Gunter’s Strange Story

Bagshaw and Wood discovered him. – Bagshaw and Wood? Yes sir, the Solicitors. He was hiding in their sculpture garden … at the back of their office. Well, the secretary really, she was out there emptying the tea-pot down the drain because the electricity had been cut off when she accidentally disturbed a hidden wasps nest, she was stung several times before she got back inside to safety. She looked out through the cellar window to see this red-headed boy screaming for help as the wasps were all over him. The flower seller next door knew about these things, he turned his hose on them and they all fled leaving him writhing on the ground. I looked at him; he was the orphan boy who had gone missing last year from the convent in Wapping. Even now he wasn’t about to be so easily captured, gritting his teeth he jumped over the fence into old UFO’S garden. UFO? Yes sir, so-called because he had a run-in with a UFO one dark morning flying above Commercial Road. He was walking back from his night job in Shoreditch and it following him, early one morning. A bright red ball, he stopped and looked around and there it was behind him against the western sky, late one morning. It came nearer to him as he stood there. I woke up in my bed above the office, disturbed by something and I looked out of the window and there they were: bright red UFO and our man. Then I saw it vanish, quick as the click of a camera. Yea, this part of Commercial Road you know, strange things have happened, you know sir, yes sir. Once a gypsy came selling lavender sprigs down the road and around the back, he was hungry sir. No one would buy anything from him. The next night Gerry hit round the back with a parcel of bombs. The old pub was saved that’s all I care about. The secret police came after the word got out, that is, about the UFO. Proper interrogation, tied to a chair, they concluded me and ’im was barmy. Now, this red-headed boy appears in the garden again, next night he was seen in a neighbour’s garden late at night, then another neighbour and another, police were called. Nobody could catch him. Then he seemed to be in two gardens at once, then the whole side of our street saw him, then … one strange night he appeared in everybody’s garden at once, staring at everyone staring back, then all of ‘em vanished as quick as the click of a camera.
The local reporter came round at least, but he wasn’t the real one. He questioned me. Ere who are you? I asked him. He winked at me, I was gone, and I left ‘im in the street. He disturbed me no end, this impersonator. Then Bagshaw of Bagshaw and Wood had a strange dream about me, sir, that I was an impersonator and that I was not who I said I was. But sir, honestly I am who I am. – I got sacked the next morning, they couldn’t take the chance of me not being me …

The Elizabethan galleon the Revenge

The first time I heard of this seafaring story I was amazed. I copied this from Wikipedia.

Revenge came to her end in a glorious but bizarre episode that has become a legend. In order to impede a Spanish naval recovery after the Armada, Sir John Hawkins proposed a blockade of the supply of treasure being acquired from the Spanish Empire in America by a constant naval patrol designed to intercept Spanish ships. Revenge was on such a patrol in the summer of 1591 under the command of Sir Richard Grenville.

The Spanish had dispatched a fleet of some 53 ships under Alonso de Bazán, having under his orders Generals Martín de Bertendona and Marcos de Aramburu. Intent upon the capture of the English at Flores in the northern Azores. In late August 1591 the Spanish fleet came upon the English while repairs to the ships caused the crews, many of whom were suffering an epidemic of fever, to be ashore. Most of the ships managed to slip away to sea. Grenville who had many sick men ashore decided to wait for them. When putting to sea he might have gone round the west of Corvo island, but he decided to go straight through the Spaniards, who were approaching from the eastward.

