beebell donates to local charities it’s costing us bugger all. Outside, the government screws most of the population for tax and then the poor bastards have serious issues with electric supply, flooding and all sorts of other stuff that the government supposedly supplies and deals with, often via the result of privatisation of utilities that used to be in public ownership. The net result of which is rich bastards wi’ shares in privatised concerns get richer and the taxpayer gets bugger all and suffers.
“Even the outsiders earning good money pay a shedload o’ tax and then get bugger all for it. We pay bugger all tax because we don’t earn enough, but we live damn well for all as what we don’t earn because we all provide the labour for nowt. Some of the lads as I farm wi’ reckon that it’s as good a way to spend their spare time as any and it’s always good for the craic(49) afterwards. And the charities all help various Bearthwaite folk or pay for the school to have top of the line equipment, far better than state schools can even dream o’ having. I wasn’t aware till recently that all those walk in baths and stair lifts that have recently bin installed by some of our building trades folk for the auld folk as need ’em were actually paid for by the taxman via our charities. We are all members of Beebell, the Bearthwaite Coöperative company, which because it keeps investing in things neither the government nor any other outside company provides us wi’ we effectively get them for next to nowt with a damned good service to boot. And lets face it education and the health service out there a bin jokes for decades not years.”
“Aye, well,” said Alf, “Joel was asaying the other day that Auld Allan and hisel both reckon we’ll have another storm as bad as this last one, if not worse, certainly within ten years and more likely within five, but as long as Gustav’s lads and lasses don’t run out o’ stuff to brew and still I can’t say as I really give a toss. Let’s face it we’ve enough fuel already dried out to keep us warm for years and god alone knows how much the lads recovered when they cleared the fallen trees off the roads. I saw the pile of trees that are still drying out from the floods after the snow thawed and Joe said at the end of it the storm will a provided a hell of site more fuel than the flood did. I do know some o’ Bertie’s younger apprentices a bin spending all day sharpening chain saw chains both in the workshops and out on the roads wi’ the gangs for the best part of a week and they’re still at it. O’ course eventually the auld trees will all a come down and since nowt has replaced ’em for a century as a source of fuel they will a come to an end.
“However, by then all the quick growing trees we’ve bin aplanting for decades will be producing enough fuel as a result of coppicing and pollarding. And we’re still planting tens o’ thousands o’ trees every year. Thorbjörn has asked Murray to look out for a decent sized patch o’ land, a few hundred if not a few thousand acres he was suggesting, that’s not much good for owt else to forest as mixed hardwood. His view was let the foresters thin it as required every five or ten years, but in the main just let every bugger except the pigs as root for feed in there forget about it for a century or twa. As regards food there must be a couple maybe three years’ worth in storage at the Auld Bobbin Mill and at least the same again in freezers all ower the spot. The waggon drivers are still bringing serious tonnage back every week from London and what doesn’t get ett(50) is being stored and increasing our reserves against a really bad growing season. Dave says we’re buying in bugger all compared wi’ what we used to because we’re producing most of what we want as well as need here. There’s any amount o’ food will still be walking about and agrowing in fields. In our entire history we’ve never had a season that was a total loss and I doubt we ever shall, so I reckon we’re going to be okay. Our only issue is security and Harwell is going to have a big meeting about that in the Village Hall in a week or two.” All the local men knew that what Alf actually meant by his last remark was the least said about security in public the better.
Sasha added, “That big meeting isn’t just about security. If anything that’s just a relatively small agenda item. Mostly it will discuss employment for our newer folk and our version of planning and development.” Most locals were aware that Sasha was diverting attention away from security. “The Beebell committee has decreed that all the masons build will be appropriate to the area they are working in and if that means concrete footings with a cement block or modern brick inner skin with what appears to be a drystun or a slate outer skin as costs twice as much to build so be it. That is to maintain the look of where we live and to avoid looking like the towns, and it brings in the visitors who spend money here. Too, all new and replacement buildings as well as all restoration and repair to buildings will be built the same way so as to reverse the urbanisation of our rural communities. Since buying up loads o’ waste land wi’ quarry spoil on it that the vendors thought they were taking us for a ride on, building materials a bin costing us bugger all. We’re employing loads of our new folk sorting over the quarry waste for useful material as can be used as is. Too, the reconstituted building materials med up from crushed waste whilst not dirt cheap are cheap enough. The Westmorland green slate dust filled polymer slates not only mek a damned fine looking new roof they mek invisible repairs to existing roofs, and other slate dusts are now being med from slate waste coming from elsewhere to match other roof slates. The reconstituted slate building stone wi’ the deliberately brock natural looking surface to present to the outside that the lads down at the auld quarry are producing is a good product that is doing us proud.”
Murray indicated he wished to speak. Peter topped his glass up with some hostage rum before Murray started. “It was a good decision not to sell any of the reconstituted building materials. The planners weren’t aware we were using them and enough time has gone by now to mean there’s nowt they can do about our use of them. However, an entirely unforeseen benefit is that they are now desperate to lay their hands on some in order not to just have some urgently needed repairs done to many of their buildings but to buildings in many of the older towns and villages. Put simply all materials they can obtain would make the repairs look like a pig’s ear and lay them liable to action at law. As a result of the recent county reörganisations we no longer control the planning sub committee, but that we shall correct in time. I have been approached by a member of the Planning subcommittee regarding what we would require for them to purchase a huge quantity of the slate and a lesser quantity of the building stone.
“My response was what are you offering that I would be interested in? and money won’t do it because I already have vastly more than you do to play with. When asked what I meant I replied the planning permissions that you are holding up.” At that there were roars of laughter around the room. “Their reply was they would not be blackmailed, but I said it wasn’t blackmail just power. I suggested they acquire their own building materials or let the buildings fall into dereliction knowing full well that was neither legal nor did they have the money. The conversation did not end well. However, that was nearly two months ago and ten days ago they made contact again trying to renegotiate. I’d had time to think about the matter and had taken some advice. The advice given by Sasha was simple, ‘Don’t negotiate because whatever I gave away would eventually come back to bite us in the arse. After all they are the ones with buildings in urgent need of repairs they can’t do without our help.’
“I pointed out to them that whilst it’s true that Buthar Musgrove is no longer chairman of the Planning subcommittee the local elections are only fifteen months away and as always we shall be fielding a candidate in every ward and we can wait, for it would appear that we may very well take every Council seat and all opposition Councillors, not just members of their party, would have to find honest work. I offered them total obliteration whether they coöperated or not. I also said that if they return the required planning permissions before the election we shall not go public with the details of our negotiations and their failure to maintain the public buildings and their allowing the homes folk live in to fall into states of uninhabitable disrepair.” He paused, “And that was all I offered them. No building materials. Once we have control we’ll repair the buildings ourselves having given nothing away. I didn’t tell them Buthar has some interesting plans regards buildings in the county.” The locals knew that Buthar planned on retiring from local politics as a Councillor and playing a behind the scenes manipulative rôle. He planned for his protégé Blake Winmarleigh to take over the Planning subcommittee chair. Blake was a genius computer hacker and had degrees in ICT, local authority mechanisms and structure and a Ph.D. in architecture and planning. He’d not long returned home from university and was married to June a Detective Inspector in the county police force.
Oliver and five other teenagers had been doing a turn helping the rangers by observing the Bearthwaite Lonning Ends and the car park from the shepherds’ bothy on the fell side that had been built just a handful of years since to look like a natural rock outcropping. It was ten to three in the morning when a mini coach turned off the main road and on to the car park. The driver had ignored the sign that clearly said the car park was private property and parking was only permitted by prior arrangement. There were three cars already on the car park that the observers knew about. Their owners were the drivers and crew of two out of the three Highways Authority road gritters that usually parked there. The teenagers had presumed the driver and her crew man of the third gritter was working farther away and they had parked their cars somewhere more convenient. The video feeds automatically went elsewhere to the rangers and were recorded by three different recording mechanisms in three different buildings, however, as per procedure the teens informed Abigail Burns, the ranger in charge of local security that evening that it would be worth her while to be watching the CCTV feed from the Lonning Ends car park.
