Set in the midst of one of the most expensive and sought after areas of London there is a centre supposedly of an educational and leisure nature, however, we have had reports of a few suspect happenings within it’s respectable façade.
We have been told that music of a definite North African or Moorish style is often heard, and that occasionally glimpsed, through the windows of one of the upper rooms, ladies making sensuous movements may be seen. There is also, weekly, once again in an upper room, a two men accompanied by a number of women who regularly attend what has been flagged as a ‘Creative Writing Class’ but from which gales of uninhibited laughter issue forth, followed by murmuring or silence. There is certainly an extremely respectable reception area and a very pleasant cafeteria but entrance to the upper part of the building is not open to all, forms which must be filled in are closely scrutinised and restrictions, not fully specified, of age and residence demanded.
What is really going on in this building, and why is access to all areas only allowed if a member of the reception staff first checks if it is convenient with those who are behind each closed door.
Monday, 5 October 2009
Thursday, 6 March 2008
A Piece By Dr Marion Hanscombe
Phil was lying on the grass looking up at the leaves dancing above his head and trying to sort out his problem. It was difficult to concentrate in such comfortable surroundings. Had Isobel not been such a bitch he could easily have gone to sleep but as usual she was complaining bitterly. She had felt cold in the night and demanded an extra blanket. Next thing she would have wanted her water bottle, whereas Phil thought the proper treatment would have been himself cuddled closely around her. Unfortunately this was a form of warmth she would no longer accept and he found himself contemplating divorce. But perhaps it would be easier to kill her off? He had never before thought of murder but it did come into his mind. Had he the expertise to plan the perfect crime? Regretfully he rather doubted it. The birds were singing and the effort of planning was beyond him. Suddenly the answer came to him as he caught a glimpse over the garden hedge.
Really, infidelity with the girl next door would be a better option.
Really, infidelity with the girl next door would be a better option.
Thursday, 28 February 2008
Brown’s Premiership - By - Jahir Al-Bakr
Gordon Brown, during his long wait to become Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, periodically gave the impression that he was a true representative of labour values. At successive labour party conferences he would emphasise the praiseworthy values of the labour movement and the many ways that great movement had improved the lives of millions of British people. His utterances were merely an attempt, successful it would seem, to convince the unions and the wider membership that that he was the true personification of labour values and therefore the only one to succeed the much hated Tony Blair.
Upon Blair’s abdication, Brown duly succeeded to the premiership – and leader of the Labour Party. But now as prime Minister, Brown has not demonstrated that he is radically different from his predecessor in any fundamental way. Recently he went to Iraq to announce that 1,000 troops would be home by Christmas – but 270 were already back in England and another 500 already knew they were coming home. He promised new border police but it turned out he was just giving new uniforms to existing officers. He had the brazen effrontery to pledge British jobs to British workers knowing full well that that would be illegal under the European Community constitution. He had promised a referendum on the EU constitution but now he refuses to hold one. He vowed to control the numbers of migrants – but forgot to count 350,000. Is this the man that we really want as the Prime Minister of Britain? Or should we demand that he go now before he causes irreparable electoral damage to the already distrusted and discredited Labour Party?
Upon Blair’s abdication, Brown duly succeeded to the premiership – and leader of the Labour Party. But now as prime Minister, Brown has not demonstrated that he is radically different from his predecessor in any fundamental way. Recently he went to Iraq to announce that 1,000 troops would be home by Christmas – but 270 were already back in England and another 500 already knew they were coming home. He promised new border police but it turned out he was just giving new uniforms to existing officers. He had the brazen effrontery to pledge British jobs to British workers knowing full well that that would be illegal under the European Community constitution. He had promised a referendum on the EU constitution but now he refuses to hold one. He vowed to control the numbers of migrants – but forgot to count 350,000. Is this the man that we really want as the Prime Minister of Britain? Or should we demand that he go now before he causes irreparable electoral damage to the already distrusted and discredited Labour Party?
A Rant - By - Eleanor Greenshields
I love Earl’s Court and I love living there. But the Health and Safety people seem to have ignored Earl’s Court Road. If they had ever walked along it – or tried to, I should say – they would be appalled. God help you if you are blind! Cafes lately have sprung up everywhere. So now tables, chairs and awnings have joined the placards advertising meals outside the pubs on every street corner and advertising drink outside every off licence. Overflowing bins, mounds of leaking rubbish adorn either one side or the other on alternate days and who in their right mind thought of putting a bus stop opposite the tube station entrance and in front of a busy bank with two dispensing machines! You take your life in your hands if you step into the road to avoid the crush.
In spite of all this cyclists still ride on the pavement against the line of traffic. So far I have resisted the urge to plunge my umbrella into the spokes of their front wheels. I live in hope of seeing his front wheel buckle and himself flying through the air. But I’m much too law abiding to do it. Besides, I’d be the one to end up in court for GBH, such is the state of our laws.
Which brings me to buggies, advancing remorselessly in battle formation – the sleek pony- tailed yummy mummies chat away oblivious to pedestrians skipping smartly out of the way. And is it my imagination or are buggies getting bigger and bus spaces getting smaller? How often have you been clunked on the side of the head by a spinning rucksack or bashed on the shoulder by a brick-laden handbag or had your ankle clipped by those same wretched buggies?
