Mr. B’s Busy-Bea Elastic Bee Bandzzz

Here are the opening few paragraphs of another Mr B’s Busy-Bea story:

“Right then...” Mr. B. uttered his famous early morning words telling all his seven and eight-year-old pupil’s to prepare themselves for some thorough learning throughout the day. The temperature outside was still bitter cold for the middle of February and there was a forecast in place for wintry storms over the coming week – the half term holidays. All of the children and Mr. B. were wrapped up in their winter jumpers, even though the boilers creating warmth for Alley-Wood Primary School ran at their maximum capacity.

Two girls from Mr. B’s class chatted at lunchtime: “Humira, Mr. B. will give out Busy-Bea today. I hope to get her for this month.” Molly said to her best friend. The two girls sat at their round dinner table in the dining hall with four other children from Mr. B’s class, all listening to what Molly had to say. “I have been really good this month – and helped the supervisors outside lots of times.”

Summer, a girl who also sat at the table butted in: “Yes, but Mr. B. gives merits for hard work in the classroom as well as good deeds.” There was a hint of smugness in her voice. She turned her head and smiled at her best friend, Naeve.

“He could just give out Busy-Bea for helping someone who might be struggling with something, like he did for Teddy.” Tom said, sitting opposite Molly, then continued… “Cameron from year one couldn’t join in with the obstacle course we built in the playground, because of his disability, just before Christmas – remember? And Teddy got to take Busy-Bea home over Christmas for helping Cameron to join in.”

“Yeah.” Will, Tom’s twin brother said. “And the adventure story with Busy-Bea Teddy wrote was fantastic. Wasn’t it called The Ritzzz Hotel?” Will half closed his eyes and scratched his head at the same time. He turned his head upwards and slightly to one side questioningly, trying to recall some of the details in Teddy’s story. Everybody around the table nodded. “And Cameron magically got better.” He finally added.

Humira sat quietly and listened. She wanted to win Busy-Bea just as much as everybody else and thought that if she did, she would definitely deserve it. She’d worked hard, helped in the playground and cloakrooms and had sat with Mia, a six-year-old student with severe learning difficulties a few days ago – up until Mia understood how to add together numbers up to twenty. Humira said nothing, she had a rather nice, confident feeling that February was going to be her lucky month.

Naeve scanned everyone around the table and said: “I wonder why Mr. B. calls Busy-Bea ‘a promise.’

“Well, every story so far has been full of adventure.” Will said.

Tom agreed and added: “Going all the way back to Elin Heath’s story in September called ‘Queen Cloud Bee.’

Summer joined in: “Yes, that was a great adventure as was Hallie Gilmore’s ‘Buzz Off’ – I loved that story.”

“Maybe that’s it then. Busy-Bea promises to take you on an adventure.” Naeve continued, recalling her friends Georgia-Rose, Florence and Mo and their adventure with Busy-Bea called ‘The Bee Bea Sea.’ All the children around the table went quiet thinking about everything that had been said.

“She can’t do that!” Molly finally uttered, closing one eye and turning her head in an arc to look at everyone in turn, then concluded: “Can she?”

A lunch-time supervisor shouted for the children to go outside. The children in the hall stood up very slowly. It was freezing outside, so nobody really wanted to go. “Come on, get going.” The lady supervisor said as she shooed them out of the door. “It might be cold, but it’s still dry. You’ll have to run around to warm up.”

Mr. B. cupped Busy-Bea, his magical light yellow and dark grey striped fluffy toy companion, in the palm of his right hand and lifted her slightly. “I remember when you used to be vivid yellow and pitch black.” He thought, as she opened her red eyelids. As usual, she dangled from a piece of string (which had seen better days), pinned to the class ceiling close to his teachers’ desk. Busy-Bea turned magically in his palm and looked at him through her shiny black eyes. Mr. B. nodded as if he was agreeing to something Busy-Bea thought. He tucked a tiny plastic bottle of liquid into a secret pocket under one of her wings and a small wrapped up package into another secret pocket under her other wing.

“I can see right now, one-two-three

Red and grey and grey and red

You’ll need this help, dear Busy-Bea

I’ve told you now, and so I’ve said.”

As Mr. B. and Busy-Bea had their little poetic conversation inside, Humira noticed a strange shuddering movement and rustling noise coming from somewhere amongst the dead leaves covering the undergrowth outside – just the other side of the green railings marking the limit of the school playground. The dancing leaves were close to a massive maple tree. Humira was alone and had been thinking of how much she wished to win Busy-Bea this month. Next to the moving leaves there was a pile of freshly dug black earth…

Mr. B’s Busy-Bea

More insight to Mr B’s Busy-Bea (Buzzz Off) in MS draft form:

‘The end of October is always a funny time. I suppose it’s the beginning of...’

‘… Autumn already.’ Hallie’s dad said, unknowingly finishing off the sentence Hallie’s mom was thinking.

‘I was just thinking exactly that.’ She said.

‘Great minds think alike.’ he replied, looking over Hallie’s mom’s shoulder and through their kitchen window. He noticed the soft swirling wind and small yellow leaves following the swirls like little ballet dancers swaying and falling around invisible wires. ‘Nature’s getting ready to go to bed for a few months.’ He said.

‘Good morning Mom and Dad.’ Hallie walked in through the kitchen door rather slowly with a sombre look on her face, her voice was dull and quiet and her words dragged out in a drool. Hallie’s parents could tell straight away that something worried her. She held Busy-Bea in her right hand, dangling down by her side and bumping softly against her knee.

