Election fever

Local members of the BNP are pulling out all stops this year to make a positive breakthrough in the coming elections.
With the government in trouble over recent gaffes and blunders, there is every chance that regular Labour voters may turn to the BNP this time.
I, although not a current member of the BNP, have given the party my 100% backing and have produced several thousand leaflets for local candidates. I have also helped in other fields and I hope that my small input will reflect in the results of the elections. First and foremost, I am a dedicated nationalist and anything I can possibly do to further the cause of nationalism, I shall do, irrespective of party or group.

A dilemma

I have mentioned before, a young friend of mine whom I have been helping, to come to terms with her problems.
Things are now spiralling out of control so much that she is in danger of going into a world of complete fantasy. She is refusing any help or advice and is fast becoming a semi-recluse and avoiding anyone or everyone who wishes to help her.
After some deep deliberation, very reluctantly, I have recommended that she should be given professional care for her own protection. This may mean a temporary incarceration
It has not been an easy decision, as hitherto, I have always tried to prevent this from happening.
However, I see no other course left open; I sincerely hope I am doing the right thing because, quite frankly, I’ve had enough!

Spring has sprung!

The last few days have been decidedly more Spring-like after the dull cold days of Winter.
The Spring of 1973 saw quite a few warm days; a rarity in some years and we made the most of it.
Iris and I took advantage of the weather and we spent three or four weekends in April out and about all over the place.
We would leave home early Friday evening and check into a pre-booked hotel or pub and spend the whole of the next day exploring the area. Saturday evenings, we would return home until Sunday morning when I would return to my family.
W had our favourite haunts; I always loved the Peak District of Derbyshire and never tired of taking Iris there. She favoured a coastal trip to Scarborough or Whitby. She always said that she had missed out on seaside holidays as a child and just loved walking on the beach licking an ice-cream cornet! Simple pleasures but it made my heart dance to see her so happy.

My political life

I started being interested in nationalist politics when I was in my early twenties. I have held positions in various parties ranging from Area Branch Leader to Party Leader!
From my early days, I took to public speaking like a duck to water and down the years, built a reputation as one of the leading nationalist speakers in the country.
I have spoken in Trafalgar Square at the big rallies of yesteryear and at meetings in every major town and city. I was trained and encouraged by the greatest man I ever knew. He was both friend and mentor to me as well as being a great nationalist leader. He was Sir Oswald Mosley and his followers and I worshipped the very ground he walked on.
There are many stories I could narrate about my political life but it isn’t a subject that is suitable for this blog. Iris was non-political when we first met but she later began to accompany me to meetings occasionally and always attended annual dinners and social functions. She was very popular with other nationalists; one or two even admitted to falling in love with her! I was always proud to have her by my side at these events.
My wife, however, was always a staunch nationalist and her claim to fame is that she was the first woman nationalist to stand in an election after the war and the first woman to stand as a candidate for Mosley. Her greatest moment was when Sir Oswald first dined with us. She must have made a good impression on him with her cuisine because he dined with us again on a future occasion!
I shall not dwell on my nationalist activities but I could literally write a complete book about them!

The writer with Sir Oswald Mosley taken in April 1959 at Islington Corner The man on the left was Frank Hamley, Yorks. Regional Organiser.

A memorable weekend

The weekend of April 12th-14th was one of absolute delight.
Friday evening saw me working a local club and Andrea (my secretary) and colleagues from work came to see me. It was a favourite venue of mine and I always went down pretty well there. During the evening, I was lucky enough to win the ‘Tote.’ This was a ‘Pick your numbers and hope they come up’ sort of thing. I found that I’d won £85! It was a considerable amount of money in 1973 so after the show, we all went to a very up-market Chinese restaurant for a meal on me. Later, back home, Iris was in a very tender mood and we were still in bed at 10am the next morning!
We went out into Derbyshire that Saturday afternoon and stayed out until the evening, getting back about 8pm. It was too late to get changed to go out so we had an early night. I got up the next day, Sunday, feeling tired but so very happy! I remember writing a poem for her later that night and I gave it to her the following day. This was, unfortunately, one of many that disappeared. It was one of my better poems and I’ve tried to remember it but I can only recall a few fragments. That selfish bitch of a sister had a lot to answer for!

