the start of

Intro to my novel
Feed back welcomed. Good, bad, or indifferent. even cruel to be kind lol  

                                                  The Trip Down

    A story of life, times, and truths. Some funny, yet often with much sadness. Regards a family of outcasts due to circumstances beyond their' control. Evacuated from war-torn London, to a hostile market town, Thornton! Simon, nicknamed Ripple, born September 16th 1947. was an outcast of that family.
  In reality, an outcast of outcasts.

 Mavis Willmott, in May 1941, with more than a little tribulation, left Forest Hill, London; and the bombing Blitz, to live in the countryside of Thornton. Sadness leaving family and friends of the highest degree. Trying to suppress anxieties, suffering from high stress. Twice in the vicinity of homes bombed. Many houses in the streets were wholly flattened. Mavis, next door to a house one time. Actually in a house blasted and destroyed another time.*

Natalie, her youngest daughter aged three, had suffered a temporary loss of sight. Resulting from a psychological disturbance. Caused by extreme emotion and stress — being buried alive under bomb debris for nine hours. Her eyesight, fortunately, fully recovered after seven weeks.

Thornton in essence was no more than a large village. Boasting a population of around 1,700. Surrounded by several villages and many communities of the countryside.
 A  'Royal Charter Market Town', granted by King John in 1202. A princely sum of two palfreys horses; was given as payment by the Baron De Bassy.
The Palfrey being the most expensive, and highly-bred types of a riding horse, during the Middle Ages. Sometimes they equalled the knight's Destrier in price. Consequently popular with nobles, especially their' ladies, and highly-ranked knights for riding and hunting, or ceremonial use. Hence De Bassy, the De Veres and Mountford's were, to say in the least, held in high esteem and close friendship with King John.

Natalie arrived at Thornton with her mum. Her shoulder-length auburn  hair adorned a pretty face. The sprinkling of freckles, not unlike her mothers, gave a fresh, babyish look. Dressed all in grey, high socks met  with a pleated skirt. A cardigan, over clean shirt, made her uni-formally neat and tidy.

Mavis often spoke, with mixed feelings regarding that day, when first coming to Thornton. Indeed would reminisce how everything seemed so wonderfully bright and beautiful. Giving an impression there was no war at all. Indeed, the countryside was expressive of the heart-warming trip to Thornton.
 It had enhanced glorious feelings of relief. Filling her heart with hope, of well being. Above all, a joy of safety. strengthening her resolve to be away from those terrible bombings. Believing it would be a short time till war's end. Then able to return to London. To her family and friends.
Mavis related how easily the 'Super D' steam engine, pulled thirteen trucks of iron ore, along with five-passenger carriages. It's chugging beneath a splendid viaduct. Another viaduct spreading over two arms of the river Thorn.
      Thick bluesy/black smoke belched upwards to mingle with lighter shades of greys. Curling, twisting, rising freely to evaporate into blue skies. Skies adorned by decorative Cumulus clouds, like  blooms of white cotton. Beneath, Jackdaws and Rooks milled like black kites; their' sharp Kwi – klax chitterlings piercing fresh, crisp air. Below, in gentle breeze, flowers danced. Necks arched asides rippling stream. Glistening in rays of the life-giving sun. Carpets of colour breezily waved within a serene sojourn of beauty. Vivid flowers like Blue Germander, Speedwell and Herb Bennett's. Along side of white 'Sheep Sorrels' blending delightfully with white 'Corn Chamomile' daisy's. All adorned by golden buttercups. A majestic beauty, standing proudly among assorted drifts of the red 'Ragged Robin' in nets of splendour. Glorious flowers speaking the language of love so expressively. 'How patriotic', mused Mavis, 'The red, white and blues of Britain, dancing on England's' pastures green with a sprinkling of gold'.
    Upwards the train climbed between steep banks with a covering  of brier blossoms. The shaded blackthorns, and glorious cherry to flatten out as the train stopped at Hill St. Station Thornton!

 Mavis oft related how mistaken dreams became a horrid nightmare of hatred. Arriving at the platform, Mavis, dragged the light coloured tan tin trunk to the carriage doorway.
She espied Sid Green, the porter throwing mailbags into the guard's box when noticing Mavis beckoning.  

