A Fine New Career: Part Twenty-Two

~ beetleypete ~ 11 Comments

This is the twenty-second part of a fiction serial, in 742 words.

As soon as he spotted Captain Spencer standing there, Josh had that hollow feelng inside that made him convinced the news could only be bad. The team rushed off to get dinner as Spencer took him to one side.

“It’s your sister. She wasn’t involved in any trouble at her farm camp, but some of the others there were. They killed two guards using farming implements and took their weapons. Then they started to fire at the main gate guards who returned fire with a heavy machine gun from their post. You sister was hit in the crossfire and killed instantly, along with twenty three other workers there. I have sent the police to your family home to give the news to them, but I am afraid I cannot release you to go there at the moment.”

Josh made no reply, and was aware that he was just staring past Spencer’s head, focusing on nothing. The Captain spoke again.

“The reason I can’t let you go is because the Prime Minister has made a request for you to be her personal bodyguard. You appear to have impressed Mrs Munro a great deal today, and she would like you to be assigned to her personal protection indefinitely. Of course I agreed on your behalf, as this is a considerable honour for the National Militia. I will get someone else to take over your team duties and reassign them to an arrest team role. You are going to be provided with an armoured, unmarked vehicle and accommodation in a government apartment in Westminster. Tomorrow morning you will be fitted for civilian clothing, given the keys to the car and the apartment, and then you will go to see Mrs Munro at three in the afternoon. You should see this as a promotion. It carries Captain rank, and a large increase in your salary”.

Constantly just nodding, Josh had no idea what to say. Whatever he said wouldn’t change anything anyway, as it had all been decided for him. Then he thought of something.

“Can I at least phone my parents, Captain? I should speak to them”. Spencer was smiling now.

“Of course you can, and you can call me George now we are the same rank. Congratulations, Josh. You are going to go far, I can see that”.

Watching Spencer walk away, Josh was amazed that he had congratulated him on getting a job he didn’t even want, a few minutes after telling him his sister was dead. Whatever kind of people these were, he was sure he was nothing like them.

Incredibly, His mum tried to blame him. She was obviously crying and upset, but her rage was misplaced.

“You could have done more for Claire, you could have helped get her out of trouble and then she wouldn’t even have been there. But no, you had to be acting the big man, in your uniform and your guns, driving around arresting people and shooting them. It is people like you who killed your sister and you’re no better than any of them”.

His dad had taken the phone off her and came on the line.

“Your mum’s upset son, well we both are. Take no notice of what she’s going on about, it wasn’t your fault. Claire was old enough to know her own mind, and her actions got her into that farm camp in the first place. If she hadn’t have been there she wouldn’t have been killed during the uprising, simple as that. Leave your mum to me, I’ll calm her down”.

The only words he had said to either of them had been “Hello mum” as she answered the phone. They hadn’t given him a moment to explain anything or even bothered to ask how he was feeling.

When he skipped dinner and went straight up to his accommodation, there was a folder lying on his bed. Spencer must have had it dropped off there, and it contained all of his instructions for the next day. He was being collected after an early breakfast to be taken to a tailor, and then on to a government garage to collect the car. He closed it and sat on the bed, remembering the last time he had seen his sister.

A shower seemed the best solution. Nobody would see or hear him crying in there.

But after letting the water run over him for almost fifteen minutes, the tears never came.

Songs I Don’t Like (6)

~ beetleypete ~ 38 Comments

Some pop groups had the most appropriate names, and this might be the best one ever.

Middle Of The Road was a Scottish group who had a number one hit in the UK in 1971 with one of the worst songs of all time, ‘Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep’. The song’s success might have had something to do with the female vocalist’s hot pants, or the fact that it was seemingly played non-stop on all major radio stations.

Just hearing the title makes me cringe. I hope the video plays okay, as I muted the sound when preparing this post.

Sunday Heatwave Musings

~ beetleypete ~ 36 Comments

I would normally write reams about the weather. But I have already covered that in other posts, so here’s a short summary.
IT WAS TOO HOT.

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My usual supermarket run on Monday was enhanced by excellent airconditioning inside the store that made the shopping trip a treat.

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Julie had to attend a diabetic eye-screening appointment at a clinic in Dereham on Wednesday afternoon which meant we had to go out in the full heat of the day. However, the clinic was lovely and cool, with very effective airconditioning working well.

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Despite that heat, we managed to go out again later for dinner on Wednesday evening, to the bar/restaurant at North Tuddenham, The Lodge. Luckily, our pre-booked table in the bar area was next to open windows, and benefiting from a through-draught from the open door leading to the outside seating area. Julie chose cod and prawn mornay with vegetables, and was delighted with it. I had the house special burger, a double-stack wiih bacon, cheese, pickles, and french fries. Service and food were great, and after eating we sat outside for a while in the garden area before heading home.

