It was the first of the illegal meetings of the Grumpy Old Men’s Society. Alf’s work hanging the blackout curtains had been completely successful and there was not a glimmer of light to be seen from outside. The entire group of old men, and a lot of the Bearthwaite younger men too, had checked from every angle and from right up to the windows. Pete had asked Alf to start designing a set of shutters for outside the windows that could be locked and make the situation even more secure. “It’ll cost you, Pete,” Alf had said, “because they really need to be made from a decent quality hard wood to withstand the weather. Oak heartwood would be my choice.”

“Just sort it out, Alf, and when you know what you want order the wood and whatever else you need to do the job right,” Sasha told him. “Have the invoices sent to me and I’ll deal with all the paperwork for Pete.”

The men all took their pints back to the tables not quite sure who was going to tell what, but Denis started the conversation with, “It’s all bloody crazy at the moment. Belinda needed some physio and they contacted her by phone and had her doing it with the lass at the other end telling her what to do. If it’s that damned easy how come they haven’t been doing it that way for years? Another thing. We’ve always shopped for household stuff in bulk three or four times a year, but now the rationing would force us to go out every week if we weren’t getting everything from Dave and Lucy. We’d have been interacting with more folk in a month than we used to in a year. Still, I ordered loo roll and kitchen rolls off ebay and you should have seen the look on face of the guy who delivered them when I telt him what he’d just delivered. Two gross of each. It’s all nuts. The local vet’s closed and I had to go to Aspatria with Satan, the kids’ cat, so instead of going nine miles each way where I’d typically meet two folk, three at most, I had to travel twenty-odd miles each way to a very busy surgery and meet possibly a couple of dozen folk. The good thing is we don’t have to go again, but I don’t think the politicians have a clue what they are doing.”

“Yeah well, when talking about politicians and toilet paper just remember you can’t push a turd backwards, Denis. All you can do is reach for the roll, apply it appropriately and flush the shite away.”

Sasha said, “That was pretty profound albeit somewhat cynical, Stan, though I don’t disagree with your sentiments. You do of course realise that the problem is ultimately not covid but religion because that is what determines how folk react to everything including covid. Some regard it as an article of faith that covid is a hoax. Many folk consider the world is in a complete mess and that it’s all caused by religion. All religions revolve round what their followers consider to be absolute non-negotiable truths, what I call their I believe statements. They do not believe these as a result of logical discussion and thus can not as a result of logical discussion be persuaded to abandon them. The result is all discussion between those with different I believe statements is pointless.

“Even atheists are no better. Their I believe statement is simply they believe none of it, so it is pointless to try to come at them with questions like, ‘Ah but what if you’re wrong?’ because they cannot be persuaded to abandon their stance by logic or anything else. Truth is most don’t care what anybody else believes because they consider that clearly all others are idiots simply because they are doctrinally different, which is of course a classic believer’s stance that is possibly the only thing that all believers seem to hold in common.

“Most atheists believe that all should be allowed to believe as they choose and to behave as they choose given the proviso that everybody else has the same right, but the moment someone’s behaviour affects someone else it must be subject to control. Whose? Theirs of course because they are the only ones who know the real truth, everybody else’s truth is corrupt, again taken from classic religious doctrines of many flavours.

“Given those beliefs, major problems arises when adults inculcate their children in their own beliefs. Atheists believe that to be utterly abhorrent and immoral which of course is complete nonsense because how else will children learn what is socially acceptable behaviour if not by inculcation? And in any case atheists inculcate their children with their own views which by their own stance is hypocrisy of a high order. So it all boils down to this, everything is okay as long as it agrees with the views of the person considering the situation and everything else is not okay. This is of course the status quo, so in reality all is well with the world and there is actually no mess at all. I by the bye would be an atheist, but its a little too much like a religion for me.”

“Do you actually believe in anything, Sasha?”

“The inevitability of death and taxes, Alf. Yes I believe in death and taxes.”

“You done, Sasha?”

“Yes. What you got to tell us, George?”