There were twelve persons in the mini coach and when they alighted from the coach they appeared to be ten men and two women though it was hard to tell given that they were all wearing military fatigues and camouflage grease on their faces. The team of invaders, for without permission to be there that was how they were designated by Bearthwaite folk, started collecting and donning their equipment and they looked to be armed. Whether their weapons were real or not made no difference to the rangers who would work on the assumption that they were real. By the time the invaders started walking up the lonning towards the village steps had already been taken to deal with their transport and indeed the invaders too. Five minutes later Maira one of the teenagers had said to Abigail, “I hope you have a back up team, Auntie Abigail, because in the far distance I can hear a vehicle approaching and given the rate at which it is approaching it’s very quiet, too quiet. The others can hear it too now. I think it’s about two miles out and it’s doing maybe sixty seventy miles an hour which on that stretch of road indicates it’s in a hurry. It will be here within two minutes.”
Abigail remembered that Maira was known for her phenomenal hearing as well as her high intelligence and said, “What are you thinking, Maira?”
“Maybe the ones on their way up the lonning are just a diversion. They are not heavily enough armed to attack the village in a retaliation for Effa’s dad and uncles nor indeed to attack us for any other reason, and they are not carrying enough of the right kind of equipment to be going up onto the fell for the salamanders in this weather. There’s no other reason for them to be here, so maybe if we wait another minute we’ll find out. Whatever that other vehicle is it’s four wheeled not a moped or a motor bike that could park at the side of the hedge without drawing attention to itself by blocking the road, so it’ll have to use the car park or get stuck in the marsh on the other side of the road. Unless, of course it’s not coming here.” A few seconds passed before Maria asked, “Oliver, what kind of a car is that?”
“Auntie Abigail, they’re are two of them and they are driving a new BMW mini. I’m not sure what’s under the bonnet [US hood] which is maybe six inches higher than usual probably to accommodate a ridiculous sized engine, but it’s a gey quiet petrol engine and far more powerful than the Cooper S version which has a turbo charged two litre engine, so if we need to chase it we’ll need a helicopter. Best if it’s disabled before it goes anywhere. I presume you can see them getting out of the car now?”
Abigail was aware that Oliver was one of Bertie’s best engineering apprentices, though she hadn’t been aware he knew so much about motor cars. “Yes. I see them now, and I can’t see any rifles though I doubt that they’ll be unarmed. They do however seem to be equipped for being on the fells in bad weather, which won’t help them at all up on Soft Moss Green. We’ll have someone keep watching at this end and as soon as possible have both vehicles disabled when none is watching. We were going to deal with the first group more or less immediately, but we’ve decided to leave it till the other pair start up the first sheep trail to the east end of the Green. Two hours should do it, but we’ll have eyes on them from elsewhere. We’re going to let them tek their chance wi’ the fell and the wind. Joel reckons the wind is gain(51) to pick up later, nothing too serious but forty-five gain on fifty mile an hour is more than enough when there’re drops of twenty foot on one side of the ridge sheep trail and two hundred and fifty on t’other. The others we’ll wash back to the car park with the watter canon, and then they can walk home. We’ll discuss this later.”
Not long after that Maira heard the characteristic sound of an approaching land rover. It pulled up alongside the mini coach and someone crawled under neath it for a minute or two. Someone else unlocked the mini’s doors, pulled the bonnet latch and did something to the engine. The two boarded the land rover and it pulled away. To the watchers’ surprise it headed south, not north which was the direction it had approached from. Just over two hours later the twelve thoroughly miserable looking, wet and cold invaders discovered their mini coach wouldn’t start. The watchers chuckled for from the Bearthwaite Lonning Ends it was a long walk to anywhere even when warm and dry. For folk seeking warmth and dryness it would be a much longer walk. The two invaders that arrived in the car were never to be seen alive again. Two weeks later when the police had been notified by relatives they were missing one of them, with his equipment, was spotted purely by chance at the bottom of the long drop by an observer in the police helicopter that just happened to be returning from flying search patterns elsewhere. The dead man had been found with a burner phone that as far as investigation could tell had never been used. The other man had left identifiable blood stains there, but the body and the police presumed whatever he’d been carrying were gone. The police had been happy enough to accept that the wind when the man had died would have blown them off the ridge on the side of it that he’d been found. The missing body was, however, a different matter.
None at Bearthwaite had seen anything and it was not an area grazed by sheep nor therefore was it one frequented by shepherds, and the hard rocky ground was not such as would yield foot prints of either man or dog. None at Bearthwaite could offer an explanation as to why the men had been there and there was nothing in the equipment that had been found to offer any explanations either. Investigation revealed that they were both inexperienced fell walkers. The two hand guns which had been discovered, one on the body and the other nearby, totally illegal in the UK, had been tied by ballistics evidence to be associated with several armed crimes and murders. Neither weapon had been fired recently nor had any serial numbers. Further enquiry revealed both the man found dead and his missing compatriot were to say the least extremely unsavoury characters and not the sort of persons folk from Bearthwaite were considered normally to be associated with. Since it had been easy enough to retrieve the body that had been found it had been assumed that maybe the other man had survived the fall and for reasons known only to himself, reasons assumed to be nefarious, he had chosen to disappear having managed to phone for aid. The police had not been aware of the other group of persons and even had they been that would not have helped for they had been paid to dress up as soldiers with fake equipment none of which worked and simply to march to Bearthwaite and then back again. They’d had no idea who had paid them but the money had been too good to turn down.
Both vehicles had been reënabled, and they had disappeared after having been left on the car park for a few days, days before the police had been informed of the two missing men. As Alf had said to Harwell the head ranger, “The Bearthwaite lads from outside as disabled and then reënabled them said that the mini was a beast of a machine and would a bin a gey tempting target for any of the thieves as saw it when driving past. The mini coach was near enough new and worth more than a few shillings. Still it saves us the task o’ having to deal wi’ ’em and as I said to the police when I gave them a copy o’ the blank CCTV footage, ‘There’s nowt on it as ’ll do you any good. The system was being upgraded and maintained for the ten days during which owt must a happened. If indeed owt actually happened.’ The police didn’t like it but there was nothing they could do about it, and in any case they weren’t certain that the two men would have used a vehicle of their own rather than being dropped off by someone else. I know they asked all the local taxi operators if any had dropped passengers off at or near the Lonning Ends in the last few weeks.” Harwell just nodded in agreement. As usual when there was no need for someone to know something he kept his mouth shut. Alf was reasonably sure that Harwell would have made sure that the vehicles were stolen and that he knew nothing about it. A few cautious words spoken purely to be overheard in a dodgy bar many miles away was sure to have done the trick.
Eight years later armed police shot and killed a man they discovered to have been operating on his own robbing a London jewellery store who had taken a hostage when things had gone wrong for him. DNA taken from the man matched up with the blood stains of the missing man at Bearthwaite, but that was all they discovered.
Tony Dearden waited till all were settled including the dogs and the pair of sleepy, yawning ferrets before starting. “Her indoors went to the cinema at Dunmail Park Workington the other day with a friend. After that they went shopping and for coffee in the Asda superstore there. She bought an Indian meal for two in a box. Chicken Tikka and Chicken Jalfrezi wi’ fragrant rice, naans and onion bhajis. I like Indian food and Chinese tackle too, but I’m not usually into that sort o’ tackle if it’s from a supermarket rather than a proper ethnic takeaway, but tell you it was excellent. The two chicken dishes were tasty and just hot enough wi’ out being stupid hot from chile macho. The fragrant yellow rice was perfection wi’ cloves and cardamoms in it and the onion bhajis were the only ones I’ve etten in a hell of long time actually worth eating, though as a rule I can live wi’ out any o’ ’em. She’s going again in a fortnight or so and said she’d buy a dozen boxes if she can and freeze ’em when she gets home. If you’re out that way, Lads, it ’ould be worth calling in. In this weather it’s a damned good meal. I miss the Chinese meals as the lasses used to bring back from Carlisle when they went shopping. I know they don’t go as often as they used to because they’ve got hair dressers and beauty spots here now as we’ve teken in more folk, and I appreciate they are keeping money local by not going shopping as often, but still I miss the grub.”(52)
Jeremy Caldbeck as had the Granary restaurante at the Auld Granary said, “There’s nothing particularly difficult about cooking good Indian or any far eastern food, Tony. The only reason we don’t have an ethnic restaurante here will be our refusal to accept anyone suffering from religion. I can start cooking food of that nature if you are prepared to accept that we’ll have to buy in the exotic spices it requires, but we won’t need a lot of them. I know the supermarket prices for spices in stupid little packets or fancy jars are even stupider money, but buying ’em even just by the kilo from Ebay they’re not too steep and a fifty or hundred kilo lot would be very reasonable. I’ll look into it if you like, Lads. I have a contact in Wing Yips down in London who’d be more than happy to set us up with a starter load if there were say two or three tons [1 ton = 1 tonnes, 1000Kg, 2240 pounds] involved, and if one of our lads picked it up from their warehouse with a waggon I’m sure a decent deal could be struck. Wing Yips are the major importer into the UK of oriental spices, foods and all sorts of other stuff too, not just Chinese gear.”
