A Fear Of Heights by Jim Webster #BlogTour

That extremely talented Jim Webster has another release coming up, and has kindly written a story for us here on But I Smile Anyway!

Smallfield, Frederick; The Ringers of Launcells Tower; Royal Institution of Cornwall; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/the-ringers-of-launcells-tower-14469

The Bells!

I have mentioned before that here at the Shrine of Aea in her Aspect as the
Personification of Tempered Enthusiasm we have had trouble with bell
ringers. Once you are known to have bells, bell ringers will descend on you
from all over the place, desperate to play a ‘new peal’. If you are not firm
you can be overrun with them. Now I wouldn’t personally describe them as
‘vermin’ but in all candour I have known some use stronger terms. Especially
when kept awake at night by an attempt to play out a full peal with all the
changes.
I am not sure how other shrines manage the problem. There are doubtless many
winning strategies, but my suspicion is that all will revolve around the
need to ‘domesticate’ the bell ringers you have. ‘Your’ bell ringers appear
to adopt a possessive attitude to ‘their’ bells, and will work to control
interlopers. The most important person in this regard can go under a number
of names. I’ve come across Tower Captains, Ringing Masters, and Tower
Leaders. If you get a good one, cherish them.
Now I cannot judge this select few from the point of view of an ordinary
bell ringer. Similarly I have no opinion on how they maintain order in their
campanological swarm. I have heard rumours that some achieve their position
of dominance through divide and rule. They maintain order by playing various
cliques against each other, achieving harmony through division. Others I
have seen strike me as avuncular types. By being everybody’s favourite
uncle, aunt, or kin of similar standing, they keep their musicians in order.
This can involve keeping their bell ringers fortified with everything from
strong liquor through to cake. Whether one is more effective than the other
I cannot really comment although it has been pointed out to me that the camp
of bell ringers fortified with strong drink tends to pull with more vigour
than niceness of timing and the results are discernible to the cognoscenti.
On the other hand I’ve even heard of Tower Captains who rule through fear,
maintaining the firmest discipline and perfect order.
Yet, between ourselves, when one hears the mathematically wrought cacophony
produced, even the most discerning listener struggles to tell the difference
between the differing leadership styles.
Now lest people think that I am disparaging campanology, I will state that I
rather like the sound of bells. As I sit in thought on the barge, pondering
a verse, the sound of a distant peal can even be helpful. Ringing out across
the city in a measured manner it weaves music into the very fabric of the
municipality. I am not too proud to state that the bells have, on occasion,
inspired some of my finer verse.
So my advice to the temple wardens of other shrines that happen to possess
bells is to find a competent Tower Captain who you can work with, and
domesticate them. Admittedly this domestication is an uncertain process.
I’ve known temple wardens who approached the matter methodically. They felt
you had to use both carrot and stick. I know in one case where the tower
captain and his camp of ringers were asked to play for a wedding. Apparently
the bride felt it would be romantic. To be fair to the young lady in
question, up unto a point, she was right. The point was when it became
obvious that to the ringers, their appointment to ring to introduce a
touching service lasting barely half an hour, was merely an excuse to ring a
full peal lasting at least three hours. In this case, a nameless lady temple
warden handed the bride’s mother a horse whip, opened the door to the
ringing loft and let the furious lady have at them. Apparently she cleared
the loft in less than a minute, and was greeted with a standing ovation from
the wedding guests when she returned to her seat.
But it is often said that wild creatures are better tamed with kindness. It
could well be that the truculent demeanour of the senior temple warden
induces a healthy respect within the camp. Should another temple warden then
make positive comments, arrange for bottles of beer of dubious provenance to
be provided to quench the thirst of the ringers, and generally become their
friend, there appear to be no limits to the cooperation that can be
achieved. In all honesty it has occurred to me that this is why shrines have
even numbers of temple wardens. It allows you to have both the cantankerous
grouch and the genial acquaintance on hand and you can deploy whichever
seems appropriate.
But once you have domesticated your tower captain, then cherish them. Do
not, under any circumstances, have anything to do with the lesser lights
within the camp. Otherwise you will get drawn in to all sorts of internecine
strife and conflict as factions rise and fall and attempt to bring down the
tower captain in the process. I well remember when one bell ringer, aspiring
to displace her tower captain by guile, told Maljie that it had been decided
to change the practice night. Maljie merely looked at her and commented that
she was used to discussing policy with the organ grinder, not some small and
only sporadically continent ape kept to please the crowd.
Now it may be that you lack Maljie’s personal presence. This is not to be
wondered at. Reputations have to be built up over the years, nurtured like
some delicate potted plant. But even Maljie had to start somewhere, even if
none of us are quite sure when. So when dealing with bell ringers (or other
wandering undesirables such as archhierophants or those creatures who dwell
deep in the property department of the Office of the Combined Hierophants of
Aea) decide on your approach and stick to it. In forty years’ time you will
thank me. 
Still I seem to have drifted from the topic. Cherishing your tower captain.
The problem with these otherwise splendid figures is that they lack
permanence. Whether they are overthrown and devoured by their camp, abscond
with the funds or flee in the arms of a lover (I confess I’ve never really
understood that latter allusion. Surely you must flee faster if not
embracing? Or perhaps you hand the technicalities of flight over to your
coachman and thus embrace in the coach as it hurtles through the night?) you
will lose one captain and will be forced to acquire another.
My personal preference is to allow the camp to bring forward a leader from
within their ranks. But beware, out there in the dark there are ‘tower
leaders’ who lack both tower and camp. They are drawn inexorably to a tower
with no tower leader and will attempt to inveigle themselves into a position
of control. Under these circumstances there is no point in being avuncular,
reasonable or open to discussion.
For the lesser temple warden there is only one recourse. Memorise the line,
“Ah, but you don’t want to talk to me, you need to discuss this matter with
the incumbent.”
That is all you need to say.
Now when it comes to the incumbent, they too have no need to worry about
these matters. They merely need to say, “Ah, that’s a temple warden matter.
You need to take it up with Maljie.”
At the last count, of four who were directed to Maljie, three abandoned
their quest then and there. With regard to the fourth, there are mendicants
who are willing to swear in a court of law that they saw that individual
leave the shrine carrying his head under his arm.