“Not much really just something I saw the other day. It’s certainly not worth a beer. I had to go to Carlisle for an xray, so since I was going anyway Christine gave me a shopping list and said to call at Lidl on the way home. I saw some trimmed up celery stalks for sale. The bottom two inches had been cut off and the same at the top, they’d have been five or six inches long. I took me a while to work out what was going on. Only time I’ve ever seen em spelt ess ee double ell ee are why ess tee oh are kay ess. Sellery storks, kid you not. I don’t know if it were a marketing ploy or just plain stupidity.” There was considerable head shaking at that as they’d all had problems with what marketing men considered to be clever and even more problems with the absurdities of the texting generations.

“Another round gentlemen?” Pete asked.

There were nods of agreement and after the matter had been dealt with Harry said, “I’ve a couple of crazy memories from my taxi driving days if anyone’s interested. They’re all recollections to do with vehicle maintenance, but there’s not much to them.”

Alf responded instantly, “I’m interested.”

Stan said, “Go on then, Harry.”

“First of all I’ll say Ford Cortinas were pretty easy to work on, but taxiing wears everything out. For a start on average a cab carries nearer three people as opposed to one point one for a private car. Hinge pins, boot [US trunk] hinges, seats, you name it they all wear out, and some cabs are driven twenty-four seven by two or more drivers and cover over a million miles a year. Part of the suspension system on a Cortina are things called void bushes. A void bush comprises two steel tubes with vulcanised rubber between them. You can go through several sets a year. Some of them are only partially filled with rubber, they have voids, hence the name. Most cabbies who do their own maintenance don’t use them. They use the solid ones that are normally used on estate cars [US station wagons] because though they give a harder ride they last longer. When you get a second hand Cortina you intend to use as a cab it’s probably got the original void bushes in it and they will be a bastard to get out even with a puller. I never bothered to even try using a puller on a car new to me, I just burned em out with oxy.”

Alf agreed saying, “It’s the only way to do it if you don’t want to lose a couple of knuckles and cripple your hands for a fortnight.”

Harry continued, “If you’ve got any sense you spend a bit of time putting the new ones in. You clean up the hole the bush outer goes into with a file and emery cloth to remove all rust, crap and everything else and then grease it. You clean up the bush outer tube of any burrs with emery and file a lead on the front and back edges. You don’t need to do both edges, but if you do when you get back under the car and can’t see too well it doesn’t matter which way you round you put it in. Then you take a rattail file and do the same with the inner steel tube before greasing the bush. After installing the bush, which will go in easily, you file and clean the bolt that goes through the bush centre tube and grease that. I always ran a die down the bolt threads and a tap down the nuts to clean em up and greased them both too. The whole assembly is a piece of cake, but going to all that trouble means the next time you have to do the job it’s easy, you show the bush the puller and it jumps out in fear.

Alf nodded and said, “That’s the way to do a proper job. I’m glad it’s not just me that sees it that way.”

“Now when I was driving down there there were major road works on every road into the city of Manchester going in from our side. Most of us used Liverpool Street when we could but even that wasn’t easy. Sometimes you had to use Regent Road which had hundreds of four inch potholes, but the surfaces on the all the roads were appalling, and they hammered your suspension. I went to see Larry who had the scrapyard at Boysnope Wharf Irlam and got an extra pair of rear coil springs. I took em to Manchester Springs and telt them to stretch em an extra four inches. The technique is they soften them with heat, stretch them and finally reharden and temper them. I put the springs on in place of the others. I had to get a couple of extra coil spring compressors due to the longer length of the springs. It was a lot better, a much harder ride, but at least the roads weren’t shaking my cab to pieces. After a week I took the original springs to have them stretched by six inches. Now that was a hard ride, but with four passengers in it was far better on the roads into the city. It wasn’t long before all the lads with Cortinas were doing likewise.

“The brake shoe retaining mechanisms on the rear wheels used a stupid little clip that was always coming off leading to binding brakes. I had a couple of longer pins made so I could drill them, put a split pin through and throw the clips away. Problem solved.

