Story Episode 2

When I woke up I decided to scrutinise my clothing a little more. After taking off my shoes I removed my t-shirt and sweat pants to look at them more closely. They appeared to be brand new and not garments that had been worn by someone else and then washed. Turning them inside out I saw that the tabs which would have indicated who made them and where they had been bought from had been cut away. I noticed that my underpants were also black and again there was no indication of manufacturer or retailer. I put all my clothes back on again.

A little while later breakfast was delivered. To my surprise I was given a lukewarm paper cup of tea and an already shelled hard-boiled egg on a piece of toast. No knife and fork, not even plastic ones.

I started to formulate a plan. If I could get the toilet bucket I could put the tea, which I was sure would have been drugged, into the bucket with my pee. I could then be ready for my jailer when he came to remove my cup and plate. But before I could do this the door opened and the jailer told me to follow him. I was taken into the corridor and we turned left into a room further down in that direction. I noted that my room was at the end of the corridor – there were no further rooms to the right.  There were no rooms on the other side of the corridor, just a blank wall.  There were just four rooms to be seen, mine, another that we passed by next to it, the room I was taken to and one more room beyond that. Then, at the end of the corridor, a heavy looking door that looked like the exit.

Entering the room I saw a man all dressed in black sitting behind a desk. There was a chair facing the desk which he directed me to sit on. I noticed a filing cabinet in the corner. There was nothing else in the room, no paintings or decorations of any sort, just plain white walls. The jailer, who was also wearing only black, stood behind me.

“Name?” the man behind the desk barked.

“I don’t remember” I said.

The man appeared to tick a box on a form on the desk in front of him. “Take him back” he said to my jailer, whereupon I was escorted back to my cell with the door slammed firmly behind me.

After a little while I looked at the coffee table. If I could do it quietly I might be able to lever off one of the legs which I could use as an offensive weapon if I could get the jailer into my room when I was not drugged. I slowly got to work and through gentle rocking back and forth succeeded in my task. Then I carefully balanced the table on this and the three other legs up against the wall ready for when I needed it. After that I settled down on my bed trying to work out the best time to make my attempted escape.

Story Part 1 Awakening

I woke up suddenly.Was it the sound of a door slamming nearby perhaps?  I looked around me and found that I was in a cell about three metres wide and five metres long. The ceiling was quite high up with some light coming through a grill.  Where was I?  More worryingly who was I? I couldn't remember a thing about how I got here or who I was.

I looked at myself.  I was wearing a black t-shirt, elasticated sweat pants, white socks and slip on canvas shoes.  Would these have been clothes that I would normally have worn or had I been dressed in them by whoever had imprisoned me here?

I looked around the cell.  There was some bedding on the floor and a small coffee table.  Nothing else. I sat down on the coffee table.  What was going on? How had I got here and how could I not remember anything, not even my name?

Dejected, I  sat in silence trying to force some thoughts from my head but nothing much would come.  I wondered if my memory loss was permanent, caused by some horrendous neurological operation, or just temporary as the result of a drug of some kind. The latter I hoped.

After some hours there was a knock at the door which then opened only slightly and  I  saw that a paper plate with a slice of white bread and a piece of cheese and a paper cup with water had been pushed into the cell.  I walked over and got them suddenly feeling hungry and thirsty, wolfing them down. I felt tired, lay down on the bed and went to sleep.

When I awoke it was light and I saw that someone must have come into the cell while I  was asleep as the empty paper cup and plate had gone. I wondered if I had been drugged by something in the water.

I went back over things again.  I had a slight moment of hope as it came to me that the cheese was cheddar cheese. Not very nice cheddar cheese but I was cheered that I could recognise the type of cheese I had been given.

Then I realised that I needed to go to the toilet.  I banged on the door calling out that I needed the toilet.  After a couple of minutes the door opened slightly and a plastic bucket was thrust through the gap. I sat down on it and relieved myself.

Then I lay down on the bad and tried to think but to no effect.

Many hours later more water, bread and cheese was pushed through the door for me.  It looked like I was going to be on a basic and unvaried diet.  I ate and drank and then quickly went back to sleep. My last thought was, yes, they have put sleeping drugs in the water.

