1. Death in the forenoon

The tranquillity of the warm day was suddenly broken by loud human like screams a hundred yards away. There was a munckjac in a ditch with a black brindle greyhound/lurcher type dog biting its back legs both of which it had broken. The lower part of its back appeared also to be broken or dislocated. I did not see the owner but others who were with me on the scene did. She hurriedly disappeared with her dog leaving the deer to scream in fear and pain.

The crying animal was dispatched with a single shot at close range to the head. I will not mention names as some busybodies may call the boys in blue to complain about being offended or for some other reason. 

What about the owner of the dog? Should she have remained on the scene to make arrangements to ensure that the animal’s suffering was stopped or should she have left as she did?

We all know that dogs delight in such matters “for God hath made them so” but dealing with the consequences when things go wrong is surely the responsibility of the owner.

I do not have much time for munckjacs as they eat my rose shoots but I am worried about the owner of the dog. Maybe she will inform us that she is a responsible dog owner despite having made off as fast as possible leaving others to deal with the consequences.

Peter Syfret

2. On the puzzling nature of human behaviour

On my morning walk today I turned into the bridleway leading to Elmdon from Crawley End. Not far down the path were two plastic bag tree decorations containing dark sausage like contents almost exactly fifty yards away from a bin for collected dog geshirtze.

Most things set me thinking these days. I wondered what would take the trouble to enhance the sylvan experience in this novel way. I assumed that it must be human because other species cannot tie knots and loops to simplify the attachment of the decoration. I know that the Chinese have taught monkeys to do simple knitting but I do not think we have this type of simian roaming the local woods.

It might be people who regard themselves as superior and consider the law relating to collecting canine deritrus as for the polloi only, or perhaps principled Guardian reading anarchists who do not accept regulations which do not suit their cause, or followers of Russell Brand the urban philosopher and winner of the youth vote for Milliband, or perhaps people of low intelligence who cannot read or understand the sign on the bin and think that tree decoration is more civilised than leaving it on the path, or shorn, tattooed, earring wearing untermenschen, or people of my generation who have short term memory problems and cannot remember where they put it after bagging it.

These people obviously care about the substance in question for otherwise why pick it up.

Whatever sort it is, I would really like to know. I entreat them to write to this website to explain the thought process and enlighten us all for the reasons behind this rather peculiar behaviour.

Peter Syfret

3. Ode to a village

The matter at hand cannot be ducked

As gentle Elmdon may soon be plucked

From its serene bucolic calm, to face

The twenty first century’s frenetic pace

It’s not surprising that newcomers can suss

What we never knew was good for us

Money and profit are not sins

And don’t need the wail of violins

Heavenly arias of benign altruism

Seen though a basic common sense prism

By hoi polloi whose cold reptilian eyes

Can spot a figleaf and know its size

Why do we actually need a Pub

It has never been the village hub

Did we miss it when it was closed

I will dine at the Pheasant as of old

Eight chalets or flats we will receive

For what village benefit I cannot conceive:

Perhaps a motel where villagers can indulge in sport

With salacious delights for our Gazette to report

Age is upon me and my beloved heirs

Are delighted with what will soon be theirs

The grim reaper will one day twirl his cloak

And then my friends I will doubtless croak

Eight houses at least will surely stand

On Elmdon Lodge’s pleasant land

Planning permission will create

Increased inheritance on a plate

No figleaf here, no violins

Money and profit are not sins

Suburb from a gentle village

Danegeld or maybe pillage?

O! Parish Council !

Let not subjective thoughts reside

Within your minds as you decide

Banish concerns of social position

And may great wisdom guide your decision

Peter Syfret