WHO IS THIS GUY CALLED ARIEL?

By ariel70 - About Me - E-mail this page - Add to My Favorites - Add to Blog List - See other blogs in Journal

Saturday, September 3, 2005

YESTERDAY'S ENEMIES

Today is the 66th anniversary of the outbreak of the Second World War, so I thought it fitting to post this story today. It is partly autobiographical, in that it was inspired by a trip that I took down the Thames with my seven year ol daughter, to visit the heavy cruiser H.M.S. Belfast In the wardroom of the Belfast is a model of H.M.S. Dido, a cruiser on which my eldest brother was killed in 1941. The bright sunlight cast dappled shadows over Rachel’s small pretty face, as the river bus... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by ariel70 at 12:50 AM | add or view comments (4) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

YESTERDAY'S ENEMIES

Today is the 66th anniversary of the outbreak of the Second World War, so I thought it fitting to post this story today. It is partly autobiographical, in that it was inspired by a trip that I took down the Thames with my seven year ol daughter, to visit the heavy cruiser H.M.S. Belfast In the wardroom of the Belfast is a model of H.M.S. Dido, a cruiser on which my eldest brother was killed in 1941. The bright sunlight cast dappled shadows over Rachel’s small pretty face, as the river bus... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by ariel70 at 12:49 AM | add or view comments (0) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Friday, September 2, 2005

BOYHOOD MEMORIES OF THE SECOND WORLD WAR

Tomorrow is the 66 th anniversary of the outbreak of the Second World War. Hitler’s coming to power; his increasing bellicosity, and the Allies supine appeasement of his territorial ambitions are too well-known to need explanation here; suffice it to cover the actual trigger for Britain’s declaration of war on Germany. Reinhard Heydrich, the head of the Third Reich’s internal security organization, the S.D. ( Sicherheitsdienst ) worked out a cynical and callous plot; which Hitler sanctioned... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by ariel70 at 9:34 AM | add or view comments (4) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

SPANISH NIGHT POEM/SPANISH HIGHT PROSE

I have had some really heartwarming comments on this piece as prose, and I thought you might be interested to see it as the poem that began its life. I often turn a poem into a piece of prose, and quite often ( as in this case, I'm sure ) is more dramatic. It's as if the poem's the skeleton on which one can put the flesh. The mere germ of an idea if you like. SPANISH NIGHT Almond blossoms fall all round, soft and silent as widows’ tears: foxes cry from the high sierras: howl like banshees in the... Sign in to see full entry.

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Thursday, September 1, 2005

SPANISH NIGHT/IBERIAN IMAGES

Almond blossoms fall all round, soft and silent as widows’ tears; foxes cry from the high sierras; howl like banshees in the night. Gentle the wind around my casa, filled with soft and lulling sound; distant bells woo me to slumber, as the neighbours goats tread their secret pavan to their caprine music – unknown and unknowable to human ears. Do they, like me, rejoice within, in these gentle Spanish nights? As they fill the night with the gamelan music of their bells, are their hearts at one... Sign in to see full entry.

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IBERIAN IMAGES

I often wish that I were a painter, instead of a writer: given the talent of, say, a Velasquez – or better still a Goya – I might be able to capture the extraordinary sights that I see around me every day. There is an oddly surrealistic quality to living in the Spanish campo that I’m sure most of those extranjeros who live on the costas never experience. In Britain there is an almost total severance from the past, which is more than the result of history either not being taught at all in British... Sign in to see full entry.

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Wednesday, August 31, 2005

THERE IS SUCH A THING AS A BLAG/THE QUARREL.