In Our Time

Having been cooped up in doors for most of the last twelve months due to the need for me to keep out of the sun because of the side effects of my chemo treatment, I have been doing a lot of reading.  Usually I have at least three books on the go - a serious fiction book, a lighter bit of fiction (often a crime novel) and some kind of non-fiction book (maybe something to fill in a few holes in my knowledge of science or history).  But when my eyes get a bit tired I turn to the radio, especially BBC Radio 4 which has some fantastic programmes on.  I shall expand on this in a later blog but for now I want to concentrate on a gem of the network - In Our Time.

These are serious discussion programmes made for grown up listeners.  Each programme features a panel of three experts on a topic, usually university Professors or lecturers. The topics of the programmes range across many subjects including science, history, religion and philosophy.  The programmes are expertly chaired by Melvyn Bragg. Contributors gradually lay out the key points on a topic, invariably in a clear and articulate manner that can be understood by an intelligent lay person.  From time to time Bragg will attempt a summing up of the story so far. Sometimes he gets it wrong - understandably as he is,like the listener, not an expert, although he does appear to have the benefit of notes prepared for him beforehand by contributors, and probably some extra notes given to him by a researcher for the programme. But in general he manages to steer the discussion expertly in the time available bringing it nicely together at the end. This is not an easy thing to do as I know from my own experience of chairing student (and staff) seminars at Portsmouth University. Even when the contributors know what they are talking about it is a skill to know when to curtail one speaker and bring in another.

Now as well as the live programmes that go out every Thursday morning at 9 am there is now an absolute treasure trove of past programmes going back to 2004, available via the programme's website in downloadable podcast form.  The topics are listed under five genres - culture, history, philosophy, religion and science.

Now I  know a bit about some of the topics covered - for example the programme about random and pseudo-random numbers didn't tell me much that I didn't already know. But it was reassuring to me that I felt that the programme covered the topic in a full and balanced way.  This means that I can have confidence in the authority and authenticity of the coverage of other topics where my knowledge is more partial or even non-existent.

Melvyn Bragg has, of course, other claims to fame, namely his novels and the excellent South Bank Show, originally on London Weekend Television (ITV) but recently revived on Sky. He truly is a National Treasure and I hope that he will be around for many more In Our Time programmes.

Theatres and actors

It was only when I saw next week's Radio Times and the article about Dad's Army and Jimmy Perry that I remembered that I had been quite a regular visitor to the Watford Palace Theatre during my sixth form days. Jimmy Perry was the Director there at the time and, as the RT article points out, it was his experiences in the Watford Home Guard during the war that gave him the idea for the popular TV comedy.  Apparently young Pike was based on  Perry himself.

I also remember about that seeing a production of Peter Shaffer's "The Royal Hunt of the Sun" somewhere in London with my friend Chris Turner, whose father was in the play.  Chris's father, originally from South Africa, worked with many of the great British actors in the sixties and seventies and must have been so proud that his daughter Jess became an actor too.

I was interested in plays and the theatre and took a special subject called Theatre as a voluntary course at Watford Grammar along with my A levels. It was taught by Dave Spearman who was also the teacher who came with us to Cuffley camp, as described in one of my other blogs.  I remember that I did a special project on Ibsen and I have had a penchant for his plays ever since.  I managed to see the recent revival of Hedda Gabler at the Old Vic with Sheridan Smith in the title role.

When I went to Warwick I managed a few trips to the Belgrade Theatre in Coventry but, to my regret, not many visits to Stratford. Without a car in those days it was difficult to travel even that relatively short distance. Looking back I am surprised that there wasn't a club or society catering for theatre visits. Perhaps there was and I just didn't spot it.

When she taught at Prices College in Fareham Pauline ran a Theatres Club that would take groups of students up to Stratford in a minbus. I was never able to join in with this, which was a pity.

Pauline also likes musicals. For some reason these have never really appealed to me - not even Phantom of the Opera or Les Miserables.  And that, despite the fact that one of my uncles, Charles Stapley, appeared in the Drury Lane production of My Fair Lady in the sixties. He was understudy to Rex Harrison in the Henry Higgins role and he actually made more appearances on stage than Harrison.  I remember seeing the performance and then meeting "Uncle Charles" backstage afterwards. Unfortunately Charles' marriage to my mother's sister Nan ended in an early divorce and Charles' acting career peaked with the part of the antique dealer in Crossroads.

