STORY TIME

“Tell me a story JackanOry”

The great Migration

A lone Vulture floated high on the hot African thermals and looked down at a lion that was looking at a wildebeest and thought dinner ! A hyena looked up at the vulture that was looking at the lion and thought dinner! A wildebeest looked at the hyena that was looking at the vulture that was looking at the lion and thought oh bloody hell dinner time. Just another day on the great annual migration.

As each hour seemed to pass smaller herds of wildebeest joined the melee a listlessness seemed to engulf the herd as it got bigger and bigger, still no clear direction, somewhere near by a leopard dragged the body of a young wildebeest off to a safe location, somewhere it could enjoy its feast in peace and perhaps save a bit for later, its supper perhaps.

From all directions now more and more wildebeest joined in the annual spectacle. Zebra’s added to the mix and somewhere close by another wildebeest fell to a pride of lions. A hyena looked on apparently disinterested, but with pangs of hunger slowly starting to make themselves known.

A lone wildebeest seemed to stand slightly apart from all this, thinking, watchful, distanced. Close by a pack of hyena squabbled over the remnants of a distant cousin 3rd time removed of the solitary wildebeest, vultures grabbed at tidbits and swallowed greedily.

Then suddenly things seemed to change, a new purpose, direction and determination to get where the grass is greener and the sun shines brighter. The herd now more than a million strong as if by magic turned and walked all in the same direction heading towards the river and new dangers. Wildebeest Zebra Antelope all with the same agenda, but is the grass always greener on the other side?

A lone wildebeest, detached maybe slightly aloof stood and thought; a hyena looked and laughed, as only a hyena can. The wildebeest looked at the hyena and thought, what you looking at, the hyena appeared to read the thoughts of the wildebeest and looked the other way.

The river, cross the river the verdant plains beckoned and the fresh juicy shoots of new growth. Alone wildebeest viewed the advance with trepidation. Lions Leopard Cheetah and now crocodiles. What’s the point what’s the point of it all. Another wildebeest fell victim to the marauding prides of lion. The river now the only barrier to the fresh green growth oh and the crocodiles of course.

The wildebeest stood apart from the herd, a hyena looked and laughed. What is to become of me thought the wildebeest dinner for lions, a snack for the crocodiles, lunch for leopard scavengers fighting over the remains what can I do ? A slight sound a far off sound a sound not known to the wildebeest but a sound none the less. From a vantage point the wildebeest looked and saw. Elephants, oh yes there lies the answer no animal attacks them I shall pretend to be an Elephant and be safe.

Somewhere on the periphery of the vast herd of wildebeest a lone wildebeest raised is snout in triumph, in the air and trumpeted like an elephant: And was promptly shot dead by ivory poachers. Close by an hyena laughed so much it fell off the termite mound it was sat on.

THE PLANE SPOTTER

One day in Athens in Greece it was a very hot day, which was quite normal for this part of the world. Two smartly dressed business men sat outside a small Taverna and ordered extra olives and feta cheese to go with the coffee and greek salad they had just ordered. Again this was perfectly normal, across the street two tourist haggled with a street vendor about the price of a souvenir they thought would look nice on Granma’s mantle piece. This again was perfectly normal behaviour.

Just down the road a Walrus was window shopping, which wasn’t.

But then this was no ordinary Walrus, this Walrus called Yoric, was a plane spotter and a very excited plane spotter. And the thing that was making this particular Walrus excited was a book. The Walrus was looking through the window of a very old and dilapidated book shop, and there on display was a very rare book. Ye Olde worlde almanac of all things aeronautical in peace and war . Now the walrus being the reckless and impulsive sort of chap he was walked straight up to the proprietor and bought for a rather large sum of money the book. Then he bought the book shop for an even more ridiculous amount of money.

The book he kept, but the book shop he moved somewhere near to the Arctic circle selling books of total irrelevance to impoverished Caribou and Polar bears, which really pissed the Eskimo’s off: But that’s another story for another page and another day.

Many years later on a gloriously warm sunny day a Yoric the Walrus perambulated itself as only a Walrus can down a broad leafy sunlit lane in the heart of the Cotswolds, whistling tuneless sweet nothings to himself the Walrus was agog with excitement and trepidation. The Walrus was paying an unannounced visit on his long time friend and mentor Rossini who was feeling quite low and in need of cheering up after a thieving magpie stole some items from a very valuable coin collection thus rendering it almost worthless.

So walking quite happily walking with Ye olde worlde almanac of all things aeronautical in peace and war, tucked under his arm and enjoying the atmospheric quality of a beautiful mid summer afternoon in the magnificent surroundings of the Cotswolds the Walrus waddled.

Quite what it was that made the Yoric look up into the sky will remain unanswered, possibly forever. Perhaps it was a sense of impending doom, or a small unidentifiable flying insect buzzing round is head. But what ever it was made the Walrus consult his almanac and immediately identify the rapidly moving black shape high up in the sky.

It was a JU88 Stuka dive bomber with two 200lb bombs attached to the underside of its wings.

Mmm curiouser and curiouser thought the Walrus what on earth would a Stuka dive bomber be doing here in the heart of England it is after all the year 2022 and these planes became obsolete many many years ago.

Now his friend Rossini lived in a quaintly archaic but typically English thatched roof cottage and was sat on the veranda listening to his favourite recording of the William Tell overture and he was totally unaware of the surprise visit of his friend the Walrus, and had absolutely no idea whatsoever that a Stuka dive bomber was about to drop two 200lb bombs on his cottage.

It was then that realisation dawned the Stuka was going to dive bomb his friends cottage. Must warn him thought the Walrus so running and tripping he attempted to warn his friend sweating and waddling and running as best he could he just made it to the veranda when the bombs struck. Bits of cottage and thatch, blubber and a moustache were strewn hither and thither.

Now some time later on a midsummers night a passing Litarist and Playwright called William was out walking seeking inspiration for a new play he was trying write when he came upon the ruins of a quaintly archaic but typically English cottage.

” What went on here” he asked to himself strange events no doubt. A chill wind seemed to emanate from somewhere far off yet so close, a sense of superstitious dread gripped William as he looked down on the ground and saw the skull of a Walrus poking through the grass. Every thing went quiet as he bent down and picked up the skull. As he held the skull up to the moonlight it seemed that the eyes of the Walrus came back into being a shiver coursed through William as he looked into the eyes of the skull and said

Many miles away at an airport in Athens in Greece an aeroplane lifted off and a family released their seat belts and drank a toast to one of the best holidays they had ever had.

But this was perfectly normal wasn’t it !

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