And there are blaggers who blag when they go out blagging. Although they have no precise meaning, the terms are familiar to the cognoscenti of underworld slang. Their meanings depend wholly upon the context in which the terms are uttered. At the bottom end of the scale of heinousness, one can blag a cigarette or a few coins from someone; at the top end lie such crimes as purse-snatching, mugging, housebreaking and burglary. See, keep reading my blog and you learn something new every day, don't... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by ariel70 at 11:35 AM | add or view comments (12) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

THE QUARREL

They sat on the next seat; outside the mall, in the late autumn sunshine. He was ruddy of face, and angry looking, and she as pale an wan as one newly dead. I could sense the tension between them oh so clearly. It was writ large on their faces; in the rigidity of bodies wrapped as tightly about their anger a mummy’s windings. They spoke words to each; uttered words that I could not hear. But t heir words pierced the still air like sharp stones hurled in a riot; words designed by anger to wound... Sign in to see full entry.

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A DASTARDLY PLOT

Having uncovered Their fiendish plot, I fear that my life is in danger, and should anyone note my unexplained absence it is because They have caught up with me at last. Should my aged Renault van be discovered standing driverless in a remote Andalucian road with its engine still running, and its driver’s side door agape, then my worst fears will have been realised. It will not have been that I have had an urgent call of nature, and while answering it have fallen down a ravine and been skewered... Sign in to see full entry.

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Tuesday, August 30, 2005

THE BOMBING OF GUERNICA

It is April 26 th and being a Monday, it is market day. The streets are crowded with inhabitants, and people from the outlying areas of Irun and Santander: roughly 10,000 in number. At 3.30 p.m. the church bells begin to ring the alarm, and five minutes later the first tri-motor Junkers 52 bomber appears and flying low, it drops six heavy bombs. Five minutes later another appears, and drops another six. Fifteen minutes after that, three more J52s appear, and begin the systematic destruction of... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by ariel70 at 1:42 PM | add or view comments (5) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

" NIGHTINGALES". CONCLUSION OF "THE LOVERS"

I post this story now, because next Saturday is the 66th anniversay of the outbreak of the Second World War. On that anniversary I shall post a piece about that time, as seen throught the eyes of the eight year old boy that I was then. Jane awoke in the deep of the night to a sound, and she lay awake, wide eyed in the wash of moonlight through the bedroom window. She could barely credit what she was hearing at first, but then her lips parted in a smile, and she gently slid the bedcovers aside.... Sign in to see full entry.

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Monday, August 29, 2005

THE LOVERS PART 3

THE LOVERS Part 3 ( final part of “ The Pilgrimage.” ) Robert was silent for long moments, at first gazing into her eyes, then, staring at the distant sea, still with that hurt, troubled expression in his eyes. Jane said softly “ I really want to go, darling. But I don’t want you to be hurt.” “ No, I know that, love.” Then he said “Yes... maybe. But are you sure dear? I couldn’t bear you to be hurt either ” He raised his arms in a strange, oddly weak and pathetic gesture for so strong and... Sign in to see full entry.

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ARIEL'S NO-BUGET COOKBOOK # 5

I read a few comments last night, from people lamenting that they had hard, or unripe pears; and indeed some of these pears from hybrid trees can be as hard and as tasteless as turnips. They sure weren’t like that when I was a lad! Before the days of freezers and fridges, our ancestors had to store produce in other ways; by drying, smoking, salting etc, or turning fruit into jam ( jelly ) or other preserves. I can remember that, when I was about seven years old, we moved to a larger house, and... Sign in to see full entry.

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Sunday, August 28, 2005

ARIEL'S NO BUDGET RECIPES # 4 ( I THINK LOL )

Now, this is an a ancient Spanish dish, dating back to … well, about four months ago, when I first started cooking it: it’s called Verduras Mixtas. Which, in plain English, is Mixed Vegetables. Aha! But it ain’t you average stir-fried in a wok ( God, I hate that! ), nor your boiled for an hour in water variety. Nope, this dish has a unique taste, and not only that, but I’m certain that vegetables cooked in this way keep most of their nutrients intact. All right, I haven’t actually carried out... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by ariel70 at 12:35 PM | add or view comments (3) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