The battle began late on 31 August, when overwhelming force was immediately brought to bear upon the ship, which put up a gallant resistance. For some time he succeeded by skilful tactics in avoiding much of the enemy’s fire, but they were all around him and gradually numbers began to tell. As one Spanish ship retired beaten, another took her place, and for fifteen hours the unequal contest continued. Attempts by the Spaniards to board were driven off. San Felipe, a vessel three times her size, tried to come alongside for the Spaniards to board her, along with Aramburu’s San Cristóbal. After boarding Revenge, San Felipe was forced to break off. Seven men of the boarding party died, and the other three were rescued by San Bernabé, which grappled her shortly after. The Spanish also lost the galleon Ascensión and a smaller vessel by accident that night, after they collided with each other. Meanwhile, San Cristóbal, which had come to help San Felipe, rammed Revenge underneath her aftcastle, and sometime later, Bertendona’s San Bernabé battered the English warship with heavy fire, inflicting many casualties and severe damage. The English crew returned fire from the embrasures below deck. When morning broke on 1 September, Revenge lay with her masts shot away, six feet of water on the hold and only sixteen men left uninjured out of a crew of two hundred and fifty. She remained grappled by the galleons San Bernabé and San Cristóbal, the latter with her bow shattered by the ramming. The grappling manoeuvre of San Bernabé, which compelled the English gun crews to abandon their posts in order to fight off boarding parties, was decisive in securing the fate of the Revenge.

“Out-gunned, out-fought, and out-numbered fifty-three to one”, when the end looked certain Grenville ordered Revenge to be sunk: “Sink me the ship, Master Gunner—sink her, split her in twain! Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain! “. His officers could not agree with this order and surrender was agreed by which the lives of the officers and crew would be spared. After assurance of proper conduct, and having held off dozens of Spanish ships, Revenge at last surrendered. The injured Grenville died of wounds two days later aboard the Spanish flagship.

The captured but heavily damaged Revenge never reached Spain, but was lost with her mixed prize-crew of 70 Spaniards and English captives, along with a large number of the Spanish ships in a dreadful storm off the Azores. The battle-damaged Revenge was cast upon a cliff next to the island of Terceira, where she broke up completely. Between 1592 and 1593, 14 guns of the Revenge were recovered by the Spanish from the site of the wreck. Other cannons were driven ashore years later by the tide, and the last weapons raised were salvaged as late as 1625.

The Volcanos of New Zealand

Auckland Field (New Zealand: 36.90S, 174.87E).
Auckland Field is a volcanic field with evidence of volcanic activity in the past 2,000 years

Mount Egmont (for John Percival, Second Earl of Egmont ((1711-1770)) (New Zealand: 39.30S, 174.07E).
Mount Egmont (8,261 ft. /2,518 m.) also known as Tananaki, is a stratovolcano that began forming over 70,000 years ago. Radiocarbon dating indicates eruptions from at least 3050 B.C. to 1500, with tree rings dating more recent eruptions in approximately 1655 and 1755.

Kaikone (New Zealand: 35.30S, 173.90E).
Kaikone – Bay of Islands (1,273 ft. / 388m.) is a volcanic field with indication of volcanic activity in the past 2,000 years.

Kaokohe-Bay of Islands (New Zealand: 35.30S, 173.90E)

Maroa (New Zealand: 38.42S, 176.08E).
Maroa (3,793 ft. / 1,156 m.) is a composed of calderas which have likely experienced volcanic activity in the past 2,000 years.

Mayor I. (New Zealand: 37.28S, 176.25E).
Mayor Island (1,165 ft. / 355 m.) is a Holocene shield volcano with no record of eruptions in historic time.

Okaataina (Maori oka, “to prick,” taina, “younger sibling”) (New Zealand: 38.12S, 176.50E).
Okataina (3644 ft. /1,111 m.) includes the Haroharo caldera and the Haroharo and Tarawera rhyolite dome complexes. The earliest recorded eruption occurred in 1886 from fissure vent Tarawera (Maori tara, “peak,” wera, “hot”), when 153 people died, buried by ash. All but six were Maoris. Four lost their lives in a 1903 eruption, and two in that of 1917. Most twentieth-century eruptions come from Echo Crater of Waimangu (Maori wai, “water”, mangu, “black”). The most recent eruption occurred in 1973.

Reporoa (Maori repo, “swamp”, roa, “long”) (New Zealand: 38.42S, 176.33E).
Reporoa (1,942 ft. /592 m.) is a caldera with likely volcanic activity in the past 2,000 years.

