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Going bump in the night since 2011

Issue no.

51

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Let us spray

s the months roll by since the vast swathe of space between the Square and Middle Street was razed, speculation on what would rise from the rubble has been rife. Sadly, the Phase 2 Space (as it is known) has still not attracted a developer, despite oodles of council cash being splashed on consultants.

Anyone arriving by bus or tram therefore gets a poor aspect of Beeston when approaching: much like the preTesco wilderness that once blighted the space opposite less than a decade ago. It’s not a good look, and leads to a vicious circle: if the area looks run-down, it’s unlikely to find a developer. If it can’t find a developer, it will look more run-down. And so on.

We therefore were cheered by the innovation recently shown by a bunch of Beestonians, who banded together and put forward a proposal to give the drab parts of Beeston a boost with street

art - creating murals across the bits of Beeston that do not reflect the vibrancy and strangeness within: think the wall running down Phase 2; the ‘Birds’ wall on Station Road, etc. Jeanie O’Shea, one of the project’s initiators, said: “We hope to transform the area with vibrant street artwork, perhaps depicting famous Beestonians mingling among the old town centre buildings that were demolished for the current 70s structure, or similar. There are great possibilities.”

They’ve been brainstorming ideas for some time, taking inspiration from Bristol, Nottingham’s Lace Market and numerous other places. What would suit us, bearing in mind this is Broxtowe, not the Bronx? To make it happen, they need YOUR support. The Beestonian is very happy to give their support to this innovative, low-cost idea: you can too by going on to Facebook, joining the group ‘Beeston Street Art Festival’ and becoming part of the debate.

Let’s paint the town red. And if we can afford another spray can, some other colours.

MT

I Am Beeston Y

ou may remember last summer, we ran a series of photographs on our Facebook page featuring people who lived, worked or studied in Beeston. This was in response to the dreadful racial attacks that were, and are still taking place post Brexit vote. We wanted to show, and did very successfully, what a peaceful, integrated and generally wonderful place that Beeston is.

Gary Thomas “People will know me as the owner of Mish Mash at the Creative Corner. They can also see me pottering around the site keeping it neat and tidy”.

“I was born in Beeston, although I have lived in Mapperley and Breaston. I love the feeling that the town is something special, full of enthusiastic people. The Blue Plaque scheme is great”.

“The one thing that does annoy me are people who drop litter. I would like to see more public art and I think the new ‘Beeston’ sign on Lower Road should have been bigger and not just angled in such a way that only the tram passengers can see it”.

CDF

So we thought we would bring it back. Our roving photographer Christopher Frost has been out and about around our town and looking for more people to feature and share their views..

University of Beestonia

T

he spires at the University of Beestonia are dreaming; and the dreams are nightmares…

OK, so that’s over-egging it a little bit, but it’s probably fair to say no one’s sleeping particularly soundly, there’s something out there causing a fair degree* of restlessness.

Our brightest and best minds are searching for the cause of this unease, but if you read around there’s much being written about the battle for the soul of our universities at the moment.

T’internet (2017) defines the prefixes superand para- as something beyond, or apart from, amongst other possible meanings, so when we add these to words like natural or normal what are we discussing?

During my time working in universities I’m not sure that a natural or normal state of things has actually ever existed, so defining what is beyond those is also a little tricky.

Time does not stand still, things do change, some we can influence and some we can not, but, and before I turn completely into Baz Luhrmann talking about sunscreen, recently those changes are pushing - probably wrong tense - have pushed universities into a place where logic does appear, at least at times, otherworldly.

In our new normal, and that’s a strange term too, given this issue’s focus on the para-normal, and I’ll come back to my point, but if para-normal is some kind of inexplicable parallel type of universe, how long do conditions have to change for before they become the new normal? When is the tipping point between para- and new-, is it definable? I’d be interested to know if anyone’s worked on this…

Back to a point, in our new normal we are too often torn between which policy we are meant to drive for, student fees have been increased again recently in our current, to me at least bizarre, political reality, our democratic system means we will leave the group of nations which provide a substantial amount of our research funding… the list goes on.

Whether these things are normal, or beyond it, I’m not sure but in the mean time mind the seagulls and sleep well my friends…

Prof J *oh look, unintentional HE pun (Lord B would be proud, or horrified…)

The Yorkshireman Speaks

This month the Yorkshireman takes on pets, audience etiquette, noise and sneaky toddlers.

