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AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 675
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, January 03, 2004 - 12:53 pm: | 
|
Just been having a chat to Stephen - who is as busy as ever - and obviously it would be impossible for him to sit down and read an entire year's worth of poetry. So his suggestion to the posters on this thread is that they themselves pick out what they believe to be their finest work and then send that onto him, this will enable him to read the work and come to a conclusion. Only makes sense really.
So get trawling through the files and pick out your best and Stephen will do the rest.
If anyone would like advice on their work just let me know. Always willing to help. |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1753
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, January 03, 2004 - 1:22 pm: |
|
Hi AP
Oh God! Am I condemned to read my own poetry?
I'm happy to let you do the selecting, AP. But if you pass the cup back to me, I suppose I'll have to do it.
Robert |
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 677
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, January 03, 2004 - 1:30 pm: |
|
Robert
I do know your finest works, so if you want me to tell you I will. I know it can be difficult to judge one's own efforts.
The last series of short stories I did the one I absolutely hated the most was the winner for the readers and won several awards.
If I pass a cup back to you, Robert, you can be assured that the one thing that will not be in there is brandy, for I shall have drunk it first. |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1754
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, January 03, 2004 - 1:50 pm: |
|
OK,AP, well if you want to tell me which ones, either here or by email, that would be a relief.
Any chance of tea in the cup?
Robert |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1770
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, January 06, 2004 - 7:44 am: |
|
Hi AP
TRAPPED
Now come the mad vertiginous fears
As I gaze down the endless friendless years,
Ground by the millstones of these walls
Where hope is split and crushed and falls
Till it's just
A powder of dust
"Let me out."
Leap and scrape at iron door
Slip to sleep on stony floor
Oblivious of bleeding nails
While the walls, like puppies chasing their tails
Dance around
The same old ground
"Let me out."
Close my eyes and climb the mast
Choppy seas to speck of past
Ay, I've come this way before
Leapt with knife that plunged and tore
Honed by the dread
Locked in my head
"Let me out."
Robert |
Stephen P. Ryder
Board Administrator
Username: Admin
Post Number: 2918
Registered: 10-1997
| | Posted on Tuesday, January 06, 2004 - 11:44 am: |
|
Just a note to say that so far I've only received contest entries from one person. I'll make my decision on or around the 15th January... but if I don't receive any other entries by then, the choice will be a fairly easy one!
Its for a signed Jack the Myth, so get cracking!
Stephen P. Ryder, Editor
Casebook: Jack the Ripper
|
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 690
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, January 06, 2004 - 1:16 pm: |
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Excellent poesie Robert.
Very moving, and fully capturing the dread of capture in any form or manner, the regret of the thrill perhaps, maybe even the thrill of regret.
I think you capture the absolute solitude of a serial killer perfectly.
I must work on something similar.
Regarding Stephen's note, I musy say it is a fine old thing when an author can't even give their work away!
I must be even more unpopular than I thought.
Ah well, back to the jig-saw puzzle and pint of brandy. |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1772
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Tuesday, January 06, 2004 - 1:41 pm: |
|
Thanks for that, AP.
Re poetry, I think it's that people feel very reticent about posting their stuff in the first place. And then, having posted it, feel a bit reticent about submitting it as an entry.
I would only say to them that it can be as much or as little "personal" as they want it to be.
For instance, they can do a funny one if they want.
And it doesn't have to have a load of "hath", "thou", "sayest" etc!
So, to use Stephen's words, get cracking everyone!
Robert |
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 695
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, January 08, 2004 - 2:13 pm: |
|
A quiet evening in with Jack
‘Jack!’ called his mother. ‘Would you please put that poor cat out!’
‘Certainly, dear mother!’ Jack joyfully called back, and promptly dunked the blazing feline into a nearby bucket of water where it finally expired with a satisfying gurgle.
‘That’s better, Jack,’ grunted uncle Charles from the kitchen chair where he was studying his copy of the Times. ‘At least your rabbits weren’t so damn noisy, and they did crisp off better. By the way boy, how are those experiments coming along? You know, the removal of recent bloodstains from garments using turpentine?’
