COUNTRY DANCING GROUP
Val Warner
We were invited to Bawdeswell Village Hall Tea afternoon to show what the U3A Country Dancing group get up to. Janet Archer, our group teacher, also explained what Dereham U3A was all about and the many group activities that one can take part in. A very enjoyable time was had by all, and we take this opportunity to thank the ladies of the hall for a lovely welcome cream tea.
THIRD AGE PLAYERS
The Room at the Back ‘Journey’ - Jane Richardson
For me it all began on Membership day way back in March when Russell Baylin was manning a table to promote and sign up interested participants in the project, a script-in-hand play performance. As a member of one of the U3A play reading groups, I saw this as an opportunity to extend my drama experience. I’d been in a play at school: why not give it a go?
I had begun to think maybe the project was not going to come to fruition when I was contacted in July to make a date for my audition. Oh this is serious stuff. Do I still want to be involved? Why not go and give it my best shot?
The day dawned. I met with Russell who, I then discovered, was both the writer and director of the production. Dorothy the assistant director and another potential cast member who had been called for audition on the same afternoon. We were put through our paces of reading a prepared piece that had been sent to us, followed by small sections of three play scripts. I left with the ‘don’t call us we’ll call you’ phrase going through my mind.
As a chosen member of the cast I attended the first read through. Everybody else involved appeared to have met before but I was made very welcome and didn’t feel the new girl for long.
Over the course of our 12 rehearsals and performances under the guidance of our patient director the performance gradually took shape. We may have given Russell some moments of despair; we all had our off days and I am sure I wasn’t the only one who, at times, just hoped we wouldn’t make fools of ourselves. Particularly the day when it was time for my important line announcing Tommy had been killed……. and I said the wrong name!!
The performance days were a mixture of excitement and anxiety, both ended well. We were all pleased with the result and our audiences were complimentary. Best of all: fun was had by all. My thanks to Russell, Dorothy and my fellow players for a great journey.
TEN PIN BOWLING
Dereham u3a had a bowling competition with the u3a group from Watton today and a very enjoyable morning it turned out to be.
It was great meeting a group from another area and everybody seemed to enjoy it
Dereham came out tops on this occasion but a rematch is planned for later in the year.
Creative Writing Group
I CANNOT HEAR THE BIRDS - Adrian S Watling
I CANNOT HEAR THE BIRDS - M.C. Gardner
I cannot hear the birds
I cannot hear the rolling seas,
The wind is fresh, the branches sway
But I cannot hear the leaves
I cannot hear the traffic
Cars and lorries rushing by,
Folk move their mouths up and down
I cannot fathom why
I cannot hear the voices
Of children playing nearby,
An aeroplane is just a moving picture
As it races across the sky
I cannot hear the meal prepared
Just watch the table being laid,
Oh, life is bliss, what do I miss?
Each time I lose my hearing aid
“I cannot hear the birds”
the air is still,
the air is dark
the sky, a blood orange
no sound of birds
“I cannot hear the birds”
a whisper with no trace
soundless leaves, deep
blood orange curtains -
he turns into a ghost
“I cannot hear the birds”
his whispers fade away
blood orange light
words that ring lead
his blood is snow –
I TOLD YOU SO! - By Paul Lovewell
The villages waited in a large, huddled group at the end of the field in the warm early August afternoon. Storm clouds were gathering in the northwest and from their direction came a reverberating sound like the prelude to a thunder clap. But there was no thunder, just a rumble that increased in volume with every passing minute. They knew that life was never going to be the same for them again. For some their homes, farms and fields had been snatched away from them by invaders, not an enemy but a purportedly friendly foe.
Finally, they came into view and the air seemed to swarm with them, like angry bees, with what appeared to be venomous stings projecting from their heads, sides, under bellies and tails. They circled in the now darkening skies, the throb of their four supercharged Pratt and Whitney engines growled ominously within their cowlings. Then the B24 Liberator heavy bombers began their decent in a spiral before landing heavily on the recently concreted runway and taxing onto the perimeter roads before finally coming to rest on the hard standings. Hundreds of tons of concrete that had been poured onto prime, carefully nurtured farmland with the desecration of fields, all with their individual names, that had existed for centuries. This would be among the first of thirty-seven airfields that would be carved into the Norfolk countryside because of its high flat lands and close proximity to the east coast. Each of the bombers disgorged its crew of ten along with some aircraft engineers transported in with them. There would be over 2,800 young American men housed in Nissan huts spread out to the east of the airfield, whilst the village of Wendling boasted less than one hundred inhabitants in that August of 1943.