‘Good morning Hallie.’ Her mom and dad said almost together, purposely using a jolly tone in their voices to try and lift Hallie’s spirits.

‘What’s up then?’ Hallie’s mom asked gently lifting up her chin.

‘Nothing really… well, it’s just that I have to write a story in Mr. B’s yellow and black diary, or an adventure that happens to me over the holiday and I can’t think of anything to write. I just keep looking at what Elin Heath wrote – Queen Cloud Bee, and I can’t do anything better than that!

‘It’s only Saturday darling,’ Hallie’s dad said, laughing lightly and smiling, ‘anything can happen yet.’

‘We’re going shopping today Hallie to buy our new Halloween outfits for the party tomorrow. That’ll cheer you up.’ Her mom added. The family spent a long time shopping, not only for Halloween outfits, but other stuff as well. They ate lunch in a café in town and their tea at home. Hallie took her new witch’s outfit up to her bedroom to think again about something to write in Mr. B’s yellow and black diary. She was still worried, she hadn’t been able to think of anything to write all day – and time was passing by.

‘Hmm, that does look good.’ Hallie thought looking excitedly at her reflection in the mirror when she tried on her new witches outfit her mom had bought for the Halloween party. She thought it might help to give her some ideas for a story to write in Mr. B’s diary, but it didn’t. She sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor, rested the cheeks of her face in her hands and put her elbows on her knees, it was something she always did to help her concentration. The toll of the day and long walks in the fresh air soon made her feel drowsy, she closed her eyes to rest them for a while and she drifted into a light snooze.

‘Zzzzzzz – Zzzzzzz – Zzzzzzz.’ The calming buzz coming from somewhere around her Halloween costume, gradually getting louder then quieter, made Hallie feel even more tired. ‘ZZZZZZZ!’ A sudden extremely loud buzz in Hallie’s left ear woke her with a start, making her jump to her feet and rub her ear hard at the same time.

‘Blimey, what’s happened?’ Hallie asked out loud to no-one in the room. She looked at her bed; it was that big she had to stretch her head all the way back just to see the edge of the duvet cover. She looked towards her window, it reminded her of the massive ones she’d seen in churches. The whole of her room suddenly looked massive. ‘If someone walks through that door,’ she thought, as she looked at the door to her right, ‘they will be like the giant from Jack and the Beanstalk.’

Hallie’s favourite toy dinosaur she kept by the door to fight off any nasty creatures that might want to come into her bedroom when she was asleep, was now real-life sized and frightened her. But that was nowhere near the fright she was about to get. Hallie slowly turned her head around. She could sense that someone, or something, was breathing quietly and coarsely behind her. She looked up at her dinosaur, half expecting him to come to life and rescue her. The dinosaur didn’t move, the skin on the back of Hallie’s neck began to tingle.

Hallie closed her eyes. She knew she had to face the breathing creature behind her, but thought that closing her eyes would help in some way. When her head turned fully around and Hallie opened her eyes to see what was breathing, she sprang backwards slamming her back against the duvet cover of her bed. She had to hold on to the duvet tightly as all the strength she had in her legs disappeared completely.

There, stood in front of her, was Busy-Bea. Not the one she’d held in her hand for most of the day, no, this was a giant one. Busy-Bea’s ochre coloured mouth opened wide into a smile or a grimace, Hallie couldn’t decide which. The dagger-like serrated and glaringly white teeth, pointing out through rose pink gums like two sets of steak knives about to sword-fight inside Busy-Bea’s mouth, moved slowly towards her.

Hallie thought her heart would surely burst through her ribcage when she saw the two gigantic, glistening black eyes looking menacingly at her, forcing her to shift her own eyes away from Busy-Bea’s nasty teeth. The eyes bulged that much from Busy-Bea’s face, Hallie thought they would pop out any second now and fall on the floor – how horrible would that be! Then Busy-Bea winked. Her soft red eyelid closed slowly across one shiny black eye and opened again. Hallie knew then they were going to be friends. ‘Jump on then.’ Busy-Bea said softly. She unfolded one of her wings which then formed itself into a staircase leading from the floor to her back. ‘Don’t just stand there,’ she said, ‘hop onto my back – let’s go, we’ve got work to do and an adventure to have.’

Hallie had forgotten, but then realised she was still wearing her witches outfit for the Halloween party due the next day. The safety helmet, Busy-Bea insisted she wore, knocked Hallie’s pointy black hat off her head leaving it to dangle down her back. Hallie sat into two saddle-like dents in Busy-Bea’s back and grabbed two thick hairs sticking out of her neck. They reminded Hallie of the handlebars on her bike. ‘Ready to go?’ Busy-Bea shouted, but before Hallie could reply, they were off.

‘Woo-hoo.’ Hallie shouted, as they zoomed through the window and out into the windy early evening air. A dark blanket started to spread over the sky bed. ‘Why has everything gone so big Busy-Bea?’

‘It hasn’t.’ Busy-Bea replied. Hallie realised then she had gone super-tiny and not the other way around.

Hallie was glad she wore the witches outfit. It was lined with a thick fluffy and warm fleece, just in case any of the next day’s party activities were planned for outside, her mother had thought. She didn’t want her daughter to catch any nasty viruses often spread by people sneezing and coughing, especially in cold weather.