‘Splendid, sir!’ rejoiced Jack. ‘Why, sir, you would never guess that no more than few hours ago this very jacket that I am wearing was awash with blood!’
‘Good chap, Jack,’ uncle Charles chuckled and then returned to the columns of his paper whilst Jack carefully laid out the derelict corpse of the small feline on the kitchen floor and began happily dissecting it into small parcels with his cut-throat razor.
‘She loves me, she loves me not,’ he sang about his work. ‘She loves me, she loves me not, she loves me, she loves…’
‘Jack!’ his mother scolded as she entered the kitchen. ‘How many times must I tell you that you must put newspapers underneath your little experiments before you dissect them? The blood gets underfoot and is the devil’s own job to clean!’
‘Sorry mother!’ Jack called out politely.
‘Oh, do leave the boy alone!’ grumbled uncle Charles. ‘It is only his little hobby and keeps him busy and off the streets during the day…’
But at that very moment Jack leapt up and tore the copy of the Times out of his uncle’s hands and began spreading the pages around the small bundles of bleeding animal on the kitchen floor.
‘Pon my word!’ roared uncle Charles as he too leapt to his feet and pulled his service pistol from its holster. ‘I’ll shoot you stone dead, you Catholic scum!’
‘The devil you will! You Papist slut!’ cried Jack back on his feet again in an instant and waving his bloodstained cut-throat razor wildly at his uncle.
‘If that copy of the Times is not returned to me immediately,’ his uncle warned, aiming his pistol unerringly at his nephew’s head. ‘I shall shoot you down like the Catholic dog you are!’
‘And I’ll slit your Catholic whore’s belly open and ram your Papist innards down your scum-ridden Catholic throat!’ screamed Jack, slashing the air in front of his uncle’s nose with his deadly blade.
‘Take that then you Papist bitch!’ roared uncle Charles and emptied the gun at his nephew in a series of alarming explosions that filled the small kitchen with smoke and cordite.
Five of the bullets swept harmlessly past Jack, bouncing off frying pans
and other kitchen ware, but the sixth parted Jack’s hair down the middle, leaving a bloodied furrow in its wake, and then flew out of an open window and struck a passing horse in the head which as a consequence of, fell down stone dead in the street crushing and trapping its rider beneath it.
Jack’s cut-throat razor suddenly flashed out and carved a wicked trail of blood across uncle Charles’ forearm, causing him to yelp with pain and drop his service pistol. Jack moved in for the kill, his eyes ablaze with madness and with the deadly cut-throat poised to swipe his uncle’s head clean from the shoulders.
‘Now die, you Catholic bitch!’ he screamed.
‘Come along boys,’ Jack’s mother called out cheerfully. ‘Supper is ready, so you two better get cleaned up first.’
‘I’ll slice your tongue out too, you Catholic whore!’ cried Jack.
‘Jack!’ admonished his uncle. ‘Where are your manners, my dear boy?’
‘Sorry, uncle Charles,’ Jack replied shamefacedly. ‘I fear the moment had quite caught me up, sir, I do most humbly and solemnly apologise.’
‘A bagatelle, Jack,’ his uncle assured him. ’Come along, my dear nephew, we can’t possibly sit down to supper in this condition, why, my cuffs are undone and my shirt collar has come open, and I see your hands have yet to see a bar of soap.’
At the supper table, Jack’s auntie remarked:
‘Why, Jack, whatever has happened to your head?’
That good fellow gently touched the top of his scalp with a hand.
‘I must have fallen down the stairs, dear aunt,’ he replied.
‘And Charles?’ she asked. ‘What has become of your arm?’
‘Ditto,’ he grunted and then demanded: ‘What the devil is that row going on outside!?’
Mother reported back from the open window:
‘It seems that a horse has fallen down and trapped its rider, and a crowd is trying to free him.’
‘Damn and blast!’ roared uncle Charles. ‘Can’t a good protestant family sit down and enjoy their supper in peace any more!?’