A new addition to the family As a family of four my wife and I thought that two children would be enough. Our house is already jammed to the rafters with mountains of soft toys and plastic landfill; I had to circumnavigate a course of Duplo blocks this very morning just to relieve my bladder.

This all changed however, when last week my wife told me she wanted another, and this time we decided to adopt. It was a big decision but last week I found myself getting ready to welcome the latest addition to the family. We fell in love with him straight away, he’s from Beeston, he’s called “Squidger” and he’s a goldfish. My daughter desperately wanted a pet so naturally we started with Dog then gradually worked backwards until we compromised with a goldfish; it was either that or a worm from the garden.

When I was a lad I remember getting a goldfish, I say getting I actually mean “winning.” Whenever the fair came to town, I’d go out with a fiver, lose a filling on a toffee apple, throw up my burger on the waltzers and come home with a live pet in a plastic bag. No one really knew what they were doing; you just got it home, stuck it in a Tupperware, called it Alan and left it on the windowsill to die. Dad would then have to go out and replace him with Alan MK2, who looked identical and then pretended that nothing was wrong. We had one for years, he was like some sort of aquatic Bruce Forstyth and he grew to a huge size. Frankly he was too big for the tank; it was like a human trying to swim in a foot spa. I half expected to come home one day to find Alan kicking back with his fins out of the tank, wearing a dressing gown, swigging brandy and smoking a cigar.

Thankfully this has all changed; you now have to be assessed to see if you are responsible enough to allow Alan into your home. I thought it was ironic that the human I was buying this fish for was less well planned than the fish itself, but that’s just the way it is.

We set up the tank a week before Squidgers arrival. Gravel had to be washed thoroughly, the water treated and a sample taken back to the garden centre to be tested in the lab. We were asked questions about where we were putting the tank and told what meals to give Squidger and how often. I’m pleased to say we passed with flying colours and Squidger is settling in well. They’ve said we need to go back in a month to assess how he is “getting on with everything” but so far so good.

He’s not sleeping because he’s a goldfish, so the bedtime story drags on a bit, but apart from that he’s great. He loves the film Finding Nemo and has already got his 50M swimming badge after only one lesson. Sometimes it can get awkward however, last night we had fish

and chips and had to eat them in the shed, it just didn’t feel right.

But I’m on the phone As a performer I love being on stage, there in the moment, connecting with the audience.

However over the years I’ve started to notice something, people are utterly ruled by their mobile phones. It’s getting to the point where you have to make a decision as an act to stop and deal with it or ignore it completely. I will often look out into the crowd and you’ll see that one person, face lit up like a low budget E.T, as they paw at their screens in the darkness. If you do confront them, they can often look at you as if to say, “but I’m on my phone?” It’s a strange phenomenon.

I’ve been at the theatre and someone in the audience has facetimed a friend to do a live video. I doubt that Shakespeare ever dreamt that one day the majesty of the line “to be or not to be” would be punctuated by the beep of an Iphone and a tiny voice from Wigan asking someone to angle the screen so they could see Prince Hamlets Jacobean ruff. I watched some you tube videos of concerts from 1995 the other night, yes the sound and picture quality was poor but the crowd certainly wasn’t. They were all facing forwards, all united in that moment and not a mobile phone to be seen; pure nostalgic bliss.

Shhhhhhhhhh!

As I sit and type this article I am working my way through my evening bowl of cereal, a regular night time treat and my wife is scowling at me. It’s not the fact that I’m using all the milk, it’s because the chomping and tinkling noises I’m making are getting on her nerves. Since the arrival of the new baby,

noise, or should I say, and I’m whispering as I do, the reduction of it, has become the number one priority at Bennett towers. We always argue about it, which we have to do via sign language of course, which often looks like two angry mime artists facing off in an argument over territory in Covent Garden.

I can’t eat an apple after 7pm, because I sound like a racehorse having its breakfast, I get told to turn the television down before I’ve even switched it on which is frankly impossible and all the creaky floorboards in the house have been marked out like a chalk line around a murder victim.