“There was a weekend when I knew my clutch was going. I was hoping it would see me through till Sunday when I could put a new one in. I’d picked up the entire three part clutch kit and it was in the boot along with my toolbox. It lasted till about eleven on the Saturday night, and I managed to get back to the office where the kerb was about fifteen inches higher than the road. I got the driver’s side wheels on the kerb and changed the clutch in the dark with a torch. Now I’d already put a couple of clutches in that vehicle, and because I’d had them all off before and cleaned and greased them before putting them back, all the nuts and bolts came off easily. I knew exactly what I was doing and I did the job with the gearbox on my chest. I was back on the road not long after midnight ready for the punters coming out of the clubs. That’s it, Lads. I said I hadn’t got much.”

“Tell me about that brake mod again please, Harry,” asked Alf.

“You know the pin that holds the shoe assembly down? The one that looks like a stud with a flat five eighths wide head and a groove round the other end that the clip is supposed to lock into. It’d be maybe an inch long and the shank a quarter or maybe five sixteenths.” Alf nodded. “Turn another pin on the lathe a quarter of an inch longer without the grove. Drill through it through on the diameter at the end for the split pin. When you reinstall it put a washer on instead of the clip and then put the split pin through the hole.”

“Clever. That clip arrangement is still used on some cars. I’ll use that mod. Thanks, Harry.”

Alf continued saying, “I’ve got a bit to say about the allotments. [community gardens] You know the lads and I have decided to take over all the vacant plots to make it easier to supply Dave and Lucy?” There were nods all round because the matter had been raised before as part of the villagers’ strategy to keep covid out. “Well, Ellen wanted me to go organic. I’ve telt her if she wants to dig all the damned strangle weed up [bindweed, Calystegia sepium or Convolvulus arvensis] on those empty plots we’re recovering then she can get on with it, but if it’s up to me it’s Roundup or nowt, for I’m too old to do it any other way. Some of them haven’t been cultivated for twenty-odd years and are pretty badly infested with pernicious weeds. The scutch [Couch grass or twitch grass. Elymus repens] isn’t too bad and the rosebay willow herb [Chamaenerion angustifolium] can be dealt with but the strangle weed is a bastard. The roots are brittle as hell and the entire plant can regrow from the tiniest piece of root, bits so small you can’t even see them. When I was in my thirties I eliminated an small infestation of Japanese knotweed [Fallopia japonica or Polygonum cuspidatum] on what was then my new allotment plot by digging it out as fast as it appeared. It took me six years, and the infestation was less than eighteen inches across. I’m seventy-three and I haven’t got six years left to waste buggering about with noxious weeds, or the strength any more. Annual weeds are easy, mulch them over and they die. If you’ve nowt better you can use corrugated cardboard from old boxes as mulch, but perennials no. At my age glyphosphate is the way forward if I want to clear a patch of land of pernicious weeds to grow food.

“I bought some seeds from China last year off ebay which was a bad mistake I won’t be repeating. Most of the seeds were as described, but the tamarillo tree tomatoes turned out to be brassicas, the basil seeds produced carnations, the sweet peppers were marigolds and the cucumbers were courgettes [zucchini] and I hate the things. The mixed chile pepper seeds I was given grew like hell in the greenhouse. I’ll give Ellen her due she can grow chiles, it’s just a pity I can’t stand the heat. The free seeds all had names like Hot Wax and Ring of Fire, so I wasn’t prepared to even try anything she made using them. The lads and I are combining our seed orders this year. We’ve talked about doing it for years but stupidly never got round to it. That way will be cheaper since we won’t all have loads of part used seed packets. And we’ve decided to use some plots just for soft fruit because it’ll be easier to keep them weed free that way. The lasses helping Rosie make Vince’s pies have said they’ll make fruit pies too. Vince said to use his ovens because they can do the job in bulk that way. All he wants in return is the odd pie or two, and he said he’d sell some from the shop, but most could go to Dave’s. We should have the first of the early forced rhubarb harvested in a couple of weeks, so the lasses will have the first of the season’s fruit pies ready about then. I don’t know how the finances of it all will be worked out, but no doubt some one will sort it out.”

