Restoration

Gazing at the book in my hands, it had been repaired in the past, layer upon layer of silver fabric tape garishly ugly in appearance, though it had provided good protection. Further repeated use caused cloth to again break away from board and spine, pages had begun once again to drop away from the cloth binding. However the book had been handled carefully.

Sitting at my workbench I carefully tugged one tiny piece of dried fabric tape at a time. No rushing, tiny tug here, gentle peel there, continually watching to see how the many previous repairs had been added. Eventually, partially dismantled, the original book lay before me, I started the slow task of re gluing soft cloth which holds the book together back down to the spine and resealing where it was starting to peel away from the front and back covers.

All that had been lost in the dismantling process was the spine, took time to fashion a new one from card and tissue backed binders cloth.

With everything glued and clamped I finally went to bed. The glue needed to dry, then all that was left with a steady hand was silver lettering on the new spine.

The book ready again for daily chorister use in the choir stalls.

Heron at CherryHinton Hall

Not a long walk but enough to stretch the legs. At half way I paused to draw Master Heron standing lazily amongst the reeds. Resting, recharging, awaiting his next meal? Flapped lazily away as two moorhens dashed past brushing my shoulder!

I looked back to see what had spooked them, a spaniel leaping through the undergrowth, maybe thinking of an early lunch. He was called back by his master.

The Story of Zacheus

©️ Dominic Barton Aug2022

Good with numbers and very small

He’d take your money, keeping almost all

Made him rich, and very poor

all that cash, no friends any more

 

Ate like a king, drank the best wine,

Lived in a  palace, thought he was fine

But no one to talk to, no one to chat,

Began to realise he was a bad lad.

 

He heard about Jesus, miracles he’d done,

The man who reckoned he was Gods son!

Zach ran out the house desperate to see

Couldn’t see through the crowds so he climbed up a tree.

Looked to the left then to the right,

Then straight ahead, the guy walked into sight

‘Jesus’ he shouted, ‘Jesus I’m here!’

‘Come to my house for tea and a beer’

 

The crowds gasped in horror, they couldn’t believe,

Jesus accepted, they gasped and seethed!

So to Zach’s big house went Jesus to feast

Zach listened and followed Jesus in a heart beat.

So Zach changed his life, he’d heard and took heed

Gave back his money, more than he’d stolen in greed.

Now Zach was a pauper, he’d thousands of friends

The best sort of tale, be blessed, The End.

Introducing Zacheus.

May I introduce you to Zacheus, a very LITTLE man. He lived in Israel in a very big house. He was a very rich man.

He made his money collecting taxes for the Roman emperor, more than was due – and he’d steal the difference and put it in his own pocket. Zacheus was definitely not a nice man.

And because of this he had no friends at all!

But he did have an awful lot of stuff.

A Tree Stump With a Difference

©️ By Dominic Barton Tue27Sept2022

CCW Story from Three Words 20 Minute Challenge:

PawPrints, Telephone, Football

No surprise, I was out for one of my walks away from the busyness of town pushing my way through dense woodland undergrowth.

At first it had been a wide trail gradually thinning to a barely discernible byway. Indeed the only reason I could follow the trail were evenly spaced paw prints.

Pushing through the bramble branches I entered a clearing. How odd – seemed well tended. In the centre topping a tree stump a candlestick telephone rang!

Well if it rings, you have to don’t you. Rude not to!

I lifted the candlestick in one hand and placed the speaker to my ear with t’other. “Hello!”

The phone replied, “Climb onto the stump.” I did.

Immediately the stump descended down a shaft.

Down down down, oddly I was not surprised.

The stump stopped in a well lit cavern, across the way rabbits, mice and badgers were playing a muddy game of football…

Chas’ Holiday Hero

©️ By Dominic Barton Thu1Sep2022

Chas loved coming to Norfolk on holiday with his family. They all had fun together.

What would they do today, play on the beach? Climb and crawl and jump and swing in the Jungle Gym? Swim in the pool or jump waves in the sea? There was so much to be done.