It’s getting to the point where I am considering suspending myself from the rafters, on wires like a scene from mission impossible just to make a brew. I’ve tethered cushions to my feet using the belts from my trousers and if I ever need to cough or sneeze I have two options, run into the garden and unload into the wheelie bin or reduce the outburst by plunging my head into the fish tank and letting it out underwater. The medical term for this is called Misophonia, which literally translated means “hatred of sounds.” There really should be more awareness of this condition but probably no one would be allowed to talk about it. Interestingly my wife has no issue with our one year old playing a drum or the six year old stomping round the house in tap shoes blowing a kazoo and wearing a skirt made from bubble wrap, so I can’t help wondering if it’s just me.

Sneaky toddler Our one year old is on the move now, bounding round the house like a borrower on speed. Every day is like a baby version of the film Final Destination, corners of coffee tables are missed by a whisker, and an open stair gate is pounced upon like a prisoner looking to breakout. Frankly it’s an achievement that we get her through a day unscathed. The latest hobby she has is to take our essential items, house and car keys, watches, jewelry and scatter them throughout the house.

We’ve found remote controls in the bin this week and I couldn’t get my trainers on today as they were full of loose change a wallet and a angrily chewed Duplo brick. It’s like having a tiny gangster living with us who has been tipped off last minute about a raid from the drug squad and desperately shedding their stash of gear. If I see my daughter passing small parcels rolled up in a bib at the next “tiny feet” play session, I’ll know something is going down..

Find The Scott Bennett Podcast on SoundCloud and iTunes SB

CREATIVE BEESTON

Tales from the Paperhaus

I

wanted to start this piece with a mysterious journey but a few stops on the IGO didn’t quite fit the bill, although being pensioners’ shopping day it did feel a little bit like a ghost train. I was also pleasantly surprised to find that Long Eaton wasn’t the zombie apocalypse I had been warned about when I alighted at The Green. I was however on the search for none other than the heavily tattooed gentleman whose resemblance to a flat capped Vic Reeves is more than a little uncanny.

If you cross over on Wilko’s corner and saunter down Oxford Road, tucked away in Mayfair Walk you will find a hidden talent who grew up on Imperial Road in Beeston. Daniel Roberts has been filling up sketch books from his wild imagination since he was a nipper and the manifestations from his mind are now finding themselves adorning the bodies of many local characters.

Danny opened his tattoo parlour ‘Paperhaus Tattoo’ back in 2014 after completing a three-year apprenticeship. He is not entirely sure what inspired him to tattoo in the first place other than the simple desire to ‘see his artwork on skin.’ The inspiration for his often dark characters and twisted scenes are born out of a desire to make the ordinary extraordinary, after all why wouldn’t a horse wear a pair of high heels and a rabbit be partial to eating a sandwich? He considers himself as an artist who tattoos, his artwork did come first after all. Some of his designs are currently available on t-shirts and will soon be available as prints.

When I arrived at his studio for a chat and a strong coffee, Danny was working on a piece for guy in Phoenix Arizona that he had hooked up with via Instagram. He was clearly thrilled that this guy had lots of positive things to say about his art but it was their shared love of vinyl that led to this commissioned piece. The design will be printed up on t-shirts to promote a local club night at a tiki-themed bar, a real ‘by the people for the people’ kind of design project. ‘ Afro Waltz’ by John Cameron was playing in the background as he spoke which made for a relaxed if trippy atmosphere.

As I have a gleg round Danny’s studio, a home from home. I cast an eye over the chintzy lampshade balanced on a dark wood standard lamp and eye up a soft squishy sofa underneath the tattoo flash that adorns the back wall of the waiting area, there is a distinct lack of pretention in the air. It definitely not your typical tattoo studio, it could be described hauntingly kitsch, but then Danny is not your typical tattooist. He is very candid about his first forays into art. ‘It was either that or watching black and white regional telly on the portable in our static caravan in Skegness.’ The penny arcades had no lure for the young Daniel, he much preferred ‘sketching on

the back of a cornflake packet with a biro.’

As I watch intently as his busy digits sketch, I ask him how he comes up with some of his detailed designs. He picks up his comical coffee mug, in a jaunty fashion, and tells me ‘I clear my mind and it’s like a cosmic internet connection, it’s automatic how things connect and I often look at what I have drawn and ask myself “How did I think of that?” He talks about the urge to draw as that familiar ‘itch you have to scratch’ and likens his inspiration to childhood pastimes like seeing shapes in the clouds or in patterns on the pavements.