There were various nods of agreement and the consensus was that Jeremy should look into the matter though all believed it wouldn’t take long before the spices would be on their way north.
Tony started again as Harriet came into the taproom bar from the bestside. “What’s for supper, Harriet Pet?”
“We were going to cook chicken and ham pie, but then we considered there had been a lot of pies recently. I know you lot won’t complain, especially Uncle Alf, but the ladies will because they consider too much pastry to be bad for their waistlines. I won’t be bothered about that, but I do like to cook a variety of things for Saturday night suppers.” There was a lot of laughter at that because Harriet had a figure that many women would die for being on the cusp of slender and skinny despite eating like a horse. “We debated about it for a few days in the kitchen and then the weather turned cold on us. That decided us on steak and kidney casserole with herbed dumplings. There’ll be a lot of dumplings because for sure the ladies won’t want all that are in it so you don’t need to ask.” Brigitte had to stop to allow the expressions of approval to fade before she could continue. “As for pudding, Christine had a lot of tropical fruit that was brought up from London that she wished to see used. She bottled several tons of it because it was almost on the turn, so we decided on a mixed tropical fruit crumble. She wanted to know if we could use any of the fresh, green coconut that we’d already frozen in that so we tried it and it’s tasty, so that’s what you’re having.”
“Alf you know what to ask, so get on wi’ it, Lad.” At that there was a lot of laughter and Pete started pulling pints.
“You got the time to fill us in on the details, Love? Or shall we have to wait a bit?”
“It’s so quiet at the moment in the kitchen that Violet is behind the bar in the bestside mekin up a bowl of fruit punch containing a bit of the fruit too. The steak is a mixture of beef and bison. All the trimmings and poorer cuts that benefit from long slow cooking. All came from Uncle Vincent. Obviously the bison is from Elleanor’s herd, but the beef is English Longhorn, an auld dairy cow from Uncle Jonti I was telt. The casserole has potatoes, carrots, onions, celery and dried herbs in it with salt. The spuds are Anya from Uncle Johnto which were chosen because they are waxy enough not to fall and a small number of the smaller Picasso from any number of growers. Auntie Christine’s staff graded all the smaller ones off as not suitable for baking, but they fall readily so will be suitable for thickening up the casserole. All the vegetables are locally grown, but I’ve no idea what they are. Auntie Christine will know because they came to us from her in ten litre bottles. They’d been pressure canned as mixed vegetables ready for casseroles. They are ideal for us, Uncle Jeremy’s restaurante and the Visitor centre restaurante. The women as cook for the auld folk in the community centre kitchens use them too.
“The herbs for the casserole, again all locally grown, were rubbed sage and winter savoury. The dumplings were made with Auntie Alice’s blended flour mix that is intended for dumplings. She’ll know who grew the grains, but I don’t. All I had to add was the dried parsley grown on the allotments by I’m not sure who and a touch of salt. This time the salt came from a quarter ton [250Kg, 560 pounds] lot that Uncle Jake delivered to us courtesy of the Highways Authority road gritter crew who gritted the lonning. The gritter men dropped several wagon loads off on the car park at the Lonning Ends and telt Uncle Jake te tek as many front loader shovels full for round the village as needed.” She saw a few odd looks on outsider faces and added, “They do that every year and grit the lonning for free because we don’t charge the Highways for parking the gritter waggons there overnight and their cars there when the drivers are working or charge storage fees for using the car park to store the salt on.
“They drive the gritter up Bearthwaite Lonning round one side of the Green and then all the way up the metalled lonning to the reservoir sluice gates which is as far as they can go. They back up and turn round using the spot created and metalled for them by our road crews and return gritting round the other side of the lonning round the Green. They said their waggons had been filled up at the mine in Cheshire and the salt would be good enough to eat. One of them must have known a bit about cooking because he said it was as every bit as good as Pink Himalayan salt and a sight cheaper. It’s more a rusty brown colour than a pink. We tried a bit and don’t even bother to crush it, never mind grind it, because it dissolves easily in warm water. I asked Peter and some of his friends to bag it up for us to store dry in the kitchen and Uncle Jake said he’d negotiate a bit more for the restaurantes. All he’ll have to do is ask and they’ll tell him te just tek it, but it’ll all have been done in the open by asking for it.
“I’m not entirely sure what all the tropical fruits are because a lot were bottled as a mixture. I suspect even Auntie Christine is not too sure what all of them are. There is a decided taste of stone fruit, peach rather than cherry, but it is a bit of a bland taste, so we mixed some sharp apple purée into a test batch of the fruit. The coconut is soft, almost like jelly because the nuts we used weren’t fully ripe. I know that is how a lot of ethnic communities prefer to eat them. The folk at the Auld Bobbin Mill kitchens had them sliced about three millimetres thick [⅛ inch]. I’m telt the nuts were full of milk and I’m not sure what they did with that. We sweetened the whole mix with the local beet syrup. We spiced it with locally grown caraway seed that we toasted and ground. As usual there is thick cream and custard. You are familiar with our custard which is flavoured with home made almond essence rather than vanilla. I’m reliably informed that the whole lot will go down very nicely with several pints of brown ale topped off with a glass of Cyanobacta. Which reminds me, you need to fetch some more spirits up from the cellar. I’d better go now, Gentlemen.”
To keep the conversation on something a little more serious rather than returning to wasps and Puke pie eater Pete said, “Well after Dave’s admittedly amusing nonsense let’s try for a bit o’ sense, Lads. What are you up to these days, James?”
James, the retired man servant of Edward McCuillin, looked a little embarrassed before saying, “What matters most to me is I do the last hour of the day, Monday to Friday, with the BEE reception classes in the gymnasium. Some of the older nursery class pupils are there as well. I don’t know who decides why those particular children are with me. All the children are usually tired by the time they come to me, so me telling them stories is a good end to their day. It doesn’t matter if any fall asleep and it gives their class teachers some time in which to prepare lessons, or just to recover a little sanity with a cup of tea. I always have two or three classroom assistants with me to take kids to the loo whilst I keep story telling. The other classroom assistants rotate with them, so they all get some time off. I am paid at fully qualified classroom assistant rate which is a help to Lucy and myself and I enjoy what I do. The classroom assistants and I are planning to take the children on a short walk twice a week when the weather picks up a bit and the children are looking forward to that.
“We were concerned about having to cancel the idea if we couldn’t find enough adults and older teens to manage the safety of all the children, but once the matter became widely known a few parents volunteered, mostly mums. Too, a couple of dozen older pupils who have free periods at that time have volunteered to help. Many of them are doing one of the in house Community Care courses and Jill Levens who runs those courses has said she’ll credit their help towards their course, so it’s all organised already. When the hatchery are in need of some help they let me know and I’ve been spending a morning or two a week down there for a couple of months. For our first walk I’m planning on taking the children down to the hatchery. The staff down there are organising some demonstrations with explanations for the children and some activities for the children to have hands on experiences with some of the fish and invertebrates. Ralph as breeds charr and some of the other senior staff are looking forward to it and reckon maybe some of the children will be sufficiently interested to fancy a job there in years to come. As for the rest of my time, other than what every married man has to do if he values his peace of mind I read and relax spending time at the model railway layout.”
“So how’s married life suiting you?”
“It’s good, Alf, but I’d no idea that women were so complicated.”
