McG,

At this very moment JRT and I are rounding up our squadron members and associates for the celebratory extravaganza. Not that they need much rounding up....it's just that with Olga serving behind the bar they are cautious in their approach. But as usual, a few drinks will soon loosen them up and Olga will draw them in just as certainly as a funnel spider catches its prey.

Sod that! I'm off to the Prince and Polecat until she has sated herself on the unsuspecting newcomers....

Let the good times roll!

Folks,

Dux:

I do not know for certain where those poor men relieved themselves however the Provost office was moved several times during that period and the previous locations were all burned to the ground. We were never advised as to why. C51 got into a heap o' trouble with the local constabulary for selling human waste to nearby farmers as fertilizer. And I believe that the colonel was forced to stop parking his car in an accessible area.

Off then it is to the Prince and Polecat. Someone please notify the infirmary to have an ambulance on call and ready about closing time.

MG:

CONGRATULATIONS!!! You already have your HWH 2K gong. Never let it be said that anyone here passed up even the slightest excuse for a good booze-up. Jumping up and down, cheering and throwing confetti always makes me thirsty. Just 2 days before our Thanksgiving Day holiday it is with gratitude then that I begin celebrating early. CHEERS!

Gents,

JRT, McG,

What a party that was! As you know, I left the Mess bar early and went to the P&P. The booze had also almost run out at the pub when Olga turned up in the company of the thirsty survivors from the camp.
She then imparted the most confidential information to me. Up until that evening, she had been sworn to secrecy and had promised Ilsa that she would not breath a word, on her dear mother's grave, about the Das Bustenhalter night club which Ilsa had opened that very evening in Folkstone!

With great enthusiasm, some of us climbed into SNAFU's Bentley and beat it down the lane, heading for this new venue. This sumptuous club which rivalled the HWH Hall gave us a warm welcome as we began our third attempt to drink the cellars dry. Eventually, I became aware of about a dozen members of the 11th Glaswegian Hardcase Volunteers from the nearby Shorncliffe Barracks who had been glaring at us from the far end of the bar and were now edging toward us in a menacing manner.
One made a comment about 'those good-for-nothing RAF blokes who had let us down at Dunkirk', and other such tripe as he broke a bottle on the roulette table.
At that crucial moment when I expected my fine aqualine classical features to be converted into something out of a Mary Shelley novel, Olga and Ilsa hove into view like the Scharnhorst and Gneisenau as all hell broke loose. By the time we had raised our dukes it was all over and the pride of Glasgow were carted off to the tender care of the staff at the Folkestone General Hospital.
Such timely intervention has a price though, and in the not too distant future either Olga or Ilsa, or both, will expect certain favours in repayment for services rendered...

Folks,

Dux:

So that is where you got off to.

By the time I arrived at the P&P there was no one left but an elderly man passed out in a corner and 2 teetotalers who came in just to use the gents. I asked if there had been a raid by the constabulary but most of those fellows were said to be in the backroom of the pub across the street. Where was everybody?

I felt lonely and unhappy at missing the celebration. Feeling lonely makes me thirsty so I had a pint, and then another. Just as I was about to order a bucket, who should pop in but that lovely film star...what's her name? You know, the platinum blond one who made that American cowboy film with...um...whose his face..you know, the big one with the thin mustache and the Australian accent.

Anyhow her Bentley had broken down and she desperately needed someone to give her a lift to Pinewood Studios. Did I mention that she was wearing a dress with a deeply plunging neckline and a split up the side all the way to her.... I was free at the moment so I instantly offered her a ride to anywhere. Quite right, I had no car of my own but there was a lovely new one conveniently parked right across the street. We borrowed that car and we were soon happily on our way, our hair blowing in the wind and my heart beating the fastest part of The Flight of the Bumblebee.

Well, the short story is that, along about the 3rd chorus of Flight of The Bumblebee, we were stopped by the cops along a paved road just outside Studley Grange. Once we were pulled over they took great pains in calling our attention to the POLICE sign printed in large block letters on the side of our car. I do not know how we could have missed that.