“If it’s a problem, Alf, let me know and I’ll get a few of us to look at it for you.”

“Thanks, Sasha, I was hoping you’d say something like that.”

Denis looked at the levels of beer in the glasses and said, “I want another. I’ll pull em, Pete. Any one for a taste of that schnapps I got from Germany two years since?” There were nods of agreement, and Denis said, “There’s a bottle behind the bar, but we’ll need another from the cellar so if someone goes for a couple of bottles whilst I pull pints I be much obliged. After that I’ve a couple of quirky odds and ends to tell.”

Phil said, “I’ll get the bottles, Denis.”

When all was done Denis started. “When I was teaching I used to regularly try to con the kids into believing nonsense, it was game we used to play and the kids used to try to work out if what I was telling them was a con or not.”

“Surely telling them nonsense must have confused them, Denis. How did they remember what was real and what wasn’t?”

“Actually, Pat, it was an amazingly successful teaching strategy. I reckoned that was because it made them think more deeply about the material because they were trying to catch me out too, so they remembered the details. I mind the time I telt a group physics students about how magnetism worked. How there were effectively little areas within a ferromagnetic material referred to as domains and within any given domain all the individual little magnetic fields were all in the same direction. In a lump of plain iron or steel the domains were oriented at random and cancelled each other out so the lump didn’t behave like a magnet. But if external forces were applied such as to cause a net aligning of the domain directions which remained after the external force was removed a magnet resulted. That’s how magnets are created, by using an applied electric field with its associated magnetic field which is at right angles to it. If the lump of plain iron or steel, it works with nickel and cobalt and certain alloys too as well as some more exotic materials, is placed in the electric field you have a magnet.

“That’s not exactly how it’s done nor exactly the explanation, but it’s close enough for an initial understanding of the situation. I carried on to say the piece of unmagnetised material can be mechanically shocked if one hits it hard enough to free the domains up enough to have some of them align a little bit with the Earth’s magnetic field and remain so aligned. That is what happens when a farrier hit steel horse shoes as long as the steel is below its transition temperature, for above that it is not magnetic. Blacksmiths use a magnet to check whether they can forge weld steel for it has to be at least above its transition temperature to form a successful forge weld. All true enough as far as it goes. I concluded by saying that if you see horses grazing in a field that’s why they all stand in a north south orientation, it’s due to the magnetisation of their shoes lining up with the Earth’s magnetic field. It took them a fortnight to tumble to having been had. They figured it out in the end because they said that even if what I had said were true the four shoes would have been oriented differently, and if you considered enough horses the net effect would have been completely randomised, so the horses would be facing in random directions. Now to work that out they’d have had to be thinking and talking about the matter. I do know at the end of the topic they had a damned good grasp of the material.

“However the best cons work the other way round. Tell them something that they are convinced is a con that is absolutely true. Like the Sardinian cheese sold with maggots in that can jump 150mm [six inches] which you have to be careful eating in case one of the little buggers hits you in the eye. Another such was telling them that Isaac Newton invented apples, gravity and the cat flap. They got the apples and gravity references easily enough but didn’t buy into the cat flap, but it’s true.

“Perhaps my best con was on Belinda. I telt her there was a song from the sixties with the lyrics ‘Lie down girl let me push it up push it up lie down.’ She absolutely refused to believe it. I kept that one going for thirty years. It was only when one of her mates said, ‘I remember that,’ that my ‘con’ was busted.”

“That can’t be true surely, Denis, can it?”

