Editor : Jim Fieldsend
8 Croft Close, Wickhambrook
Tel : 01440 820108
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| Issue No. 213 - November - December
2004 |
Photo on the front cover
of The Scene
Photo by Ron Weir |
Believe it or not, but I have been trying to write this for the last
fortnight and all to no avail.Well how can you concentrate on something
that has to cover both the New Year and Christmas period when you
are sitting on a beach wearing nothing but your 'cozzie' and a liberal
dousing of 'Factor 14' topping up the tan with the temperature in
the high twenties centigrade?
The old bones, not being what they were, I decided to give them a
bit of a warming before the cold weather and dark nights overtake
us. (Never mind the sun he gave his bones a considerable warming with
the Spanish brandy the drunken fool. Er-Indoors).Mind you, I soon
started to think about the winter again when we got off the aeroplane.
The drop from 28 degrees to about 10 degrees in a matter of a couple
of hours is a heck of a shock to the system. So, here I sit having
only arrived back this very afternoon four days after the deadline,
nicely tanned, half a stone heavier and still without a clue what
to write about.
Anyhow, to work. Having been through the bits and pieces that that
have been pushed through the door while I have been away I see another
plea from members of the hall management committee for help and support
and, more than anything, new blood with new ideas. Despite my pessimistic
diatribe in the last issue over the lack of support for the outdoor
bowls club it doesn't mean I have lost faith in everything. We really
do have an excellent facility in the M.S>C. and it's adjoining
recreation area, but as always it's 'use it or lose it'. The hall
has to be a viable proposition both financially and legally and without
a properly constituted committee with the proper number of elected
officers it cannot be done. At the moment the Wickhambrook Players
are spending a lot of effort and their own money to improve the stage
facilities in the hall. Yes I know that they are the ones that use
the stage the most but the improvements may encourage others to make
more use of it. The management committee have enough trouble staying
financially ahead of the continuous repair bills and the need to conform
o ever more health and safety requirements from both local and national
government to be able to fund much needed improvements to the building,
much as they'd like to. So if you have a function or you know someone
that does see if the M.S.C. is a suitable venue. If you have an idea
for using the hall weekly, monthly or just a one off occasion, let
Jim Field or Steve Taylor know about it, their numbers are at the
end of their article.
Anyway that's about it for now, I had better go and start building
the Panto Scenery, and they said retirement was restful. So from all
concerned in getting this load of old rubbish to you we wish you an
enjoyable Christmas and a peaceful and prosperous New Year.
Jim Fieldsend
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As newer issues of
The Scene are published, some articles that are regular features
in The Scene will be updated and so will not have a link back to
this page |
To Breathe Or Not To
Breathe
Britain has the highest rate of asthma sufferers in Europe. One hundred
years ago there were no recorded deaths from asthma, now there are
over 2000 deaths per year. Age is no barrier to asthma, with children
as young as 18 months being diagnosed.
What can be more terrifying than fighting for breath? Perhaps, only
watching helplessly as your child gasps for air in the middle of the
night.
Until now, drugs were the only help asthma sufferers had. But now
help is available in the form of a new Complementary Therapy called
'The Buteyko Technique' which enables sufferers to reduce their medication
by up to 90% (in actual practice this has often proven to be 100%
reduction in medication such as Ventolin and, under GP guidance, a
45% reduction in steroids).
It has been on the Richard and Judy Show, Tonight with Trevor McDonald
and QED as well as being featured in Sunday newspapers and women's
magazines. It was originated in Russia, by Dr. Konstantin Buteyko
nearly 50 years ago.
It is a revolutionary treatment based on the fact that asthmatics
breathe through their mouths, allowing cold, unsterilised and unfiltered
air to hit already damaged sensitive lungs and bronchial tubes. 'The
Buteyko Technique' trains sufferers to breathe correctly, through
the nose, how to differentiate between a panic attack and asthma,
plus how to break the circle of 'mouth breathing - hyperventilation
- asthma attack'. It can help asthmatics enjoy active physical exercise
which previously may not have been possible. It is not a cure for
asthma, to date there is no cure, but a control of the condition,
allowing a reduction in drugs, which in turn can improve health generally.
A Buteyko Practitioner supports and guides the patient through the
various stages of 'Breath Retraining' as well as teaching about the
various 'triggers' linked to asthma, and how to combat them. It is
suitable for all ages, including children from the age of 7 years,
under this age it is difficult for children to understand the breathing
exercises necessary. But parents of young children can be taught the
principle of Buteyko and shown ways in which they may be able to help
young ones overcome the possibility of an attack. One lady recently
told her Buteyko Practitioner 'You have saved my life'.
There are only approximately 20 qualified practitioners so far in
England, the nearest ones being Newmarket, Royston and Ingatestone.
To find out more about 'The Buteyko Technique' call Jenny Bawden MBBA
on Newmarket (01638) 668370 or visit www.buteyko.btinternet.co.uk.
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Bees in the Bath
We had spotted a swarm of bees flying over the house the night before.
I had finally succeeded in getting a French friend to go up onto the
roof to look for the whereabouts of a leak, which was leaving a little
pool of water on one of the bedroom floors whenever there was a heavy
rainstorm. The prospect of climbing ten metres of ladder and then
roaming about the roof looking for broken tiles did not appeal to
someone like me who thinks twice before standing on a chair. Domie
clambered over the roof with fearless agility, replacing several tiles
and resetting others. Then he noticed the bees; a steady coming and
going of tireless insects from under one of the tiles. It seemed certain
the swarm of the previous evening had made a home in our roof. Nothing
for it but to send for a beekeeper.