ARIEL'S SPANISH RECIPES #2

As I noted in my last post on Spanish recipes, Spanish tortilla is nothing like the South American variety, but is a sort of thick omelette. It is excellent for such things as barbecues, picnics, and as it’s very filling, it useful to have on hand for when those Hunnish hordes of kids come stomping in ravenous. And of course, it’s a meatless dish, so you can serve it with confidence to those picky vegetarian friends from next door. To digress for a moment: isn’t it funny that you go to enormous... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by ariel70 at 5:13 AM | add or view comments (5) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Saturday, August 27, 2005

THE LOVERS PART 2

“ The Lovers” part 2 The Pilgrimage They came to Spain in the Autumn: in the Autumn years of life, when the hot, vibrant blood of youth no longer sings in the veins; when the questing, restless turbulence of youth has become quiescent; when the fireside exerts a stronger pull than the long walk in the woods. Kindred spirits, still some vestige of their youthful restlessness remained within them, and they had fled their cold, damp Northern country, flying south like migrating swifts. They had... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by ariel70 at 12:17 PM | add or view comments (0) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

POLICE STATE U.K./" YOU ARE OLD, GRANDPA ARIEL!"

The popular perception of an archetypical police state: Oceania in George Orwell’s “ 1984”, is dangerously misleading, for despite, for example, Soviet Russia and East Germany having borne no resemblance to Oceania, they were nonetheless police states. It’s not what’s on the label, but what’s in the box that counts. To “ qualify ” as a police state, a nation must embody most, or all, of its defining characteristics; some of which are:- 1. Detention without trial, and the use of violence and... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by ariel70 at 7:20 AM | add or view comments (2) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

" YOU ARE OLD, GRANDPA ARIEL!"

“ You are old, Grandpa Ariel!” his young grandson said. “ There is no hair on your head! “ Your face is like a wrinkled prune! Does it mean that you’ll die real soon?” Boys. Ariel gave an affectionate pat to the head of that precocious brat. A pat that was really more of a slap. ‘cos he was a cheeky young chap. Really. And gazing down his knifelike beak Ariel pinched his plump soft cheek, in one long and scaly claw, and said, ( as he loudly guffawed ) Cool. “ It’s a saying that we should... Sign in to see full entry.

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Friday, August 26, 2005

THE EXTINCTION OF THE MALE/WEEDS

According to professor Bryan Sykes, ( in his recently published book “ Adam’s Curse” ) we men are all doomed to extinction. If he is right, evolution isn’t going to take any prisoners this time, but make as clean a sweep of human males as it did with the dinosaurs. Mind you, he might not be right, for others are questioning his findings: annoying when they do that, isn’t it, Prof? It’s so easy for “ experts ”to scare us out of our wits with health and safety bogeymen. Take the latest scare:... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by ariel70 at 12:59 PM | add or view comments (10) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

WEEDS

WEEDS Man, in his pride only sees beauty in his own creation: in the well trimmed shrub, and the garden flowers, standing row on row. Whence this urge to tame the Earth? To regulate and regiment? To replace the fields of meadowsweet with endless, arid fields of wheat? It was never God’s intention for man to uproot His Creation: to foul the earth and air and water: to force the earth to yield yet more. It is not part of some divine plan to make wasteful glut, while millions starve. It is Man’s... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by ariel70 at 12:09 PM | add or view comments (2) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

About this Blog

Fiction, poetry, articles and a whole lot of other Ariel's stuff ; musings and ponderings ; they're all here, and i hope you'll find something here that you like. But I have a deeper purpose in mind. See, reading the papers and watching TV, it's so easy to think that the whole world's motivated by racial and religious hatreds of various kinds. Well most of us aren't, are we? We ordinary people are moved by love and compassion for our fellow humans ; and respect and tolerance for their differences. It's true that all that it takes for evil to flourish is for good men to do nothing, so we who are motivated by love have a duty speak out against the evils of the world ; not to be ashamed of our histories, nor embarrassed about being and saying clearly what we are and what we believe. If we don't learn to love each other, we'll perish. Although I am an atheist, my guiding principle is, and always has been, Christ's adjuration to " Love thy neighbour as thyself"

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