“As true as I’m here, Eric. Sung by a Jamaican lad with dread locks who went by the name of Max Romeo. It was called Wet Dream and released in 1968. Look it up on youtube. It’s there. There’s even a version with printed lyrics. I was telt by someone it was banned by the Big Black Cock, which was the first time I’d ever heard of that as an alternative name for the BBC [British Broadcasting Corporation, Britain’s state funded broadcaster], which of course guaranteed it had hit sales, same as ‘Je t’aime’ the nineteen sixty-seven song sung by Jane Birkin and Serge Gainsbourg written for Brigitte Bardot. That reached number one in Britain probably because it was banned by the BBC. I checked both out because I knew I’d be telling the tale here some time and I wanted to make sure I’d got my facts straight because I’ve forgotten and misremembered an awful lot since the late sixties. That’s it. I said I’d just got a few quirky odds and ends.”

Stan added, “Well a little different, but still talking of silly media stuff. Mary Whitehouse, who was scurrilously referred to by many as Fairy Shitehouse, was the Christian founder of ‘The National Listeners’ and Viewers’ Association’ which was an organisation that set out to police TV and radio and ensure that everything on both were of a suitable moral content which in effect meant were in line with her Victorian prudery. She was pathologically homophobic and transphobic too. She of course said she merely wanted all immoral material off the air, but one man’s morality is another’s anathema.”

“What’s an athema, Stan?”

“It’s one word, Alf and it’s an anathema. It’s something that is considered to be totally wrong and offensive. Some described her as the extreme Christian founder. She was the woman who wanted the nineteen eighty-one film Montenegro banned because she claimed it depicted graphic details of anal sex! All I can say is she had better eyesight than me. It was on late at night with an explicit adult label, it was a red triangle and was on channel four I think. I don’t think it started till gone midnight. I watched it with Julie after a night out. I can only presume she was referring to a scene where two women were making love doggy style on their hands and knees next to each other and they were chatting to each other. Their respective men barely featured in the scene which was shot in its entirety head on facing the women, so it may well have been anal, but there was no way of knowing and certainly no way seeing. Still Mary was probably a missionary only woman, with the lights out at that, who considered anything else to be total filth. I must say I still feel sorry for her old man even though they died twenty years ago. The film was purportedly based on real events that happened in Sweden which if true makes it a tragedy of epic proportions.

“What upset me at the time was The Professionals, a cops and robbers TV series, that was on in the early evening the day before long before the watershed, the time before which explicit and violent stuff should not be screened because children will still be up. That week it shewed someone being blown in half with a sawn off double barrel shotgun. It was very realistic and I know which I’d rather my children saw. Sex at least is a natural act without which none of us would be here, the violence is not. Mary Whitehouse didn’t have a word to say about The Professionals. Screwed up priorities if you ask me.”

“Get em in, Pete, and while you’re at it put me down for the round after that. What’s for supper?”

“Right you are, Sasha. Mince [US ground meat] and onion pies, cow cabbage [a large solid, pale cabbage] and gravy was what Aggie was talking about this morning. Anyone want a glass of that akvavit that I got from Dennis to go with it?” There were murmurs of agreement and Pete said, “I’ll fetch a couple of bottles.”

After supper, Pete asked, “Any more for any more, or are we onto dominoes. I swear it’s feels to be so long since I played I suspect I’ve forgotten how.”

There were a lot of chuckles at that, and Sasha said, “We’re probably all in the same boat, Pete. I suggest unless someone has a burning tale to tell we get the dominoes out for a bit of practice. Before we do I had a thought last night. The way I live I’ve been almost self isolating for decades and I often have no idea what day of the week it is. It’s only Saturdays that enable me to realign with the calendar. When the clocks went forward earlier in the year, and this year it’ll be the same, millions of folk were late for their breakfast, not because they forgot to alter the clocks, but because as a result of lock down they’d no reason to get out of bed. I get up with the sun and go to bed long after it sets with a load of work I should have done going to the top of the following day’s list. How do folk have time to work? I suspect it’s not much different for any of us here, and I concluded that’s because our lives are real. City folks lived a life that covid has brought crashing down around them, yet it’s done little to alter our way of life at all.”

“You reckon us meeting here is okay, Sasha? I mean I’m really glad we are, but is it morally acceptable and even sensible?”