Getting stuck into things

Following my production of an election leaflet for the BNP, another candidate asked me if I would design and print one for his area. I was shown a copy of the leaflet issued by their HQ and I was saddened to see such an appalling and slovenly produced document. It was riddled with errors of spelling, punctuation and grammar and this fired me into producing a leaflet that would shame it!
I had to write and express my disapproval to the originator of the first leaflet, pointing out various errors. Naturally, I received no reply. The moron wouldn’t have understood, anyway!
As I said, a publication is the shop window of the Party and as such, should be without fault. Just a little care would have prevented such errors but it didn't surprise me to be totally ignored! Nevertheless, I shall continue to make every effort to help in this election; proscribed or not!

Ps… Anyone out there knows where to get cheap toners for an Oki C3100 printer, please let me know! Colour cartridges at £70 and black at £30 is a bit over the top!

April love

The Winter of 1973 has gone and Spring arrived. It was so very pleasant going out in the warmer weather. Easter was late that year and we went for a long weekend in Derbyshire.
We stayed at a country hotel only 20 miles away from home but we thoroughly enjoyed the change.
I love Derbyshire and I took great delight in telling Iris all about the places we went to. I showed her all over the Peak District; the Rocking Stones at Rowsley, the Nine Ladies at Stanton-in-the-Peak, the Petrifying Well at Matlock Bath, Riber Castle nature reserve and the Peak Cavern in Castleton.
We crammed an awful lot into those three days and Iris was so very happy that weekend. It was the first time she’d been away and stayed in an hotel. It was another world to her at the time. It was one of many weekends we would have like this over the years. There are still places all over the country that I have never returned to. I wouldn’t enjoy them any more.

Why did I bother?

In the last few days, I have been asked to help in a local election campaign.
The BNP is standing in a few areas in my city and I was approached by one of the candidates to produce some election leaflets; I agreed to do this. I edited and amended the draft leaflet accordingly to make it more presentable and printed them.
This was a job that I enjoyed doing. It gave me some satisfaction that I was, in some small way, contributing to the BNP’s prospects in the forthcoming elections.
I was asked by several of my nationalist friends why I bothered to do this for a party that has proscribed me. My answer was a simple but honest one. I said that my nationalist commitments overrode petty disputes with a party that had a good chance of success.
I was a founder member of the BNP and although I am considered these days to be persona non grata by the leadership, old loyalties are hard to dismiss. I wish them well.

Spring '73... Settling down

As the weeks passed, Iris and I were managing to spend more and more time together. I would stay overnight Fridays right through to Sunday mornings.
I always finished work a little earlier on Fridays and I would pick Iris up from work and take her shopping. This was a most novel experience for me as normally I hated and detested shopping at any price. However, I found myself going round the shops and markets with her buying such mundane things as bread, milk, vegetables and all manner of meats and groceries. The surprising thing was that I enjoyed it!
I would help her to prepare meals; something I rarely did at home. I would do my share of washing up and other chores. We were acting just like newly-weds and we were so very much in love!
Although we still went out quite a lot to clubs and dances, we began to appreciate a night in together every so often, just watching TV. Other times I would be reading while Iris did some ironing or something. These simple things that I took for granted at home took on a new life with Iris. We just wanted to be together as much and as often as we could.
It was towards the end of March that I wrote what I always considered my best poem. It epitomised the very essence of Iris and my love for her.

To Iris, just for being you…. March 1973

Iris of the laughing eyes
Smiling at me as by her side I stay,
And I recall ‘twas just the other day
I met my Iris of the laughing eyes.
And she looks at me.

Iris of the laughing eyes,
Fragrant as the bloom that bears her name.
Holding her close by the flickering firelight flame,
I see my Iris of the laughing eyes
And she looks at me.

Iris of the loving eyes,
Lying together whilst our arms entwine.
Soft tender kisses as her lips meet mine,
I hold my Iris of the loving eyes.
And she looks at me.

Iris of the tiger eyes,
Pouring fierce kisses on her eager face.
Much closer now, caressing every place,
As I become the lover of those tiger eyes
And she looks at me

Iris of the tender eyes,
Lying beside me; our passion spent and over.
So gentle now, since I became her lover,
And I adore my Iris of the tender eyes
And we look at each other!


If you liked this little effort, please leave a comment!