As with all invaders the Americans quickly began to assimilate themselves into the local population and the easiest people to begin with, were the children. Rides on jeeps, on the back of trucks around the airfield perimeter, sweets and chocolate that many could not remember having before, picnics and parties. Ten-year-old Terry Mayes fully acquainted himself with everything that was on offer and became a firm favourite with the young G.I.s. This was especially the case when they discovered he had three older teenage sisters, a situation young Terry capitalised on by arranging dates with his sisters, who all enjoyed this new attention.
One of the young pilots, a New Yorker called Rudi Markle, became very attracted to a young woman he had observed on a couple of occasions of a lunchtime in Dereham market place, only to be informed she was the fourth and oldest sister of Terry Mayes. On each occasion she had given him a small smile when she caught his gaze. One afternoon he spotted Terry with some other young lads, who had stopped off at the camp entrance gate on their way back home from school.
“Hi Terry. Want some chocolate?”, enquired Rudy.
“What’s the catch?”, replied Terry who was already becoming a shrewd operator.
“How many sisters have you got Terry?”
“Three, Mary, Pamela and Joanne.”
“Well I am told Terry, you have another sister, who older than the others.”
Terry shuffled from foot to foot for a moment and then replied, “Well Susan is not exactly a sister because she doesn’t live with us anymore. She is also married and so she cannot be friendly with Americans.”
“I fully respect that Terry. What does her husband do?” asked Rudi.
“Brian is a soldier, and he was holding back the Germans so that other British soldiers could escape from Dunkirk. We don’t know if he is dead or if he has been captured. He is my hero, and I don’t want Americans being friendly with Susan because Brian could be coming home, and I really like Brian. He takes me fishing.”
“Well, I could take you fishing if you could arrange for me to meet your sister.”
“No way!” said Terry.
“Well how about if you just told me where she worked, and I took you fishing and got you a crate of cokes?”
“Still no can do!”, replied Terry.
By this time a crowd of Terry’s mates had gathered to listen to the conversation.
Billy Hargreaves shouted, “She works in the bank on the market place in Dereham . Now can we have the cokes?
“I’ll get you Hargreaves.”, said Terry as blows were exchanged between them.
One evening a few months later Olive Mayes was waiting for her daughters to arrive home. Terry was aware that his mother was in a really bad mood and so had retired to bed early, which was most unlike him. He did not know why and he did not think it was because he had been scrumping apples. At just after nine they appeared, and Olive demanded to know where they had been.
Joanne replied, “We have just been meeting up with some friends on the village green mother.”
Oliver countered, “And would those friends be young American airmen by any chance.”
Following a protracted silence Mary said, “We were only talking to them mum. They tell us about their missions flying over Germany and their life in America. They are really interesting unlike the local boys of our age who are still here.”
“Well I have also been told that you have been seen in the Beeston Plough Share public house, keeping company with young American lads. So what have you got to say about that?”, demanded Olive.
Mary replied, “We are not children anymore mum. We like being in the company of the young Americans and we don’t do anything we shouldn’t do.”
“It is not what you do but what other people think you do. You will be getting the reputation of trollops and when the war is over and the Americans have gone home, none of the lads who have been away fighting for their country will want you.”
“How dare they call us trollops mother. We are young women who just take a bit of fun in this awful war when we can and we don’t do anything we shouldn’t. Besides, what about your precious Susan. She is often meeting a young American pilot in her diner hour in Dereham.”
Olive’s face turned white as she dropped the saucepan of stewed apple she was carrying. Without even bothering to pick it up she was grabbing her coat from the peg behind the door.
Joanne called out, “They are only friends mum. They only ever meet of a lunchtime.”
Just as the door slammed closed.
