Category: Serialised

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“You have to go fishing in the right pond.”

“But we’re not in charge of pond building!”

In a low, gentle voice KristalClear says “you need to tell all of this to the Provost! If your Manx grandad ever comes to work here, he could improve our education system in Wolfland!”

Kayt’s confused, and zooms in on KristalClear, “that’s a bit deep isn’t it? When did you get into the business of restructuring government?”

To get their attention again Conning purposefully, and audibly, lays the palm of her right hand on top of the back of her left hand, and says wistfully, “where can CandiCrush find a man? Where can I find a man? Where can anybody find a man?”

“Traveller! What reward are you seeking?”

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“It comes to some of us at about sixteen he said, maybe a bit earlier, maybe a bit later. You don’t want to wait until you’re sixty to start being nice to people. He said, if you’re not there yet, young Conning, I just want to suggest a direction that you might choose to follow!”

“That’s some lecture!” says Kayt.

“Not really a lecture,” says Conning, “but perhaps it is. It’s a thought provoking story! Grandad said it’s his favourite story, passed down through the generations.”

Thankful that she managed to convey absolutely everything without too much hesitation, Conning sits down and the tears finally start to roll. She takes a handkerchief from her handbag, and starts dabbing her face. KristalClear and Kayt both dash forward to put their arms around her.

There’s gentle sobbing for a minute or two, and continued silence for another minute or two as the girls, individually, have dozens of thoughts running through their heads all vying for attention, all at the same time, in a haphazard jumble of conflicting priorities.

And nobody wants to be the first to speak.

Their mental capacity can barely cope.

What does Conning want? What does a good apple look like? Isn’t appearance important? Who is she thinking about?

Grandad? Some boy at school? Some girl at school? An older man in Lancaster? Somebody back home on Mannin?

It couldn’t be KristalClear could it? Or NutJob? Or the imaginary, ideal man for CandiCrush?

And, why? Why is all this thinking so stressful?

Conning is the first to speak.

Regaining her composure, she lifts her head, and tries to smile at her friends. Her long, medium ash brown hair is a bit of a tangled mess and her cheeks are flushed and rosy. She calmly closes with three more remarks, delivered in a resolute, determined, strong voice, as if to mimic the style of her grandfather.

“Where can people find responsible, compassionate, and understanding men?”

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What is wisdom,
If not love and support?
Traveller!
What reward are you seeking?

Half way through the recital a noticeable quiver developed in Conning’s voice. Working without a written text, and simultaneously translating from Manx into English was a near insurmountable struggle which has left her emotionally drained. However, Conning had been determined to deliver the entire poem without interruption, because it’s a metaphor for society, for friends, and for families. For life, the universe, and everything.

She surprised herself that she managed to keep going to the end. It was the fascination on her friends’ faces that kept her going. And although this is the end of the poem, it’s not yet the end of the fable.

“What is wisdom?” asks Conning.

Instantly KristalClear responds, “love and support, according to the fable!”

“Grandad told me the fable on my sixteenth birthday, and he asked me, how old do you need to be, to be wise?”

“Six? Sixteen? Sixty?”

The girls look at each other. Kayt is Manx and even she hasn’t heard this before. Conning is still emotional, trying to hold back some tears, and she’s determined to deliver this life lesson in full.

“How old do you need to be to give love and support?”

“Both love and support?”

“Grandad says that even some six year olds can do both, both love and support”

“And some six year olds can’t.”

“Some sixteen year olds still can’t do either of them!”

“It’s about support. Sensible, reliable, rational support. A three year old can be supportive and helpful. But not across the board. You have to be older than three, have a bit more knowledge, and a lot more maturity.”

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Along Langlish isthmus,
Atop Sniaull mountain,
None can be found,
Though venture the countryside,
And stumble upon one, you may.

A hardy fellow,
The wild apple tree,
Resolute, determined, strong,
As a general rule!

Though some may be weak,
Unloved,
Barely alive.

No matter which,
Study the environment,
The influences,
Taste the fruit,
Tart, not distasteful,

Sharp, not injurious,
Life sustaining indeed.

