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During world war two my uncle Bill (Crown) used to get asked by my father and others why he did not join the home guard. Bill always just shrugged it off saying I don’t want to join that lot. Running around with broomsticks, they did not have rifles when it was first formed. He continued to field this question until the end of the war and beyond. Although a sociable and friendly man who liked to stop and chat he kept some things to himself. Several years after the end of the war he told my father that he was in an Auxiliary unit. These groups would work as a resistance force in the event that we were invaded. They were trained to use explosives, to kill silently, and to use traditional weapons. The idea was to make life difficult for the invaders by blowing up trains bridges vehicles and generally make life as hard as could be. They were a group that had the skills to live of the land so did not necessarily need a base. It seems that most of the families of these men were not aware of what they were doing I have been doing a little research and gained some information and a photograph of my uncles unit taken when it was disbanded.

The morning’s mist that does not clear.

The day that passes without a breath.

A grey calmness has descended on our world.

Enjoy the stillness let it pass to us its calm.

The days are short and the darkness feels too long.

Enjoy the pleasure of long winter evening’s cosy inside.

When spring does arrive it will be more welcome.

After winter slowing down our lives.

Spring speeds up our world bursting into green.

Every day a new treasure appears, to be admired.

We plant and sow to reap the summer fruits.

No point dreading winter relax and enjoy the stillness.

It’s been going on to long, the work life balance is all wrong.

The European Union says forty eight hours is too long, I agree but how many of us have opted out of this clause.

If the wages weren’t so poor the workforce wouldn’t need to work so many hours.

Damaging their family life, relationships, and mental health.

Then to top it all they decide to make us all work for longer, retire at sixty six what dicks.

If you want us to carry on for longer give us an incentive don’t beat us with sticks.

Free train travel, vouchers for whisky and fags, discounts on Louis Vuitton bags.

Oh dear no if you do that I will retire early, ok let me lay down so the government can beat me with a stick.

On the journey down from the clouds.

Through the rain that envelopes like a shroud.

Down towards the tarmac ribbon.

Scanning for the meat feast it provides,

With his unblinking eye small creatures and carrion he can spy.

Armed with a fearsome beak and talons.

He soars above the victim he has chosen.

This will be a day of terror as he swoops down to kill.

Our buzzard population is growing and spreading.

The carriage ways give them a useful source of food.

They can travel down the A14 picking up carrion as they go.

They’ve already reached Bury and Ipswich isn’t far to go.

Huge birds with fifty inches of wing span.

A welcome site for us but not for the small mammals they eat.

Our smaller birds are getting scarcer.

But our biggest get bolder.

Walking with the dog along the greening hedgerows

The spring sunshine bringing life back to our world

Drying out the ground that didn’t get frozen or a covering of snow

Now the trees are coming into life their leaves unfurling

The days grow longer more hours to spend in the garden

Beach hut cleaned and repaired ready for the long summer days

Caravan uncovered plans being made for holidays

Winter clothes put away waterproofs we will still be needing.

No more bundling up in layers of clothes to keep out the chill

Shorts and a t shirt will do perfectly well

Our garden will become oh so hot we will have to retreat to the beach hut

There we will find the pleasantest sea breeze oh joy.

I can’t be like John cooper Clark.

I’m not northern, I can’t say bastard and sound like I mean it.

I come from Suffolk and my accent is soft.

I come from Suffolk so I must be a bit daft.

I might get red glasses as an homage.

I might get red glasses because my eyesight is shite.

I can’t be like John cooper Clark.

Cause I just can’t talk that fast.

The sword of Damocles hangs over my head

Hanging by a tiny shredded thread

It swings back and forth and from left to right

It’s keeping me awake at night

When it falls will it be the end

It could be something we could mend

I’m bloody sick of waiting my mind is starting to bend

I think I’ll go to Sizewewell its somewhere I feel safe

We met by a chance a friendly word, a casual glance

Second meeting not so fleeting, a time and place was set

We meet and seem to hit it off, the lies start we didn’t stand a chance

Both separated from our spouses the lies that destroy were not evident yet

A year of madness was started, kids driven mad by a delinquent dad

Dad driven mad by someone else’s delinquent wife

I didn’t complain it was fun for a while

The destructive pace was not sustainable, destroyed my life

Suicidal threats and games beyond my comprehension

Everyday spent in a state of enhanced apprehension

Eventually the tension took its toll

I snapped and took her back to a husband who said I don’t want her

Too bad I said as I handed him the bin bags of his life

While a train wreck of a wife went back to her old life

I walked away and was happy for the fun, but the world isn’t fair for the meek

I moved on and was glad of the lesson I had learned, life is not a game for the weak