Thump!

“What’s that noise?” Sounded like the roof!

As Chas opened the door he saw something drop and disappear under the caravan! Chas jumped out quickly, dropped to his knees and peered under.

He gasped!

He blinked!

He rubbed his eyes!

What was Spider-Man doing under his caravan?

Poor Spider-Man had hurt himself. He was trying to rest.

Chas poked Spider-Man. “Do you need help?”

Spider-Man did, he needed to rest all day to get better. He wanted someone to do his job, swinging through the town and helping wherever needed.

Chas thought he could do that, but wanted his family to help too. It would be fun together.

Spider-Man lifted his arm and started to fire thread from his wrist. Very quickly he made four Spider-Man costumes, one each for Chas , Chas’ sister and his Mum and Dad. Spider-Man went to bed.

Chas and his family spent the whole day swinging from tall buildings and helping people. He was pleased, they had so much fun together.

That evening they got back to the caravan. After Spider-Man had said thank you he went off again. But he left behind their costumes. They never could fly and swing in them again, instead they hung these in their wardrobe to be reminded of the day they helped Spider-Man.

Chas would often try his on.

Skimming

Jon ran to the lake. Thirty years since he’d been this way. Could he still do the right thing!? He carefully selected three pebbles from the shoreline. He knew he’d only get three chances.

Stepping to the water’s edge and drawing back his right hand he skilfully whizzed the first pebble out across the water directly toward a protruding rock. Nine bounces. It missed.

Hefting his second stone in the palm of his hand and checking his target he let loose. Bullseye, only seven bounces. One more try!

With careful concentration he drew back his hand and let fly. The pebble skimmed low across the lake. One bounce, two and three. Direct toward that jutting rock, four, five, six. Slowing now, seven bounces, eight and thud.

Eight bounces and his pebble had hit its mark. That should surely do….

Looking out across the lake bubbles appeared. Jon held his breath… he had waited a long long time to meet his oldest dearest friend. The Loch Ness Monster dripped water from his smiling face.

Jon clambered onto his back, they swam out, then down. Who knows, maybe for tea, a chat, adventures unknown.

Insomniac

One two… six seven.. sixty seventy! Neither eyelid slumped, sleep didn’t come.

The previous night thunder crashed across the sky, I didn’t stir. Yet in tonight’s hush my mind buzzed. Every creak the old house offered rocketed through my mind.

Grabbing my journal and pencil, words scribbled on the page with a bare minimum of thought. In the morning I’d read this jumble back before binning my masterpiece.

There is a saying, infinite monkeys in typewriters in their randomness may eventually produce a Complete Works of Shakespeare.

Imagine the cacophonous clack of keys!

Moments before drifting slumberwards, /Publish and Send/

Dawn

Peering through the flap I could see Muntjac graze hedgerows. Rabbits lolloped along hopeful for juicy treats. Soon I’d stir, for the moment though content, watching as night changed to day.

Dawn

Too soon this peaceful scene would break. Holiday trippers heading for the beach or café, day visitors tumbling from buses or arriving in cars, shouting, laughing, all enjoying the sun. Good for business I suppose, providing badly needed village income.

Soon I rose, breakfasted and broke camp. Leaving not a trace before even the farmer was abroad I travelled on. How far along the coast would I hike today?

My Pencil and I

Pencil always treads the path beside me, instantly ready, doodling a sketch, scrawling a note, a letter, a novel or an unforgettable idea. Without his help these would be forgot. So thank you little pencil, thank you little friend.

On a Hike

Of course he once was so much bigger. Unlike you and I, in time though, thousands of doodles, millions of words scrawled across page and scraps. Pencil’s wisdom and usefulness has grown. He’s shrunk now, to less than an inch tall!

Before he disappears into Sharpener for the last time, enough for just a few more.

So carry on making your mark my friend, I can honestly say, you have been my bestest pencil ever. Such a good thing that when you arrived, you arrived in a pack of ten.