Bruin Fisher

I'm so glad to hear that we're burying the hatchet. It's been too long. Looking forward to closer ties with all my colonial friends...

What a great story!

In case anyone's interested, Dr Watson ejaculated more often than Sherlock Holmes. Once he ejaculated out of an open window. ?

Am I right that this discussion has gained topicality because we are now aware more than in times past that there are people who do not think of themselves as fitting into either of the two binary genders, and who prefer to be referred to as 'they' rather than as he or she. If I'm right about the above, it seems to me that we should put aside our preconceptions about correct usage, and embrace the singular they on behalf of our non-binary-gendered brethren.... er, sorority? er.... er... siblings?

Now how am I going to get a good night's sleep? That's terrifying!

Some years ago I had a series of three operations, over a period of just under a year. After the first operation, I didn't experience much post-op pain at the site of the operation wound, but I had a terrible migraine headache which lasted a week and made me want to die. I kept asking the nurses who were visiting to change my dressing each day what could be done about it but didn't get a satisfactory answer. Discussing the experience with the anaesthetist during the pre-op consultation before the second operation, he suggested I may be intolerant to opiates. Apparently they had packed the wound with an opiate, and they sent me home with pills to take to dull the pain too. I'd been taking some of the pills for the migraine but the pills were Tramadol, an opiate similar to Codeine. I don't know what its brand name might be in the USA. He made a note not to use opiates intra- and post-operatively, and I had no migraine, indeed I recovered from the second op very quickly and with no trouble. The experience brought to mind an earlier episode, I'd developed a headache when away from home and borrowed someone else's painkillers. I had occasionally used paracetamol and codeine, but this time I was given codeine on its own. Within half an hour my heart rate dropped alarmingly, I became faint and clammy and an ambulance was called to whisk me off to hospital. So I now steer clear of all opiates. Don't even touch heroin... Des, you have friends here who love you, who are rooting for you. So glad you're back with us. Hang on in there, cobber!

Three cheers for Des and the Australian healthcare system...

By the way Nigel I'm Bruin, not Brian....

I forgot that Caddock's parents lived in Sheffield, but nevertheless I was confused when they were suddenly living on each other's doorsteps apparently, cos I did remember they'd been a journey away. A pity that both of us had our considerable enjoyment of an otherwise good read by these potholes (plotholes?)!

Well, I read it with much enjoyment, largely I think because its trope is a favourite of mine. Rugby, a new start with a pub in Cornwall, a small nephew to bring up, all points of attraction for me. Like Nigel there were aspects that tripped me up, not authentically British. The worst, for me, is the location, Looe, which is a town not a village. It's a small town (pop 5,500) but most towns in Cornwall are small. It most certainly does not, however, have a village dynamic, where everyone knows everyone else's business and comes together to support their own. So much of the story revolves around the village and its people that I struggled. All of this could have been put right by just using Search and Replace to change the name of the village so somewhere that really is a village. Polruan, for example, just across the water from Fowey. There were other oddities. Caddock's career in international Rugby is a bit odd, he apparently played for his country from the age of 32 to the age of 40, although generally Rugby players are in their prime in their early to mid 20's and few are still playing even at club level beyond 35 - and there's no mention of which club he played for when not engaged in international matches, although that's where his closest friendships would be forged. Here's one for Luggie: at one point Francis removes shopping from his 1970's vintage Fiat 500 and then kicks the rear door closed. The Fiat 500 is a two-door car, and although it has a rear hatch, this gives access to the engine, not luggage space, since it's a rear-engined vehicle. There are some Americanisms: 'The brothers had done more for him than anyone outside of his grandparents.' We would say 'apart from' 'Absolutely nutters' (this probably an attempt at a Britishism, but the Brits would say 'absolute nutters'. “What am I? Chopped Liver?” This Americanism originates, I think, in the Jewish community, of New York? I regularly gripe about the outlandish names so often assigned to characters in stories. This one does quite well, with names like Graham, Francis, even Rupert just about passes. But Caddock and Hadrian? Despite all the above I read to the end and enjoyed it. Thanks Nigel for bringing it to my attention!

