Letters to the Editors
Thank you
Dear Editors,
I have been overwhelmed by the kindness of so many village friends. The flowers, cards and food have made our changed lives more tolerable and are thankfully received.
I will still need your prayers and help until this battle is won. Yours very sincerely,
The Robson Children
Dear Editors,
Karen and I would like to thank everyone concerned for their kind thoughts, cards and gifts to our children after the accident just outside the village last month.
Sadly accidents do happen. This one was terrible for all concerned. Before I continue I want to thank Chris, our son, for insisting that his sister ALWAYS wear a seatbelt. Had he not insisted, as we have taught him, that they BOTH WORE SEATBELTS, there is no doubt as to the difference it would have made. That simple thing, together with the angle of impact, saved their lives.
Both of them are doing unbelievably well, and by the time this reaches the printer, Laura will be already back at school. Chris has longer term injuries, which he is managing with enormous strength and determination. Karen and I are proud of both of them, for their determination to get back to normal, quickly.
Whatever your beliefs, we know that these children were blessed, both at the time of the accident and afterwards during recovery. We all know too well that it could have had a very different outcome. If we gained anything from the long ordeal of waiting to see our daughter regain consciousness, it was a strengthening of our beliefs and a wonder at the miracle we witnessed as she came around after 4 days, and quickly proved that she was a fighter.
We all wish to send the other parties involved our sincere wishes for a speedy recovery. 3 cars were involved and our thoughts are with those other two families, and our thanks to the excellent and quick response by the Magpas doctor who, essentially, provided the instant support they needed, together with the Firemen from Burwell, two wonderful ladies who were on the road at the time and the ambulance paramedic team. There is no doubt that their efforts changed the outcome.
We both thank God for their safe return to us, and thank the numerous people within the villages, friends and even strangers, who have prayed and sent their thoughts and wishes to the children. Particularly the school, the children and staff, who not only sent cards, but also wrote the most beautiful of prayers for them. I am sure that they all know, by now, that it was their names and those of her friends, that we kept reading to Laura, and it was the mention that she was "late for school and had to wake up", that made her first open her eyes.
Double Yellow Lines
Dear Editors,
Oh Dear! John Norris has put me right once again. In the October Crier he has explained that Double Yellow Lines are only valid when accompanied by those new "No Parking" signs to which I objected. If he is right, and that those rather striking Double Yellow Lines are invalid or may even be overlooked without an 8x4 inch notice attached nearby, then I withdraw my objection to the expense and to the disfigurement of our rather nice new lampposts. But I doubt this.
I do not endorse anarchy but I see no reason why people from this Top End of the village should not park on the occasional Double Yellow Line. Contrary to what John says no accidents have been caused through this. And Double Yellow Lines can be most therapeutic. If you've had a row with your spouse, get it out of your system by using Double Yellow Lines. If you don't like Tony Blair, do the same - some do this regularly. If you disapprove of IDS, do the same - as people do. The worst that can happen is that you are towed away and pay a whopping big reclaim fee.
On the other hand many may sympathise with John. They also may see parking on Double Yellow Lines as a heedless, nay, wanton, disregard of the rules. As the transgression is for the most part by local people, perhaps John should, as he himself often proposes, "have a word in their ear." Problem solved?
Bonfires
Dear Editors
A few weeks back, basking in the acrid bonfire haze that so characterises a Sunday morning in Swaffham Prior, I was wondering whether to join the Great Bonfire debate or to have the good sense to keep out of it. Unusually for me, I decided not to inflame an already incendiary situation: I would stay out. A bonfire isn't just a bonfire to some people.
Later, making my way to the top of the Field, I could see the smoke was not from Swaffham Prior: it had in fact drifted all the way from someone's fire in Burwell. Even more reason to keep out, I mused. Once ignited, intercommunal strife is not always easy to extinguish.
Reading the Crier this week though, I did think it only fair in the light of this experience to say that Mrs Suttle may underestimate slightly the possible range of her bonfire smoke. Given the best conditions - mild, overcast, almost still air, relatively low pressure - you can reach most of your neighbours within a quarter mile radius, and the smoke doesn't lift but just hangs about. A little light wind, and you can make people sit up and take notice miles away.
The other point she makes is that, being country folk in possession of a large garden, she has no choice but to burn things. These days, of course, a large garden means room for a compost heap; but I know what she means, having been brought up in the country myself. As children, we would make pyres of garden things, then burn them. No reason; we just did. I remember well the dark looks of a particular neighbour as she unpegged her washing. I admit being a bit sorry I'd made her take it in, but it hadn't occurred to us that we were a nuisance. Nowadays parents have the good sense to keep children like we were from getting hold of matches.
I wondered then why it was that country folk kindle a smouldering, nameless urge to set things on fire, which has died down with time. Was it the embers of a memory of the parish beadle? His duties included a blazing beating to parishioners who strayed out of the Bounds without permission, and perhaps he also inspected their gardens: should his eye light upon a heap that looked suspiciously like it could turn to compost he might order them to torch it, so as to stifle wildlife such as birds and hedgehogs and things. There was so much wildlife around then that to encourage it would be to stoke up a bit of a nuisance.
For centuries, Guy Fawkes Night has been the high point in the year for bonfires. Since 1605, fired by an almost civic duty, we have built and burnt the largest bonfires we can, in memory of an act of unsurpassable cruelty - he tried to blow up parliament and failed, so he was given the slowest, most hideous execution they could devise. It doesn't matter somehow that they didn't snuff him out by burning him - it's a good ol' traditional way to remember him anyway. (It still astonishes me that I was taught in Primary school the lurid details of his death. With gusto). Nowadays too, the weathermen fret after a Bonfire Night when the air is still, about all the pollution hanging around in the air next day. But heck, what do they know?
Pyromaniacally yours with a box of Swan Vestas (gloriously self-igniting - just stamp on it),