Busy-Bea and Hallie sliced through the chilling air at a hundred miles an hour at least – that’s what Hallie thought anyway. They zipped around the night sky doing loop-d-loops, figure of eight tricks, spinning and swooping down close to the green grass of her own back garden before shooting up towards the moon, almost vertically. Hallie thought they’d gone so high one time, she could have reached out and touched the moon itself.

Hallie was thrilled and enjoying the special ride. Then, all of a sudden, Busy-Bea dived head-first towards the ground. She didn’t slow down, not one little bit. Hallie looked down. The ground grew bigger and bigger as it rushed towards her. ‘Stop Busy-Bea,’ she cried, ‘or we’re going to crash.’ Busy-Bea took no notice of her and carried on towards Hallie’s back garden at the same speed, if not a bit faster. Hallie’s heart pounded in her chest, she was certain they were going to die – and very soon.

When they reached a few centimetres from the ground, Hallie let go of Busy-Bea’s handlebars. The last thing she saw, before covering her eyes with her hands, was a thin layer of white frost on the blades of her garden grass. They were much too close now to prevent a crash. Hallie heard a great big bang and a soft whistle, followed by about ten seconds of a crackling noise. ‘You can open your eyes now Hallie.’ Busy-Bea said. ‘Someone has let off a firework outside.’ Hallie opened her eyes, she saw nothing but blackness until Busy-Bea switched on her own headlights.

They’d landed somewhere. ‘We’re in a cave,’ was the first thing to enter Hallie’s mind, but she didn’t know why.

‘Hallie, every bee colony has a hidden store of honey to help them survive through the cold winter months,’ Busy-Bea said, ‘and this is where our secret stock is kept. We have a long flight later on tonight so we need a lot of fuel – and honey is fuel to a bee.’

‘I like honey too.’ Hallie said.

‘Yes, but first we have to get to it without being…’ Busy-Bea lowered her head and looked all around suspiciously.

‘Without being what?’ Hallie asked.

‘Just be very careful.’ Hallie rolled her startled eyes from side to side and frowned. The concern in Busy-Bea’s voice had scared her.

‘Hallie, press the button on the left side of your safety helmet.’ Busy-Bea said. Hallie didn’t realise she still wore it, let alone there being buttons on it. The darkness in front of Hallie brightened, reminding her of driving at night time in the little grey car her mom had recently bought. Her safety helmet was now a set of headlights lighting up everywhere she turned her head.

Every surface around them was dark grey and looked like clay. The room they were in was shaped like a tube, curving around to their right and sloping downwards. Hallie imagined it to be like the inner-tube from a bike wheel spiraling downwards, or a massive hollow metal spring stuck in the ground of her garden. The walls of the room were potted with perfectly formed round holes as if they had been cut out with a drill. Finger-like plant roots covered in cobwebbed hairs pointed out in all directions. A waft of stale air, smelling like a mix of pongy eggs and rotting cheese, hit Hallie’s nostrils making her grimace and hold her nostrils shut. ‘We have to follow that smell.’ Busy-Bea said. ‘Stay alert Hallie.’ Slowly, hand in hand, the two friends bravely made their way into the darkness.

Drrrrrrrrr – drrrrrrrrr! The drilling noise, coming from somewhere in front of them, stopped for a short while, then started again drawing Busy-Bea’s attention. Hallie couldn’t hear anything. The noise was, Busy-Bea estimated, about the same distance away from them they had already travelled. It had taken them about fifteen minutes to walk a short distance further on and a little deeper under the ground. ‘This smell is getting more and more horrible.’ Hallie said to Busy-Bea, scrunching her mouth and nose up as though someone had let off a stink bomb on her top lip.

‘Just keep walking Hallie and keep your wits about you.’ Hallie’s shoulders stiffened. Busy-Bea had recently said two comments that alarmed her.

‘Why did you tell me to keep my w…’ Then, before she could finish her sentence, the drilling noise droned into Hallie’s ears. ‘What’s that noise Busy-Bea?’ She asked instead. Her stuttering voice full of concern.

‘I hope it’s not what I think.’ Busy-Bea’s low, almost whispering tone made Hallie shudder all over and her shoulders stiffen even more.

‘I feel safe with you Busy-Bea.’ She lied.

Drrrrrrrrrr-tap – drrrrrrrrrr-tap – drrrrrrrrrr-tap-currunch. Hallie shone her headlights straight ahead where she thought the drilling noises were. She was sure something was just around the bend in front of them, yet she could see nothing except the tunnel. Fear suddenly stopped her from walking, she grabbed Busy-Bea by the arm to stop her too. ‘Hallie, we have to move on and get to the honey before our time together runs out.’ The hard look and sharp stare Busy-Bea gave Hallie froze her heart. Busy-Bea didn’t think the drilling noise was anything very nice, but said nothing to Hallie not wanting her to worry unnecessarily.

‘I’m scared Busy-Bea.’ Hallie finally admitted.

‘So am I Hallie.’ Busy-Bea replied with a comment that didn’t help. Hallie huddled closer to her friend.

The two brave girls inched forward towards the frightening noise, ever increasing in volume and the horrible smell, ever increasing in stench. Busy-Bea stopped, stood still and pulled Hallie behind her against the tunnel wall. The surface of the wall against Hallie’s back reminded her of a big sponge she uses to scrub her back in the bath. It was hard and rough on the surface, but soft underneath. They stood still and silent, both headlights pointing towards the loud drilling noise, now only a very short distance away in front of them – just around the next bend of the tunnel.