Home

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On Thursday we left the house early, to beat the heat for our monthly trip to our favourite butcher in Downham Market. We were back by 12:30, fully stocked, having decided not to hang around in the town for coffee and snacks.

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Today is not expected to exceed 26C/79F, which is preferable to the 37C/99F we had to endure on Friday. I will be cooking a garlic and herb spatchcock chicken in the air fryer later, with no need to use the oven.
I hope you all have a wonderful Sunday.

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A Fine New Career: Part Twenty-One

~ beetleypete ~ 18 Comments

This is the twenty-first part of a fiction serial, in 782 words.

The reaction to Proudfoot’s murder was immediate. Captain Spencer addressed the unit very early the next morning.

“As of this morning, the National Militia is going to be responsible for the safety of Prime Minister Annabelle Munro. Group Supervisor McPherson and his team will take on that role following an extensive briefing soon. It will be overt, in marked vehicles, and on a rotating shift basis over the full twenty-four hours. It seems that the policeman responsible for the killing was living with someone who arrived as an immigrant from Albania, and they had been together for ten years. However, her papers were incorrect, and she was recently deported back to Albania along with their seven year old son. As a result of that policeman’s crime, the police no longer have responsibility for guarding members of the government”.

After closing the folder he was holding, he jerked his head to indicate that Josh should follow him out.

In his office, Spencer handed over a wad of printed papers containing the prepared shift schedules, the addresses connected to Annabelle Munro, and the detailed itinerary of her engagements that were coming up. He didn’t have much to say.

“Do me a favour, McPherson. Don’t mess this up. I recommended you and will go down with you if you make a bollocks of it”.

So much for an extensive briefing.

Studying the paperwork, it all seemed fairly straightforward. They would have the team minibuses, and the addition of an armoured Land Rover that the Prime Minister would travel in. The two teams would be split into a night team and day team, but from what he could tell he would be in charge of both, having to rest when he got the chance. Other National Militia units would guard her house as a foot patrol, and guard the outside of any building she was going into for meetings.

It seemed doable. Collecting her from either Ten Downing Street or her private residence, making sure she got safely to wherever she was going, and then getting her home again at the end of the working day. There were no current plans for her to travel outside of London, but in that event they would just have to get her to an airport and the regular army and air force would take over protection. As well as the Land Rover, other changes were the issues of compact sub-machine guns to all members of his team, and smoke grenades to be used should any incident occur.

He had three hours to get his team equipped and ready, as they were picking her up at eight-thirty that morning.

She seemed nicer than she had appeared to be on the few occasions Josh had seen her on TV. Younger, quieter, and very respectful to him and the others in the Land Rover. Josh sat next to her in the back, and she asked his name and that of the other two men in the car. Before they got to the location of her first meeting, she engaged him in conversation, very chattily.

“I suppose you will have heard about the disturbances in the countryside following my predecessor’s murder?” Josh hadn’t heard anything about that, but nodded slightly to pretend he had. She glanced out of the window and continued quietly.

“Violent rioting at the farm camps, and fighting at some of the detention centres. I’m wondering if the whole thing wasn’t orchestrated to start some kind of uprising. Well, it didn’t work, as they were put down immediately. Dozens killed in the farm camps, and at least twenty in the detention centres. Sadly, many guards were seriously injured, and a few killed, so I have been told”.

All Josh could think of after that was his sister. Claire had been at a farm camp in Lincolnshire, and he wondered if he should ask the question. Five minutes later, he broke the silece and asked it.

“Prime Minister, did any of that happen in Lincolnshire, do you happen to know?”

She was nodding.

“Yes. Lincolnshire, Norfolk, Suffolk, and Cambridgeshire, I believe. Your colleagues in those counties were stretched to the limit, but I’m pleased to say they prevailed”.

The team followed the arrival protocol to the letter, and their pricipal was delivered safely inside the building. They now had to wait for two hours to take her back, and Josh was preoccupied with wondering how he was going to find out about Claire.

He decided to wait until later, and contact Captain Spencer before dinner and the team changeover for night duty.

But that wasn’t necessary, as when they drove back into the base that evening, Spencer was waiting for him.

The Hot Summer Debate

~ beetleypete ~ 55 Comments

The recent heatwaves in May and June are sparking debate on social media about global warming. Many ‘deniers’ are citing the famously hot heatwaves in the summer of 1976 in the UK, which lasted a very long time. (The highest temperatures recorded back then have since been exceeded on several occasions, including this week.)

The consistently high daily temperatures in 1976 brought drought conditions to much of the country, and by August that year, water was rationed in some areas.

Fortunately, storms eventually brought relief, and September and October that year were very wet months.

Back to 2026, and I am not about to start a huge argument for or against the idea of global warming. (Though I firmly believe that it exists)

From a personal viewpoint, one aspect of all this is crucial.

I was 24 years old in 1976, and fit and healthy. I didn’t like the heat, but I got on with life because I had no alternative.