“Why did you have to tell her that Mary? You have just made everything worse for us all. We will be banned from going out now.”, said Joanne.
Susan answered the hammering on the back door of her cottage and as soon as she saw the anger on her mother’s face she knew what it was about.
“Who told you?”, she said.
“Never mind who told me. Is it true?”, demanded Olive.
Susan replied, “If you mean am I friendly with a young American pilot called Rudi Markle. If you mean do I only ever meet him lunch times. If you mean I have remained faithful to Brian. If you mean I would like it to be more but I cannot at the moment. Then yes it is true.”
“I cannot believe this of you Susan. You have always been such a good girl. And what are Brian’s parents going to think if they find out? And what is Brian going to say when he comes home?”
“I am having to face reality mother and so is everyone else. Brian is not coming home.”
“But the War office have only posted him missing Susan. Not believed dead.”
“That was over three years ago and the Red Cross have said that if he was alive they would have found him by now.”
Olive asked, “What about this Rudi Markle? Has he got a wife?”
Susan replied, “Within a couple of weeks of him arriving here, he received a ‘dear John letter’ as he called it from his wife saying that she was leaving him for her boss.”
“Forget all about him Susan and wait and see what the end of the war brings. It cannot be that long now. And if poor Brian does not return, marry a nice English boy.”
“I want more than that mother. I don’t want to spend all of my life in the village of Wendling. I really like Rudi and if I let myself I could very easily fall in love with him and I know he already loves me. He is an excellent pilot and that will get him a good job after the war. And I want to live in America where you can really make something of your life.”
“You are living in a fool’s paradise my girl. When this war is over he will be gone and you will never see or hear of him again. And if you get yourself pregnant don’t come crying to me or your father because we won’t want to know”.
“I think you had better go now mother.”, countered Susan.
By June 1945 all of the U.S.A.F 392nd Bomb Group had left Wendling. Some crews like Rudi Markles redeployed to other locations overnight.
One lunchtime Olive saw her daughter Susan in Dereham. Tugging on her sleeve Olive said, “I told you so.”
It was a year later that her daughter Joanne handed her a sealed letter from Susan.
Joanne said, “Susan gave me this two days ago, but asked me not to give it to you until this evening.”
With shaking hands Olive opened it and through tears in her eyes read, “Dear Mother. Rudi has sent for me to join him in America, and I am collecting the ticket he has paid for at the Airport. You and dad have a good life. Love Susan. PS: ‘I TOLD YOU SO.”
I TOLD YOU SO! - By Linda Store
New Beginnings By Valerie Akehurst
Stormy Weather By Valerie Akehurst
If you don’t always do as you’re told
You’ll struggle with life as you grow old.
If you don’t get enough sleep and rest
You’ll never feel you’re at your best.
If you don’t eat your fruit and greens
You’ll be lacking all those vitamins.
It you don’t get enough fresh air
You’ll be down in the mouth, maybe in despair.
If you don’t do some exercise
Your muscles could be paralysed.
Those pliant, slim and healthy souls
Delight in saying I told you so!
If you don’t dress appropriately
You may be treated differently.
If you don’t study hard at school
You’ll soon appear to be a fool.
If you don’t respect authority
You’ll be treated with hostility.
If you don’t always know your place
Exclusion you will have to face.
If you don’t promptly pay your dues
Your honesty could be misconstrued.
Obedient folks just love to crow
And preach to you I told you so!
Make sure you use correct terminology
So you don’t offend the many minorities.
And don’t tell any riske jokes
You’ll be sure to offend so many folks.
Do not complain when funding’s cut
The Council can’t afford too much.
Keep up to date with all your tech
They’ll laugh at you if you use cheques.
And don’t get hacked whatever you do
They’re out to get you. Yes, even you!
The modern world has tricks you know
To catch you out. I told you so!
But to avoid a life so dull
Take chances, live life to the full.
Just bend those rules a little or a lot
Avoid becominga robot.
Burn midnight oil, drink wine and beer
And spend your days all free from fear.
Some days you’ll try to follow rules
But others see their ridicule.
This Nanny State is overrated
It leaves us feeling so frustrated.
So to Hell I say with being told.
