British Lost and Forgotten Films of the Past…

Excuse My Glove 1936

This was a vehicle for the boxer Len Harvey and presenting him as Don Carter, a mild mannered character and a guy that collected stained glass, well, there is still hope for the film yet. Don agrees to fight in a fairground booth for a bet. The owner reckons on him as a good boxer and money maker. Despite the disruption of a rival backer Don becomes a champion. With a large cast of familiar faces of the period it was distributed by Associated British

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Author Note…

Ok, I travel around a lot. But at the moment my thoughts are with the tragic events in Manchester and London. This needless lose of life, something that could have been avoided is hard to understand. Where blame lays… Only the passage of time will tell us. For now we can only support and give hope for the future…

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Snap Around…

There are times when a walk in the park can throw up a lot of interesting things, like this unusual form of transport spotted at a classic car rally in Bedfordshire. I was really impressed, along with the guy that sold me my Burger…

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The Shriving of Miss Esme Stamp…

Episode 46… The Gwyllt (Part One)

A narrow path led off to her right, upward and through the thick undergrowth and toward the headland plateau above her. It was a steady and breathless climb and at one point she could just make out the top of some house or building structure. Then suddenly, she had reached the plateau. Her path had opened to a narrow area of what looked like old onyx pillars with ivy covered marble seating and beyond this she saw the house for the first time. It was derelict and crumbling and had not seen use for many years, perhaps the building she had glimpsed earlier. She walked on. Her footsteps softened within the stillness of the place. Then strange thoughts began to enter her mind. At first she took them to be induced by this odd setting she now found herself. A woman’s gentle voice found favour in her head… “By Gwyllt Pond…A lovers bond…Lay Rebecca Haig’s remains” She stood in front of the ruins gazing into its hopelessness. One time long ago a profound turret had danced its way to the heavens, crafted by unseen hands and deliberate tools. Now grasping Ivy clung to its worn and used structure with a tooth decaying relish.

“I listen to your heartbeat…Esme…Yes I know you” The voice was sweet to her thoughts.

Esme stepped amid the ruins of the once manor house. For that was clearly what it had been. The voice in her head spoke again. “Love awaits me when I arise”

Esme had no fear of the voice in her head. She asked: ‘Are you Rebecca?’

“Yes, I am Rebecca… And this is our home Esme!” .

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Snap Around…

On a warm summer evening in June, you’ve gotta take a cruise down the Grand Union Canal, enjoy a glass of fine wine, some fresh mussels and oysters…Then sit back and enjoy the scenery…

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The Shriving of Miss Esme Stamp…

Episode 45… A Sighting

It was that time of the morning when the trivia of the day before was forgotten and the ocean would open itself to the lonely walker. Around the Bay large curios gulls swooped over its soft sands and called out to a gentler Atlantic. She had not noticed him before and now her eyes were fixed on a single figure walking towards her from the far side of the Bay. She thought it odd because Margarita had said that she would not meet anyone. The person seemed to be coming from the direction of the outcropping rocks near where the sea was crashing into the headland. Perhaps there was a path around the head, she told herself.

A burst of sunlight ran into her eyes for several moments and she cupped a hand to her forehead. When the watery eyes began to clear. The figure had gone. Esme took a few steps forward, straining for another glimpse of the stranger. There was none. She thought the figure could have been a man, perhaps a young man. His stride was purposeful and energetic!

Somehow the thought of Toby Westlake ran in her mind. It couldn’t have been Tobias. He was in London looking after Charles interests, again she told this to herself. But the thought still nagged her. Had the event on Hinckley Common distorted her reasoning and she was seeing familiar faces in her sub-conscious? Was she going out of her mind?

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Author Note…

Sorry guys, if some of you could not access the site last night.’ Heart’ were undertaking security maintenance for the benefit of all of us. So that can’t be a bad thing.

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The Shriving of Miss Esme Stamp…

Episode 44… Reason

He looked at Charles with open eye. ‘Beats your town living Charlie!’ he remarked.

It was only the second time Esme had ever heard anyone call Charles: Charlie. In her mind he was a Charles not a Charlie. The surprise on her face was self evident.

Charles picked up on it. ‘It’s ok… Bill’s allowed… After all, he’s the finest painter I know… Apart from Picasso!’

‘You know Picasso!’ Bill burst forward with total percussion. ‘You’ve never said!’

Esme suddenly went into a fit of laughter at the expression on Charles face, then Bill fell in with it and laughed loudly showing his great white teeth once more.

After breakfast Bill insisted he wanted to show Charlie his latest work and other works yet to be given a public airing. ‘Tell me what you think in all honesty.’ he asked.

Esme said she would like to take a long walk along the shore line and enjoy the fresh sea breeze. ‘I want to blow London right out of my mind.’ she had said to Margarita, after they had finished the washing up. ‘Do you mind if I go alone. I want to put my life and thoughts into some sort of perspective. It’s so different and peaceful here.’

Margarita said she didn’t mind and that she had a few things to busy herself with. ‘Take a good long walk around the head and back. Bill loves to do that. You won’t meet a soul, only the Gulls.’

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The Kings Head…

The Kings Head as it appears today on the Moscow road in Bayswater London. In my fictitious tale “The Shriving of Miss Esme Stamp” Charles Hepworth’s little photographic shop sat on the opposite corner facing the building. The site today is a power relay station. I spent many happy hours back in the days of researching my story and had some wonderful chats and super food and drinks with the then present Landlady and her staff. I think just about most of my family have visited there over the years and I recall the Landlady saying on our last visit: “You must come back soon and not leave it so long.” Sadly, it has been a while now…

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Snap Around…

A familiar sight to visitors at St. Pancras Station in North London would be the statue of ‘The Lovers’, ‘The Dent Clock’ and the statue of Sir John Betjeman sculptured by Martin Jennings.

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