About the time I was visualizing the tar and feathers being mixed up, the arresting bobbies got a load of my passenger, and my hopes brightened a bit. Sure enough, in the time it takes to say Rin Tin Tin, the lovely thing was whisked away to her appointment with that famous director...you know.. Cecil B. somebody. Anyway, I was left standing there in the dark, lonely again but a free man. I just stood there in the wet street waving goodbye and counting myself lucky indeed not to be spending at least a month cleaning tar off my body and plucking feathers out of my.... I sighed. I knew it was going to be a long, lonely walk home. And then it started to rain.

That was a heck of a party! I'm just now beginning to lose my double vision and my head returning to normal size. Are you absolutely sure it was necessary to empty that fuelbowser filled with.... whatever it was? My tongue is still throbbing. Are you sure this is normal?

From your accounts it seems you gentlemen had a nice party. Wish I could remember any of it. When - and if - I remember anything from after the fuel bowser incident, I will be sure to let you know.

Thank you Roger for the postcard in the old mailbox. It arrived safely and now possesses the position of 'onour on the mantlepiece.

For now, I'll wish those of our readers who are so inclined a happy Thanksgiving as I am under the impression it is that time of year.

Folks,

MG:

Thank you for your good wishes on this special day of thanksgiving. We all have much to be thankful for, not the least of which are good pals like those I have found here.

Thanksgiving (the last Thursday of November) always heralds the official beginning of the Christmas season here, although certain commercial aspects of our society (which I used to be a card carrying member of) would like the gift buying season to begin the day after Halloween if not before.

It is therefore on this particular day that I try to have my hand-made Christmas cards ready to send to those loved ones and friends who have touched our lives in a special way in the past year. I cannot always do that however this year I managed to fire up PhotoShop and Illustrator just in time.

And yes, before you ask, that Santa reflected in the Christmas tree ball does have a somewhat familiar face.

Happy Thanksgiving to us Yanks and very merry Christmas to all.

Gentlemen,

JRT, may I join McG in wishing you a Happy Thankgiving. It had slipped my (what passes for a) mind. Mind you, we had our Thanksgiving in October. I suppose it would take the Pilgrims about a month and a half to go from Yarmouth to Plymouth Rock. And thank you for explaining your traditions. Fascinating.

Folks,

C51:

Thank you kindly for your sentiments.

That's either a double post or there seems to be an echo in here.... an echo in here....an echo in...

Greetings Chappies,

Thanks for your email card JRT. There seems to be the image of some distinguished looking gent inside one of the baubles!
I will respond in similar vein just as soon as I can get off my idle backside...

We usually have a skittering of snow during the final week of November and sure enough there was a one inch layer on the cars in the car park this morning and stretching in the most picturesque manner up through Grin Woods to the lofty heights of Solomon's Temple. Not surprised at all. It's been very cold over the last few days and with a damp chill to it. I don't know what the odds will be on a 'White Christmas'.

Tonight we will be warming up with another gig at a nearby pub. This will be our second visit which is quite unusual without having to wear disguise and change our name.

Folks,

Dux:

I'm up early, at least for me. Since retirement, I stay up late so getting up anytime before the crack o' noon is early. It must be 10:30 AM your time.

Ho!Ho!Ho!
As you know, we have just had our Thanksgiving celebration on Thursday, and for our family, that takes the form of a large pig-picking feast. All the members of my dear wife's, fa...overwei...obes... Rubenesque family and quite a few hungry friends gather happily around the trough over at my sister-in-law's house. I no longer fry a turkey on Thanksgiving Day, nor do they. This gives the volunteer fire department a welcome break and the opportunity to celebrate with their families without fear for the holocaust that might otherwise be expected.

It was a warm day on Thursday. The chow down was held out-of-doors yet most did not even feel the slightest need for sweaters, much less jackets. Large bibs or whole bed sheets tied around the neck were, however, not uncommon. By last night we had temps right at the freezing point across most of the state. That is how it is here, it is like a roller coaster ride. By Sunday it will be warm again.

I do enjoy hearing about your area of the UK and the quaint place names you mention from time to time. You are fortunate indeed to live in Derbyshire. Lucky you to have snow already. C51 writes that he expects a good dusting of snow by Monday. I do not know if this will only be falling on him or the rest of Toronto as well. We love snow here in Carolina principally because we get so little of it.