Autobiography

Here’s another random section of my autobiography in ‘edit’ format:

Chapter 7. Beginning of 1965 to Beginning of 1966

(1) I started to take a liking to football in this year, I was as thin as a rake and never walked anywhere, I always ran. I was Mrs Watson, my next door neighbour’s, errand boy. “Pop down the shop and get me this list Roy. There’s the money and threepence for you.” She’d tuck a threepenny bit into one fist and the shopping money wrapped in a written list in the other. That would get me a Mars Bar and leave me with a penny to keep.

(2) I remember in the long summer holidays, staring at the massive array of chimneys, pipes and buildings on the horizon across the road from my house and listening to the hiss, bang and clang noises coming from the town gas works. From the gas works, there would often be a bang-come-thud noise that didn’t sound right. I learned in this year that often they would have explosions inside the gas works. I am going to put it down to this year, but it could have been later, when I was told by my mother that Mr Parsons from four doors down had been killed in one of these explosions. An honest man trying to do an honest days work to feed his family – I’ll bet they had no compensation other than “We’re very sorry to inform you Mrs Parsons…”

(3) I’d sit in the dusty dirt of our back garden with all sorts of bits of tubing, tin cans, bottles and anything else I could get my hands on and try to replicate the gas works in model form. They were never great, but an early indication perhaps of an engineering career? From this point onward in my life, I liked to make things. Here is a poem I wrote about the gas works:

(4) The Gas Works

(Off Alexandra Road, Tipton)

A horizon of metal, dull silver of glean

Guarded to the sky by fences of green

The hiss of a serpent and thud of a forge

Belched out a message the giant’s engorge

Spiral tubes climbed and twisted in every way

Up and across and down again, then into a bay

A clang and a bang often echoed into the air

The invisible killer that was constantly there

My first inspiration as I sat in our garden dust

With bits of scrap metal most eaten with rust

My engineered model strewn together as a mass

From a daily view at the works that made gas

(5) A man ran into a bar and ordered a double whisky. “Tell me,” he whispered to the barman, “how tall is a penguin?”

“Oh, about this tall.” Replied the barman, placing his hand about two feet from the floor.

“Are you sure.” Said the man.

“Positive.” Replied the barman.

“Shoot, I think I’ve run over a nun.”

(6) Tuesday, 6th June to Friday, 9th June 2023. I taught year 3 kids in a school called Hadley Learning Community – it was a nice school and enjoyable work.

(7) Wednesday, 7th June 2023. I received a letter from Lloyds stating that there was nothing they could do because I had voluntarily transferred the money to Calkill. Following much evidence provision that my money was paid into their bank, still Calkill denied receiving it. I need to go to the Citizens Advice Bureau. I Heard an advert on the radio whilst taking my son Will to work – CEL solicitors no win, no fee experts in scams and fraud. I contacted them via the internet.

Barley’s Biscuit ‘Full Steam Ahead’

Here is the blurb:

The Mercian Way is a picturesque walking path through some gorgeous Shropshire countryside leading to a lovely market town called Bridgnorth with double attractions (Hightown and Lowtown). Barley, the clever Border-Collie dog, his nephew Basil and their human friend Mick, daydream about the steam trains that used to run along the path in the old days as they walk along the Mercian Way to visit the Severn Valley Steam Railway for a day out.

There is much to see and learn in Lowtown where the Mercian Way ends, but today Mick and the dogs headed for Hightown and a ride on a real live steam train, they were super excited. Mick couldn’t resist visiting a couple of the beautiful and historic areas of the town on the way to the railway.

An elderly man in a wheelchair, being pushed along by his partner, were also on route to the railway. A strange and dangerous turn of events led to Barley and Basil working as a team to resolve a serious problem created by the vibration of the huge steam engine as it turned on a turntable, threatening the elderly man’s life…

More Barley’s Biscuit

Here are the opening few paragraphs of the unedited version of ‘Full Steam Ahead’ set on the Severn Valley Railway Bridgnorth:

It had already been a brisk walk along Mercian Way, a gorgeous walking track through some of the beautiful Shropshire countryside, when Mick stopped for a short rest. He looked at the tops of the trees surrounding both sides of the Mercian Way. Trees lined the path practically the whole eight miles or so they’d already walked. Mick has always loved railways. The path he chose that day to walk his friends Barley, the clever Border-Collie dog and Basil his nephew, used to be a railway track many years before, linking Ironbridge with Bridgnorth. Now it’s a well known route for cyclists and walkers.

Mick daydreamed as he looked at the trees, watching them dance from side to side in the wind. “In the old days the tree tops would be full of steam and smoke from the old fashioned steam trains.” He pondered. Basil appeared from the woods with a big fat stick.

“Whro.” He groaned through the stick. Mick knew exactly what he wanted and threw the stick as far into the woods as he could, knowing that Basil would be back in the blink of an eye, of course he was right. Basil dropped the stick by Mick’s foot ready to be thrown again.

Around the next corner of Mercian Way, Bridgnorth golf course in Lowtown follows a part of the meandering River Severn. Passing through the golf course would leave them with a climb up a steep, windy road to reach Hightown in Bridgnorth. “Hello Mick.” A man playing golf shouted. Mick squinted his eyes to see who it was. He recognised the accent, it was one from Liverpool, but he wanted to be sure.

“Oh, hello Bill.” Mick shouted back.