Alf drily replied, “I’m not surprised you’d no idea, Lad. At least by the time you married your missus she’d retired and hung up her broomstick.(53) But I wouldn’t try to get away wi’ owt based on that because at any age they’ll all rear up on you for no reason at all just to yank your chain when they feel like they’re not being paid enough attention. Never forget, from the cradle to the grave they’re all members of the sisterhood, and real females, Bearthwaite lasses, mek those, what did you call those furtive looking witches in yonder spot, Harry?” Alf pointed towards a group of cloaked women wearing cowls so deep that their faces were invisible on the mural behind and above the old men. Their silhouettes gave away that they were female but the only other thing one could tell about them was that they were secretively watching the folk atop a huge sand dune at least three kilometres away [2 miles] from amongst a pile of large boulders using what looked to be some sort of far viewing equipment not too dissimilar from binoculars. The folk on the dune were in turn watching the massive sandworm painted on the walls and ceiling over the older men’s heads.
“The Bene Gessurit witches, Alf. They’re in the Dune books by Frank Herbert.”
“Aye, they’re the ones I mean. Real females, Bearthwaite lasses, mek those Bene Gessurit witches look like rank amateurs when it come to manipulating men. Our lasses don’t need training. It’s inborn in ’em all, it’s genetic and reinforced everyday of their lives by the rest o’ ’em. I’ve got a possible theory about trans women, or at any rate why they are trans women and why as far as any bloke here can tell they’re all bugger all different from any of the other members of the sisterhood. We do all know, especially those few of us who are married to a trans lass, that they are no different from any other lass, right?”
There were cautious nods of agreement round the room from local men who didn’t wish to upset anyone. Gee, whose wife Sam and one of whose twin daughters were trans said, “Abso bloody lutely, Alf, with the emphasis on bloody minded just like the rest of ’em. So what do you reckon causes it then? More to the point will it give me any help to deal with Sam and the lasses when they’ve got it on ’em?”(54)
“Not a chance, Gee Lad, you’ll just have to suffer it the same as the rest of us.”
Gloomily Gee said, “Somehow, I just knew you were going to say that, Alf.” There was considerable laughter, albeit sympathetic laughter, at the disappointment on Gee’s face. “Ah well you may as well carry on, Alf. After you push that bottle of radioactive looking chemic over here that is.”
Alf did as requested and a number of the men topped their glasses up too. “You’ll have to bear with me on this one, Lads. Most cellular reproduction is asexual and called mitosis. In animals mitosis includes growth in kids and the healing process when say you cut yourself. It’s not that dissimilar in plants, essentially we’re talking growth and tissue repair, as happens when say you graft fruit trees. However, in a particular part of sexual reproduction as it is done by animals and most plants too there is an early stage called meiosis which is different. Specifically in most animals including humans it’s part of the process that ultimately produces sperm and ova or eggs if you prefer. In most plants it produces pollen and ova. Amongst other things, it’s one of the processes that provides opportunities for the genetic material of both of the parents to become recombined, mixed up if you like, due to genetic bridges on chromosomes called chiasmata which partially explains why all your kids are different and they are all different from both you and your missus, though of course in many cases folk in a family look similar.
“Now mostly chiasmata happen between what the boffins call the autosomes which are all the chromosomes except the two sex chromosomes that most individuals have. Different animals and plants too have different numbers of chromosomes. Usually folk have forty-four autosomes and two sex chromosomes, twenty-two autosomes and a sex chromosome from each parent. Each of the chromosomes is readily identifiable and each autosome has a scientifically accepted number that identifies it. The autosomes are numbered one through to twenty-two and the X and Y chromosomes are simply referred to as the X and the Y. Often pictures of a human chromosome set have the numbers and X and Y next to them set out in pairs. Humans inherit a set o’ autosomes, one through to twenty-two plus a sex chromosome from each parent and a matching set from the other parent. Every human cell except sperm and ova have two autosomes of each number and two sex chromosomes. In folk the sex chromosomes are the X and the Y chromosomes. Little lasses get an X from each parent and little lads an X from their mum and a Y from their dad, which means that usually it is the father’s sperm that determines the sex of the child. With me so far?” Nods and murmurs of agreement went round the room.
“I reckon one of the reasons why folk struggle to understand the details is because just about every diagram, and probably most photos too, they’ll have seen of chromosomes shew them looking like an X, four arms joined at a spot called the centromere.” There was a sound of general assent from round the room. “Trouble is the chromosomes only look like that for a small proportion of the time. Most of the time they do nowt and folk aren’t interested in ’em which is just as well because they’re so long and thin and spread out in the cell nucleus that they can’t be readily identified as such never mind photographed easily. If you imagine chromosomes as you usually see them pictured some will have two long arms and two short ones. The long thin material has dramatically shortened up and in the process become sufficiently wide to be able to see it under a microscope. What you are seeing is actually a chromosome that has already doubled up by producing a copy of itself joined to itself at the point called the centromere prior to a splitting process. That X shaped chromosome already contains twice the genetic information it usually carries when it will comprise the information in just one long and one short arm, though by then it will be virtually impossible to detect and spread throughout the cell nucleus. The same applies to chromosomes with what look like four equal length arms, it’s just not as easy to see or describe what’s going on wi’ ’em. A further confusion is thinking that the Y chromosome is so called because it has only three not four arms. It doesn’t. It has four, but they are usually gey difficult to see separately because it is small. The originally discovered sex chromosome was called the X chromosome and the subsequently discovered Y chromosome was called that simply because Y comes after X in the alphabet, not because it was Y shaped, as I said it ain’t. Trouble is folk have talked about it that way for so long that nowadays folk can’t see owt but what they expect to see.
“You could possibly think that a cell produces identical copies of its chromosomes when it doubles up before any splitting takes place. However, when chromosomes are getting ready to undergo meiosis as I said they double up to produce the familiar X shaped chromosomes and in general at that stage the double up is identical to the original. However, at a slightly later stage similar chromosomes, one from each parent that have the same numeric identifier, associate in pairs. Each chromosome will only pair up with the similar chromosome from the other parent. The paired chromosomes line up across the middle of the cell and whilst paired, sections of DNA are exchanged between the chiasmata which seem to occur randomly. That’s nearly but not totally true, though it’ll do to get your head around what’s gain on. That cell then divides into two such that each new cell has a full set of twenty-three chromosomes none of which are identical to the parental ones due to the exchanged pieces of DNA and it is completely random which one of each pair goes into which of the two new cells. Those cells now have half the number of chromosomes typically found in human cells, but they are still doubled up in terms of genetic information. Then in each of those two cells the chromosomes line up across the middle again and a second splitting process occurs. The doubled chromosomes in each of those cells split into two by separating at the centromere. Each new cell contains twenty-three chromosomes which are no longer doubled. The four new cells thus produced contain all the necessary genetic information from their copy of twenty-three recombined chromosomes, some of which is from each parent and will go on to produce sperm or ova. When a sperm fertilises an ovum, ovum is the singular of ova, they produce a zygote which will become an embryo and eventually a child in humans. Specifically in humans a zygote is a single cell with the required human complement of forty-six chromosomes, twenty-three from the sperm and twenty-three from the ovum. Still with me?” There were more nods of assent and a considerable number of faces that clearly didn’t understand but were not prepared to say so.
“It’s all very straight forward if you look at some pictures. There are loads on the internet, just look up meiosis, but be careful because some of the sites that come up first contain serious errors. You’ll need to look at a few sites. I’ll recap the process. In particular, in the production of sperm and ova one cell divides twice. The original cell contains a copy of its maternal and a copy of its paternal chromosomes and after doubling each chromosome comprises two lengths of DNA connected at their centromere that I mentioned before. You’ll have seen pictures of chromosomes looking like that. The chromosomes swap some genetic material and then the cell divides to produce two cells each containing a set of twenty-three doubled chromosomes which contain mixed up parental genetic information. In sperm production one of those two cells will contain a doubled X chromosome and the other a doubled Y chromosome. If we were talking about ova production both would contain a doubled X chromosome. Then as I said both of those cells divide again. In the case of sperm production the final outcome is two cells than contain an X chromosome and two that contain a Y chromosome. In the case of ova production all four contain an X chromosome. I’m simplifying this a lot, not least because I’m no expert, but I’ll recap the end results of it again. Those four lengths of DNA from the initial two doubled chromosomes become separated to eventually each become part of the DNA in four sperm or four ova some of which may not be viable. Humans have forty-six paired chromosomes, a matched set of twenty-three from each parent. As part of the process each chromosome lines up with the similar chromosome from the other parent. They line up in pairs at the centromere and they form a number of other points of contact. They swap material between those points of contact which are called chiasmata. The singular of chiasmata is chiasma.