One of the comments below the News4Jax article reads this way: The guy is an idiot and probably a psycho but it's more disturbing that the Sheriff used this opportunity to post guidelines that seemed to put the blame on the kids. "Do Not" etc. whereas the homeowners get an "Avoid" and "if at all possible". Can't we just have straight up guideline that say "DO NOT open fire on cars filled with teenagers"? That seems to be the most important one. Only in Florida could the attempted murder of children be viewed as the fault of the children. What a sick place. That's much the sentiment I had on reading the article. The guy is an idiot and probably a psycho but it's more disturbing that the Sheriff used this opportunity to post guidelines that seemed to put the blame on the kids. "Do Not" etc. whereas the homeowners get an "Avoid" and "if at all possible". Can't we just have straight up guideline that says "DO NOT open fire on cars filled with teenagers"? That seems to be the most important one. Only in Florida could the attempted murder of children be viewed as the fault of the children. What a sick place. The guy is an idiot and probably a psycho but it's more disturbing that the Sheriff used this opportunity to post guidelines that seemed to put the blame on the kids. "Do Not" etc. whereas the homeowners get an "Avoid" and "if at all possible". Can't we just have straight up guideline that says "DO NOT open fire on cars filled with teenagers"? That seems to be the most important one. Only in Florida could the attempted murder of children be viewed as the fault of the children. What a sick place. The guy is an idiot and probably a psycho but it's more disturbing that the Sheriff used this opportunity to post guidelines that seemed to put the blame on the kids. "Do Not" etc. whereas the homeowners get an "Avoid" and "if at all possible". Can't we just have straight up guideline that says "DO NOT open fire on cars filled with teenagers"? That seems to be the most important one. Only in Florida could the attempted murder of children be viewed as the fault of the children. What a sick place.

Flabberghasted, I am... I found this BBC News website article: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-36818384 ... and my immediate reaction was: householder shoots at innocent teens who were minding their own business in their car, and the police issue advice to Pokemon Go players on playing the game safely??? Where is the advice to householders not to shoot at teenagers on the flimsiest pretext??? Aaargh - no wonder the police have an image problem. Here is the news article from a local Florida source: http://www.news4jax.com/news/pokemon-go-hunters-shot-at-while-searching-for-pokemon

Thanks for this Nigel - I've traced it; couldn't find Top Hat Press but I've found it on All Romance Books (allromancebooks.com) as well as Amazon. Apparently it's published by Hot Tree Publishing?

Astounding. Glad he has a voice and a platform and that he's using them to such good effect.

Well, i don't think I've read this one, but I know I'd like to. Big fan of maritime stories, I read lots of age of sail stuff.

This short story is one of the Dude's current Picks from the Past. I don't know how I've missed reading it before (perhaps I haven't and my ageing memory is failing me) but I'm very glad I've now read it. A great piece of writing, very well crafted. Its elegant prose gives a convincing portrayal of an awkward episode, as so often such episodes are for adolescents. Bravely told, I hope its telling had the desired effect of putting unresolved emotions to bed. Great storytelling, Frederic.

So did I. Apparently I was wrong. Pride comes before a fall...

It warms my old heart to hear that you two are marrying. May you enjoy many many happy and prosperous years together. My very best wishes to you both. I'm doing a little Snoopy dance for joy...

There is a fairly even split of opinions among those I've talked to about it. It will be very interesting to see what happens tomorrow.

Hmm, how could I fit a gay love story into the boat with the farmer and his luggage?? If I could work that one out, maybe... Okay I accept the challenge. Watch this space...

Thank you Cole, would that it was a true story, but alas no it sprung entirely from my febrile imagination. After the germ of an idea for it came to me when I was reading through a list of lateral thinking puzzles. You know the kind of thing: a man is found hanged from a rope slung from a rafter in the middle of an empty room locked from the inside. There is no furniture, his feet dangle three feet above the floor, how did he die? - and the answer of course is that he stood on a block of ice which has since melted away.

Thanks Luggie!