‘Calm yourself, Charles,’ said auntie. ‘I have some nice black pudding here for your dessert, you know how much you enjoy that, and Jack made it specially for the family only yesterday.’
‘A thousand Catholic whore’s curses upon your black pudding!’ roared uncle Charles on his feet and looking in vain for his service pistol. ‘Damn it all the Catholics have stolen my damned service pistol!’
‘Here it is, sir, I took the precaution of loading it for you, sir,’ cried Jack as he passed the heavy weapon to his uncle.
‘A Papist plot!’ screamed uncle Charles, quite red in the face. ‘First they have killed a horse in the street outside our home and now they have stolen my pistol, it will be the houses of parliament next, you wait and see. We must strike now before they have the upper hand. All hands on deck! Avast! Load the guns! Kill the scum!’
And with that uncle Charles charged to the window and began taking erratic pot shots at the crowd gathered outside in the street. Above the loud report of his gun could be heard the anguished screams and howls of the fleeing crowd as they dodged the haphazard fusillade and ran for their very lives.
‘Papist scum!’ he roared into the night before slamming the window shut with a bang.
‘Do come and sit down, Charles,’ implored Jack’s mother. ‘Your kidneys are half cold by now.’
With no serving staff left the family now shared out the domestic duties of the household and it was left to the men of the house to attend to the washing-up after supper.
Jack dried the dishes whilst uncle Charles was immersed up to his elbows in suds whilst puffing fiercely on a huge cigar.
‘It’s a rum do, eh Jack?’ he growled through his cigar.
‘What’s that, dear uncle? The lack of servants, sir?’
‘Damn and blast, no, I meant this Jack the Ripper business, nephew!’
‘Well, uncle, I have joined the vigilante committee now, sir, so I am able to keep a sharp eye on events…’
‘What a splendid idea, Jack!’ roared uncle Charles.
‘I thought so to, sir, what with you as the senior officer in the case and myself as a vigilante, well, we have quite everything sewn up, dear uncle of mine.’
‘Do the vigilantes feel also that it is a Catholic plot to overthrow the monarchy, and then parliament, and then the very moral fabric of our good Protestant society?’ asked uncle Charles as he scrubbed furiously at a frying pan. ‘And what the devil have you been cooking in this pan, Jack, I’d swear it must have been the foul innards of a Catholic whore if I didn’t know better?’
Jack smiled sweetly and replied: ‘Why dear uncle it were but a few kidneys and livers, and an old piece of heart that I picked up here and there in the local area. And as to your question, why, the vigilante committee do feel that it is a Papist Jewish plot indeed, sir. Why, only the other night I was sharing a glass of fine wine and some sweet half kidneys with Mister Lusk and he said - and I quote, dear uncle - that it was ‘the Juwes and Catholites that would be blamed for nothing’.’
‘I tell you now, Jack,’ swore uncle Charles. ‘If I had a pistol in my hand instead of this damnation of a Catholic whore’s frying pan I would shoot them all dead without let or hindrance!’
At that moment mother entered the kitchen with the news that:
‘Charles, there is a man at the front door collecting for the Little Sisters of the Poor, I thought it better to let you men deal with him.’
With howls of rage and screams of vitriol the two men left their domestic duties and launched themselves towards the front door, Jack slashing his cut-throat razor about as if possessed of some demon, and uncle Charles waving his service pistol above his head apparently possessed of the same demon.
The ladies - sat knitting socks and gloves for their loved ones - in the sitting room could hear the wild banshee screams as the pair neared the front door and then the sudden percussive explosions of Charles’ firearm followed shortly by the hideous howling of some injured third person.
Before the front door slammed shut, uncle Charles was heard to bellow:
‘Let that be a lesson to you Papist bastards!’
The two men threw themselves into easy chairs in the sitting room, splattered in blood and in a state of exhaustion.
‘I’ll make some tea,’ announced mother and left the family to do that very thing.
|
Natalie Severn
Inspector
Username: Severn
Post Number: 177
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, January 08, 2004 - 2:39 pm: |
|
Extraordinary AP.Hugely funny and lively.