But is it rewarding?
Does it satisfy the soul?

What of your future apples?
Their character?
Their traits?
Suffer hardships?
Grow strong?
Grow weak?
Be cultured?
Be cursed?

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Conning is better connected, works part time with her parents’ shipbroking business, and at the moment she’s trying harder than Kayt to find a first proper gig for the duo.

“It’s not full of men,” says KristalClear, “according to CandiCrush it has a near perfect fifty fifty split, it’s just that she’s never met anybody suitable.”

Softening the tone of her voice she says, “tell me about grandad’s apples!”

Conning tries to remember the precise Manx fable. And tries hard to recite it all in English.

The Good Apples

Where can you find,
An apple tree?
In an orchard,
Where you sowed the seeds.
The best seeds,
From the best apples.

Selecting the best soil,
Watering the seeds,
Caring for the saplings,
Carefully cultivating them,
Responsibly and compassionately,
Keeping the pests at bay.

Using your wits to give them,
The best start in life,
Protecting them,
Until fully they grow,
And blossom,
And deliver their first fruits.

Done properly,
It’s a joy.

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Chapter 12
The Good Apples

“Where do you find good men?” asks KristalClear.

“Where do you find good apples?” replies Conning.

“Not apples! Men!”

“Where do you find good apples is something my grandad says,” explains Conning, “he’s a good man! Every year we go back to Mannin to visit family, and grandad has some brilliant ways of explaining things.”

Kayt joins in, “but I thought you’d found a good man? Haven’t you told NutJob yet? It’s obvious to everyone. When are you two going to start going out together?”

“Not me!” says KristalClear, “I’m talking about CandiCrush, she’s 33 years old and she’s still single. But what’s this thing with the apples?”

Before Conning can answer, Kayt butts in again.

“She’s in the Garisson,” says Kayt bluntly, “it’s full of men!”

Kayt likes to dominate love life conversations like this one. If she’s given half a chance, Kayt dominates all conversations, but especially ones about dreamy relationships.

Kayt and Conning are the best of friends. They’re Manx descendants and they’ve made a point of keeping up with their own native language. They’re also a singing partnership known as The Space Girls, because each of them repeatedly uses the catch phrase “don’t invade my personal space”.

Especially where boys are involved!

They claim that they don’t want to seek out romance just yet, but they’re excited to learn all they can from KristalClear. If any of the girls was going to find a proper, stable boyfriend, they wouldn’t have imagined that KristalClear would be first! She’s normal, unassuming, polite, and intelligent.

How she clicked with NutJob they just don’t know!

And anyway, they think NutJob’s not quite normal.

In The Space Girls it’s quietly acknowledged that Kayt is the better singer and dancer and that Conning is the brainy one.

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are hard to change. And you have only one chance to make a first impression.”

CandiCrush sighs, “it’s all about education!”

“Oh my word! You’re so wise! Why haven’t you found a man?”

In a half hearted shrug CandiCrush raises both her hands a little.

Then she raises her eyebrows, looks KristalClear directly in the eye, and says nothing. She’s trying to deliver the message, “the man conversation has ended,” and she feels that the most diplomatic way to do that is to lower her hands now, just sit still, do nothing, and say nothing.

Astonished, that at this moment she apparently has a better prospect of romance than CandiCrush, KristalClear wants to work out where people can find responsible, compassionate, and understanding men!

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awful little tribes. And even if some of the migrants weren’t Scousers, they were labelled ‘lowlifes’, they were farmers, construction workers, and factory labourers. Some of the people here in Wolfland detested them.”

“But you said ordinary police officers and soldiers too? Good people! There must have been teachers, and doctors, and engineers?”

“There were! And with our engineering heritage Wolfland is a stable place. Always has been. We have clean water too! You might describe us as solid, down to earth, honest, reliable people.”

“In Wolfland, and elsewhere, there were pressure groups that were worried that these migrants, all bringing their small family tribes with them, as part of a big alien culture, would change our way of life. There were protests calling on us to reject the ‘peasants’. They weren’t peasants though, they were ordinarily people like you and me, escaping a brutal, toxic regime.”