Rotorua (Maori roto, “lake”, rua, “second”) (New Zealand: 38.08S, 176.27E).
Roturua (2,484 ft. /1,757 m.) is a Pleistocene caldera with geysers.

Ruapehu (Maori rua, “hole,” “chasm,” pahu, “drum”) (New Zealand: 39.28S, 175.57E).
Ruapehu (9,174 ft. /2,797 m.) is an andesite stratovolcano and is the tallest mountain on North Island. The earliest recorded eruption occurred in 1861, but radiocarbon and ash layer datings indicate four eruptions before this; the first in approximately 7840 B.C. Since then there have been over 50 eruptions recorded, most recently in September of 1995. Although there was no eruption, 151 died in 1953 when the summit crater lake drained following the collapse of an ash barrier retaining it. A mudflow swept away part of Tangiwi Bridge just before the arrival of the Wellington-Auckland express. The locomotive, tender, and five cars plunged into the river.

Rumble I (New Zealand: 35.50S, 178.87E).
Rumble I (-3610 ft. /-1,100 m.) is one of five volcanic centres on White Island. There is evidence of activity in the last 10,000 years, but no record of historic eruptions.

Rumble II (New Zealand: 35.43S, 178.65E).
Rumble II (-2,890 ft. / -880 m.) is one of five volcanic centres on White Island. There is evidence of activity in the last 10,000 years, but no record of historic eruptions.

Rumble III (New Zealand: 35.74S, 178.48E).
Rumble III (460 ft. / -880 m.) is one of five volcanic centres on White Island. It is the most active volcano on the island with recorded eruptions in 1958, 1963, 1970, 1973 and most recently, in 1986.

Rumble IV (New Zealand: 36.22S, 178.05E).
Rumble IV (-1,480 ft. / -450 m.) is one of five volcanic centres on White Island. There is evidence of activity in the past 10,000 years, but no record of historic eruptions. Fumaroles have been detected at Rumble IV.

Rumble V (New Zealand: 36.14S, 178.05E).
Rumble V (-3,610 ft. / -450 m.) is one of five volcanic centres on White Island. There is evidence of activity in the past 10,000 years, but no record of historic eruptions. Fumaroles have been detected at Rumble V.

Taupo (Maori, “cloak”) (New Zealand: 38.82S, 176.00E).
Taupo (2,494 ft. / 760 m.) is a caldera. Radiocarbon datings reveal around 25 eruptions from approximately 9850 B.C. through 180 A.D., with ash layer dating showing a later eruption in A.D. 210. New Zealand was still uninhabited then, so there were no casualties. Although there was no eruption, 63 perished in 1846 when a mudflow destroyed the village of Te Heu Heu, a famous Maori chieftain.

Tongariro (Maori tonga “south wind,” riro “to come away”) (New Zealand: 39.13S, 175.64E).
Tongariro (6,487 ft. /1,978 m.) is a compound stratovolcano composed of several volcanic cones. The volcanic centre is largely composed of four andesite massifs: Kakaramea, Pihanga, Tongariro and Ruapehu. The Ngauruhoe (Maori nga, “the,” uru, “descendants,” hoe, “paddle”) is the youngest vent and the most active volcano in New Zealand. The earliest recorded eruption occurred in 1839. There have been nearly 70 eruptions since then, most recently in 1977.

Whale I. (New Zealand: 37.52S, 177.18E).
Whale Island (1,142 ft. / 348 m.) is a Pleistocene fumarole complex volcano with no record of eruptions in recent time.

White I. (New Zealand: 37.52S, 177.18E)
White Island (1,053 ft. / 321 m.) is the summit of two overlapping stratovolcanoes. The subject of Maori legends, the earliest recorded eruption occurred in 1826. There have been over 35 eruptions since then, making it one of New Zealand’s most active volcanoes. In 1914 an avalanche of debris killed 11 sulfur workers, although no actual eruption occurred then. The most recent eruption took place in June of 1995.