*Appendage 01: Wars and warning of things to come:
Finishing, Sid ambled towards Mavis, touching his cap. Stoutly built was he in his mid-thirties. A thick curly crop of brown hair, parted over a pox-marked face, of reddish complexion. Cold grey eyes pierced from under heavy eyebrows. Likewise a flattened and broken nose. The open mouth, lopsided and twisted, showed yellow nicotine stains on jagged, or broken teeth.

Sid espied a slim beauty, barely eight stones, about twenty-eight years of age. The navy blue suit, well worn, was a mite oversized, draping a well-confirmed figure.
Dark grey the hat sitting aside her head, held by a hat pin. Beneath waves of jet black hair flowed, to adorn the fresh freckled face. Brown blocked heels shoes worn without any stockings.
No make - up was in use, nor needed to enhance such beauty. White teeth between full lips formed a pleasant smile. Expressive dark eyes, like black pearls, bright and warm, smiled at Sid. Commanding his attention for the briefest of moments. Sid inwardly purred to himself 'My oh my, she's certainly a good looker' to take the trunk aside the office. Mavis tipped him a three-penny piece.

 Going outside the station, upon seeing a horse and cart, Mavis got a cheery wave and a 'Good Morning' from a smiling Dave Shepard. 'Do you need a hand' he asked cheerfully? Mavis replying 'Yes'.

Could have many twists and turns Daz.

A good foundation with enough characters to play with, and no doubt more could come.

Nice start.


Regards.

Have done about 7 chapters. About a third of the way through I guess.
then of course sister stories to cpmplement. Keeps me busy lol

https://www.amazon.ca/Black-Russian-Hal-Hickton/dp/1481014935 and Tusks to Tamils plus another one I wrote many years ago. Way back when.

halcanada81 wrote:

https://www.amazon.ca/Black-Russian-Hal-Hickton/dp/1481014935 and Tusks to Tamils plus another one I wrote many years ago. Way back when.

Credit to you & Daz etc Hal I say, for having a bash as such type of thing . Your reviews there     brought back fond memories of my Jules Gallez's books on pigeons I still have down here as he also had no spell check back then it appears to get his message across in the proper manner/way also . End of the day thou, it all mattered little to me here at the time as I still found them all a wealth of knowledge & common sense come the end of the day fortunately, on average. & take care

Often said that there is a good book in everyones capabilities.

Unfortunately they are wrong in my case would not know where to start.

Good job there are those that can my wife reads hundreds as does many of her friends who exchange etc;

When young I could not put a book down until I had finished reading it.

Never read one other than the best book ever written and others pigeon related for years.

Regards.

MISTY wrote:

Often said that there is a good book in everyones capabilities.

Unfortunately they are wrong in my case would not know where to start.

Good job there are those that can my wife reads hundreds as does many of  her friends who exchange etc;

When young I could not put a book down until I had finished reading it.

Never read one other than the best book ever written and others  pigeon related for years.

Regards.

With my book Misty you would require the best of code breaker types I suggest & even that wouldn't help I'm I suspect. Put a pen in my hand here now & I sadly enter a strange world of total confusion, trying to understand what I'm actually attempting to write about most times here even on a good day now .
*****

Knackered wrote:

halcanada81 wrote:

https://www.amazon.ca/Black-Russian-Hal-Hickton/dp/1481014935 and Tusks to Tamils plus another one I wrote many years ago. Way back when.

Credit to you & Daz etc Hal I say, for having a bash as such type of thing . Your reviews there     brought back fond memories of my Jules Gallez's books on pigeons I still have down here as he also had no spell check back then it appears to get his message across in the proper manner/way also . End of the day thou, it all mattered little to me here at the time as I still found them all a wealth of knowledge & common sense come the end of the day fortunately, on average. & take care

Never read a review. I refused to pay for publishing the 3 of them. So did not know what happened to them. Do not really care. Was a diversion to write at that time. Never kept a copy etc,. Done and long forgotten. Just checked Google ater reading the post from Daz. Surprised!

Having a go at anything out of ones real limitations is a real challenge and the ratings were not too bad Hal.

If I were to attempt to write a book (way out of my abilities) I would call it, How Man Ruined The World.

Trouble is there would not be enough paper to facilitate it.

Regards.