Living down here near Chicheser we do try to get to the Festival Theatre when we can.  It will be particularly frustrating for me this year as the programme there looks very good, but because of my chemotherapy treatments I am supposed to keep away from big crowds for fear of infection. Hopefully I shall be able to see something later in the summer.

Recently, before my new chemo sessions started, we manged to have a few days up in Yorkshire at which time we were able to see a play by Brian Friel at the Crucible Theatre in Sheffield.

One excellent development in the last few years has been the live screening in cinemas of productions from the National Theatre.  We have managed to see several of these and, although the experience is not quite the same as being in the theatre with the actors it does give the beauty of the live performance rather than a carefully edited movie version.

Plays don't only have to be put on in big theatres. A few years ago we saw an excellent production of Two Gentlemen of Verona in a local village hall, by a travelling pair of black actors.

And I can't end without a mention of Amateur Dramatics.  My good friend from university days, Graham Sessions, has been a stalwart of the Am Dram scene down in Devon since he moved down there after retirement from teaching.

Oh, and my first visit to a theatre, as for many other people, was for a pantomime.  And we have seen a couple of the special Christmas productions for children up in Stratford.  Wonderful.

Uni-verse

If the universe was but one year old
Three hundred and sixty-five days
Then the sun wasn't born until August 21
And dinosaurs died only yesterday.

Jesus was born just five seconds ago
And science has only just begun
We have learned so much
But there is still so much more
That's beyond us when all's said and done.

Are we unique?
Are there other planets out there
Amongst all the trillions
Supporting life of any kind?
Or are we alone,a pinprick in space
With no-one out there we could find?

38.8 billion years have passed
Since the time of the big bang
Or is time just an illusion
Something we experience but
Not the full shebang?

White dwarfs, red dwarfs, brown ones too
Dark space, black holes
I wonder what you do

Quasars, quarks, neutrinos too
The big and the small all here in space
Supernovae, galaxies, our own Milky Way
Everything out there in its own rightful place

But is there only one universe?

Books and libraries

I can't remember the first book I ever had.  I do remember that quite early on I had a book made of cloth rather than paper, and then there was a bible stories picture book printed on thick cardboard. It had a funny smell!  After that I had the usual kind of alphabet picture book - you know the kind of thing - a is for apple, b is for boy, c is for cat, d is for dog. But not with the sounds that you can get from modern books of this kind.

Books have been incredibly important to me over the years I can't begin to think how many I have read over the years.  Just looking round my study now there are literally hundreds. And I have even managed to write a couple although maybe it should have been more. Maybe it can still be!

I have to thank my mother for my love of reading. From an early age she would sit down and read to me and I then managed to read on my own from quite an early age. She always had at least two library books on the go and she took me to the local library in Croxley where there was a wealth of lovely books for me to read. More on libraries and librarians later.

I can remember reading a lot of books on family holidays in the fifties and sixties.  Where ever we were it always seemed to be raining and there I was in the beach hut with a book in my hand. And taking loads of books with me on holiday has stayed with me.  I haven't got into eBooks though. I prefer to have a physical copy in my hand. I can read stuff of a screen, but not for long periods of time.  I also like to have a book by my bed. A chapter or two and I am off to sleep!

Thinking about the books I have read you could categorise them in a number of ways.  Fiction and non-fiction of course.  On the non-fiction side there were text books, but also reference books.  Two books I especially remember from the sixties were an iSpy annual and a book about ancient civilisations.  The iSpy annual included a section on animal and bird footprints in the snow and I can remember trying to identify tracks out in the back garden and in the woods during some of those snowy winters back then.  The other book had fascinating material on the Mayans and the Aztecs, the Egyptians, Greeks, Mesopotamians, Assyrians, Hittites and others.  I am so glad that I have managed to follow up this interest with many visits to ancient sites in Greece, but also to Mexico and a few years ago to Syria before its dreadful disintegration. I should have loved to have got to Iraq too.