From the book: The Volcano Registry by Harris M. Lentz III

Who Rocks England Now: 1/ Working Routine

Who Rocks England Now
1/ Working Routine

I’m thinking of something new to do, possibly dangerous, not based in experience, almost experimental. A good working routine is scrapped but like a machine, any routine can be hazardous to a novice, like a machine that swallows someone’s hand and jams up. And emotionally a cold calculating working routine especially someone else’s imposed upon you is as easy to follow as a barbed-wire fence in no man’s land.

I’m just not capable of daily work routines. My mind and my heart are simply at war with each other and a daily work routine creates a no man’s land of exhausting battles.
The working routine I was thinking of is a social one. The one of peaceful direction, that goes with the ebb and flow of life and creates stability, in which you can work and grow. That isolates the inner problems and gives you a chance to deal with them, talk about them, get them under control.
Life is like a box meant to contain gold but is filled with trivia.
Get rid of the trivia find the gold.

2/ the Metal Spider in Love

In love: I have the voice of a dead dog on the bright cold full moon drowning. The dog comes to life without a belly, a vertebra, in a coarse hide of dog hair that groans quietly in the brown night, musky and sad-eyed.

In love: I am a hand full of salt thrown at a woman.
I have the voice of a black lacquered cardboard wireless sound cone, home of the metal spider.
Her long porcelain swan neck cracks, her eyes float off, they pierce into me.

In love: I am the bomb blasted bits of a body disintegrating into nothingness, with droplets of flesh and blood evaporating into the Nagasaki sun.

In love: I am the reflection cut out of the mirror with scissors and placed on a billboard where at the slightest touch of the wind that blows through the whole advertisement vanishes.

In love: I am a castle with a soldier on the battlements filling his bow with rubber arrows to fend off the elephant’s stone desires.
I crawl and scrawl through the city of dreams like half of a prickly casing of a sea urchin housing carried by a red muddy turtle.
How swollen together are the steel gates of my vocal cords, how chained to the wall are my kisses. How like a doormat is my heart – do not say “forever”.

A dream is a fire tool, but it needs special material to make it work afterwards; to make it merge with reality; to make it react with the magic of suggestive items; to blend its shadows into them; to hook up into the heart a new biological drive of abandoned motivations and lost hopes.

I remember the terror of seeing my father’s death often. I became like a wooden cabin wall surrounding him, then maybe I became a coffin, is he inside still dying, living, dying, living, dying and there is enormous grief, storm clouds of grief, horror, terror at the prospect of life-ending, that tomorrow comes too soon.

3/ The Feel Good Factor

The feel good factor of the feel-goods
Is something that the world should just spit on
When lovelessness like a short circuit in the brain
Is the cut that stops a person feeling sane

Before I got separated from the love I thought I knew
I thought I saw the other side of the hill
And there I saw the love I really thought I knew
And my heart is buried around there still

Now beer seems to make a small room feel much bigger
And beer also seems to slow down time
And beer seems to put off the day of disaster
And it seems to cushion the heart against love’s crime

Horse stealing used to be a favorite pastime
To watch the horses run was like a breath
I sold them to drink a lot of red wine
But horse stealing to some is deserving of dearth

Big sir what do I wish for
I wish for no responsibility
This love is a millstone I can’t carry
I’ve loved you but you didn’t love me

4/ Good Love Gone Bad

There’s a burden of love that won’t go away, so real I can taste it on my tongue touch it with my mind feel it in me like undigested frogs spawn.
The light green trees of light, of Ash, and the flowers of Horse Chestnut spikes makes me wish I could produce more art.
A general fear of death, dying, destruction is taking over.
Everywhere I look I see a countdown to some ending, some disturbing mystery probing me.

I am a burden of love, now I become what I cannot control.

I am a human sacrifice adrift on a sea of flames.
I am a ships radio officer adrift in a sea of light.
I am bad love gone unhealed for years in a sea covered in floating medicine bottles and naked female manikins.

A pair of nervous sparrows their feathers smudged in a darker colouring visited my little garden of wildflowers. They darted away like two spitfires between the hedge growth.