Make up your own mind and Be Bold!
Watching the light dance through the stained glass door
Waltzing its colourful fragments along the wall
Showing snapshots when it all stood still
And you and me meant nothing at all
Then years gone by filled with promises and daydreams
Looking for something, anything, time to kill
Nothing mattered only us in the moment
Daydreaming of our future life until
All those months and years slipped through our fingers
And happiness came at too heavy a price
We have to finish our secret lovers life
It changed with the throw of the dice
We say our sad goodbyes to move on, to wonder
How did all that love become losses not winnings
And we awkwardly kiss goodbye one last time
Trying not to cry, to think, of new beginnings
The Flyer - Colin Clegg
Well, I'll Try to Explain - Dorothy Sneesby
Well, I’ll Try to Explain
Nanny – why did you say that man was a boor?
and, Nanny – why don’t your pancakes land up on the floor?
Well, I’ll try to explain.
Yes, but Nanny how come it goes dark at night?
and Nanny – why does this switch turn on that light?
Well, I’ll try to explain.
Nanny, why are you old and I am not
and Nanny why do you tell me you love me a lot?
Well, I’ll try to explain.
Nanny, where do the clouds go when they whizz by?
and, Nanny why is it that I make you sigh?
Well, I’ll try to explain.
But, Nanny, why is it I have to say “please”?
and Nanny – why do birds fly up to the trees?
Well, I’ll try to explain.
To explain I have tried but it has been in vain
So I’ll just smile and listen again.......and again!
Dorothy Sneesby
24th April 2025
He stood in the kitchen nursing a hot cuppa watching the raindrops hitting the back wall of their disorganised garden. The rose beds looked pathetic but it didn't really help that there were two large towers of truck tyres propped up against the high wall making it all look rather unloved. The rains started in earnest the first Monday morning in June and he had meticulously watched online the predicted slow progress towards Norwich. Trouble was that every website he visited had a different tale to tell. The main theme was overwhelmly rain but in such differing amounts and in differing areas, it was mind boggling. He was convinced that the only way to have a successful Smiths Summer Steam Spectacular was to keep checking the weather forecast every few hours.
The disastrous spring deluges had almost put the family firm into bankruptcy and with one more little nudge, it would all be over. They were one of the last Norfolk families born with steam in their blood and despite some of their extended family moving away, they were still rolling along. Since 1876, there had been some form or other of the Smith family taking Steam to the masses and Len had met Lynda at the Kings Lynn showground in the wonderful summer of 76 and four children, ten grandchildren later, he still loved the very bones of her and she still laughed at some of his jokes.
Some years, the Steam tour was a roaring success, whilst others were challenging to say the least but they had never given up. Someone always managed to come up with a new idea to bring the punters in when the chips were down. It was a struggle but what else would they all do and so they continued to grind on rather like Old Bessie, their oldest steam powered tractor. Their eldest boy had said it was time to expand and despite all the WTFs, the why nots and what ifs, they had secured a huge pitch at the annual Norfolk county show hoping for a fantastically profitable event in the middle of their usual summer tour.
They finished the north Norfolk coast part of the tour and had five
well earned days of rest. Len was trying to keep on top of things but it was now evident that the Norfolk county show was going to be a complete hwashout. The forecasters had finally admitted that the rain was going to be contained within East Anglia until the beginning of July. Grim warnings were all over the internet, stating in essence, this is unprecedented weather and we had best be prepared for what is to come. He had to do something to save their future as any profit they had made so far this year would not be enough to keep going. As soon as he got home, he went into the conservatory which served as an office and switched on the laptop and listened to the rain starting to become more persistent on the polycarbonate roof.
Lynda brought in some sandwiches and a big pot of tea. After all their years of marriage, she instinctively knew when it was best to just leave him to it. When he sat down to dinner many hours later he looked tired but hopeful. She knew he would tell her when he was ready so they ate in silence until finally Len put down his knife and fork.
“It's not what we wanted but we can't take the Steam Spectacular to the showground. Our vehicles won't be able to get all the way over to the back, they're too heavy and they'll get stuck so I've come up with an alternative show. It sounds crazy but I've been on the phone to the organisers and they've agreed to help. They have asked their supplier to erect a temporary roof to cover our whole pitch.”
