Excerpts From Ronnie's Stories
From "Meadomsley Days"
Like most country folks, they couldn't cut their farming ties and so they kept a pig - Blossom - to fatten, and a yard full of hens. It was a quaint old house built of small red bricks made in ancient times.
What remained of the farm had that comforting smell of permanence, the tangible memory of deep roots, settled customs, and country manners.
From "Alfie Cleaving"
Alfie's mission was not to make the world a better place, but to make men better equipped to live in it.
He was no philosopher, and, as far as I could tell, he had no political philosophy or agenda. He was a denizen of the real world at the point where you muster your wits to survive, or else submit and go under
From "And the Band Played On"
Yet when the laughter is not stilled, and the band plays on in the cozy bright-lit theatre of life, there is many be a broken heart locked outside in the cold, dark emotional wasteland, whose pain is made more profound and less bearable by the echoes of those whose merriment continues in insensitive to those broken lives that scuttle through mists, afraid to leave the shadow for the light, and shunning human contact, of whose benison they feel unworthy.
From 'Brickyard Cricket'
Brickyard Cricket is between all those who are not the one person batting at any given moment and the rest of the players. There are no teams. Any number can play and there is no provision that anyone has to be gentle. The fundamental premise is, 'Get them out, or knock them out!'
In cases of severe injury, there is no stopping the game, no assistance from first-aiders even if they are playing next to the potential corpse, and no whimpering. The game must go on regardless!