I began a poem today but dont know whether it will work or not.
Best Wishes Natalie |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1797
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Thursday, January 08, 2004 - 5:22 pm: |
|
Delicious stuff, AP. You managed to keep the piece ticking away uproariously all the way through. This was extremely funny, boisterous humour, and I enjoyed every minute of it.
I'm sorry I can't attempt a reply at the moment,
but I'll do my best to answer as soon as I can.
Robert |
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 696
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Friday, January 09, 2004 - 1:01 pm: |
|
Thanks folks!
It was good fun, wasn't it.
I must try and find out what has become of Jack's cousin Amelia. |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1803
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Saturday, January 10, 2004 - 4:11 am: |
|
Yes, AP, I think Thomas has met his match in her. I can't see her being content to peg Thomas's uteri on the washing line for the rest of her life.
Robert |
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 705
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, January 11, 2004 - 6:23 am: |
|
Jack shows cousin Amelia Whitechapel at night.
‘Dearest, Jack!’ sighed Amelia, with her arm entwined through her dear cousins as they walked along Aldgate High Street. ‘It is so kind of you to show me the sights of your little village in this pleasant ramble.’
‘Think nothing of it, my dear Amelia,’ that trusty fellow replied, patting his cousin affectionately upon the hand. ‘Why, I consider it my very duty to escort you on this little ramble.’
At that moment Jack felt something quite sharp shoved up directly against his right kidney.
‘Why, Amelia?’ asked Jack. ‘What do you do there?’
‘Shut your mouth, you Catholic dog!’ she hissed. ‘Or I’ll jab this seven inch blade right through your pox-ridden Papist kidney!’
‘My dear cousin,’ laughed Jack aloud. ‘Why surely you have not failed to notice this wicked cut-throat razor that I hold against your lovely white throat with just enough pressure to pick at your delightful blood?’
They both dropped their weapons with happy smiles and continued joyfully on their way.
‘Why, Jack?’ enquired Amelia. ‘What do all those ladies do wandering around and around the church there? It is quite like a merry-go-round!’
‘Ah, dear cousin, they are the unfortunates of the area who hope that some good Protestant gentlemen will come along and offer them four pence for some minor service of no import.’
‘Like ironing the cuffs and collars of the shirt, do you mean Jack?’
‘Exactly, my dear girl,’ replied Jack. ‘Why, only last week I was able to help two of the unfortunate things on their way.’
‘You are such a kind boy, Jack!’ enthused Amelia. ‘But Jack, look, that one lady waves at you, surely you do not know her? She looks so gay in her black bonnet…’
‘You will have to excuse me for a moment, dear cousin,’ Jack advised her. ‘I just must pop up this dark alleyway here with the lady to exchange a few pleasantries and four pence and I shall be back with you in a jiffy.’
‘But Jack…’ she implored, but too late for that good fellow had disappeared lickety-spit up the dark alleyway with the lady in the gay black bonnet.
‘Oh dear,’ said Amelia to herself. ‘I do hope a young lady of good virtue is quite safe here alone?’
She felt a sudden tap on the shoulder and turning quickly in shock found a tall gentleman with spectacles stood before her in top hat, cape and having just tapped her on the shoulder with his cane walking stick.
‘My dear girl!’ he announced. ‘I don’t believe I have had the pleasure of crossing your delightful and charming path before on my little night-time rambles.’
And with that he bowed low, took her reluctant hand and planted a hearty kiss upon that dainty object.
‘Oh sir!’ she blushed heavily, and pulled her hand away.
‘Ah, coy is it? You little bundle of irrepressible joy, I suppose you plan to resist me even after I have given you a full Queen’s shilling for the pleasure?’ he chortled, taking her hand and pulling her into the dark alleyway. ‘Come my little treasure, I shall show you something along here,’ he promised.
‘Oh sir!’ she cried in vain. ‘You would kidnap and outrage a lady of perfect innocence and good virtue! Whatever shall I do? I am powerless in your masterful hands!’
