Yesterday I reported this wonderfully obscure story from my local paper about a police warning that was sent out after it was reported that four men wearing robes and possibly small hats (we are still unclear what the word possibly is referring to, could the hats have actually been large?) were seen in the small market town of Wotton-under-Edge.
Today, carrying on their important work, Gloucestershire’s police used the hashtag #FreeTheCheese to put out this rather odd statement denying that they were banning an old woman from making cheese.
I kid you not. The statement reads:
“Several months ago one police officer visited the son and mother who in the past have produced the cheese for both official and unofficial cheese rolling events.
The purpose of this visit was to advise them that, in the absence of a recognised organiser, anyone that facilitates the event could be deemed to be an organiser by default. In this case that person could then attract the legal liability issues that come with hosting the cheese rolling.”
They finish this statement by clarifying:
“No one has been “banned” from making or providing the cheese.”
This is serious business! Yahoo reported contradictory information earlier today saying that:
“It is the first time in its 200 year history that police have banned a cheesemaker providing the cheese “
A strong accusation.
Indeed, the same story quotes 86 year old Diana as saying the police seemed “threatening” and that they were “heavy handed”.
Indeed, branding the police’s actions “crackers” The Express clearly states that three (not one like the police claim) officers went to the cheese makers house. This article quotes the 86 year old cheese maker as saying:
“It’s crackers…The police are using scare tactics on businesses because they can’t break the will of the locals”
Here at Hynd’s blog we are not dismissing the possibility that the two events are *possibly* connected. Could the men in Wotton who were seen acting suspiciously wearing possibly small hats have been connected in some way to illicit cheese production?
Could this be the start of hat/cheese related crimewave?
Hynd’s blog encourages all readers in the shire – Gloucestershire – to take all precautions. Avoid any suspicious cheese sources and use only well known outlets. Most importantly though, avoid any men wearing robes, especially if you cannot see how big their hats are!
Losing count
Speaking to no-one in particular, he says she’s spoken for,
but wanting something more her young heart breaks in two,
inside himself, to no-one else, he tells her that she’s the one,
but it’s been too long since he has spoken these three words.
Back home, she opens her mouth, and his anger and fists begin to rise,
she closes her eyes, and tries to hide, to put all of this out of her mind,
she pictures in her mind’s eye the softer touches of other calmer nights,
as she reaches out, with pleading in her eyes, he reacts back, and
That was that. .
The morning after, her cheeks are bruised and smudged with mascara,
she goes to work and thinks of nothing but him and her cracking heart,
she knows her mind is crumbling and it’s not just her bodies that suffering,
there and then, she says, enough is enough, I won’t take this no more.
He stops in his tracks, he’s been walking the streets running from himself,
his mind is dwelling on the job he doesn’t have, and his fists are swollen,
He stops and stares, but does not dare, to dwell on his aching heart,
that is overflowing with the shame. Who is this man that he has become?
With his body numb, and this thought dwelling on his mind, tears starts roll,
down go his defences and down goes the possibility of carrying on as if nothing,
is going down. His hands tremble and his legs give way. Sitting there slumped,
he knows he can’t get much lower, and so he too decides to lift himself up.
Staring at her own front door she resolves that she’s worth something more,
turning on her heel she takes hold of herself and her trembling hands,
she strides with small steps away from her house and her home, all alone,
she walks and turns the corner of her street and her life and resolves that,
never again will he cause her mascara to streak….
Turning his keys, he realises his hands are shaking and his stomach is turning,
with flowers in hand, bought with an empty wallet he wipes away his tears,
stepping over the doormat, he resolved this would be the fresh start they need,
he drops his car keys onto an empty hallway table where her car keys should be.
The silence engulfs him. Finally, whispering to no-one, he says those three words,
she’s the one, and there and then, his heart starts to break in two.
Tell others about this article
Like this:
Leave a Comment
Filed under Social comment, Spoken Word
Tagged as Domestic violence, poetry, spoken word, Steve Hynd