“Still okay so far?” Again a murmur of assent. “That’s fine and easy to get your head around in autosomes and women’s sex chromosomes because they all exist in matching pairs including the X chromosomes, but it’s different for the sex chromosomes in men because they are different. The X is bigger than the Y and contains a lot more genetic material. In humans the X chromosome contains about a thousand genes whereas the Y contains of the order of thirty-six discovered so far. However, it’s not completely different because there are parts of the Y that are matched to equivalent parts of the X called pseudo autosomal regions. The pseudo autosomal regions are on the ends of the Y chromosome. The genes between those end regions are either important in sex determination or are only relevant to males and as far as I have bin able to discover they don’t exist on the X chromosome. The nine genes discovered so far on the pseudo autosomal portions are inherited like genes on other chromosomes, the ones called autosomes, hence the name pseudo autosomal regions.
“A more limited number of chiasmata normally occur between the X and the Y chromosomes, and as far as I have been able to discover they have rarely been deduced to have occurred other than in those pseudo autosomal regions and their equivalent portions of the X chromosome. Those regions where such chiasmata do usually occur are considered to be of lesser or no significance with regard to the sexual identity of the offspring. Chiasmata formation is suppressed on the Y chromosome between the pseudo autosomal regions, and the whole issue of Y chromosomal meiosis and subsequent inheritance is bloody complicated and I know I only understand the basics of it. I also know that there is a lot about it that is not understood by any one and there is a deal of research still going on into the matter. In the rare instances of chiasmata formation occurring on the Y chromosome in the region between the pseudo autosomal regions it is anomalous and invariably leads to sexual developmental differences from the norm.
“There is a gene called the Sex-determining Region Y, or SRY for short, that is on the short length of the Y chromosome. It’s just outside the pseudo-autosomal region a bit nearer to the centromere. It’s the master switch that triggers the events that converts the embryo into a male, else you get the default which is a female. Too there are genes to be found on the X chromosome that don’t tend to affect females because they are recessive and a female’s other X chromosome exerts a dominating effect that suppresses the gene’s ability to act. These are often referred to as sex linked characteristics. Technically they should be called X linked characteristics. In a male with no other X chromosome to dominate it the single recessive gene manifests itself. So things like haemophilia A and B are inherited slightly differently by males and females as a result. Red green colour blindness is similar. The current estimate of sequenced X linked genes is about five hundred, and the total, including vaguely defined traits, is going on for twice that many. Just because a gene has been sequenced doesn’t mean than it is known what it does, or even if it does anything. By sequencing a stretch of DNA, one finds out the order in which the four nucleotide bases, adenine, guanine, cytosine and thymine occur within that nucleic acid molecule, but there’s a lot more to genetics than just that.
“My theory or I should say the question I should like to have answered is what if chiasmata were to occur in places where they don’t usually occur and a piece of DNA not usually considered to be of any significance is swapped from the X chromosome to the Y chromosome and presumably vice versa. Is it possible that a child who inherited such a Y chromosome could be to all possible testing biologically male yet somehow that piece of X chromosomal DNA that becomes a part of their Y chromosome some how renders them female in their heads? Too, what would the effect be on a lass who inherited an X chromosome containing a part derived from a portion of a Y chromosome not considered to be of any significance to a female. I imagine less than the effect on her male equivalent because she would also have a typical unaffected X chromosome possibly capable of exerting a dominant genetic effect on the one carrying the Y material, whereas a lad with a Y chromosome containing X chromosomal material could possibly have its effect enhanced by the equivalent portion on his other sex chromosome which would be the typical X chromosome he acquired from his mum. Could that I wonder explain why there are more trans women than trans men? Too, could such phenomena be what I have seen referred to in the literature as a vaguely defined trait? Or indeed should they be so referred to?”
There was a sprinkling of laughter and head shaking from some of the men, but a number were nodding their heads because they could at least follow Alf’s line of reasoning. Dave said, “Only Alf could come up wi’ that in here. I mind him speculating about the genetics of saffron crocus and Egyptian onions a while back.(55) I reckon he reads too much and needs to get out more and do a lot more serious drinking. Those what if questions of his could lead to serious brain damage only capable of being corrected by a generous dose of chemic.”
When the laughter had faded, which took a while, Gee said, “You put that right well, Alf. Even when you repeated the information you put it differently and added bits to it as made it easier to get your head round. Even I can understand the process. Thicken up, double up, line up, swap bits, divide in two, line up again, divide again, sperm fertilises ovum, bairn born. That about it?”
Alf nodded and said, “Aye, in a nutshell. You could have saved me a powerful lot time, Gee Lad. Though of course unusual events do happen from time to time.”
Gee then asked, “How much possibility is there in all that theory, Alf?”
“I’m buggered if I know, Gee. It’s maybe not even a viable theory. I know a lot more about plant genetics than I do about animal genetics. All that as I telt you about the mechanics of it will be more or less right with obviously a lot of the details and the names of specific parts of the process left out, because I do understand how mitosis and meiosis work, but the bit about the effects of unknown processes on trans individuals could be a hundred percent pure bull shit straight out of my head. The bit about chiasmata usually only happening between X and Y chromosomes in certain spots that are deemed to be of less or even no sexual significance is right enough, or at least I’ve read of it in stuff written by university folk who know a sight more about it than I do. I have managed to find out that chiasmata do sometimes form in regions considered to be of high sexual significance or only of relevance to males, and even in the regions whose functions are as yet unknown. I believe that howsoever rarely it occurs it must occasionally happen because as I’ve said before many a time never is a bloody long time. An estimate I have read is that XX males occur at the rate of one in twenty thousand live births in humans. Many of those are believed to be due to chiasmata involving the SRY gene which causes normal penis and testicle development though some individuals go on to develop breasts.
“I have also read that SRY genes have been translocated onto X chromosomes to produce XX male humans with testicular tissue. I’ve seen pictures of female mice injected with SRY genetic material at an early developmental stage. Such XX female mice develop as XX male mice and you can see their scrota and evidence of testicles in them. It said that though they behaved and mated just like XY male mice and exhibited typical male sexual behaviour they were sterile. However, I’d like to know for sure one way or the other whether it implies sterility in humans too. Translocation isn’t the same as chiasmata formation it’s what happens when a chromosome breaks and one of the pieces is translated, or more simply put it joins on to another chromosome. As I understand it the remaining chromosome is said to have suffered a deletion. The things that puzzle me aren’t the XX individuals with completely male bodies due to the presence of SRY genes nor even the XY individuals with completely female bodies due to deactivated SRY genes, both of which a bin well known and documented for some considerable time, but the possible effects of perhaps what some would call lesser genetic events where there is no physical change of sex characteristics, primary or secondary, but there is a mental change of sexual identity. Do such events happen? Could such events be responsible for trans issues even if only some of the time? That is what I’m interested in, but it’s really hard to make sure that what I read is even reasonably recent never mind bang up to date, so someone out there may already know the answers, or then again maybe not.
“However, the fact is, Gee Lad, beyond being of interest to academics or someone like me it doesn’t matter. Rather than watch soaps, reality TV or sport like outsiders, Bearthwaite folk find something interesting and worthwhile to do. I read about all sorts o’ stuff. The bottom line for us here is your missus, despite being like all women a pain in the arse from time to time, is a good lass. Trust me she was nay different when she was a little lass, feisty didn’t even nick the edge of it. I mind when she first started learning to weld with me, four stone wringing wet through, [25Kg, 56 pounds] and scarce taller than my knees she was. That day she ran into my workshop to escape from some lads as were bullying her. She’d a bin seven and was wearing a summer frock. One of the boys followed her in. I’d never seen a fifteen year old lad laid out cold by a little lass with a tyre lever before. That’s many a day back, but you can still see where she brock his jaw in three places. No bugger ever tormented her for being trans and wearing a frock after that. Samantha is a good Bearthwaite lass. She’s an excellent wife and an even better mum. I don’t even want te think on what she’d do to any as threat her kids, and that’s what counts, not some accident that may or may not have happened in one of Robert’s bollocks decades ago.” At that there was a lot of of agreement from the local men, and Gee topped Alf’s glass up from what he had earlier referred to as that bottle of radioactive looking chemic. Alf seeing puzzlement on some outsider faces said, “Robert was Gee’s father in law as deed a lang while since.” He’d not added that Robert had committed suicide as a result of Bearthwaite folks’ reactions to Samantha and the loss of Linda his wife who’d been said to have died of grief at the time.