Lynda just waited quietly.
“After loads of Google searches, it just sort of came to me. We will now have a covered area with matting walkways so people can shelter if its raining and we just have to give them something to keep them there. The field will be saturated anyway, so love, we are laying on the first Norfolk's county show mud wrestling extravaganza. Mad, isn't it?”
Lynda just looked stunned
“There's 4 days to assemble the wrestling rings and I'm thinking three leaving loads of room for the audience. I've already done online ads asking for mud wrestlers and I've got fifteen enquiries, eight of which are women!”
As they got out of their trucks at the roadside cafe, Lynda grabbed Len and kissed him hard on the lips.
“That has to be the most successful weekend ever. Who would've thought so many people would want to watch mud wrestling. The crowd was laughing so much, no-one could hear me announcing what was coming next. Especially when that big old sort, Dolores from Dereham did that dubious half nelson on what's her name, oh yes, Sherie Nagasaki, and she lost her sequinned top and couldn't find it in the mud. I heard someone at the front shouting "be careful where you put your Charlie Dimmocks” and I'm surprised she didn't turn around and slug him.”
Just then the clouds parted for the first time in 28 days and the sun shone.
Under the Influence - Joan Fielder
Hello Nico,
Can’t believe I was only a child when you began to take over my life. I wish I had been old enough to know the impact you would inflict and been able to find a way to say no or get away before you had such a hold. Because of that one silly afternoon, you ended up with such control over me; influencing the decisions I made; for most of my life.
In the early days having you in my life I felt very grown up. Like I was one of the ‘in crowd’; it gave me a sense of belonging. The influence you gave at that time instilled a positive vibe; I really believed you gave me more confidence in myself. I enjoyed the socialisation and meeting new friends. How was I to know these feelings would turn out to be very short lived?
It was not long before my health and finances began to rapidly deteriorate. Nights out with friends and even family members became less and less. Every aspect of my life was now being controlled by you.
So many times, over the years I tried to break free. Each time it turned out to be just another failed attempt. I began to believe I would never be able to break free. In the end, I convinced myself that perhaps I’m better off with you than without.
For decades I just gave up fighting against you and began to regard you as my one true constant. I persuaded myself that you were the one who helped me get through the difficult times in my life, even helping to calm situations. How deluded was I then.
Like all things in life, I believe there is a price to pay for letting things slide, for not dealing with things, for burying your head in the sand. Basically, I mean not acknowledging the control you really had over me. In the end it all became quite a heavy burden to carry.
I just didn’t want to acknowledge you could have such a hold. To be so powerful, so strong that no matter what I did, I couldn’t break free. Stupidly, even when I began to accept that you did indeed have some sort of control, I still believed I was the one making the choices.
As you are well aware, four years ago I decided to try one last time to break free of your influence. I remember feeling so nervous that I would fail again and come running back to where I felt secure as I have done this so many times before. They say, frightened of failure and yet terrified of success. Could I really cope without you in my life?
Knowing, understanding and acknowledging that hold was the first step. I remember being physically sick for days on end, trying to put you out of my mind and try move forward without you. The powerful feeling of needing to be free, needing to escape your hold, yet wondering if I could really manage without you in my life. Could I go it alone, could I acknowledge these feelings and face up to the fear? I knew in my heart of hearts if I gave in this time there would be no next time, it had to stop, it had to end.
And it did! It was not easy, it was extremely difficult, but I broke the cycle, I broke free!
No more time constraints! No more watching the clock. I have the freedom to do what I want without you controlling what I do next! Going out into the world, no longer dependent on you. It was a powerful feeling to say I certainly don’t miss you and I rarely think of you. That, after all this time, has been one of the biggest surprises of all!
I’m happier, healthier, and feel in complete control of my own destiny. I know I am strong enough now to ensure that I will never be under your influence again. No matter what happens in my life.
So, I am writing to at last say goodbye nicotine, my once obnoxious, controlling nemesis.
All I wish for you now is that soon laws will be put in place to stop other children ever being controlled, coerced or influence by your nasty vile addictive habit.