Meeting

I was invited to speak at a meeting hosted by the National Front on Sunday. The meeting was well-attended and, as usual, I was warmly received.
I am not a member of the NF but I will normally accept a speaking invitation from any nationalist group. I am considered to be one of the most popular and experienced speakers on the nationalist scene.
It’s a pity that the leadership of the BNP are so bigoted and bloody-minded about my speaking at their meetings, even though I was a founder-member of that party. Probably it's because I don’t share their new-found enthusiasm for multicultural membership!

Dinner at the "Pack"

Regular readers of my blog will no doubt be familiar with my favourite pub/restaurant in Derbyshire, The Scotsman’s Pack. It is situated in the village of Hathersage, and the churchyard is supposed to be the final resting place of Little John of Robin Hood legend. There is a chair in the pub reputed to be that of Little John and over the years, I have taken several friends there to dine and sit in the chair. It is a very special place for me as Iris and I spent many happy hours there. These days, only very special friends are invited to dine. The cuisine is one of the finest in Derbyshire and, although rather expensive, is worth every penny.
My wife and I took a couple of close friends there the other evening and we had a most delightful evening. The fox that used to grace the pub many years ago is long dead but it is still there after being stuffed and mounted on a plinth. It was a vixen called Sandy and Iris loved to stroke her.
The last time I was in the Pack was when I took S**** last summer as I recently recorded in a blog.
This time, another attractive young lady sat in the chair to continue the tradition.
Our companions that evening were the local BNP Branch Leader and his very attractive daughter.
All in all, it was a very enjoyable evening.


I think you will agree that the young lady here who graced Little John's chair is far more attractive than the two ugly blokes pictured above!

Profile of me...

Again, there is a paucity of pics but a couple survived. The one published here was one of Iris’s favourites. She named it “The Playboy of the Western World”!

Some details about me...

Eyes… Hazel
Hair… Darkish (Fair as a child)
Statistics Lumpy!
General description… Bearable!

Favourite place… Rhine valley
Favourite drink… Malt whisky; Calvados
Favourite music… Latin American
Favourite group… Los Paraguayos
Favourite song… Younger than Springtime
Favourite film… To Have And Have Not
Favourite actor… Humphrey Bogart
Favourite actress… Lauren Bacall
Favourite activity… Boating
Favourite pet… Tiffi (A black/white/ginger moggie)
Favourite woman… Iris, of course!



This was taken near the Forth Railway Bridge, Edinburgh July 1978

Profile of Iris

I have been asked why I have never published any photographs of Iris until recently. The simple truth is that most of the pics and poetry were lost shortly after her death when the house was cleared out by her relatives in my absence. I was left with just a few negatives and about a dozen poems that I came across in the debris.
Twenty-five years later, I had the negatives processed but time and bad storage left their mark on the prints. However, I have managed to reproduce a couple for this blog.
Unfortunately, these pics don't do her justice; she was so very attractive!


Some details about Iris…

Eyes… Grey
Hair… Dark, long and curly (later, shorter and curly) Statistics 34 – 24 – 34
Dress size 10
General description… Adorable!

Favourite place… Berwick-on-Tweed
Favourite drink… White wine; Calvados
Favourite music… Latin American
Favourite group… Los Paraguayos
Favourite song… Guantanamera
Favourite film… Singing in the Rain
Favourite actor… Sean Connery
Favourite actress…Ida Lupino (Iris looked very much like her)
Favourite perfume… Ma Griffe
Favourite flowers… Carnations
Favourite activity… Dancing
Favourite pet… Smokie (A pedigree silver tabby)
Favourite man… Me!

The above pics were taken in 1974. Smokie had grown a bit since the last pic of her. Cuddling Smokie was almost as nice as cuddling Iris!

An apology...

For some strange reason, I can’t upload pics to this blog any more.
I have done this recently but I seem to be unable to put any pics on here right now.
Whether this is a fault at my end or at Blogger, I don’t know but it is most frustrating!

Getting there

For some time now, I’ve been trying to help a young friend with her problems. These are not of her making and recently, I have had some small success in relieving a few of them.
I think I gladdened her heart last night with a little surprise for her and I hope she will feel a whole lot better very soon. It was indeed a pleasure to see her happy and enjoying a relaxing and interesting evening.
We held another dinner party this evening for some friends and once again, the discussions proved to be fruitful and promising. I think that the olive branch I held out to certain people may yet be accepted and we can bury the hatchet once and for all.