“Hellfire, Alf,” said Harry letting his belt tongue out a couple of holes, “That was a supper and a half. Harriet wasn’t joking about the casserole containing a lot of dumplings was she?”
Alf nodded, finished readjusting his belt and philosophically said, “Better too many, Harry Lad, than too few. Harriet knew the lasses wouldn’t want all o’ the ones as had bin cooked in their casseroles, so since she can’t abide wi’ waste, she needed some bugger to eat ’em, and we were here ready and willin’, so she transferred ’em to our casseroles afore they served the ladies.” At that there were sounds of approval all around the room. “Some of those bits o’ meat would a bin gey tough originally. I wonder how long it took to cook ’em to that state of perfection?”
Pete replied, “I can’t say for sure, Alf, but I know the meat for the casseroles was delivered first thing yesterday and it was prepared immediately. The casseroles containing the meat were put into the stove after lunch and not teken out other than for testing till maybe an hour ago. How much fuel was left in the stove to keep it cooking overnight I’ve no idea, but I know Aggie didn’t have to light it first thing this morning because I was up and mekin a pot of tea when she came in at about five. She just threw a few brash blocks(56) and some wood in and I heard the flames fire up a few minutes later. She didn’t even bother using the air blower to help ’em catch.”
“Aye well, Lad, it was cooked to perfection. Other than the skins, which were gey tasty, there wasn’t a trace o’ any Picasso left, yet the Anya hadn’t fallen at all. The dumplings had risen perfectly with no trace o’ sogginess on the outside o’ ’em as can happen if they’re put in too soon, and I presume the mixed vegetables were added at the last minute because they’d a bin cooked when they were bottled and would only a needed warming through. That tropical fruit crumble was excellent, but I suspect Harriet hit the nail square on the head when she said it was behind the door regarding taste(57) afore they added the apple, but that apple did the trick. That caraway spicing in the fruit and the crumble was excellent. I know Harriet didn’t mention the oats in the crumble probably because they always use ‘em in crumble flour and she just over looked it. It’s obvious they’ve worked out exactly how much o’ that beet syrup sweetener to use now. Now I don’t know about the rest of you lads, but I’m gain te tek Harriet’s advice and finish my supper off with a few pints of brown and some Cyanobacta too.”
Phil added, “Harriet probably didn’t mention the oats because we mek up a number o’ ready mixed crumble mixes that contain ’em. Lucy sells it by the kilo from the shop and the likes o’ here, The Granary and the Visitor Centre restaurante tek it by the fifty kilo bag. There’re a couple o’ mixes for savoury dishes and a couple for puddings. The mixes work for cobblers too.”
Dave said, “We sell at least a half a ton a week from the shop, to some of which Lucy adds whatever folk request her to. We used to rebag it in five kilo bags for Vincent’s van drivers te tek. These days the drivers tek a couple o’ sacks and weigh it out loose for them as want. The Bearthwaite community shops have it delivered by waggon along wi’ owt else required in that kind o’ quantity. Flour, cheese, meat, even tofu these days. Chance has a couple o’ older lasses still at the BEE earning a bit o’ coin doing a couple o’ hours after school keeping track o’ it all and mekin sure the shops don’t run out o’ owt. What e’er it’s costing us is irrelevant because Chance says it’s all brass as is being kept local and Elle reckons paying our kids encourages ’em to stay local too. If our lasses stay here our lads will too. More to the point she says owt as meks our young lasses aware that there will be a decent life here for their kids including the ability to earn a bit o’ coin when they are just bits o’ kids will aid us to keep ’em here. I didn’t realise that young lasses thought that far ahead, but Elle telt me that lasses thought about life as grandmothers from before they could walk. Happen she’s right.”
“Thank you, Brigitte, Harriet and Veronica. That was a very pleasant supper indeed, though I was somewhat relieved when you removed some of the dumplings. I take it that the men ate them?”
“With no problem, Auntie Elle. As usual we served up in here first and I dropped the extra dumplings in their casseroles. There was no casserole left over at all. So that means that breakfast tomorrow will be essentially a full fry up. But none of them will complain at that.”
“What exactly went into the tropical fruit crumble, Brigitte?”
“Other than locally produced apple purée, mango and green coconut I’ve no idea. Auntie Christine, do you know?”
“Mostly but not entirely. I’ll start with what we didn’t include. Banana, pineapple and citrus of any description. We had a lot of them, but we processed them separately. There must have been going on thirty or forty tons [1 ton = 1 tonne = 1000Kg= 2240 pounds] of fruit altogether and a lot of it was right on the edge of usable, so we processed and bottled the lot immediately. The citrus was all processed as marmalade because that’s quick and easy to do, and it’s remarkably tasty according to the early breakfasters. There were dozens of fruits in unlabelled boxes. Many were obviously some type of citrus and many were obviously related to something that at least one of us recognised. There must have been a dozen and a half fruits or maybe vegetables that none of us had a clue about and there are seventeen lasses who originated in the tropics working in my kitchens. So we tasted them raw and cooked and went from there. Some that weren’t citrus were incredibly sour so we set them to one side to bottle for eventual use as meat tenderisers. However, most of what we couldn’t put a name to were pretty tasteless and they all went into tonight’s tropical fruit mix which is why we used so much apple purée to boost the taste.
“I knew I was going to be asked about the fruit, so I wrote down a list in alphabetical order of what we could identify, not in order of quantity used. There were a few fruits we only had a few of. They had been dropped into boxes that contained something else. However, I’ll read the list. There were, apple, apricot, cape gooseberry, carambola also called star fruit, cherry, cherimoya also called custard apple, dates fresh not dried, dragon fruit, fig fresh not dried, green coconut which is nothing like fully ripened coconut, guava, kiwi fruit, longan, lychee, mango, melon, nectarine, passion fruit, peach, pear, Sharon fruit which is a sweet when firm persimmon, plum, pomegranate, quince, rambutan and as I said a whole load of other stuff too. We’ve a wall chart in the kitchen office shewing a load of tropical fruit you can look at if you’re so inclined. There are a couple of large crates of ripe coconut, may be a ton and a half in all, which we haven’t dealt with yet, but they will end up either finely sliced or shredded. Either way we’ll freeze them and most will probably be used in cake baking instead of dessicated coconut. The cooks have used them before and they work well. Harriet you want to pick it up from there?”
“Well other than only a few of you wanting the custard and none in the taproom wanting cream, not really. I think that’s it, Ladies.”
“Why was there so much fruit this time, Christine?”
“I’ve no idea, Elle. It just happens that way some times, but we can always use it. As time goes on and we become more experienced with the exotics we’re making better use of it all.”
Hayley Claverton asked, “Has anyone seen those advertisements that keep coming up on my laptop for Ariel Platinum. It’s for doing your washing with, only it looks like a white lump with a blue blob and a red blob stuck on it?” A number of the women nodded or said yes but most hadn’t. “The lass on one of them starts blathering(58) on about washing her clothes and they still smell unpleasant with what she calls boomerang smells. To prove her point she pulls her jumper away from her chest and she has a look of disgust on her face as she looks like she’s sniffing her armpit whilst standing up on a bus that’s full of folk who all seem to be completely unaware of her bizarre behaviour. Then she goes into her selling routine for Ariel Platinum with the odour removing power of Febreze and its built in stain removers. I think that’s what the blue and red blobs are supposed to be. Another advertisement shews a bloke doing the washing including a ten year old lad’s white tee shirt that looks like someone put a shovelful of spaghetti sauce on the front of it. Naturally it closes with the lad wearing a pristine tee shirt that is supposedly the same one after having been washed with Ariel Platinum. No mum I know would buy anything white for just about any lad, certainly not a white tee shirt for a teenage lad and nearly every bloke I know wouldn’t have even been near to doing a load of washing and the few that had been forced into it would have half killed a lad of that age who did that to his clothes.