“Keep Basil on the lead Mick,” Bill said, “I know how much he loves to play ‘fetch’… and there are plenty of golf balls being hit around here.” The two men had a little laugh.

Barley’s Biscuit Ironbridge, Lincoln Hill – Rotunda View Four Big Bangs

Here’s the blurb for this title:

There was a lot of excitement in the air. For many months, people in the Shropshire village of Ironbridge talked about little else. The four massive rose-pink cooling towers from the now closed Power Station were going to be blown-up at noon that day. Barley, the clever Border-Collie dog, his nephew Basil and their human friend Mick found an ideal viewing spot from which to watch the event.

On the way to the spot they met with a herd of Roe deer with baby fauns. It wasn’t until they reached the Rotunda View, on the other side of the River Severn, that they spotted one of the fauns inside of the dangerous area close to the towers – it looked in some sort of trouble. If the dogs could not rescue the faun, it could be blown-up with the towers!

An old map of the area shown on an information panel described by Mick at the Rotunda View, gives Barley an idea and a plan to possibly rescue the faun. The mission is fraught with danger in pitch blackness – and underneath a river…

Nonka Noo the Nigersaurus

This is my latest piece of work dedicated to an old mate from years gone by called Dave New. It is very much in its infancy and much may change (as it often does). Here’s a bit I’ve already penned:

“Oh no.” shouted Nonka Noo. Plod-Plod-Plod. “It’s Super-Croc – I’d better run.” Nonka Noo, the Nigersaurus was a giant dinosaur who lived by the side of the river and couldn’t run that fast. Super-Croc wasn’t that much smaller, but being a crocodile who could live in the river or out of it meant he was swift. The mud from the river bank splashed all over Nonka Noo’s long thick legs as he plodded along as fast as they would take him. He thought he was going to get eaten. Super-Croc’s short legs had big sharp claws at the tips of his feet helping him to grip in the mud and gain on Nonka Noo.

“Wait, wait.” Shouted Super-Croc. He wanted to make friends with Nonka Noo and maybe do a bit of fishing with him. Nonka Noo looked over his shoulder – he wasn’t sure about Super-Croc, he’d heard that they like to eat dinosaurs such as him – he only liked to eat plants and grass. Nonka Noo turned his head – shaped like a massive hammer – towards Super-Croc and shouted: “Are you friendly?” Super-Croc looked at the thousands of small sharp teeth Nonka Noo had in his jaws.

“Yes, I want to be your friend” He said. “What’s your name?”

“Nonka Noo.”

“Hello, I’m Super-Croc, want to do some fishing?”

“Erm… what’s that?” Nonka Noo replied with his own question.

Barley’s Biscuit Bridgnorth, Hightown Full Steam Ahead

Here is a snippet from my eleventh Barley’s Biscuit story set in Bridgnorth:

It had already been a brisk walk along Mercian Way, a gorgeous walking track through some of the beautiful Shropshire countryside, when Mick stopped for a short rest. He looked at the tops of the trees surrounding both sides of the Mercian Way. Trees lined the old railway path practically the whole eight miles or so they’d already walked. Mick has always loved railways. The path he chose that day to walk his friends Barley, the clever Border-Collie dog and Basil his nephew, used to be a railway track many years before, linking Ironbridge with Bridgnorth. Now it’s a well known route for cyclists and walkers.

Mick daydreamed as he looked at the trees, watching them dance from side to side in the wind. In the old days the tree tops would be full of steam and smoke from the old fashioned steam trains. He pondered. Basil appeared from the woods with a big fat stick.

“Whro.” He groaned through the stick. Mick knew exactly what he wanted and threw the stick as far into the woods as he could, knowing that Basil would be back in the blink of an eye, of course he was right. Basil dropped the stick by Mick’s foot ready to be thrown again.

Around the next corner of Mercian Way, Bridgnorth golf course in Lowtown follows a part of the meandering River Severn. Passing through the golf course would leave them with a climb up a steep, windy road to reach Hightown in Bridgnorth. “Hello Mick.” A man playing golf shouted. Mick squinted his eyes to see who it was. He recognised the accent, it was one from Liverpool, but he wanted to be sure.

“Oh, hello Bill.” Mick shouted back.

“Keep Basil on the lead Mick,” Bill said, “I know how much he loves to play ‘fetch’… and there are plenty of golf balls being hit around here.” The two men had a little laugh.

Barley’s Biscuit Bridgnorth, Hightown - Up the Slippery Slope

Today I have edited my final Barley’s Biscuit book in the series of twelve. I will add some snippets later, but for now here is the blurb:

‘Aboard a bus ride from the lovely village of Jackfield, through some estates and wonderful Shropshire countryside, Barley, the clever Border-Collie dog, his nephew Basil and their human friend Mick, take in some spectacular views before arriving at Hightown, a part of Bridgnorth. Although there a many spectacular things to do and see there, that wasn’t their final destination for their special day out.

Mick led the two dogs through one of the markets going on that day and went past some sights and museums he would like to visit himself, before reaching the signpost he was looking for. The signpost pointed to all sorts of places to go including the one he wanted to take his dogs to that day. It was the funicular railway. The ride is very steep connecting Hightown with Lowtown areas of Bridgnorth and boasting spectacular views.