Together once more

It was the end of the second week in March when I finally finished my work in Falmouth. I would have to go back there later in the year but for the time being, I was back in my own office once again.
Andrea, my secretary, was almost as glad to see me permanently back as Iris was. She fussed over me for days afterwards! I was pleased to be back; not only because I would no longer be separated from Iris but I’d genuinely missed Andrea’s companionship. There was never anything between us other than the fact we were close friends as well as our “Boss/secretary” relationship, but she made life so much easier for me at work anticipating my every need. I often wondered what I would do if she ever decided to marry again. She was a divorcee with two late teenage children, both of whom were engaged.
I was now in a position to spend even more time with Iris and I was soon staying overnight four days per week; Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays This wasn’t so difficult as I had previously always stayed overnight in hotelswhen out of town on company business. Due to my recent promotion and change of job title, it wasn’t necessary to do this any more. However, my family were used to my being away a lot so there was no problem at that end.
I always, however, saved Sundays for the family; the kids were growing up and had other interests through the week and my wife liked to stay in and watch TV a lot of the time. Sunday was a time for visiting either my wife’s parents or my mother. More of my mother later.

Return to Iris

After the end of February, our relationship took on a more permanent bond. I introduced her to a life she had never known before and, no longer a mouse, she blossomed out into a more sophisticated and desirable woman. I was immensely proud of the admiring glances she received. I gave her confidence in herself and she very quickly adapted to this new life. We were so very, very close.
Iris was now moving in a different circle that hitherto she had never experienced. She became popular with all my friends and colleagues. Very soon, I was spending more than half my time with her; living with her, and we were accepted wherever we went as a couple. We went all over the place, including many holidays to places she had never been. I took immense delight in showing her things new and in telling her about the history of the places we visited. Just being together for a week or a fortnight at a time away from home was total bliss. We went all over the place on our holidays; from Cornwall to Scotland and places in between. We also managed a couple of holidays abroad. In all our eight years together, we hardly ever argued or disagreed and we never once strayed from each other.
An interesting meeting took place one evening in early March 1973, when I was working in one of the clubs. Iris was with me and suddenly gasped out, “I know her!” I had been participating in a “Comedians’ evening” and was working with two others that night. They were both old friends, one of whom was Marti Cane, later to have her own show on TV. Iris went up to her and said “Lynne? Is that you?”
Marti was amazed… She cried out, “Iris!” What transpired was that they had known each other in the care home. Marti, (Lynne) was about six years younger than Iris and remembered her from those days. Iris and Lynne kept in contact with each other for years afterwards.
Unfortunately, Lynne died from cancer in November 1995.


This is an early shot of Iris taken in April 1973. I had a friend who bred pedigree cats and I got one for Iris. It was a silver tabby and we called her "Smokie".
Iris had just had her hair set, hence the headscarf.

Shadows of an aching past... Pt. 3

The dinner dates went on for a while and on one occasion, I took her to a meeting where I was speaking. Wherever we went, she always looked attractive for me and I bought her jewellery now and again. She liked jade and it looked well on her. The association, however, didn’t last, as later she left to go back to her native city. I learned later that all she had wanted was a series of expensive dinner dates and lavish attention! According to her diary that she left behind when she moved out, she described me as “Good for a freebie meal and drinks but very boring.” I should have listened to those who tried their best to discourage me from the start. I think it was the description of boring that finally made me wake up! I’ve never been called boring before in my life! Then again her life-style was so vastly different from mine and much more shallow.
I don’t suppose I’m the first man to fall for the flattery of a younger woman and I’m sure I won’t be the last but she was the first woman since Iris who had made even the slightest impression on me.

This is a pic of S**** sitting in the famous "Little John's Chair" in the Scotsman's Pack in Hathersage, Derbyshire.
It was our favourite haunt. Legend says that Little John is buried in the nearby church graveyard.
As a matter of fact, I took a very wonderful and special friend there when she was over here from the U.S. a couple of years ago. She also sat in the chair and I know which one I would prefer to see sitting there again!

This is a chapter of my life that I wish had never happened. There are no fond memories here.
I wrote another poem to S**** but I never showed it to her; I have never shown it to anybody. It was very honest but also very personal. It was something I should never have written.