LOL! I have precisely the same difficulty going back to such public establishments more than once even without a band. Worry not. Perhaps there is every reasonable expectation that, by choice or by personal preference, the audience will not contain any of those wiser individuals who witnessed your previous performance?

I'm not so certain about the second visits, but at least on the first performance there should be no real need for one of those bulky, protective wire cages? Do you carry your own for second visits or is there hope one will be provided by the venue? You lead such an adventurous and dangerous life.

Happy Holidays to all.

Gents,

happy December! still no snow here and that is a record. Therefore your shipment of Christmas snow will arrive late in South Carolina this year JRT.

Dux, you are becoming quite an attraction at that local, good for you. Next come the groupies. Which bass will you be playing?

Folks,

C51:

SOUTH...Carolina? So that is where all the second-hand snow has been going. In future, kindly move those shipments one state north. Now, if, on the other hand, you mean yellow snow.....

Dux has been rather quiet since his last gig. Olga has taken up with a bomber squadron stationed over at Twitchingham. For some reason they have all recently been taken off active duty. All he does is sit in the corner and sip on one of Leroy's patten pending cocktails. Hmmmm. He seems to have shunned his previous favorite Château Thames Embankment (vin. not very long ago) for the much stronger, industrial grade stuff. Unless I have lost count, he has had four of those deadly Mindslammers in the past five hours. Could our boy be missing Olga THAT much?

Don't snicker gents. Four cocktails in five hours may not seem like all that much to you unless you have already survived even one of our retired Beefeater's powerful drinks. Leroy sometimes stands in for our beermaids when the heavier libations are called for. It has been my experience that so volatile are his concoctions that, for us regular mortals, just two of those in a five hour span and you wake up to find yourself standing on a table naked, wondering who all the people are.

Hmmmm. Come to think about it, C51 has been known to drink kerosene with a lighter fluid chaser without visible side effects so he could probably match Dux drink for drink at least until the ambulance arrives.

Small tiny flakes of snow this afternoon. I'll collect them all and send them over to you chaps. I can't find much use for it anyhow.

Thank you Roger for your mail to which I have sent a rather lengthy answer, including pictures and soundbites. Apologies in advance for testing that old mailbox to the brink of extinction. Hopefully you will recieve the communique all in one piece.

Folks,

JRT, that should have been "send the snow south to North Carolina" which is too much thinking for my tortured brain. Anyway, there isn't any snow. McG will have to send you his.
Kerosene and lighter fluid, ah yes the connoisseur's blend. I'll drink to that.

Gents,

C51,

Such was my contempt for the venue recently visited that I decided to use my ex-auction Squier Precision for which I paid a princely £88. Actually, it plays very well and is still too good for that lot. People kept going out through the emergency door (I wonder why) which switched off the stage power. Things like this happen when you play to neanderthal brain-donors. I have decided that they can do the next gig without me - should that unlikely event re-occur.

JRT,

So, Olga has moved to Bomber Command eh? Has that anything to do with the Air Ministry decision to evaluate the Snud 14 has a possible contender for long range shuttle bombing operations from England to the USSR I wonder? Our regular readers will recall that Olga has on several occasions secreted herself in the expansive chemical toilet for whatever mischievous plans she may have in mind.
The crews will have quite enough to cope with considering possible mechanical failures, bad weather, navigation errors and the small matter of flak and night fighters without experiencing a fat, hairy, tattoed hand on their shoulder on the target run-up.

Ah well. It will give us a break I suppose....

Folks,

Dux:

Unlikely as it may be, perhaps there was something or someone more interesting just beyond that emergency door? Perhaps Olga was in your audience? Olga is fascinated by your musical ability, among certain other attractions. She always has been. The body odor alone would more than explain your audience's interest in the emergency exit.

I have heard that Olga recently returned with several scalps, and carrying two large bombs under her arms from her scandalous soirée at Twitchingham. Hmmmm. Perhaps those weren't actually bombs? It could be that her bustenhalter straps have stretched again.

It has been some time since a slow but mighty Russian Snud, with its cast iron wheels covered in leather and its dorsal gun protruding from a wooden nacelle, has spread the noxious fumes from its Dunkski Mk 1 Chemical toilet across the skies over Britain.