“Even my auld man, Jimmy, who even when cold stone sober is remarkably decent about helping me out with domestic stuff when I’m under a bit of pressure and more patient with kids than virtually any other bloke I’ve ever come across, would have made the lad do at least the week’s washing for the entire family for getting his clothes into such a mess. The advertisement then closes with the selling routine just like the other. Then a voice over comes on both of them saying ‘Always keep away from children.’ I’m a teacher and a mum. I don’t need telling to keep away from children. I just wish it were possible.” It was a while before the chuckles faded and Hayley added, “And last night I felt someone was rubbing salt into my wounds when I saw an advertisement for New Bold Platinum that said the same thing about staying away from children. It would appear that the manufacturer of washing detergents, and there is only one that makes them all, who’d like you to believe there was some competition out there, they used to be called Lever Brothers I think, has run out of money to fund different advertisements, or at least they’ve run out of ideas. Mind we knew that decades ago.” The laughter resumed at her outrage, but it took a lot longer to fade this time.
Pete said, “Seeing as that seems to be it for the tale telling I have a piece of information to pass on that the lawspeakers would be obliged to you if you passed it around. I was talking to Jane Wright the other day. You no doubt all mind that nasty stuff(59) that she’s extracted from those plants that are being propagated and planted where ever they’ll do most good for our security.” A lot of the local men were nodding their heads. “There is an absolutely minute quantity o’ it in the watter in the tanker that carries the watter canon. At the dilution in the watter the canon uses it’s like an itching powder and as well as mekin the water slimy it stinks and it’s gey hard to wash the stink off. Mind there are all sorts of other plant extracts included some of which are also hard to wash off and they mek you gey attractive to flies. Too, there are any number of unpleasant yet legal plants now growing in appropriate spots on our fells.” Again the same men were nodding for they already knew what Pete was telling them. “It’s teken a lot longer than they anticipated, but they have an antidote to everything in the plants we grow and the watter in the tanker. It’s difficult, complicated and expensive to produce, so it won’t be available to outside medical spots, but if any o’ us, or worse any o’ our kids, are unfortunate enough to be harmed by the plants it’ll be available. Not much of a tale that, Lads, but at least you know now, so pass that about. I tek it that it’s time for me get a damp rag out for the tables and for someone to get the dominoes out. I’ll be obliged if someone sorts out some snacks and a couple o’ dozen bottles o’ chemic.
As usual after the Green Dragon had closed for business Elle, Sasha, Gladys, Pete, Harriet, Gustav, Brigitte and Peter were drinking tea in the best side to discuss anything new that they had come across over the evening and the preceding week too.
Elle started by saying, “There’s little to discuss from my point of view. We’ve taken in rather more pregnant lasses who should still be at school who were threwn out onto the street by their parents than usual, most were in a women’s shelter in Lincoln who rang us up to send some lasses down, but some were found on the streets of Aberdeen by Níls and Vada a pair of Arathane’s Street Rangers. Effa has explained her past to the lasses and they are all now attending classes at the BEE and the ante natal classes, so all is fine there. Gladys?”
“None were supported by which ever low life it was who had them pregnant, which it has been suggested we ignore rather than having Jym Peabody pursue them for maintenance because nearly all have taken up with a Bearthwaite lad and as you’d expect the lads’ parents have taken the lasses in as daughters. It is suspected that as usual the rest will follow suit soon enough. Jimmy said chasing maintenance through the courts is a thankless task that invariably upsets the mother and ultimately the child too, and in the end often produces little support of any kind least of all financial. He opines that Bearthwaite is support enough and that in the end taking in a mother and child as one of our own will more than repay our aid to them. As things stand their bairns’ fathers know nothing about their whereabouts, and the shelter won’t provide any details nor even admit to having given any of the twenty-eight a bed. The seven girls from Aberdeen effectively just disappeared and seemingly all came from families that won’t even look for them. In neither case can the bairns’ fathers have any future claim on them once they are born. Chance will do the right thing with the birth certificates. He’ll either leave the fathers’ names blank, which is legal and the certificates can be officially amended at a later date, or if the lass’s relationship has proceeded far enough and she and her man desire it he’ll fill his name in. Whatever happens will be fine, none of the mothers are over bright, which probably explains why they fell for the promises of a low life with just one thing on his mind, but they’ll become Bearthwaite folk and they all seem to be enjoying becoming so. A good result all round I think.”
Harriet shook her head and said, “I’ve nothing to say really. This place is running itself. We’re already fully booked over Easter and passing on enquiries to folk who do bed and breakfast. Brigitte? Peter?”
Brigitte just shook her head. Peter said, “There’s nothing happening concerning the Ring Train technology at the moment. Harwell and some of his staff are working on using it for our security, but they are nowhere near finished yet. I’ve got a lot on with my schoolwork, but it’s nowt I can’t handle. Dad? Granddad?”
Gustav said, “We’ve a Customs and Revenue inspection of the distillery coming up sometime in the next few weeks, but all is totally prepared for them. They’ll probably look in at the brewery and the Dragon whilst they’re here, but there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll have a tanker arrive to fill up with Cyanobacta whilst they’re here to give them something to look at and inspect once they’ve done with our bottling plant. That will set their minds onto the buyer and bottler and move them on mentally rather than having them thinking about how else they can upset us. I telt that chief inspector, what must be a couple o’ years back, to just drop in at any time. I know they have the authority to do that anyway, but being offered does calm their suspicious natures down a bit. Truth is we don’t care. The stuff we still and sell is part of a completely legitimate business as regards all that they are interested in. Even the cask stuff selt in here is all duty paid, though we claw it back in other ways. The other chemic is private property and it’s never selt, so it would be of no interest to them even if they ever saw any of it. Dad?”
Pete said, “Gustav said most of it. The brewery is making and selling a lot more ale these days and with the warmer weather coming it’ll be selling even more, so doubtless we’ll be needing more folk to work there, but we’re tekin in more folk all the time, so that’ll probably work itsel out in the end. Sasha?”
“Just the ever present concerns about security. A dozen and a half of us, more if some of Harwell’s squad leaders are back in time, are meeting on Wednesday for a review of where we’re at and what we’re doing next. The only agendum item I know we’ll be discussing is the recently commissioned automated sluice gate mechanisms on the new dam. As I’m sure we’re all aware they’ll be able to be remotely operated by a mobile phone if it has the right codes. How we decide who will have access to those codes is what will be up for discussion. That they already work has bin tested and the mechanism works well. The sluices can also be locked into position by mobile phone so that they can’t be manually altered, though there is a well hidden mechanism that can be used to manually alter them. It’s well below the water level and not described or referred to on any of the technical drawings. By opening the sluices remotely it will tek less than an hour to render the lonning unpassable to even big, high tractors at it’s lowest section which has recently bin dug out to be a quarter of a mile [400m] long. It’ll tek eight hours to flood it enough to render the entire length of the lonning as far as the Rise impassable to wheeled traffic. As I said we want enough folk to be able to activate the sluices, but we don’t want to have so many that mistakes can happen. However, we’ve had very few mistakes on the emergency numbers on the mobile phones, not even from the kids, and there have been none over the last three years, so it’ll be sorted out somehow. Is that us? Time for bed?”
Peter said, “I’ll start locking up, Dad,” as Sasha and Elle went to retrieve their coats.
29660 words including footnotes
1 See GOM 57.
2 STEM, Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics.
3 A’ level, Advanced level. The qualifications that follow on from official school leaving age in the UK. Usually taken in three or four subjects and examined at the age of eighteen.
4 BEE, Bearthwaite Educational Establishment.
5 Puberty blockers, usually Lupron Depot®, but sometimes Trelstar®, are a type of medication called a gonadotropin releasing hormone analogue. Puberty blockers lower female hormones and stop further female body changes, such as breasts, broad hips and menstrual periods, that are hard or impossible to reverse once they have developed. Puberty blockers will not change a youth’s genetic sex chromosomes, nor will they change their internal reproductive organs, ovaries, uterus, and vagina, if they are later stopped. Puberty blockers will not make a youth’s body more masculine.
