The Shed has lately been mainly preoccupied with The Horrabridge Times:
This is our first editorial column for it …
No Peace For The Wicked
The Shed notes, with a sigh, that the miracles of modern technology have enabled the installation on Dartmoor of those speed signs which go off like the dashboard of the Millenium Falcon under attack if you happen to hit 42 mph.
It seems to us a waste of human ingenuity to clutter the environment with clever devices which gather the power of the sun and use it to screech at you in the wilderness.
There are plans lurking to put one on the corner by the Old Toll House, at the Crapstone turning off the main road, to reinforce the 30mph warnings on the way down to Horrabridge. Whether it will do any good is barely a consideration. There are grants available so we might as well have one.
One of the lessons of covering parish council affairs is how much public finance is distributed this way. You can get a grant to do what some committee somewhere else has decided is a good idea; but you cannot get one to do what you want to do.
Lighter Moments In A Dark Place
Jessica Berens, a professional writer, recently published a book, Short Sentence, on three years she spent as Writer In Residence at HMP Dartmoor.
It sounds like an interesting and often funny book.
A Telegraph review said: “At the end of the book, she recounts how she once found herself in a dark corridor, when the lights had gone out for no reason, escorting a lifer who had been imprisoned for sexual assaults in dark alleys. She was nervous and kept asking ‘Why aren’t the lights on?’
He replied: ‘Don’t worry, Jess. I feel very safe with you’.”
We reckon she has earned a mention.
Whacking Real Moles
There is good reason for local interest, we understand, in the lore of mole control.
Our favourite trick, picked up somewhere but never actually tried, is to take the microchips out of talking greetings cards and pop them down the tunnels. Even a mole, apparently, will eventually get fed up with a tinny loop of Happy Birthday playing day and night.
A Yorkshireman recently wrote to The Spectator to swear by a more directly brutal method – take a piece of tube; connect one end to the exhaust of a petrol mower; put the other end down the hole …
What Lennon Meant
An obituary of Peter Shotton, an old friend of John Lennon’s, recalled his story of being with Lennon after he got a letter from his old school, saying they were busy analysing Beatles songs for hidden meanings.
Lennon found this very funny and started work on I Am The Walrus.
“Semolina pilchard, climbing up the Eiffel Tower,” he intoned, writing it down. “Let them work that one out.”
Some More Pointless Information
The Shed likes its music trivia and also took note of a report from the blues trail of the southern USA which mentioned that the band Canned Heat were named after a desperado’s drink made from camping fuel. A former Mississippi resident wrote to the Guardian to say the real thing was Sterno gel mixed with orange soda. We’re getting some in for The Shed’s cocktail cabinet.
And Thankyou Tesco
Before we leave the Easter season behind, a thankyou to Tesco for the best laugh of this spring. The supermarket had to apologise for the bright boy or girl who decided to promote a cheap booze offer with the slogan: “Good Friday Just Got Better.”