蜜芽传媒

Kate Smith could not by any stretch of the imagination be regarded as athletic. Her rotund figure simulated the stacking of three Christmas puddings on top of each other. In descending sizes, atop of which was crowned with a large knot of hair held in place by a hairnet and four long hatpins.
Each morning precisely at seven o clock she could be seen swaying from side to side with a slow ungainly step along the entry leading to the toilet in the large party yard, the soil compacted center of which was devoid of even a minute blade of grass. The low wall at the furthest distance from the door was some fifteen feet away and on its reverse side, a drop of ten feet awaited any foolish wall vaulter.
At the age of seventy two it was generally accepted that her days of chasing away the local lads in the street, when they made too much noise beneath her window, was well and truly over, yet she was respected for her javelin like ability to hurl her yard brush at any youth who dared to cheek her, for she often scored a bulls eye.
The war was now in it鈥檚 second full year and Christmas 1941 was to be one of austerity, unless of course one had ample money to obtain luxury products from the black market. This however was not available to the village like people, living in the heavy industrial area of Spon Lane. West Bromwich.
In order to survive and to help the war effort every scrap of food and material was utilized, being used over and over again. Consequently chained to each light neutered gas lamp in the streets were large silver coal ashbins, not containing coal however but discarded leftovers from every meal table in the street.
Each week generally late in the evening the pony and cart could be heard rumbling along from lamppost to lamppost accompanied by the clang of sound as each lid was thrown into the cobbled gutter, followed by the sloshing of the foul smelling rotting remains of the contents of the bin as it slid into the cart, followed yet again with a clang as the lid was replaced. During this brief time no one entered into the vicinity of the street from their homes and all made sure their windows and doors were tightly fastened for the smell sort out even the smallest crack resulting in a cacophony of coughs and splutters by all within any of the premises.
The effort was however accepted with patience, for at each six month intervals the council run pig farm situated at 鈥淲asson鈥� on the outskirts of the town provided each area with a large quantity of pig meat, being the nature regurgitated product of the material from the lamppost bins. The day before Christmas Eve was the anniversary date of sharing the spoils with the Pig Club.
It began with a large white highly scrubbed wooden table being placed within the front room of the local self-appointed official, who announced to all that the division and distribution of the meat was to be at midday and an orderly queue would be required to form outside of his front door and one at a time each female participant of the 鈥淧ig Club鈥� would be allowed to enter to obtain her share.
The street was bare not a soul could be seen but from each window the peering hungry half starved look of every female ready to pounce upon her pray was evident. As the lorry turned into the street at eleven o clock, in unison each curtain at every window twitched back some two inches and solemn faces adorned with headscarves watched its progress to the appointed establishment.
The large finger on the Holy Trinity Church clock inched its way forward indicating the time was now five minutes to twelve, simultaneously each front door of every house rattled and shimmered as doorknobs turned. The exodus resembled the start of the prewar Grand National as the mass of bodies assembled at the door of the temporary butchers shop.
As the church clock struck the appointed time the door opened allowing the first recipient to enter to collect her allocated amount of meat and return into the street. With eyes aglow and a smile on her face, to hurry back to the sanctuary of her abode with her prize, for the meat represented the opportunity of a reasonable Christmas dinner.
Kate having made sure she was well placed at the head of the queue gratefully collected her ration and carefully wrapped the meat in a clean apron and carried it triumphantly to her home.
It was a single room and contained a small gas stove in one corner, which was next to the open black leaded fireplace. In the center of the room was a polished table with two chairs. Kate took down the large meat plate from the rack above the stove and placed the meat, still wrapped in the apron upon it. Putting the plate in the middle of the table and after positioning the large carving knife next to the plate, she picked up the large cast iron saucepan and left the room to go to the brewhouse to get some clean water so she that could prepare the meat for cooking.
The smell of fresh-butchered meat had not only attracted the human form of animal but also those of the four legged kind. Quietly with suspicion several cats and dogs sat at relative advantage points from which they could watch the antics of the humans. Even so the cats were careful not to get too close to the dogs for most had escaped on several occasions just by the skin of their teeth.