And now a brief note from Jim Webster. It’s really just to inform you that
I’ve just published a full Tallis Steelyard novel. Yes the rumours are true.
Tallis Steelyard, the man who considered jotting down a couple of anecdotes
to be ridiculously hard work, and considered the novella form to be the very
pinnacle of literary labour, has been cozened into producing a novel.

It is, ‘Tallis Steelyard. A Fear of Heights.’

In this novel, recounted by Tallis Steelyard in his own inimitable manner,
we discover what happens when the hierarchy plots to take control of the
Shrine to Aea in her Aspect as the Personification of Tempered Enthusiasm.
Will the incumbent be exiled to a minor fane in the far north? Will Tallis
end up having to do a proper job? Does ordination and elevation beckon for
Maljie?
This story includes the Idiosyncratic Diaconate, night soil carts,
Partannese bandit chieftains, a stylite, a large dog and some over-spiced
food. On top of this we have not one but two Autocephalous Patriarchs and a
theologically sanctioned beggar.

Available both for kindle and in Paperback.

Spidey’s Serene Sunday – Part 317 – Loss

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“You will always be in my heart… Because in there you’re still alive.

Jamie Cirello

Thank you, Spidey for helping me to find a quote befitting my feelings today.

Yes, across the world, folks will be celebrating Easter, and the ressurrection of Christ, but for me, the day is coloured with a different hue.

You see, yesterday, we lost my uncle.

He’d been battling with the Big C, and the last week, we were all on tenterhooks, knowing that, any day, the phonecall would come, giving us the news we were dreading.

We had time to come to terms with what was imminent, but, let’s be honest, nothing can ever prepare you for the loss.

My uncle, Mamaji, the younger of my mum’s two elder brothers, was a wonderful soul. With his penchant for funny hats, caps, and golf, he was the life and soul of many an occasion.

My biggest regret was that I didn’t get to see him recently. They lived in Kenya, and Australia, and it had been nearly ten years since we last met, physically.