“But it all settled eventually?” asks KristalClear.

“It took more than a hundred years for the animosities to settle down. People had to be re-educated. It all comes down to education in the end. If you have blinkered people in charge of the education system you get a lop sided approach to learning. Repeating a misguided message simply reinforces it. Over time it amplifies it. People come to believe some things which have absolutely no basis in fact. And then they refuse to listen to reason. Because they’d been brainwashed.”

“Wolfland had its share of propaganda in education. Maybe it still does. You’ll need to ask the Provost why schools don’t teach you history properly. And Civics. Civics in school is too much about society’s structure and organisation, and not enough about society’s people! The curriculum needs to cover more, to cover responsibility, compassion, family life, duty and obligation. Maybe that’s not history, nor Civics, maybe that’s a new subject with a new name? It’s in the original Penrith Chronicles if you read them, I don’t remember it being in the school text book. Opinions and habits formed at an early age

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“Around 2200AD a new order was emerging.”

“In Wor and the other big cities, the senior officers in the security services noticed that people were no longer showing up for work. Then some of the senior officers left too. Police and army! Obviously some senior officers didn’t leave. They wouldn’t go, or they couldn’t go.”

“City halls and town halls had emptied. There was simply no local government. And central government ended up with rogue police and rogue army officers in charge. They had some really toxic people at all levels.”

“Across Worringfolk, local government evolved into a hammer. It’s useful for hitting a nail, and little else. If you really want a screwdriver or a spanner or a saw, your hammer is going to make a real mess of the job.”

“Once one rogue boss cemented his control over one town, it all snowballed. It seemed like a last chance for the good ones to escape. So more left. Leaving behind an even worse crowd of scoundrels. The people who didn’t get out were swallowed up by a corrupt regime.”

KristalClear is totally gobsmacked, and looks on in complete astonishment, “you mean there were literally thousands and thousands of people coming into Wolfland, and Meirionydd?”

“Anywhere that had high ground, anywhere with abundant fresh water. Quality streams and rivers. The favourite destinations were the Lake District and Eryri. Welsh was already coming back into favour back then, although English speakers were able to fit in OK. It caused a bit of local animosity, but what could they do? The Cedyrn and the Wolfies accepted a lot of refugees.”

“They’d have to!” exclaims KristalClear, “you can’t just send people back to a wicked and corrupt regime.”

“Oh, some people tried!”

“Even in Lancaster there was resistance to the newcomers. Big demonstrations, protest marches! The migrants were Scouse speakers, different people, different customs, coming to steal our jobs they said. They were a wicked big tribe full of

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police and the army for example.”

“Now think of Worringfolk. All the good people in Worringfolk were moving out, and of course the police and army contained a lot of good people.”

“Some ordinary police officers decided to move. And ordinary soldiers. They crossed the nearest border. The new internal borders of the British Isles were becoming obvious. Some police and soldiers moved because their entire local communities were moving … to join the Peakies towards Derby, or the Pennites in what was once Yorkshire. Or they moved south to join the Potters around Stoke. Many of the people who lived in Worringfolk came here to Wolfland, and some went to Meirionydd.”

KristalClear listens intently and says, “this was never taught at school in history lessons! Nor in Civics! This is mass migration! This is a refugee crisis, right here, in the British Isles!”

“Yes!” says CandiCrush, “and do you know what a bunch of refugees looks like?”

“No!”

“The Garrison does. The Garrison is usually their first point of contact, and because there is nobody else doing refugee management, the Garrison is left to figure out how to care for them. Food, water, bedding and shelter.”

CandiCrush continues, “if the total refugee population was just 1,000 people, then 333 would be children. Each of them in need of protection! Sending them back where they came from would be inhumane.”

“What did the government do?”

“The central government in London was already collapsing. The Thames was flooding the city more often. Clean drinking water had become an expensive luxury. Like everybody else, government workers simply walked out of their jobs, literally walked, and they carried on walking in search of safe land, and safe drinking water.”

“I know more about Wolfland and Worringfolk than I do about London, so let’s focus on the local geography.”

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