The big large tabby sat quietly aloof from its companions contented to watch from its perch above the brewhouse. Unconcerned it watched Kate enter the brewhouse doorway through its ever-widening green eyes. The moment had arrived for which it had been waiting all morning, slinking off the roof using the drainpipe to hide its movement; it gained the bare floor of the yard.
Standing perfectly still it surveyed the surrounding area and heard the tone of the increasingly filling pot. In a flash it bounded forward using the power stored in its hind legs. Across the yard skidding into the entry, it turned into the doorway half way down. Stopping it sniffed the air and surveyed the scene inside the room. Not seeing any human movement it began its dash for the table containing the plate of meat.
David Smith, Kate鈥檚 husband lay on the low level couch, which was situated beneath the only window looking out into the street from the room. A veteran of the First World War and being one of the infamous German gas attack victims, he was unable to move without coughing, also he was determined he would not be caught out again and during the daytime consistently wore his ex army steel helmet.
Opening one eye he met the gaze of the animal as it made its bounding leap. The cat landed upon the polished table and skidded along the surface, digging in its claws and gouging eight ruts through the polished veneer surface. As it passed, its teeth snatched at the slab of pork, securing a hold, continued on its way in the direction of David鈥檚 couch. Realising the declining distance was not to its advantage the animal produced yet again a powered leap from its hind legs.
Both pork and cat left the table and landed upon a chair giving it the opportunity to reverse its travelling direction, whence it began the dash to the door and freedom, with the meat and its apron鈥檚 strings flowing behind as triumphant banners.
The shining cats eyes flung David鈥檚 memory and time back to the slit trench on the Somme. The eyes of his enemy were lunging over the edge towards him. Its him or me ran the reasoning through his brain. Screaming out he made a grab for the bayonet and flung it at the eyes.
From the table had disappeared the large sharp carving knife and was enroute following the cat Kate having colleted the water, quickly walked the short distance to the door, which had begun to slowly close. At the time of conjunction between the cat with the pork on one side of the door and Kate on the opposite side, the knife having been predetermined arrived at that very moment, pierced the center panel of the door leaving some six inches of bright silver steel protruding from the outer surface within two inches from Kate鈥檚 head.
The resulting scream heralded the beginning of the great race. The cat continuing it鈥檚 corkscrewing motion shot through the available space into the entry and into the street. 鈥淒am fool,鈥� Kate yelled, as she dropped the pot full of water and realised the cat was making off with their Christmas dinner. Turning on her heels she gave chase after the cat.
The chain of the recent events brought everything to a standstill in the street, the remaining members of the queue parted into two lines either side of the roadway as a cat, complete with festooning apron string banners, raced between their ranks, followed by a rather over plump elderly female with skirts held high revealing a pair of red knitted wrinkled stockings held in position by two wide bands of tied black elastic, around legs and feet rotating like a ships engines piston rods.
Despite its agility the cat鈥檚 ability did not cater for a determined experienced female who for the better part of her life had been in service as a kitchen maid in one or another of the great army establishments.
Kate鈥檚 hand moved with the dexterity of a Bengal Lancer as it removed one of the large hatpins from its hiding place and deposited it with a full life threatening thrust in the rump of the cat. The target having been achieved caused the animal to open its mouth to scream its pain and drop the slab of pork, complete with apron still wrapped around it, into the street.
Kate ground to a halt having completed the one hundred yards dash, some say, equal to or better than the sprinter who鈥檇 won the gold medal at the Olympic games before the war.
Prince who was amusingly watching the events, whilst dozing on the footpath at the end of the street, could not believe his luck as the cat complete with a large red knobbed hat pin sticking out of its backside catapulted into his paws, something he鈥檇 wanted ever since that cat stole his dinner last week, no one could have given him a better Christmas present.
As usual Kate鈥檚 cooking produce an excellent Christmas dinner, which both she and David enjoyed and each washed it down with a bottle of beer, which had mysteriously appeared at their door on Christmas Eve, with a note around its neck announcing it was first prize for a jolly good Christmas pantomime.
END

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