All my life I’ve been penalized for being single and childless, my choice, by the way. In spite of which I’ve contributed to the upbringing and education of countless children through family allowances and education etc, etc. The Chancellor of the Exchequer is lauded every year for helping families with children. But what about me? Single people don’t exist except when somebody else has maternity leave! As for getting your name on a housing list, the sign above the door should be `Abandon hope all ye who enter here.’
In spite of all this cyclists still ride on the pavement against the line of traffic. So far I have resisted the urge to plunge my umbrella into the spokes of their front wheels. I live in hope of seeing his front wheel buckle and himself flying through the air. But I’m much too law abiding to do it. Besides, I’d be the one to end up in court for GBH, such is the state of our laws.
Which brings me to buggies, advancing remorselessly in battle formation – the sleek pony- tailed yummy mummies chat away oblivious to pedestrians skipping smartly out of the way. And is it my imagination or are buggies getting bigger and bus spaces getting smaller? How often have you been clunked on the side of the head by a spinning rucksack or bashed on the shoulder by a brick-laden handbag or had your ankle clipped by those same wretched buggies?
All my life I’ve been penalized for being single and childless, my choice, by the way. In spite of which I’ve contributed to the upbringing and education of countless children through family allowances and education etc, etc. The Chancellor of the Exchequer is lauded every year for helping families with children. But what about me? Single people don’t exist except when somebody else has maternity leave! As for getting your name on a housing list, the sign above the door should be `Abandon hope all ye who enter here.’
I had one ambition - By - Alexandra Grant
I had one ambition when I was young. I wanted to work on the ships. Most stewardesses were widows of seamen in their late forties or in their fifties. I applied to all the shipping companies but was politely turned down – too young. Eventually I took a job in the art galleries in Glasgow as a sort of dogsbody helping out anywhere in the museum. I enjoyed it but still applied to shipping companies.
On arriving at my digs one evening after a dance my landlady gave me a telegram which had been delivered for me earlier in the day. It contained the most wonderful message. `If you really mean it be there at 9AM tomorrow.’ It was from the Anchor Line. I was there on the dot and by 9.30 was signed on.
It turned out that a troopship was leaving for Korea that evening and the stewardess who should have been there was afraid to go to the war. I sailed, complete with documents and uniform at 5.30, that evening for Southampton. There we picked up the Northumbrian Fusiliers and I started a six year job that I loved.
It was a strange start as we had no civilian passengers so I just enjoyed it. However things changed in Korea. Any wounded were taken over to Japan. It was amazing. I discovered we were only twelve miles from Hiroshima so I took a bus and went there. It was about six years after the bomb and the devastation was horrendous. The Japanese had cleared the rubble but had not yet been able to rebuild. There was an island in the bay and they where breeding babies there to find out if the atomic fracture was affecting babies. The doorstep of the town hall had the imprint of the figure on it as was seen in the papers just after it happened.
We used the port of Kure to leave the wounded ashore. The Japanese laid on stalls and goods for the troops: beer, watches, cameras, anything to catch the eye. However tea was not provided. I eventually found what I took to be a teashop but could not get served. The geisha girls twittered at me and eventually a young soldier took me outside. He kept muttering but I could not understand him. Our bosun came shopping and then I found out. It was not a tea room. It was a brothel!!!
On the return trip we picked up a few families who were due for home leave. There was a lovely lass with two youngsters in a cabin near me. She was screaming and making an awful noise. I went to help. She was clutching her two little ones, pointing into the cabin and shouting about her husband. On the bunk was a pineapple. She had never seen one before and thought it was a grenade and danger to her children. We were all naïve in those days. However I loved the life and was lucky in really having a job I wanted.
On arriving at my digs one evening after a dance my landlady gave me a telegram which had been delivered for me earlier in the day. It contained the most wonderful message. `If you really mean it be there at 9AM tomorrow.’ It was from the Anchor Line. I was there on the dot and by 9.30 was signed on.
It turned out that a troopship was leaving for Korea that evening and the stewardess who should have been there was afraid to go to the war. I sailed, complete with documents and uniform at 5.30, that evening for Southampton. There we picked up the Northumbrian Fusiliers and I started a six year job that I loved.
It was a strange start as we had no civilian passengers so I just enjoyed it. However things changed in Korea. Any wounded were taken over to Japan. It was amazing. I discovered we were only twelve miles from Hiroshima so I took a bus and went there. It was about six years after the bomb and the devastation was horrendous. The Japanese had cleared the rubble but had not yet been able to rebuild. There was an island in the bay and they where breeding babies there to find out if the atomic fracture was affecting babies. The doorstep of the town hall had the imprint of the figure on it as was seen in the papers just after it happened.
We used the port of Kure to leave the wounded ashore. The Japanese laid on stalls and goods for the troops: beer, watches, cameras, anything to catch the eye. However tea was not provided. I eventually found what I took to be a teashop but could not get served. The geisha girls twittered at me and eventually a young soldier took me outside. He kept muttering but I could not understand him. Our bosun came shopping and then I found out. It was not a tea room. It was a brothel!!!
On the return trip we picked up a few families who were due for home leave. There was a lovely lass with two youngsters in a cabin near me. She was screaming and making an awful noise. I went to help. She was clutching her two little ones, pointing into the cabin and shouting about her husband. On the bunk was a pineapple. She had never seen one before and thought it was a grenade and danger to her children. We were all naïve in those days. However I loved the life and was lucky in really having a job I wanted.
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