Whilst waiting on the platform for the return trip, an unseen incident happens when a maintenance man is servicing the funicular railway to keep the mechanism working safely. Barley spots it however. He has an ingenious idea to correct the situation and remove any danger using some items they had found during their adventures in Lowtown. Basil has to be very brave on this occasion to help his uncle succeed…’

Barley’s Biscuit Lloyds Coppice - Golden Dragons

Here is a snippet of my first edit of Barley’s Biscuit Lloyds Coppice - Golden Dragons:

(1) The two Border-Collie dogs, Barley and Basil, sat patiently on the curb waiting for their human friend Mick to cross the Jackfield bridge. Their black, white and light brown patchy coats shimmering in the light breeze. Mick walked about half way across the bridge, but stopped to look at the River Severn. Just ahead, in the distance along the river towards Bridgnorth, he would normally see the white water rapids – that’s very fast flowing water in the river at Jackfield just outside the Black Swan pub. Today however, there were none.

(2) It had been raining on and off quite heavily at times for three or four days around most of the country, and all of the water ran into the rivers swelling them up to double their normal size. The colour of the River Severn that day was a mixture of orange, brown and grey looking like a fluid wriggly stick of multicoloured seaside rock. The bottom of the river was churned up by the large amount of water and a lot of mud washed into the river from the banks and surrounding hillsides – all of these things hid the rapids. The river’s in spate. Mick thought to himself. Today though, the rain stopped and was replaced by hazy sunshine and light winds.

(3) “It may well be a bit muddy, but it will be perfect for a walk around Lloyds Coppice.” Mick said to the two dogs. The Jackfield bridge – or free bridge – as local people call it, links a lovely little village called Jackfield to the town of Ironbridge. The dogs waited on the Ironbridge side. It is quite a busy junction of roads there and can be dangerous. “Away.” Mick said, as he got closer to the dogs and checked that it was safe to cross the road. The two dogs quickly scampered across the road and onto the safety of Ye Olde Robin Hood Inn car park.

Barley’s Biscuit

I have started to edit the eight manuscripts I have left unpublished in the Barley’s Biscuit series. I hope to create a twelve-strong box set in the future. Here is the blurb of one of them called Clippety-Clop’s Catastrophe and I will post some snippets soon:

Barley’s Biscuit

Clippety-Clop’s Catastrophe – Blurb

The spectacular beauty of Ratlinghope Walk, a part of Carding Mill Valley and the Long Mynd in the Shropshire countryside, is a place where where wild horses roam and where Barley, the very clever Border-Collie dog and his nephew Basil, are taken as a special treat by their human friend Mick. The fun they can have there in the wide open spaces and number of games they can play with each other is limitless.

They discover interesting and exciting places to explore that have been developed naturally and by people over many years. Barley climbs to the top of a mound called Shooting Hill, where he notices a herd of wild horses. A big black stallion, called Clippety-Clop has developed a nasty limp and is in need of some brave and clever help from Barley and Basil.

As Mick enjoys a short rest break at a pub beer garden, the two dogs race towards the wild horses to nurse Clippety-Clop. His health is failing rapidly. Barley instructs his nephew to carry out unusual tasks to give the stallion first aid. Using his ingenuity, with help from his new horse friends and Basil, Barley is able to remove the burden for the horse, but is that enough?

Becky, the landlady of the pub has a special treat in store for them if it is…

A bit more of Buzzz Off (Mr. B’s Busy-Bea)

(1) The end of October is always a funny time. I suppose it’s the beginning of...

… Autumn already. Hallie’s dad said, unknowingly finishing off the sentence Hallie’s mom was thinking.

“I was thinking exactly that.” She said.

“Great minds think alike.” he replied, looking through their kitchen window. He noticed the soft spiralling wind and small yellow leaves following the swirls like little ballet dancers swaying and falling around invisible wires. “Nature’s getting ready to go to bed for a few months.” He said.

(2) “Good morning Mom and Dad.” Hallie walked in through the kitchen door rather slowly with a sombre look on her face, her voice was dull and quiet and her words dragged out in a drool. Hallie’s parents could tell straight away that something worried her. She held Busy-Bea in her right hand, dangling down by her side and bumping softly against her knee.

“Good morning Hallie.” Her mom and dad said almost together, purposely using a jolly tone in their voices to try and lift Hallie’s spirits.

“What’s up then?” Hallie’s mom asked gently lifting up her chin and giving her a mother’s knowing look.

“Nothing really… well, it’s just that I have to write a story in Mr. B’s yellow and black diary, or an adventure that happens to me over the holiday and I can’t think of anything to write. I just keep looking at what Elin Heath wrote – Queen Cloud Bee, and I can’t do anything better than that!”

(3) “It’s only Saturday darling,” Hallie’s dad said, laughing lightly and smiling, “anything can happen yet.”

“We’re going shopping today Hallie to buy our new Halloween costumes for the party tomorrow. That’ll cheer you up.” Her mom added. The family spent a long time shopping – especially for their Halloween costumes. They ate lunch in a cafe in town and their tea at home. Hallie took her new witch’s costume up to her bedroom to think again about something to write in Mr. B’s yellow and black diary. She was still worried, she hadn’t been able to think of anything to write all day – and time was passing by.

(4) Hmm, that does look good. Hallie thought, looking excitedly at her reflection in the mirror, when she tried on her new witches costume her mom had bought for the Halloween party. She thought it might help to give her some ideas for a story to write in Mr. B’s diary, but it didn’t. She sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor, rested the cheeks of her face in her hands and put her elbows on her knees, it was something she always did to help her concentration. The toll of the day and long walks in the fresh air soon made her feel drowsy, she closed her eyes to rest them for a while and drifted into a light snooze.