‘That’s the spirit, girl,’ he chortled as he pressed her against a wall and began to fumble with her many petticoats. ‘I like a little bit of resistance for my shilling!’
And with that Amelia slit his throat from ear to ear with a single swipe of her vicious sail makers blade, causing a shower of blood to drench the front of her comely white blouse, and then he fell to the cobbles with a great sigh of utmost dereliction.
‘I fear that I may have resisted a little bit too strongly,’ she apologised to the still twitching corpse as she stepped over it and made her way back to Aldgate High Street.
‘Why Amelia!’ Jack cried when he saw her. ‘Whatever has happened to you? Your blouse is awash with blood!’
‘As is your shirt too, dear cousin,’ she pointed out.
Jack gazed down at himself.
‘Dear me! You are quite right, dear cousin of mine. I fear I must have fallen down the stairs.’
‘And I, dear Jack, have had a nose bleed.’
‘Poor Amelia!’ cried Jack. ‘Do borrow this hanky of mine.’
‘But Jack, that too is covered in blood, and you have left your shaving razor wrapped up in it…’
‘Silly old me!’ cried Jack. ‘Here take this piece of apron instead that I just happen to have about my person.’
‘So kind!’ Amelia cried and they continued their jolly little journey through the dark Whitechapel night.
|
Natalie Severn
Inspector
Username: Severn
Post Number: 187
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, January 11, 2004 - 1:07 pm: |
|
Kate Speaks
I hope he rots in hell,Jack the Ripper'
The rest of them can bugger off too-
seeing fit to hang me naked from pegs
in their mortuary.
All to take those photographs.
How can anyone bear to look at them
I"ve often asked myself.
The death I suffered was bad enough
without adding insult to injury.
A fat lot of good the police
were anyway-for all their extra patrols
and photographs.
Never caught him did they?
I was just taking a turn round the block
trying to spot him and claim
the reward.
Well I spotted him alright...there must have
been easier ways to make ends meet!
At least I don"t have to trudge round
hawking now.
It"s quiet here.I"m not suffocating.
I"m not allowed in pubs anymore
But noone can harm me
and I can breathe again.
|
Natalie Severn
Inspector
Username: Severn
Post Number: 189
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, January 11, 2004 - 1:37 pm: |
|
AP My computer is still playing up and half the time I lose what I"ve written.It"s having an effect and so I hurried this last off which came fast on the heels of yours.Apologies.
I am enjoying your saga tremendously and note
with satisfaction that Amelia is quite a tough little madam-no shrinking violet-and a match for Jack so far---I think Kate might have been too---had she been sober-possibly all of them but none of them were apparently!Anyway Amelia is more than making up for it!
Best Natalie |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1814
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, January 11, 2004 - 3:01 pm: |
|
Hi AP and Natalie
AP, I love this mix of the ghoulish and the conventional. Very, very funny, and nice to see Amelia back again.She is looking fair to be a match for Jack and Uncle Charles put together!
Natalie, very nice poem. I liked its no-nonsense directness.I think this Kate would give the authorities a thick ear, if she could get at them.
--------------------------------------------------
"Open the window, would you, Jack?" asked Uncle Charles. "I want to spit on Kelly's grave."
"But uncle, it's a long way to Leytonstone, and then there's wind resistance..."
"Nonsense, Jack! I've dug her up and re-buried her in the garden."
Jack rushed to the window. It was true.
"Whatever for, uncle?"
Uncle Charles held up a thick volume bearing, in bold type, the words : "How to be a serial killer. Gang of Two Publications."
"It's all in here," said Uncle Charles, tapping the book with his revolver. "Everything you need to know. Stuff that will make your hair stand on end. For instance : reading newspapers to people."
"How unspeakably fiendish!" gasped Jack, struggling to smooth down his terror-stricken hair.
"Oh yes! I was out in the garden this morning at Kelly's graveside, reading her the details of her own murder. Just to keep her off the streets."
"And was she frightened, uncle?"
"Well, she never moved, so I'd say she was paralysed with fear."
"Hmm", said Jack, flicking through the pages of the book. "There's a tremendous amount of hearsay."