I understand from someone who survived one test of that particular aircraft that the new Mark 15 can slowly attain the dizzying altitude of 500 feet before the 8 in-line, 3 cylinder, 300 horsepower Trotsky engines with carrier pigeon super chargers begins to sputter. After losing all navigational orientation just short of 500 feet it settles down to the reported operational ceiling of just a bit shy of 300 feet.

It is apparently true that the Snud was being evaluated for, you guessed it, low level bombing and ONLY for suici...deadl....dangerous missions over flat land, of course, and only where the taller vegetation is not particularly robust. Trials were under-weigh in September. At first things did not look at all good. Many targets were hit but sadly they were NOT amongst any of the designated targets. Testing was temporarily discontinued until houses and industry could be cleared from an additional five mile radius of the testing site.

At one point when a 500 lb bomb apparently fell out of a newly made hole in the wooden under fuselage of a Snud being evaluated, it fell so close to the actual designated target that a new test was ordered. Preparations were going forward with the new test until a frightened crew member, afraid of going up in a Snud again, admitted that in the previous test the crew had drawn lots for the honor and that one unfortunate Comrade had ridden the successful bomb down to the ground guiding it to his final destination.

In light of this information, and due to the inability to forc...threate...coerc...coax the Russian crew into participating again, further tests were scrubbed. It is now my understanding that Olga has volunteered as pilot, bombardier and crew for any military mission in which a Sund may be needed. I'm told that this has forced the ministry to re-evaluate the program one more time.

JRT,

I see. Well, we will just have to wait for further reports as to her progress in that direction.
It may well turn out that the only report we hear will be a rather loud one from the direction of Twitchingham camp if Olga's first operational take-off fails to prevail over gravity.

Olga at the gig? She didn't make herself known though, unless her presence was marked by that malodorous stench which I put down to the gent's lavatory backing up?

Today, rain...rain...rain...rain...and then some.

Folks,
Dux:

It has been miserably wet for days around here as well. Today however we had a good deal of welcome sunshine and moderately warm, seasonal temps. Heavy rain is expected on the weekend and colder weather is to follow. It is after all December.

The last report from Twitchingham was a plea for medical supplies and a team of psychiatrists trained in treating shell-shock. Scuttlebutt has it that the Twitchingham RAF squadron is being demobbed and a squadron from the American Eighth Air Force, on lend lease, will be doing some training there. If Olga returns they will certainly learn quite a lot.

If anyone can get one of those Snuds above the grass and into the air Olga can. Of course success with a Snud is not measured so much in just getting it airborne. The real test is how long it stays up and how hard it comes down.

I have it on very good authority that all those Dunski MK. 1 Chemical toilets have been removed from all but the long range Snud version. The designers at the Minsk Propeller Works, Ball Bearing Polishing and Aircraft Design factory felt it added too much to the weight of the aircraft without corresponding benefit. New facts revealed that a toilet on a Snud was not needed.

It was found that the crew suffered so greatly from fright at takeoff and landing that they soiled themselves and the toilet was never actually being used. A means of easily cleaning and deodorizing the aircraft and doing laundry is now being sought instead.

JRT,

Just seen your email for the U2 trip. This has been on Brit TV not long ago but certainly worth a second look! Very clear video. Thanks to you and C51.

Folks,

Dux:

Our pal MG, reports that he has seen the U2 flight previously as well. There seems to much I have missed. I am catching up. I am in the midst of watching an entire afternoon of Frank Capra's 7 wartime propaganda films entitled "Why We Fight". I had heard of these films and only seen portions of them. They are very well done and I am enjoying them via a cable TV broadcast with only short breaks between each film.

"The Battle of Britain" film was interesting. I was surprised to find that the film clips in our game were either excerpted from this film or from the same archives. It was deja vu all over again.

Skies have been gray and temps are falling into and slightly below freezing at night here in eastern Carolina. We had a brief flirtation with snow in the form of a few very light flurries one night. If I didn't have new glasses I might have missed it. Nothing measurable but rain has fallen except in the mountains.

I suppose the Peaks District is at least covered in a soft dusting of snow by now? It would be most unusual for us to have a white Christmas. The only thing white we had on our roof last Christmas morning was reindeer dandruff.