I also went through a bit of a biography and autobiography phase - sporting heroes mainly.  The one I remember best was Richie Benaud who was a particular hero of mine.  On the music side I loved Ralph McTell's Angel Laughter.  More recently I have read everything by and about Patrick Leigh Fermor who lived for many years in Kardamyli, one of our Greek holiday regular places.

On the fiction side the books can be divided into "worthy" books and easy reads.  On the easy read side I seem also have into the habit of devouring everything in a series.  In my early teenage years it was the Jennings books by Anthony Buckeridge. Then, after reading The Gun by C.S. Forester at school I discovered the Hornblower novels and worked my way through them.  Next it was John Buchan and Graham Greene. I have re-read some of these again recently and realised how much I missed first time round.

Going back to sport for a moment, I don't think I am missing any books about Watford FC from the likes of Trefor Jones, Oliver Phillips, Lionel Birnie and Matt Rowson. I share their fanaticism!

In my early twenties I went through a Science Fiction phase, starting with the Isaac Asimov Foundation series. I think it was sparked by hearing a radio adaptation of the books, which opens up another line of thought, namely the interaction between reading the books and film, TV and radio adaptations of them.  I prefer to read the books first and then see the adaptation (as has been the case with Andrea Camilleri's wonderful Montelbano series recently) but I think I  was turned on to Simenon by the Rupert Davies portrayal of Maigret on TV.  I have always liked crime novels - thinking about it I read most of Agatha Christies books by the time I was sixteen before moving on to Sherlock Holmes.  More recent favourite authors include Kinky Friedman, Anne Zouridi, Amanda Cross, Mike Nicol and Deon Mayer. Michelle Giutarri . That sparks another thought - I might not have come across some of these authors but for Amazon's recommendation system. I also have to credit radio programmes like A Good Read and book reviews in the Guardian and Observer.

Having mentioned Amazon I am a bit conflicted over them. On the one hand I love the fact that I can just sit here at my computer and order a book which will pop through my letter box in a matter of days,  But I also love real bookshops where you can just browse the shelves and stumble across something really interesting. I also wish Amazon would pay more taxes so that more libraries could stay open!

It is time to move on to libraries and their impact on my reading. As I have already said I  was a member of the Hertfordshire Library service from early on, and I have kept that up down here in Hampshire. The library at school was good too, and in the sixth form I also made use of the library at Wall Hall college where my mother worked as a librarian. At university some of my happiest hours were spent in the library, particularly in my second year as an undergraduate when I was in digs with nowhere suitable to work. Coming down here to Portsmouth at first the library was just a couple of floors of books in Mercantile House until the wonderful new library was built in Ravelin Park. My teaching and research has benefited so much from this library, and the wonderful librarians that work there. I should like to give a special name check to Judith Stamenkovic who was a great help to me and my students over the years. I have no doubt in saying that I found the library to be the best part of the university - I can think of nothing I  can criticise it for. And Inter-Library loans are wonderful.

In the 1990s I was lucky enough to be involved in the management of the International Biblography of the Social Sciences (IBSS) project at the LSE. as the database went online.  Again, working with the librarians there I realised how much a library was not just the books and journals but also the people working there.

Toy guns and table-top games

I don't know if I had somehow subliminally screened out my more violent toys, but it comes back to me now that as a young boy I also had a toy gun, not to mention a bow and arrows. Andy and I would play cowboys and Indians in the back garden.  We used to buy small gunpowder caps that you could put in the gun to make a loud bang. The arrows had a rubber tip on them but you still felt it if one hit you on the body.  I also remember that we had pea shooters. We also used to crush rowan berries into the end of a bicycle pump and fire them at various targets.

I also had a little canon that would  fire matchsticks.  We had little plastic soldiers that we would line up on the table and shoot at.

The other games that I have now recalled were table-top sports games.  Blow football, and then later at Ron's, Subbuteo.  We spent many happy hours with that.

Andy and I also used to play a cricket game based on rolling a die and a small hexagonal piece of metal to generate scores. I can't remember exactly how it worked but according to the roll of the die you either scored runs or got out in some specific way. We made up our teamsheets based on the cricketers of the day - Ken Barrington, Fred Titmus and the like - and then played all afternoon, writing up the scores in a book as if it was a real match. Latent statto tendencies emerging!