He says he has been influenced by the works of Dali and Woodring and there is most definitely surrealism in his art. There are also recurring symbols that appear in many of his drawings, a favourite being the oven ready chicken, which has been spotted in some very compromising positions. It is the reactions to his work that Danny enjoys the most. Whether they shock, excite, humour or disgust he doesn’t mind as long as they get a response.

It would be fair to say there is an innocence and sense of mischief in a lot of his works and this is quite representative of the man himself. He has most certainly got his own style and he recognises that it is not to everyone’s taste and could be considered niche.

Dan likes the idea of his artwork being framed and appreciated, we are not here forever but things like art can be owned and then passed on, keeping the legacy alive. He hopes that by putting it out there people will acknowledge it and someone will buy it and appreciate it, but then they may give it away or die and it’s this idea that you don’t know what might happen to it that intrigues him most. As I glance at the fine example of a 70s cuckoo clock, I am surprised to see that a couple of hours has floated by and I have a notebook full of my own scribbles. Dan can really make you feel right at home, you’ll never want to leave…

You will find Danny in his studio at Boutique 6, Mayfair Walk, Oxford Street, Long Eaton, NG10 1JR Opening Hours: Monday – Friday 10:30am– 18:00pm / Saturday 10:30am–18:00 You can see fine examples of his artwork on display at an exhibition in accompaniment to a night of music from November Bees, Polly Hardy, Caius Burns on April 15th at The King Billy.

DU

Stephan Collishaw Interview

I

f you’d have told a young Stephan Collishaw that one day he would be a published author he probably wouldn’t have believed you. Yet his third novel The Song of the Stork has recently been released by Legend Press, and he’s set up Noir Press, which is the only publishing house in the UK dedicated to Lithuanian Literature. Not bad for a man who failed his GCSEs twice.

Collishaw, 49, who currently lives in Colwick, grew up in Basford and attended Ellis Guilford, and despite failing his exams, he did leave school with a love of literature.

“They introduced me to Guy de Maupassant, which is the only thing school did for me,” he reminisces. “My poor mother was at her wits end and got me onto a Youth Training Scheme back in the 1980s. I went to work at a bookkeepers and lasted there 6 months until I got sacked.”

However, this proved to be a crucial moment in his life.

“At that point in time, I decided I wanted to be a writer. So I started reading as much as I possibly could,” he says, “but when I was at work the cleaning lady caught me going to the toilets with Jane Austen and cup of tea.” We laugh at the memory. “She reported me to the manager who didn’t think it was appropriate, and sacked me.”

In 1995 he decided to go on a whim to Lithuania after teaching for two years in Radford, and that decision has made his life what it is today.

“I’d gone with the start of a novel stuffed in my backpack,” he says, “and when I got there, life was far too much fun to be writing a novel. I ended up getting married to a Lithuanian.”

Now, he has three children, speaks Lithuanian and visits the country regularly. “When you explore a country, one of the things you want to do is explore the writing,” states Collishaw. “It’s almost impossible to actually read Lithuanian novelists,” he adds.

It was this that became the driving force behind Noir Press, which he set up about a year ago.

“Until this moment in time,” he tells me, “there was only one living Lithuanian novelist in translation in the UK and that’s the one I published. It’s the only one.”

So far, Noir Press has published Breathing into Marble by Laura Sintija Černiauskaitė which won the European Union Prize for Literature. The publishing house is also set to release three books this year: The Easiest

by Rasa Aškinytė; Shtetl Romance by Grigory Kanovich; The Music Teacher by Renata Šerelytė.

“All the books that we’re publishing have been award winning or in the top five books in Lithuania,” he tells me. “The concept is not to do more than one of each writer so that we build up a showcase. This is Lithuanian fiction as it stands at this moment in time.”

I ask him about his latest book Song of the Stork, a historical fiction novel set during the 1940s amid the Second World War which tells the story of a fifteen year old Jewish girl, Yael. While on the run, she meets a village outcast who is mute and they form a relationship.

“Before I’d started writing it,” explains Collishaw, “I hadn’t thought about how you would develop a relationship between two characters who can’t speak to each other. But in some ways that was a powerful, energetic part of the novel because I had to think how I was going to develop that relationship rather than falling back on normal tropes of writing.”

Although he doesn’t live in Beeston, Collishaw does have links to our town particularly with the Flying Goose Café along Chilwell Road. “I’ll be doing a reading there,” he reveals, “and at the moment Hilary [Cook] is very kindly selling my books in preparation for the talk.”