“Well, Gerry let me put it this way, and I’m not trying to manipulate things to provide excuses for breaking the law. If we’re criminals then so be it. However, in a way the entire village is a kind of bubble. We are much more isolated than most and are minimising the need for outside deliveries. When they do arrive we have the stuff dropped on the road and after the delivery truck has gone we carry the stuff in. How many of you have left the village since the first lock down? George went for an xray and shopping, both legally allowable. Denis took the cat to the vets, which was allowable. Alf went to his sisters in connection with his work. That allotment feeds his family, and now the rest of us too, again legally allowable. Young Peabody went gutter cleaning [clearing debris out of ditches] after the dykes(1) had been flailed and picked up Alf’s compost. There’s none from Bearthwaite doing anything that’s not necessary and allowable other than come to the Dragon and teaching the kids.

“The girls in the room are doubtless discussing childcare arrangements and other matters of mutual support not just for those of our age but for our entire community. We’re lucky to have Charlie’s missus Susanna living here because having a village midwife means the pregnant won’t need to go elsewhere to have their babies and they’re getting the care they need in the meanwhile. Contrary to the law, when the normal schools closed the girls set one up in the village hall, so at least our kids are getting a proper education. All the retired and working educators are teaching with help from a lot of other folk too, so our kids are missing out on nothing. Maybe when this is all over we’ll continue with that, but with a few modifications no doubt. The girls next door and we in here are in effect the Bearthwaite Council. We’ve had damn all help from outside, so we’re helping our community ourselves. If you’re asking should we feel guilty because we’re enjoying ourselves whilst we do it. The answer is hell no. I would argue that what we are doing is not just morally acceptable and sensible it’s necessary due to our unusual though not unique situation.

“Alf and the allotment lads and the local farmers are all doing things differently such that we can maximise our isolation. Others in the village are helping them to manage the extra work that entails. If you think about it we’ve turned the clock back at least two generations. Women are working in Peabody’s old dairy that hasn’t been used since his grandmother’s day making cheese, butter, cream and other dairy products. Though it’s unlikely his grandmother made yoghurt. Vince has at least a dozen helping Rosie in the back of the butcher’s shop and Phil and Alice have probably the same number helping out at the mill. That’s how it was a century ago and I suspect when this pandemic is over it’s how it will remain for a very long time because it is a more satisfactory arrangement and suits us all better. It makes you wonder how we allowed things to change in the first place. Sooner or later we’ll get the vaccines, but till then we help ourselves. Ask yourself this, if he knew about what we were doing, do you think Sergeant Graham would do anything about it?”

Pete answered for Gerry, “No. Definitely not. Michael would leave us alone. He may not live here any more but some of his family including his parents do, so he possibly does know and is deliberately looking the other way, so that his mum and dad are looked after as well as possible. Anyway Mavis would give him hell if he did anything, but Michael is clever and sensible, so I’d put money on it he’d consider what we are doing is necessary. Get the dominoes out, Lads.”

After all had gone home, Gladys said, “I heard what Gerry asked Sasha, Love. I was texting Mavis earlier. She was careful to text nothing incriminating, but it was obvious to me, though it wouldn’t have been to any else, she is sure Michael knows what we’re doing though he’s not said anything. I suspect he doesn’t actually know anything, but is certain it’s what we would be doing. He sent his love, and Mavis asked us to take care of his mum and dad. Mavis implied he’d been extremely cautious in what he’d said to her, and he’d merely remarked that if the road flooded it wouldn’t make any difference to our ability to survive if cut off from the outside because it happened so often. Mavis didn’t mention it, but I’m thinking she was implying that given all the rain we’ve had recently if we turn the pumps off and allow the road to flood we’ll be a lot safer from the law. If the men take the boat down to the flooded section we could use it to pick up any vital deliveries and the post, but I doubt there will be any deliveries other than the mail. If we need any lorry loads even as big as an eighteen wheeler load, which again I doubt, the pumps can clear the road in a few hours ready for it. We could take delivery here and after the lorry returned just turn the pumps off again. What do you think?”

“I’ll speak to Sasha about it.”

1 Dykes, hedges.