"I've been working on that. Yesterday I went down to Providence Row. After disembowelling one of the nuns – 39 times, mark you! – I told her over a cup of tea that none of the murders would have occurred if it hadn't been for the Kelly woman. It'll be all over the East End by now."
"I must say," said Jack, "this book has certainly opened my eyes. I want to play my part in this, sir."
Uncle Charles clapped Jack on the shoulder, and shot him twice through the heart.
"I knew I could depend on you, Jack! You start work at Billingsgate tomorrow."
"Billingsgate?"
"According to this book, you have to work at Billingsgate. You must steal lots of fish, bring it home and eat it. I expect you to have eaten ten tons of cod by tomorrow evening."
"Uncle, I'm not sure if I'll be able to hold down this job..."
"Needs must, Jack. And then... Uncle Charles looked a little uncomfortable. "How do you feel about a speech impediment?"
"I say, uncle! Really, there's a limit!"
"I know, Jack, I know. A speech impediment is just about the most depraved thing imaginable. But we must stoop low if we are to rid the world of Catholicism. Besides, it's in the book."
Jack pulled himself together.
"I am at your service."
"Splendid, Jack!" cried uncle Charles, inserting a knitting needle into Jack's navel. "Now say after me : 'The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain plain.' "
"Is it a very plain plain, then, sir?" asked Jack.
"No, no, Jack : You have echolalia!"
Jack gulped, but braced himself and said :"The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain plain."
"By George Abberline, he's got it!' beamed Uncle Charles. "Now keep it up, mind!"
"I will try my best best", replied Jack ."And I'll be up bright and early tomorrow tomorrow."
Next day, Jack came home from work and was so violently sick that he fell down the stairs.
"The fish?" inquired uncle Charles.
"No, the speech impediment impediment. May I stop it now please please?"
"Oh, very well," consented uncle Charles.
"Oo, thank you, uncle! Now we can return to good old-fashioned honest-to-God mutilation! Where's the nearest Catholic whore?"
"Tea's ready", called Auntie as she came in with a tray.
"Just set it down on the table", said uncle Charles as Jack reached for his knife...
Robert
|
Natalie Severn
Inspector
Username: Severn
Post Number: 191
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, January 11, 2004 - 4:18 pm: |
|
Great fun again Robert-loved the first bit.Hilarious.
Natalie. |
Suzi Hanney
Inspector
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 218
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, January 11, 2004 - 4:31 pm: |
|
Robert
Amelia is certainly more than 'Only a violet..'Am put in mind of Dylan Thomas's aunt who looking at the firemen in the remains of the drawing room (A child's Christmas in Wales' said..Would you like something to read..!
Suzi |
AP Wolf
Chief Inspector
Username: Apwolf
Post Number: 708
Registered: 2-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, January 11, 2004 - 5:26 pm: |
|
I too enjoyed both those immensely, however am preparing for storm of the century down here on my little island so will get back to you tomorrow if still here.
Serious business, the boat bringing the SSB will probably not sail in such weather. |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1817
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, January 11, 2004 - 5:31 pm: |
|
Thanks Natalie. Suzi, I think Amelia is now a regular. I wonder what other members of this slightly eccentric family will AP introduce!
Robert |
Robert Charles Linford
Assistant Commissioner
Username: Robert
Post Number: 1818
Registered: 3-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, January 11, 2004 - 5:37 pm: |
|
Take care, AP.
Robert |
Suzi Hanney
Inspector
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 226
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, January 11, 2004 - 5:42 pm: |
|
Batten down the hatches A.P.!! Looks like the dreaded zephyrs from hell are blowing in out way tonight!!
Suzi  |
Suzi Hanney
Inspector
Username: Suzi
Post Number: 227
Registered: 7-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, January 11, 2004 - 5:43 pm: |
|
OUR WAY EVEN!! |
Natalie Severn
Inspector
Username: Severn
Post Number: 198
Registered: 11-2003
| | Posted on Sunday, January 11, 2004 - 5:57 pm: |
|
Yes do take care AP all the Best Natalie |
|
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