This is almost exactly 1,000 words, so I reckon it counts as Flash Fiction. I hope you like it; it should please Lugnutz, at least... Lateral Thinking by Bruin Fisher It was a dark and stormy night… I was out for a spin in my car. Not something that I, or anyone else, as far as I can see, does these days, but back then it was the sort of thing you did on a sunny Sunday afternoon, especially if you had a Bristol 402 Convertible – a hand-built classic car from 1950 with an interior all walnut and beige leather and an exterior of understated aerodynamic lines in metallic Duck Egg Blue. I’d got a bit carried away and driven much further than what could be described as a Sunday afternoon spin, ending up at a nice little country pub where I’d stopped for a pie and chips before setting off on the return leg of my overstretched Sunday jaunt. However when I emerged from the pub the weather had already begun to change and now it was dark and I was battling a nasty crosswind and a heavy downpour. I had the soft-top up, naturally, to protect the upholstery as much as myself from the lashing rain. The windscreen wipers were just about keeping up with the deluge, keeping the view ahead reasonably clear, aided by the powerful beams from the quadruple headlamps. I nearly drove right past, but just in time caught sight of the scene in my peripheral vision. Under the inadequate shelter of a bus stop, three people were huddled together. One of them was the focus of the attention of the other two, and as I slowed to a stop my brain worked out what was happening. An elderly lady was in difficulty and the other two were trying to help. I pulled up to see what, if anything, I could do to help. I left the headlamps on to throw some light into the shelter. As soon as I climbed out of the car the weather hit me and I wrapped my sports jacket tight around me and ran for the bus stop. The old lady was sitting on the bench seat with the coats of both men around her shoulders, shivering uncontrollably, and the young men were rubbing her back and arms, trying to warm her up. As I approached, all three turned toward me and I almost tripped over in my surprise. Although I didn’t recognise the elderly lady, I certainly did recognise both men with her. One was my good friend Jimmy, one of the best people I know. He once saved my life on a seaside holiday in our childhood. When the raft I was on was blowing out to sea and I was tiring out trying to paddle against the wind, he swam out to me and towed me back to shore. He was a very strong swimmer, on the school team. The other was George Garrett, a man I hadn’t met but hoped to. I had no idea if he was a good swimmer, but I knew he had the physique for it since he used the same gym that I did and I’d often seen him in the changing rooms. Actually I’d begun timing my gym sessions to coincide as far as possible with his in the hope of catching a glimpse of the elegant line of his back as it curved into his buttocks, and his long shapely legs with their dusting of blond fur right down to a pair of narrow ankles. Eventually, I’d been promising myself, I would pluck up the courage to speak to him, maybe even to invite him for a post-gym drink. But it hadn’t happened yet. And now here he was. Now, you’ll be thinking you know what happens next – I bundle them all into my car and zip along to the nearest hospital for the old lady, then deliver the two men to their respective destinations, with a warm glow of good-deed-for-the-day-done. Is that what you’re thinking? If so, you don’t know your classic sports cars. My Bristol is a tiny two-seater. I could only give one of them a lift. But which one? The old lady needed to get to a hospital, but if I took her, I’d be leaving my friend, and more to the point sacrificing the chance to get to know George, and I really really wanted to get to know George. But if I took George, he would never want to know me because I would be the kind of person who’d leave an old lady in need in order to pursue his own romantic purpose. To put it crudely, I’d have let my cock over-ride my conscience. And if I took Jimmy my conscience might not have complained so much since I owe Jimmy and I always will, but I would have solved neither the old lady’s problem, or mine. I was in danger of letting everyone down and even turned back towards my beloved car, perhaps instinctively seeking solace there from an inanimate object, when the solution came to me. Firstly I did what everyone expected me to do – I helped the old lady into the passenger seat of my car. Then I did what surprised even me. I handed my car key to Jimmy and told him to drive her to the hospital. I’d never trusted my car to anyone else before, but needs must, and I reckoned Jimmy was a safe pair of hands. Which left me and George to wait for the bus together, with George predisposed to think well of me as a good Samaritan. So I didn’t even have to pluck up the courage to talk to him – he started the conversation. It turned out he’s a classic car fan. That was thirty years ago, George and I have been a couple ever since that night, and we availed ourselves of the right to marry after the law changed here in England in 2014. We still have the Bristol 402, and we now have two other Bristols that we’ve restored together. © Bruin Fisher June 2016

AwesomeDude Dependency? I'm not dependent, not at all. I could stop any time. Any time I like. Just going to check the latest posts in the forums one last time, though...

Thanks everyone for your very kind comments. I'm amazed that some saw it as a film script; I need to tell the story of its gestation. A month ago I was part of a team who entered a competition. The Sci-Fi London festival in collaboration with the British Film Institute run an annual competion - to create a five minute film in 48 hours. Hundreds of teams enter each year. The organisers give the teams a title, a line of dialogue and an action involving a prop, at the beginning of the 48 hour period to ensure the teams don't cheat and do a lot of the work beforehand. The theme assigned to my team was: "One can medically un-remember any event, but the memory is stored by the removers". During the brainstorming, several storylines were put forward including one from me - which I've now written up as a short story and posted here as Escape. The team went with a different story, but I thought mine had legs and I didn't want it to go to waste. So you were right - my story was originally intended to be a film! In case anyone is interested, our film was shortlisted in the final ten, but didn't win. We're happy with that outcome - it was our first attempt, one of the winners had been trying for six years and got to third place...