“Zzzzzzz – Zzzzzzz – Zzzzzzz.” The calming buzz coming from somewhere around her Halloween costume, gradually getting louder then quieter, made Hallie feel even more tired. “ZZZZZZZ!” A sudden extremely loud buzz in Hallie’s left ear woke her with a start, making her jump to her feet and rub her ear hard at the same time.

Events in Spring and Summer

I have two new event from where to sell my books and very much looking forwards to both of them. The first is on 31st May is hosted by the charity Hilbrae who cater for dogs in need of re-homing. That one is held on the Telford Hornets Rugby club field 11am to 4pm. The second is the following day and is a fun day and summer fete for children held in Hadley Telford.

Mr. B’s Busy-Bea (Buzzz Off)

Began edit 01 today for this book. Here are a few paragraphs as a taster:

(1) “Right then…” The signature words Mr. B. always used to get his class of seven and eight year-old students to quieten and settle down into their chairs at Alley-Wood Primary School, worked precisely – as usual. It was an important time of the day. Both he and the children knew that morning assembly started in about five minutes time. Mr. B. needed the register done and uploaded to the school electronic system before then. The classroom went silent.

(2) The buzz in the classroom created by Elin Heath’s imaginary adventure with Busy-Bea – the story she’d called Queen Cloud Bee more than three weeks earlier, was intense shortly afterwards, but over the month had gradually lessened to almost nothing. Now, however, it was approaching November and the class knew that Mr. B. was close to reaching a decision of who would win the promise to take Busy-Bea (short for Beatrice – his fluffy magic toy bee), home for the weekend. Mr. B. would add up all the merits he’d given out during the month for good work and include all good comments from staff and other students, before he decided to award Busy-Bea to one lucky student or some lucky students at the end of each month.

(3) The only thing Mr. B. ever levelled out in the classroom was a student’s ability in school. He set work each student could achieve and that was what they earned merits for. It was difficult for a student to get a merit from Mr. B. – his rules were very strict indeed. He only ever acknowledged a merit by putting a mark in their workbooks using invisible ink in the shape of a bee next to the piece of work. Mr. B. sometimes called this a sticker. The sticker only became visible shortly after he’d put their workbooks below Busy-Bea and whispered a magic word in her ear.

(4) The class followed Mr. B. back from the assembly hall in a straight line and entered the classroom full of chatter. “Right then…” He said for the second time that day, using his authoritative and rather loud voice. The chatter soon stopped and he continued. “Today is the day I decide who will take Busy-Bea home – so, work hard all day and be very good.” The closest Friday to the end of each month was an exciting one for year three students at Alley-Wood Primary School. Mr. B. always chose that day to award Busy-Bea. Every child worked hard trying to gain an additional merit award to win Busy-Bea and soon, the end of the day arrived.

(5) “Bring your workbooks and line up nicely next to Busy-Bea.” Mr. B. said. As each student passed underneath Busy-Bea, Mr. B. whispered the secret word for that month – uncredible, in Busy-Bea’s ear so quietly no-one could hear. It wasn’t until the child sat down that the Busy-Bea shaped sticker appeared in their book. “Who has five stickers?” Mr. B. asked. His dark brown eyes widened and flickered in his sockets as if they were giggling. The class went silent, no-one dared even to look up. Never, since Mr. B. had worked at Alley-Wood school, or anywhere else, had anyone ever achieved that many merits from him in one month – and he knew it. He grinned a wicked sense of satisfaction telling his class that no matter how good they were, they could always improve. Half of the class smiled with him and the other half frowned. “Four?” The clown-like grin remained on his face. There was no response from the class. “Three then!” He said, replacing the grin with flat tight lips and expectantly lowering his eyebrows. Hands from four different children stretched excitedly, but silently into the air.

(6) Mr. B. waited, just in case one of the students in his class had miscounted, or if one of the students who had raised their hand had forgotten his rules and decided to shout out. Whichever student did that would be disqualified there and then, they all knew this. Nobody shouted out. “Okay then,” Mr. B. said, “Casey, Hallie, George and Sydney. Please come up to the front of the classroom.” Busy-Bea turned magically in Mr. B’s right hand taking a long look at each of the students in turn as they walked to the front of the class. He leaned to his left to pick up the list of good comments the children had earned from other people around the school.

Another bit from my Autobiography

Chapter 9. Beginning of 1967 to Beginning of 1968

Mr Smith (I think) was the name of my teacher in this year. Without either of us knowing it at the time, he inspired me in many ways. One was story writing. Each Friday afternoon, he would tell us the latest chapter of a story he’d made up and put together the week before. Nowadays, he simply wouldn’t be able to do it (far too PC!). Here’s why:

His stories were called ‘The Adventures of Fatty and Lanky’, and he based them on two kids from our class. One lad had a well built stout bodily frame and the other was very tall and thin. (I won’t reveal their names). The two kids would stand on a plinth at the front of the class whilst Mr Smith read out the story – which was always funny and often contained something that would restrict them in some way (because of their size), this would be somewhat embarrassing for the kids. But they and the rest of the class absolutely loved the stories – the two kids became heroes around the school.

Soon I would be ten years old – double figures! Then other more practical skills would develop inside of me. But for now Mr Smith is the dominant memory of this year – I certainly miss those days and the two kids I went through the rest of my schooling with.

Another well known phrase used often at the time and told to us by our mothers:

Sticks and stones may break my bones

But names will never hurt me

The Story Teller

(Mr Smith – I think!)