6 Sniffing in this context is a widely used somewhat coarse UK expression indicating the expression of sexual interest. It is mostly used in connection with pubertal and recently pubertal youngsters and derives from animal behaviour.
7 The expression ‘he’s laughing’ indicates he has as good as succeeded in achieving his goal.
8 Wearing the kit is a men’s vernacular reference to women’s bodies not their clothes.
9 Gutter, the term here is dialectally used to indicate a drainage ditch at the side of the road.
10 Road scutchings or planings are produced when the surface layer of a tarmac surface is removed by a cold milling machine known as a scutcher or a planer. Road scutchings, are an extremely cost effective material as compared with virgin material from a quarry. The scutchings are used for hard standings, farm tracks, paths, roads, driveways and many other uses.
11 The National Coal Board, NCB, was the statutory corporation created to run the nationalised coal mining industry in the UK. Set up under the Coal Industry Nationalisation Act 1946, it took over the United Kingdom's collieries on “vesting day”, 1st of January 1947. In 1987, the NCB was renamed the British Coal Corporation, and its assets were subsequently privatised.
12 An overman would be an experienced miner who had been promoted on the basis of experience.
13 The British National Party (BNP) is a far-right, fascist political party in the United Kingdom. It is headquartered in Wigton, Cumbria, and is led by Adam Walker. A minor party, it has no elected representatives at any level of UK government. It is derived from the 1960s party the neo Nazi National Front.
14 Assassin’s Creed is a historical action adventure video game series and media franchise.
15 Morecambe Bay is an estuary in north west England, just to the south of the Lake District National Park. It is the largest expanse of intertidal mudflats and sand in the United Kingdom, covering a total area of 120 sq miles. It is a hazardous place and over the centuries has taken many lives. On the evening of 5 February 2004, at least 21 Chinese undocumented migrants were drowned by an incoming tide at Morecambe Bay in North West England, while illegally harvesting cockles off the Lancashire coast. Fifteen other labourers from the same group managed to return safely to shore. The resulting investigation caused regulations concerning Gang Masters to be tightened considerably.
16 See GOM 61.
17 Asian in English English only refers to the Indian sub continent, India, Pakistan, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka. It does not include China, Japan or Korea.
18 Tuskers, the breed name given to re-domesticated, wild, feral suids that have interbred with domesticated pigs.
19 A stile is a structure or opening that provides passage for humans, rather than animals such as livestock, over or through a boundary. Common forms include steps, ladders, narrow gaps and kiss or kissing gates. Stiles are often built in rural areas along footpaths, fences, walls or hedges that enclose domestic animals. Some have arrangements to facilitate the passage of dogs.
20 Where footpaths cross dry stone walls in England a squeeze stile is sometimes found, a vertical gap in the wall, usually no more than 25 centimetres (10 in) wide, often formed by stone pillars on either side to protect the structure of the wall.
21 Won’t take any slavver, won’t take any nonsense, also less politely won’t take any shit.
22 To sport one’s canvas to be ready to fight. Originally a boxing term in the days when boxing was a popular but illegal activity much sponsored by the aristocracy.
23 SPM, Sovereign Properties Management.
24 This windy tale is loosely based on events on the Solway plain due to Storm Éowyn. Storm Éowyn, pronounced ay-oh-win, (IPA /ˈeɪoʊwɪn/) was an extremely powerful and record breaking extratropical cyclone which hit Ireland, the Isle of Man and the United Kingdom on the 24th of January 2025 and Norway on the night of the 24th of January into into the 25th of January 2025. The fifth storm of the 2024-25 European windstorm season, Éowyn was named by the UK Meteorological Office on the 21st of January 2025. Over a million homes in the UK lost power, some for three days. In Scotland what would normally have been 100 days’ worth of maintenance was required due to 3 days of storm damage. In line with the pronunciation of Éowyn Éolwenna is pronounced ay-oll-wenna, IPA /ˈeɪolwɛnɐ/. Though the name where it is used is more usually pronounced yol wenna, IPA jɐlwɛnɐ.
25 Hiss, dialectal pronunciation of his. IPA hɪs.
26 Brass, dialectal money. Also, coin and cash
27 BBC, British Broadcasting Corporation, Britain’s state funded broadcaster.
28 Fash oursels ower, worry or bother ourselves over or about.
29 Fash oursels ower, worry or bother ourselves over or about.
30 Incompetent authorities, Dougal is being deliberately contemptuous of what in law are referred to as the competent authorities.
31 TPO, Tree Preservation Order.
32 Hiab, a commonly used abbreviation for Hydrauliska Industri AB. A Swedish manufacturer of loader cranes, demountable container handlers, forestry cranes, truck-mounted forklifts and tail lifts. The company is owned by the Cargotec Corporation. Hiab has become a name used in the UK for generic loaders built on to waggon bodies to load them with.
33 Lead in and led in, a widely used rural UK usage going back to horse drawn cart days referring to bringing in a harvest from the fields back to the farm or elsewhere for storage. The horse was often led by a worker walking alongside the loaded waggon. The term is still in use though the horses have long been replaced by tractors and waggons. The word led has recently been increasingly incorrectly written as lead though depending upon the tense the words may be pronounced the same. Two correct examples, the boss wants me to lead in hay this afternoon, pronounced leed as in bleed, (IPA lɪ:d), and I led hay in yesterday, pronounced led as in bled, (IPA lɛd). The usage has long been applied to non agricultural loads as here.
34 Yance, dialectal once.
35 Gey, dialectal very.
36 Whoore, local pronunciation of whore. Who – er, er as in her. IPA hu:ə:r.
37 Genny, pronounced jenny, slang for generator.
38 kVA kilo Volt Amperes, a measure of power used differently from kW, kilo Watts, despite a Watt being the product of Volts and Amperes. Nominally, eg. 2 Volts × 3 Amperes = 6 Volt Amperes = 6 Watts, but the way they are used differs from that equivalence, see the text. kVA is usually pronounced kay vee ay.
39 Spec, slang, specification.
40 A gnat’s dick, a somewhat crude expression signifying a very small amount.
41 Spatri, local usage for the town of Aspatria.
42 Ofgem, the Office of Gas and Electricity Markets is a United Kingdom government non-ministerial department supporting the Gas and Electricity Markets Authority GEMA. GEMA the Ofgem Board, is the government regulator for the electricity and downstream natural gas markets in Great Britain. Ofgem was formed on the First of November 2000 by the merger of the Office of Electricity Regulation, OFFER, and Office of Gas Supply, Ofgas.
43 HM Government, His Majesties Government, in this case the taxation authorities.
44 Leccipoles, pronounced lekki - poles, vernacular for poles that carry electricity supply wires.
45 Shysters and bean counters, solicitors [lawyers] and accountants.
46 Corporation tax in the United Kingdom is a corporate tax levied in on the profits made by UK resident companies and on the profits of entities registered overseas with permanent establishments in the UK.
47 The craic, the camaraderie. Here the reference is to tales subsequently related in the pub.
48 Gain, dialectal going, pronounced gah + inn or garn depending exactly whereabouts the speaker is from. Gang is also used in some parts of Cumbria.
49 Grub, slang for food.
50 She’d retired her broomstick, the meaning is she was past the temperamental issues due to hormones which included the effects of menopause. A male expression.
51 When they’ve got it on ’em, when they are making life difficult for the menfolk.
52 See GOM 30.
53 Brash blocks, are extruded from sawdust and fine chipped wood and other organic materials from a variety of sources all mixt with a binder, see GOM 46, and compressed to produce a solid fuel briquette approximately four inches [100mm] in diameter and of variable lengths which is determined by the way they break off as they exit the extruder tube.
54 Behind the door regarding taste, short of flavour.
55 To blather, to talk for a long time in a silly or annoying way.
56 Nasty stuff, RTX. Resin spurge contains resiniferatoxin, RTX, which is rather toxic and can inflict chemical burns in minute quantities. The primary action of RTX is to activate sensory neurons responsible for the perception of pain. It is currently the most potent TRPV1, nerve pain mechanism, agonist known. RTX is a naturally occurring chemical found in resin spurge Euphorbia resinifera, and in Euphorbia poissonii. Both of which will grow in the UK and it is legal to grow them.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos!
Click the Thumbs Up! button below to leave the author a kudos:
And please, remember to comment, too! Thanks.