Shadows of an aching past... Pt. 2

The summer of 2005 was one I will not forget in a hurry. Common sense and reason went out of control and I can’t blame anybody but myself.
Subsequent meetings were the same; the weather was always fine and sunny and we started to call it S**** weather. (Name withheld to prevent any embarrassment) We had some great times and I always looked forward to taking her out to various places.
Somewhere along the line, however, things went astray. I was so very much wrapped up in writing the Iris story that for a brief time, I thought that S**** was so involved with her memory that somehow, for an instant, Iris had come back. The fact that she wore a wishbone ring similar to the one I had given Iris triggered it off. I grew a fondness for her that was so very stupid of me.
As I said, I suppose I spoilt her by ensuring that she always drank champagne when we were out dining and in return, I enjoyed her company immensely. It triggered off a desire for me to write a poem to her; something I thought I would never do again. I wrote the following verses to show the changing of the seasons and the hope for a continued friendship. S**** enjoyed the poem and asked me to sign it and have it framed for her, which I did.


To S**** in gratitude for her help when I needed it. September 2005


The summer days are gone,
No more idyllic dreaming in the sun.
No lazy afternoons along with company so fair,
To ease my aching heart and drive away despair.

And when I needed you,
When all around, my dismal troubles grew,
I found in you some cheer; I found some inner glow
That helped me to forget the pain of long ago.

The days grow shorter now,
As leaves begin to fall from off the bough.
No sun now falls upon us as we go to dine,
But we’ll find a pleasant spot to drink the wine.

The winter chill will come,
Yet there is no need to for us to stay at home,
And taverns snug will surely beckon us to share
A glass of wine, a rendezvous somewhere.

Those days were warm and bright,
To us, they gave some measure of delight.
Will next year see us back again once more
To sit in sunny splendour as we did before?

Those golden days I yearn
To come again and let the memories return.
The happy times; the places where we went to stay,
And where you sat and took my dreary cares away.

Will these days come around?
Will there be simple pleasures to be found?
And will you be there with me to drink champagne?
Will you be there? Will you return again?

(To be concluded)

Shadows of an aching past...Pt 1

I’m taking a break here to set the record straight about a friendship I had with someone in the summer of last year. There have been rumours going round of late that I think I must refute.
I mentioned right at the beginning of writing my blog earlier this year that I had recently been flattered by the attentions of a much younger woman. It was when I was feeling at a low ebb as it was coming up to the 25th anniversary of the death of Iris. This woman came out of the blue and asked me for a date! I had never met her before in my life and we had only chatted over the internet a few times. She was originally from Liverpool and was staying with someone I knew in the city who lived about three miles away from me. We had chatted before when she was in her home town and she was now using her friend’s PC to chat to me now. She said she had been told conflicting stories about me and wanted to see for herself what I was like. I told her I was much older than she was but she still wanted to meet me.
Anyway, I arranged to meet her for what it was worth. I thought it would take my mind off my current problems. What I intended to do was to take her to a local pub, buy her a bar snack and a quick drink and that would have been it. Instead, she came out to me on a beautiful summer’s day looking absolutely stunning. She was wearing a summer outfit consisting of a top and long white flowing skirt and I knew that a local pub was way out of the question. Instead, I took her to one of my favourite haunts in Derbyshire. It was an up-market place noted for its fine cuisine. She had obviously gone to some trouble to look so attractive.
It was only natural that I reciprocated by ordering a first-class meal and a bottle of decent wine and we enjoyed every minute of it. Later, when we went out again, I repeated the performance knowing it gave her so much pleasure. As I said, this was at a time when I was feeling so very low. I began to talk to her about Iris and she seemed to understand my feelings. I said that I was thinking of writing about her and she agreed that it might help to ease the memories a little. I started to write and each time we met, I told her how far I’d got with the tribute I was writing. There I was, in the company of a beautiful girl, feeling sad about someone else and she never once complained! She cheered me up immensely on these occasions and I began to look forward to these meetings.
It was at this stage that I was warned about her by several friends, including her own sister. They urged me to end the association as she always left a trail of disaster in her wake! Of course, I knew better, didn’t I? I carried on meeting the woman to its inevitable conclusion.

(to be continued)