For Friday to come and yearn a surprise

‘Come now my two characters – stand just here’

I have a nice story for all the class to hear

Often a good laugh, but never despise

We sat and we listened, eager to learn

The made-up adventure our classmates endured

From Mr Smith’s mind was what he assured

An accolade ‘Fatty and Lanky’ would earn

(A Joke…)

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Earwig.

Earwig who?

Ere-we-goo, ere-we-goo, ere-we-goo…

(‘Here we go’ sang in a Black Country accent)

Tuesday, 20th June 2023. Today I bought a new car. It is a black BMW for which I part exchanged my Mercedes. I used a lump sum payout from one of my pensions. The car cost £7,000 and I got £1,000 part exchange for my Mercedes.

Saturday, 24th June 2023. I had another free event, this time held in a place called Cleobury Mortimer. I wondered as I drove there whether I might meet with an old school colleague of mine from Madeley Academy (a Secondary School worked in), called Alex Smith (not the one from my Primary School). I knew he lived there and has a couple of young kids. The event was an attraction for kids. To start with I didn’t meet him, but his wife approached me and knew about me (I’d never met her). She introduced herself and called Alex on her phone who turned up later. I had based one of my characters from ‘Mr. B’s Busy-Bea – The Ritzzz Hotel’ called ‘Teddy’ on both of his kids. One was called Edward and the other Arthur. The full name of my character is ‘Edward Arthur Smith.’

I sold eight books there and two more later on in the pub. Here is an excerpt of the press release I wrote for The Ritzzz Hotel:

Press Release: A hive of activity as new book shapes up to be the bee’s knees!

There’s a real buzz of anticipation in the air with the imminent release of a new book by a Shropshire author telling the exciting Christmas story of the fight to free a colony of bees from an invisible curse.

Mr. B’s Busy-Bea (The Ritzzz Hotel) is the latest offering from Roy Bradshaw and is his fourth published work following on from three popular books in the Barley’s Biscuit series…

Friday, 30th June 2023. I was invited as a guest to a networking group called BNI held at a golf hotel in Wolverhampton by my publisher Paul Naylor. Although I liked the concept and the people I met there, the costs are too high for me to join right now. I may well look again later if my book sales take off more.

Saturday, 1st July 2023. I had another event at Edgmond Village Hall in Newport, Shropshire. It is more of a table top sale rather that arts and crafts, but I managed to sell a couple of books. I met with the Deputy High Sheriff of Shropshire and his wife. Maybe they will be a good contact for the future. Although it was not yet printed, they showed a lot of interest in the concept of Konk.

Sunday, 2nd July 2023. I had another free event in my home town of Madeley. This one at a dry ski slope club called the Astro Turf. I sold only two books, the rainy, windy weather wasn’t great for an outside event.

Mr B’s Busy-Bea (Palm Treezzz Beezzz)

I have finally finished the sixth and last in the series of Mr B’s Busy-Bea adventure stories. It is called Palm Treezzz Beezzz and adds to the other titles: Queen Cloud Bee, Buzzz Off, The Ritzzz Hotel, The Bee Bea Sea and Elastic Bee Bandzzz. There is also a spin-off from The Ritzzz Hotel called The Orange Dragons. Here is an unedited taster from the beginning of Palm Treezzz Beezzz:

“Right then.” Mr. B, teacher of Frankie and the other thirty students in the class of seven and eight-year old's, stated with complete authority. The volume of general chatter in the classroom had reached an unacceptable level therefore his raised voice needed to exceed that for him to gain the children's attention. The class quietened. “Tomorrow is very different to a normal Friday as you are all well aware, but that doesn’t mean Busy-Bea’s usual promise won’t be granted.”

Busy-Bea, Mr. B’s magical fluffy toy bee turned slightly on the battered piece of string holding her to the classroom ceiling by the teachers’ desk. She turned very slowly – just enough to see the reaction of the class. Her black and yellow colours may have faded over the many years in Mr. B’s possession, but the focus from her black eyes was as sharp as a pin.

The children had been excited all week. Euphoria, rising like a musical crescendo as the days passed by, reached a peak by Thursday afternoon. The whole class were going on a residential learning weekend starting with a very early Friday morning coach journey to Cornwall to spend time inside the Eden Project. “I will have my eyes on all of you during our journey tomorrow, I still haven’t decided who to give Busy-Bea to for this special weekend.” Mr. B. said.

Randlay Primary School

I had a fabulous morning today at Randlay Primary School. The workshop consisted of:

Introduction of me, my background and my books.

Konk the White Crocodile story and activities book reading.

Colouring-in template of 3D finger puppet model.

Cutting-out template of 3D finger puppet model.

Folding-up template of 3D finger puppet model.

Loads of fun questions and answers.

The Rose Towers

Yesterday I entered one of my poems into a global competition. The title is The Rose Towers and it was written to reflect the feelings of people around at the time of the demolition of the four pink cooling towers, a major feature of the Power Station in the Ironbridge Valley. Until the competition ends (July) I cannot publish the poem, not even on my website - but after that…

Wish me luck!!

Sam Spiralli - Now in Print

Front Cover

He’s gone to print - a couple of weeks away from proof, and then…

Competition Time

Enter the on-line competition to win my two Busy-Bea books here. Good luck!

https://thefamilygrapevine.co.uk/shrewsbury-telford/competition/win-2-books-by-roy-bradshaw/