Budding Authors

[computedshorty]

Budding Authors

I have been thinking about those Authors that have actually put pen to paper and written a book, and are now accredited with their works.

But how many of us try to write one, but never finish it, or it gets put aside as your time is taken up with the family or work commitments.

I am sure that there are many part written Novels or Stories or just Memories that linger in your mind and just don't get finished.

The thought that whatever you wrote might not be any good, that could deter you or even stop you writing any more all.

There is a saying that everyone has at least one book inside them, its just getting it out.

Not every writer wants to publish their work, for some it is just for the family or friends to have a look at.

I wonder if any of you have a part or a Chapter of your writings? That you might like to put here in a message. I am sure that all the members would like to see your attempts, not to criticise but to see your style , and if the content holds the readers attention.

Is anyone interested in writing anything?

There must be a story line or subject.

Could you write a little about E. Dulwich?

There is a lot now about the Horses in the First War. Could you write something about that?

Or indeed about the combination of both.

[Annette Curtain]

A War Horse walks into a bar.

The barman says: "Why the long film?"

[PeckhamRose]

I've got a short play on in April but it is in Surrey.

One agent I know of received twelve hundred scripts a year. Theatres funded by the state like the Royal Court have to accept scripts so send their scripts to readers or such volunteers out of Uni to judge their scripts they receive.

Most Are Shite.

It's a tough life. Personally, I think such things are best left for the family to keep and read for ever.

Probably including mine!

[computedshorty]

I am not too hoarse to speak.

My owner is called mister Bignell, he is a coalman and I am Buster his cart horse.

I am black with a few white bits, but at the end of the day I am all black, then I get washed down with a bucket of water, that?s back at my stable in Whatley Road corner of Ulverscroft Road. Don?t know why they keep saying I am measured by hands, I don't have hands so why cant it be by my Hoofs?

Mister Bignall had got thirsty so he tied me up at the Drinking Trough outside the East Dulwich Hotel, I can now have a drink and as much as I like, my cart is still part loaded with one hundred weight sacks of Derby Brights, that is the best coal that I take to the houses, I know it costs a shilling because mister Bignall chalked it on the cart. He will come out to put my nosebag on in a moment I hope it has some oats in it, not just hay that breaks into chaff and gets up my nose and makes me sneeze.

I wish that I could be tied up to a tree over on the Goose Green so I could eat some of that fresh grass.

This place outside the East Dulwich Hotel is not very good for me as the tram track goes into Spurling Road then the Tram waits to return back the way it had come, there is a toilet entrance in the side wall of the Hotel where the Tram driver and Conductor dash off to.

These tram tracks leading to three roads make it very hard for horses to pull a cart along the road as once our wheels get into the groove of the tracks, I cant get out it is up to Mister Bignell to guide the cart out, I slip a lot on the cobble stones set between the rails.

Here comes the Milkman's horse his name is Ern, he stopped just for a quick drink, his driver popped in the toilet I don't think I would like the noise of all those glass bottles rattling in the metal crates. ?Hello Ern where are you going??

? Back to Hindmans Road to get another lot of milk.?

?I see that Hearse is doing a funeral today, don?t know how those lovely Black horses put up with all those White feathers on their heads, I was talking to them the other day, do you know that they must not drop dung while they are at a funeral??

Mister Bignall has just come out of the pub, he has been reading the Newspaper that he must have picked up, I can see the headlines, Privately owned Horses to be taken for the Army, now fighting in World War One.

? Come on Buster it looks as if you aint gonna get much choice , its either the Army for you, or the Knackers Yard.

On Television tonight Sunday 4th March at 8 P.m. Channel 4.

[Carbonara]

Is that Mr Bignell in his white coat?

Why on earth would a coalman wear a white coat?

Aha - Persil advert.

Have a sugar lump, Buster.

[Peckhamgatecrasher]

Please employ an editor who would insist on paragraph breaks.

Shorty, you have such interesting tales to read, but it's bloody hard on the eye.

[computedshorty]

Sorry about the compact Tale it came straight from the horses mouth who unfortunatly does not understand paragraph breaks.

