Nicola Barker - Burley Cross Postbox Theft

And now, finally (WG, 19/12/06), it’s Christmas, and — surprise, surprise! — Mr Lance Tunnicliffe OBE has decided that this is an opportune moment in which to deliver the taxpayers of Wharfedale (already a rather joyless and brow-beaten bunch after the constant hectoring they’ve received at LT OBE’s behest all year) a withering lecture about the ‘wastefulness of the Festive Season’, focusing principally on Christmas lighting displays (in our homes, our villages and our town centres) which he calls (variously) ‘a glittering tribute to the hollow excesses of Mammon’, a ‘crass obscenity’ and (my personal favourite) ‘the perpetually exploding flashbulbs of a consumer culture turned tabloid’. (?!)

Mr Tunnicliffe reserves his special ire for Wharfedale Council (why change the habits of a lifetime, eh?) which he accuses of being ‘criminally irresponsible for leaving the festive lights on twenty-four hours a day’ and ‘failing to transfer to LED Low Impact bulbs’.

Of course nobody could dispute the fact that Mr Lance Tunnicliffe OBE has a valid and interesting contribution to make on public and private ethical debates alike (indeed, many of his more salient points I have raised in council on countless occasions myself).

He speaks an awful lot of common sense. And yet… well, am I entirely alone in wondering whether the only reason he seems so determined to put a damper on all our High Days and Holidays is because (perish the thought!) the poor soul has so little to actively celebrate in his own life?

Has Mr Lance Tunnicliffe OBE officially become 2006’s greatest party-pooper because he has no party left of his own to poop?

This thought makes me sad — very sad. In fact it makes me so sad that I’ve resolved to take a little bit of time out of my frantic Christmas schedule to raise a small — but deeply environmental — toast to the dear old sourpuss (hopefully before he launches his inevitable assault on ‘The Horrors of Hogmanay’ next week).

I hereby extend a cordial invitation to you — the long-suffering readers of the Wharfedale Gazette — to join me… In fact — moderation be damned! There’s no time like the present: Merry Christmas, Lance! Cheers! I do hope it’s a good one.

Oh…

And turn the lights on as you leave, eh? There’s a good chap.

Yours Sincerely,

Baxter Thorndyke

1 Fa’weather Cottages

‘Paradise’

Burley Cross

19th Dec

Dear Mr Braithwaite,

I’ve changed my mind again. I do think I would prefer it with the plain terracotta trim (as you originally suggested), with the main body of the piece in a subtle off-white or soft cream (it was extremely kind of your wife to agree to engrave it for me at no added cost. She’s such a talented calligrapher. Her ‘Paradise’ has received nothing but compliments!).

Around the outside edge I want:

IN MEMORY OF BRADLEY

2004–2006

A MOST LOYAL, WISE AND

BELOVED COMPANION .

If there’s any extra room, then just a small, rough sketch of some marigolds (English NOT French, please!).

It’s taken me a while to come up with the actual poem. I’ve been through about three boxes of Kleenex in the process (man-size)!

Bearing in mind what you said (and how busy your dear wife is with her new sign-writing business), I have tried to keep the number of words down to a minimum. Here is what I’ve finally settled on:

Oh my beautiful, handsome, irreplaceable Bradley,

You were cruelly snatched from us, way too soon.

You were loved so much,

You are missed so desperately…

No more shall I hear the tinkle of your bell as you fly in through the cat-flap, hungry for your ‘dinny’,

No more shall I feel your nudging head against my calf as I stand by the sink up to my elbows in suds…

There is a space by the fire where once you sat, my beautiful, handsome Bradley-cat,

There is a hole in my heart where once you reigned.

I shall not see your like again.

Bradley, Beloved Bradley, hit by a speeding car.

Safe in Heaven now with the cherubim…

Playing ‘chase’, away from danger, with dear Portia and Fletcher, and Molly, and Dwain and Mia and Ricky and Sunny and Tasha. And of course, Porter and Gypsy and Marco and Iver. And fearless Pete and gentle Cedric.

REST IN PEACE, MY PRECIOUS,

PRECIOUS BEAUTY.

XXXX

What do you think? If it’s a fraction long then remove the two lines that start ‘No more…’ (although I’d hate to see them go, quite frankly; I feel the sombre mood of the piece would be greatly undermined by their absence).

I was thinking the size of a large dessert plate (or one size down, is it? Same as all the others, in any event).

Thank you, in advance, for your patience and your craftsmanship.

You have made a poor, heartbroken widow very, very happy.

Merry Christmas,

Bea ‘Bunny’ Seymour

PS Cheque enclosed. I have post-dated it to February 19th. I do hope that’s all right.

PPS I just noticed my price-list is dated from 1998! It’s almost antique! I do hope I’m not diddling myself!

PPPS P&P is included, I presume?

Bless You.

X

A dispatch from the desk of:

Baxter Thorndyke, Cllr

The Old Hall

Burley Cross

20/12/2006

Dear Mr Liam Holroyd MP,

I have yet to receive any reply from you re my — marked URGENT — email on the Chinese manhole covers issue (10/12/06). Following a brief — but extremely edifying — conversation with one of the people at your Constituency Office (a volunteer. I think his name was Derek — or possibly Don — Hoon… a Scot, rough, slightly over-familiar, nervy, bit of a stammer) I have subsequently decided that the situation is sufficiently grave for me to ‘break the trail’ myself (so to speak) and to forge forward with several independent pieces of preventative action off my own bat.

The first has been to contact the local constabulary directly, and to forewarn them of the problem, although — in all candour — I’m not holding out much hope of a positive response on their part. PC Laurence Everill (or is he a sergeant now?) — at Skipton — as good as laughed in my face when I approached him a short while back on behalf of the BCPTW with incriminating photographic evidence + car registration details of all those individuals caught behaving ‘suspiciously’ at the public conveniences in the village during the month of August (his patent indifference to our ‘special initiative’ has left us with no option but to display all the information we gleaned on our new website to try and ‘name and shame’ those involved into desisting from their abhorrent — not to say anti-social — behaviours).

As for PC Roger Topping — at Ilkley — well… where do I even start?! I mean of what earthly use is the man?! He’s just a huge, forlorn elk, a tragic bison, lumbering about the place in that improbably gigantic pair of perpetually squeaking loafers of his like some heavily tranquillized mastodon.

Those shoes can’t be Police Issue, surely? (I mean to hell with ‘the element of surprise’, eh? You can hear his approach from the neighbouring street! Tammy — my darling wife — says it sounds like he keeps a tribe of gerbils held captive within the insoles which he sacrifices as he walks!).