Netherfield

The Messenger: To all my readers, please don’t forget that 14th of February is the deadline for any articles to go in the Messenger. Send them to: [email protected] to see them in print. The Messenger can be bought in the Netherfield Village Store, still only 50p! or delivered by Gillian for £5 a year. Call 838825..

St. Johns Church, Netherfield: The Candlemass Service on Sunday 10th February and starts at 10am. Everyone is welcome. Thanks. Gillian.

Netherfield Village Hall Library Service: Our call for the supply of books is still producing bags of all sorts of items. Authors, who I have never heard of keep appearing in the donations, with detailed descriptions from their previous owners on the quality of the writing and the varied subject matter. One of these is a gentleman called Gervase Phinn, who was, or is, a Visiting Professor of Education at the University of Teeside, according to the blurb inside the cover. I understand his novels generally concentrate on events around the North of England and one of his books has featured as the book of the week on Radio 4. Why not give it a go?

Netherfield Village Hall AGM: The Annual General Meeting for the Hall will now take place at 6.30pm on Thursday 26th February 2019 at the Village Hall.

Claverham Monday Badminton Club: Education, education, education ,was a mantra from some politician, whose name escapes me, and that was certainly in evidence on Monday, when I made my regular weekly visitation to badminton on Monday. Chocker block, was a term a term I had for years, been unused to espousing. However, it firmly underpinned the view of the Claverham car park that suddenly greeted me as I drove into its grounds. There were people shunting this way and that, reversing, ten point turning and generally working their steering wheels as though they were going out of fashion. Where, I asked myself had all these people come from? Mars?

Having been a regular at this establishment for many years I am aware of its situation as an educational establishment and its shortcomings relating to parking facilities, which, if one ventures like a modern day Shackleton, extend around the rear of the main building. Newbies, and I mention the term kindly, have not had to negotiate these inundations of the general public before, as I have had to weather, in the past.

Therefore, reversing gear in place, I gingerly negotiated my way out of this frontal melee and set off to find a suitable resting place out back. It is amazing how one misses things that should ring a bell in your head, when you are delayed in trying to begin your favoured sporting endeavour. Electric gates? Unlike last week, rackets were tightly held in my hands as I rushed out of the car to start my battle supreme in the Halls of Valhalla.

Fifteen of us, yes, fifteen, were there, in shorts and pumps, rackets at the ready, including two of our lady members Jo and Lyn, to race around the court and enjoy the experience of total disgrace when you lose, as I did on nearly every occasion this week. People tell you it is the joy of taking part that matters. I have come to the conclusion that they must be visitors from the planet Zog, if they believe that rubbish. It is all about winning and having a smug smile on your face as you shake hands at the net and say “good game, thanks”. The losers then think to themselves, how did I manage that against that lot?

Throughout the evening the competition was fierce and by about 9.40 I had had enough of my humiliation so decided to take an early bath. Night everyone, I said in a weak pathetic voice, as I donned my jacket, collected my things and like Elvis, left the building. I thought I will be home in two minutes. As I walked to my car, I thought what on earth is that across the road, Mesh, metal and imposing. Looks like a fence. Feels like a fence. My god, it is a fence. No levers, no handles, nothing. Just a fence. It was very dark in this corner of Claverham so made the structure more imposing. How do I get my car out? I could see it but could not touch it.

Back into the Sports Centre I had to go, find a suitable operative, who, using an electronic gadget, opened the gate. Slowly it wended its way on its runners, across the road that led to my car. As I opened and climbed into the front seat, the gate slowly closed. Oh no I thought. How do I get out of this dilemma? As I raced to beat its slow progress it opened. I won’t do that again.

More next week...

Reflections on a garden: At Christmas, cards you receive generally feature snow in some part of the fascia around or near the greeting. So for one day of the year, as you have your family all around you, snow is an acceptable part of the celebrations. For the other 364 days it is a no no. This week the Beast from the East, the Wind from the West or the Storm from the South, whatever it is they are calling it this time, showered the garden, the roads and everything else in Netherfield, in a thick blanket of white. Oh, how lovely I hear you say, through my ears on elastic. No, not good. Deep and crisp and even it might be for about 10 minutes, but wildlife, human footprints and car tyres, soon turn it into a freezing mush. Shoes that walk in this product of nature soon display white marks all over the polish, wellington boots, if not worn with thick socks turn your feet to blocks of ice, and everything becomes wet and cold.

OK, the garden does look lovely with this covering of crystals but its pristine look is soon defiled by foxes, our feathered friends and members of the human race. It also means that little or no work can be effected while it remains covering our plot. Anyone for a snowball fight?

More next week...

Contact: If you have any stories or articles of interest that will give our readership a reason to buy the paper please contact me on email at [email protected]. Call 01424838410 and ask for Maurice or text 07957588172