Mr F. Bignall the brother would be dressed in a white coat but he remains in the office taking orders, only the Driver wears dark clothing complete with the cap and leather neck cover to stop the coal dust getting down his neck and his legs having ties just below the knee to stop the dust chafing his legs.

[computedshorty]

Buster has just sent a story message to you, as you might like to hear a bit more about him.

New Shoes.

Its Sunday and its bright but the sun don't shine into my stable till the afternoon, that?s because the sun rises in the East behind my stable, so I don't see it until today my day of rest, when I am here and I don't have to pull the cart. The Sun will only shine in for a while as the three story building with the Off Licence below on the facing corner will cast a shadow me in the shade again

Mr Bignall is called Fred by all the people who know him, I think I will call him Fred as I have been here a year now, its not a bad place, but does get lonely at times that?s why I like seeing the other horses on the streets, I have got to know quite a few, as my eyes are covered by Blinkers I can only see to the front nothing beside me at all, It might have been better if I had been born with eyes in the front of my head.

I have been fed and watered, two local boys came today to muck out my stable, Fred lets them pile all the straw and dung onto his wheel barrow, when they have put clean straw in then he lets them take the barrow, away they call on people who have a garden to sell their hard earned fertilizer for a few penny?s.

Fred has been putting dubbing, that is a kind of grease on all my harness and leather leads, it don't make it shine just keeps it from drying hard and cracking and breaking, I like it when they have been done as any of them that come into contact with my body are soft and don't rub my hair off.

? Come on Buster we are going to get your new shoes.? Fred just ties a rope onto my nose and head, not the full harness that is used to pull the cart, some owners have to put it all on and use the cart as it had a brake to stop the horse, Fred knows that I don't need it and it saves taking it all off at the Furriers.

I have to go to Jim the Furrier about every eight weeks as my steel horse shoes get worn out on the hard road, I remember one day a shoe came lose and was hanging off, Fred get a pair of long handled pincers and pulled it off, then folded a hessian sack under my foot and tied it with my foot tied inside, he took me to Jim who put a new shoe on.

Today we are going to walk to the arches under Peckham railway track we have to go into Blehiem Road, here I am getting my new shoes.

Fred has booked me to be done at ten o/clock, Jim backs onto the leg that the shoe has to be reshod, and brings it up between his legs holding it with his legs, he soon pulls of the old shoe, he has all my new horse shoes lined up near the Brazier he then puts a shoe into the glowing coals with his pincers, he puts it onto my hoof , it burns into my hard hoof making a good bed for the shoe, then he cools it in a bucket of water, puts ten dirty black nails in between his lips and put the shoe in place on my upturned hoof, the shoe has a lip on the front that fitting it in alignment is made easy. Ten large nails are hammered into my hoof some come out through the side, I don't mind that its if they go into my hoof and hit my two toes then I would become lame.

One by one I get my new shoes fitted and any over grown parts rasped off. I stand there proud as a peacock with my nice new shoes.

We pass up Ady?s Road near Goose Green Play ground, the children are on the swings and the slide, they come to the railing to look at me as they don't often see a horse without a cart. I feel like saying ? Look at my new shoes!?

Back home in time for Fred to have his dinner, and me my feed, and rest I don't lie down just stand up and close my eyes. Funny how I don't fall over while I am asleep, I think that if I did lie down I would soon get very dirty, and that would make the nasty horse flies bite me and I would kick out not being able to have a good scratch.

When Fred has had his dinner he fits me into the cart, off we go not far though just around to the Corn Chandlers a few shops down from the Crystal Palace Pub, here between the shops is an alley that leads to the tall building behind, we are backed up under the open hatch above.

Mr Seymore throws a dozen bales of straw down and some bundles of Hay, then brings out from below some sacks of oats, Fred stacks it on the cart, pays Mr Seymore and off we go home to offload and store the things away.

I have my harness taken off and lead to my stable, and look there is fresh hay in the feeding rack.

Fred is off to the pub just time for a few as the pub shuts at three o/clock.

I bet they are talking about that War, and me having to go there, I wonder if they have coal carts there?

They might put me in a Milk cart, that would be easy work for me, pretty quiet place I imagine.

Time for a snooze now, tomorrow is another busy day.

[Annette Curtain]

Is Buster from the West Indies ?

:-S