You remember Ian, the philosopher who tends the olives? He has a Dutch
friend called Kees ( pronounced 'Case') living in his village. Kees
is, if anything, even more eccentric than Ian, considerably more eccentric.
After all, here is a man who wandered into a local primary school
one day in high summer, brandishing a bright green water pistol, which
he waved at the startled teacher while upbraiding her for keeping
the children in doors on such a lovely, sunny day. The gendarmes hustled
him off to the local psychiatric hospital and the children received
counselling: presumably to overcome their disappointment at missing
a day off school.
The Dutchman's appearance may be described as biblical. Tall, thin,
slightly stooped, he has shoulder-length blond hair, a pale, bearded
face, and is much given to wearing white garments. He suffers, as
you may have guessed, from 'mental problems' and lives on a disability
pension from the Dutch government, tends his beehives, a few cherry
trees, a small field of lavender and a large vegetable garden. He
has made his home with two old, bachelor farmers, whom he helps from
time to time in return for his accommodation in a beautiful secluded
hamlet, surrounded by vines, lavender fields and cherry orchards with
distant views of the wild Cevennes mountains. Who is the fool, you
may well ask? To his ancient hosts, Kees is not so much a son as a
mysterious, mesmeric figure, an intelligent alien almost.
Kees duly arrived at the house and immediately demanded a cup of sweet,
milky tea before climbing onto the tiles in search of bees. As a result
of his inspections he decided to hoist an empty hive up to the roof,
bait it with a quantity of honey and leave it overnight in the hope
that the queen and her colony would be lured therein. The baffling
beeman returned the next morning. The bees were not in the hive. What
now? Our apiarist at first thought the swarm might be in the roof,
perhaps between the insulation and the plaster board we had carefully
put in place when we had converted the upper storey from an ancient
granary into a living area. In fact, the bees proved to be behind
the wooden panelling of a bathroom wall, just below ceiling height.
There was nothing for it but to remove part of the panelling and then
the bees. Kees went away in search of tools and bee handling paraphernalia.
When he returned he at once ordered a glass of milk, 'not too full',
into which he poured a liberal quantity of royal jelly. He drained
the glass and asked for salt, explaining that he had been sweating
hard making hay that morning and needed to replenish his reserves.
He was given a drum of sea salt. He did not eat salt containing fluoride.
' Why do you eat this stuff? Are you not rich enough to buy real salt?
Only fire-flies need fluoride. Do you want to be fire-flies? We thought
a good deal and said nothing. After all there were bees, lots of bees,
in the bathroom. More curious behaviour was to follow. The strange
Dutchman, fortified by milk and honey, reseasoned, albeit reluctantly,
with fluoride salt, proceeded to strip to the waist. I know nothing
about handling bees, but this disrobing did not seem to bode well.
The hive was taken down from the roof and placed in an open window
nearest the bathroom. Kees carefully removed part of the panelling
and revealed the bees; hundreds of bees in a seething, pulsating mass
where each tiny organism seemed part of a larger living thing. I stood
at a safe distance, glad of the veil Kees had spurned for himself
and given me. The near-naked Hollander at once set about transferring
the swarm to the hive using nothing more than a table-spoon from the
kitchen and a few gentle puffs from his tranquilliser. And as he spooned
away, he talked to the bees softly in a mixture of French and English.
How did he know they were bi-lingual?
Soon most of the insects were safely in the hive; a few were left
feebly crawling around or ominously still. 'They're dying,' he said,
'I must feed them'. He dipped his finger in a mixture of honey and
water and offered the tip to each creature. Miraculously most of them
revived in a couple of minutes and were united with their kin.
The triumphant bee charmer put on again his shirt and trousers. Downstairs
he rolled a cigarette and accepted a small glass of cold wine. ' The
bees take a lot out of me', he said, 'A lot of mental energy. I need
to recuperate before the European Cup.'
I should tell you that Kees, despite reaching early middle age, is
a world class footballer.
A swarm of bees in May is worth a load of hay, so the old rhyme goes.
A few days after our bathroom adventure, Kees came back bearing gifts
- a kilo of excellent honey, some lavender essence and a bag of dried
lavender all neatly arranged in a small wicker, duck-shaped basket.
Oh, yes! I nearly forgot. There was also a small paper bag full of
grey powder. ' Pure salt', he said, 'For your health's sake'. 'How
went the visit to Portugal? You know, the European Cup?' I asked,
a mite mischievous. 'Ah! In the end I decided they would have to manage
without me. You see, I must be in shape for the Olympics.'
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per week per household for deliveries Monday to Saturday to just half
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If not interested, please pass it on to your friends!
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We would like to thank friends and aquaintances
in and around Wickhambrook, who have sent us cards and messages wishing
us well in our new home and life in Spain.
We are sorry that we were unable to say personal farewells to as many
people as we would have liked, but our last 3 weeks (spent in Kedington)
was a very hectic and stressful, having to contend with all the paperwork
and officialfom in both countries, not only for ourselves but for
the dog also.
Moving here in the very hottest season, (unavoidable) with temperatures
between 90o - 100o we have survived and look forward to it cooling
down as September progresses.
We are living in a mainly British community, and have received a lot
of help, advice and friendliness from so many people, also gradually
being introduced into the local social life.
We are being kept in touch as to what 'goes on' in Wickhambrook, by
letters, phone calls and snippets from the various local papers!
We spent 20 happy years in Attleton Green, but felt it was time to
move on, little did we think even a year ago that we would find ourselves
in Spain. We are settling down very quickly and start on Spanish lessons
in October.
With our very best wishes Peggy and Ted Garner |
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