Had this pandemic not hit, his plan had been to come and spend the summer here in the UK, so he could create more memories with us, but the Big C, as well as this awful virus, robbed us of that chance.

Grief is a strange thing. What usually helps us to get through, is the support of others. Right now, however, given lockdowns, and pandemics, my mum can’t fly to be with her family, in Australia, where her nephew and nieces, and sister-in-law, are grieving the loss of their father, and husband. And she can’t even go to Kenya to be with her older brother, so they can grieve together.

What’s even tougher, is that, even though we are in the same country, even we can’t be together, to support one another.

Mamaji, slipped away, surrounded by his immediate family, with his siblings on a video call, with him too.

It makes my heart happy, to know he was with everyone he loved.

And it’s strange, but I wrote a flash fiction piece, just the other day, about someone slipping away. Mum said he looked happy, and finally at peace, as he took those final breaths.

Rest In Peace, Mamaji 🙏🏽💜

Bitmoji Image

Have a peaceful Sunday Peeps.   

#SoCS April 3, 2021

Linda’s #SoCS prompt this week:

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “start with who/whom” Begin your post with either “who” or “whom” and go from there. Have fun!

Who's that, What's that?
I don't know what I'm doing
So I
Text her, WhatsApp,
Telling her to come through
And then I
Copped a Big Mac
Milk Shake and some large fries
It cost £4.50
Take the gherkin out of the inside...

Nico B

So, these are the beginning lyrics to a song that came to mind as soon as I read the prompt.

I remember the first time I heard this, on the radio last summer, as we travelled to one of Lil Man’s first Men’s Fifth Team matches.

The day was hot, so hot. A men’s match isn’t a couple of hours, rather a whole afternoon, bleeding into the evening.

This song came on, and the lyrics caught my attention as he was talking about a Macdonalds, and gettign a Big Mac without the gherkin…

I marvelled at the lyrical prowess of the newer artists. Actually, I laughed.

The song made no sense to me.

Why on earth was he singing about Maccy D’s?

It wasn’t until a few months later, when the song appeared on a compilation CD that I bought for Lil Princess, that I had a chance to listen to it, properly.

It seems to follow the story of a girl he got with, who ended up a bit of a psycho, and then he plants drugs on her so she gets caught by the police…

Still doesn’t explain the Big Mac sans gherkin, though…

https://lindaghill.com/2021/04/02/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-april-3-2021/

April 1: Flash Fiction Challenge – Gone

Charli’s Carrot Ranch Prompt, dedicated to our wonderful friend, Sue Vincent:

April 1 2021, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a swift passage. You can take inspiration from any source. Who is going where and why. What makes it swift? Go where the prompt leads!

Gone

Gone.

Just like that.

One minute, he was there, the next minute, not.

I’d sat by his side for days and nights, stroking his hand, answering to his quiet murmurs, sponging him down, dripping refreshing liquid onto his parched lips.

I knew it was coming, and I wanted to squeeze memories into every second of life that he had left, with him.

And yet, he still managed to go, without allowing me to say goodbye.

He squeezed my hand, so I turned for the glass, and I returned to a face, smiling, at peace, finally.

Just like that.

Gone.

https://carrotranch.com/2021/04/01/april-1-flash-fiction-challenge-2/

#WritePhoto – Rabbit

#Writephoto prompt, in Sue’s Footsteps, by KL Caley:

Foo Foo’s Revenge!

Little Bunny Foo Foo giggled to himself.

That silly fairy thought she had punished him, but what she forgot was that the goonie she turned him into, had a different power. The power to turn invisible.

So, donning his bunny glasses, he stood by the bush, and continued to bop the field mice on the head, feeling a little like his old self. If the fairy appeared, he whipped the glasses off and she couldn’t see him, either.

Perfect. He could still bop, and was safe from further transformation!

For anyone who isn’t familiar with Little Bunny Foo Foo, here is a clip of the song that has been doing my head in all week, as we played it to the class. of course, I had great fun pretending to be said Bunny, and bopped many children fieldmice in the process!

https://new2writing.wordpress.com/2021/04/01/writephoto-rabbit/

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