Fifty years later, I am 74, and have some minor medical issues. I no longer have the resilience to cope with so little sleep, to do any chores outside in the heat, however small.

So the people saying it is ‘just some hot weather and it’s normal, like it was in 1976’ should remember that one day they too will be old.

Songs I Don’t Like (5)

~ beetleypete ~ 43 Comments

This song was a mainstream success, and a number one hit for the group Paper Lace in Britain and Australia in 1974. It was covered in America by the equally long-forgotten Bo Donaldson and The Heywoods. And it also topped the charts there, receiving a Gold Disc.

I thought it was complete rubbish, and failed to understand how so many people would buy it.

Now 52 years later, I still feel exactly the same.

An Uncomfortably Hot Night Mix

~ beetleypete ~ 45 Comments

Sleep was hard to come by, so the mix reflects my mood today.

BERJAYA

BERJAYA

Taken in Liverpool, England. 1956.
A girl from a slum area wearing a discarded wedding veil.
BERJAYA

In Britain, we use the word ‘Muggy’ to indicate uncomfortable humidity.
BERJAYA

BERJAYA

BERJAYA

BERJAYA

BERJAYA

BERJAYA

BERJAYA

BERJAYA

BERJAYA

BERJAYA

A Fine New Career: Part Twenty

~ beetleypete ~ 23 Comments

This is the twentieth part of a fiction serial, in 798 words.

The Prime Minister, William Proudfoot, was due to make a speech to party members in Westminster Central Hall that afternoon. His theme was the great success of his government in so short a time-frame. Josh and his teams were taken away from their regular duties to assist with security around the general area and the immediate vicinity of the hall in Storey’s Gate.

During his election campaign, Proudfoot had become known as ‘Call me Billy’, or ‘Best mate Billy’, due to his efforts to seem like just a regular bloke, the kind of person you might go to the pub with, or maybe watch the local football team with on a Saturday afternoon. Once he took power it soon became clear that had all been a front, and he was nothing like that at all. Quite the opposite in fact.

Seeing it as a break from the usual and far more unpleasant side of his job, Josh was in a relaxed mood as he liased with representatives of the armed regular police and the security services providing close protection to the Prime Minister. He was told to just keep his small convoy driving around in circles, looking out for anything suspicious, stopping cars trying to park where they were not allowed to be, and to be ready for any disturbance should one happen.

Nobody expected any trouble. All the members of the invited audience had been doubly-vetted, and the TV crews reporting from inside were from the government-approved channel, GB News. Curious members of the public interested to see Proudfoot arrive had been herded behind barriers located so far back that they were unlikely to see much at all. There were snipers on nearby rooftops, and over one hundred extra police officers on standby in coaches parked along the embankment between the bridges.

After over an hour of cruising around and seeing nothing to worry about, Josh saw Proudfoot’s three-car motorcade ahead, blue lights flashing and moving at speed in the direction of the hall. He told the driver to stay behind it. When the cars stopped and the Prime Minister got out shielded by protection officers, he gave the briefest of waves to the waiting crowd and headed briskly in the direction of the side door being held open for him by a police officer.

As Josh looked away for a second, he was surprised by three loud gunshots, followed by screams from the crowd. His personal radio came to life with instructions to stop anyone leaving the scene, and information that ambulances were on the way and he should clear a path for them.

Together with other militia units, Josh’s group formed a wide cordon, stopping the people trying to run away, and others running in the direction of the hall to see what was going on. The extra police came up from the embankment, and for a good while it was complete chaos. Josh saw the paramedics wheeling Proudfoot away into the nearest ambulance, with other medics busying themselves next to him doing stuff. Then the ambulance sped off, sirens blaring, and escorted by two of the official cars.

In overall control of security that day was Police Commissioner Jonathan Ford. His distinctive voice came over the radio and surprised everyone by officially standing down all non-police units, including the militia and the security services personnel. The bystanders and civilians were allowed to leave, and all the members of staff and TV crews inside the hall were also told they could go. Josh thought that was very strange indeed.

Then he saw a second person being wheeled away on a stretcher-trolley, and they were being placed not in an ambulance, but in the back of a marked police van. The head was covered by a blanket, but the uniform was unmistakable.

It was a police officer.

When they got back to base for a briefing late that afternoon, Captain Spencer addressed the whole group.

“Later today, the news will be released that the Prime Minister is dead. As he entered the side door, he was shot twice in the head by a serving police officer, who then shot himself. First reports suggest that the police officer had some grievance against Mr Proudfoot, which may have concerned the recent deportation of one of his close relatives. This could not have been anticipated or prepared for, so none of the security staff involved, including all of you men, are to blame in any way at all. The commissioner of police will be holding his own internal investigation as to how this was overlooked. Meanwhile, the deputy Prime Minister Annabelle Munro, is now the Prime Minister, and she will be speaking on the TV news later. You are dismissed for dinner now, thank you for your work today”.