It’s not just recently that Flying Goose has played a part in his writing career, as he explains: “Years ago I did one of my first ever readings as a novelist at her café back in 2001-2, so for me it’s a special place.

That was when I first felt as though I was a proper writer and had any kind of identity as a writer.” It’s not just the café he likes to visit when he comes to Beeston. Jen Glover who set up the microbrewery A Pottle of Blues is one of his former colleagues.

“We worked together for many years at a school in Radford and it was enough to send us all off crazy,” he laughs, “so for Jen it provided the impetus for her escaping from teaching and living a dream of hers; opening a bar is the most appropriate thing she could possibly have done.”

The Beeston-based publisher Shoestring Press also holds a place in his heart, not only because he considers John Lucas a “godfather of literature” but because his first published collection was a Shoestring edition.

Collishaw explains: “I entered East Midlands Writers Awards and won. They published it with Shoestring, so I was first published by a Beeston publisher and it was the first time I’d ever made it into a proper publication.” He adds, “Beeston was one of the first places I was taken seriously as a writer.”

Stephen will be at the Flying Goose Café on Wednesday April 12 where he will be reading from Song of the Stork.

To find out more about Noir Press and upcoming publications, visit: www.noirpress.co.uk.

JM

String Theory

C

armen Flores isn’t the most typical Beestonian.

First there’s the Californian accent, which sounds like music compared to the snuffly vowels of my East Midlands voice. Then there’s her profession: a classical musician of rapidly growing renown, and 25% of the Villiers String Quartet, a group of recently relocated musicians attracting plaudits on the classic music scene.

From a musical family – her mum taught piano and her dad ran the local church choir – she started on the violin at age six and never looked back. She was recruited to San Diego’s Youth Symphony Orchestra. “Being part of an orchestra is incredibly enlightening. It’s like being part of a strange UN, with different states with different interests having to work together to ensure common goals. It requires huge discipline, selflessness and more than hard work. It’s a slog.” Graduating with

a degree in music, she set out to pursue a music career. “You do everything you can to cut your teeth. You have to absorb so much”.

She then met Dan, a Beestonian working in London, when the two were both visiting the Philippines.

They fell in love, and looked to find somewhere to be together.

California’s loss was the UK’s gain.

“I moved to London in 2005 after meeting my husband” she explains. “It was tough at first: I had no connections in music but would audition relentlessly.”

Eventually she was offered a role in the Birmingham Royal Ballet Orchestra, a role she still has, but it was meeting three like-minded souls in 2011, violinists James Dickenson and Tamaki Higashi and cellist Nick Stringfellow, that she found her true calling.

They bonded over their love of chamber music and decided to form a string quartet. The Villiers Quartet waas born. “A quartet is essentially a conversation between four people. It isn’t easy to find that right mix, that balance, but we have found it”.

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“The other members, for various reasons, wanted to move to Market Harborough. So I moved to Beeston 3 years ago. my husband Dan decided he wanted to set up his own business and move back to where he grew up. It’s a place to bring up children, a kinder, calmer lifestyle than London.”

The move provoked a change of emphasis. “We thought about location; how does it influence your work? If you look at the Lyndsay Quartet, you can clearly hear the way their Sheffield setting seeps into their work. Getting out of London meant a chance to explore a new vernacular. Nottingham has proved fascinating. There is a real creative buzz right now, and we’re loving being part of it”. Yet it’s not a one-way street. What they take in

influence, they reflect in a desire to bring music to communities, areas that previously might be denied such art “Community is important. We want to teach others, become a community quartet and inspire people to pick up an instrument”. A residency at Nottingham High School followed, and a new CD release of Peter Racine Fricker’s Quartets has received great reviews. They also provided the music for the recent TV adaptation of DH Lawrence’s Lady Chatterley’s Lover, which is possibly as Nottingham as it comes.

We’re dead lucky to have such a talented bunch of musicians in our midst, and their ambitions to be an integral, active part of Beeston’s cultural fabric isn’t just testament to our present state as an ideal home for creatives, but for a future of beautiful music, elegiacally sweeping just up the road from the Vic. MT

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OF S E L A T Y SPOOK

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eeston’s own intrepid historian and occasional paranormal explorer, Alan Dance, tells us about some spooky goings-on on one of Chilwell’s most infamously-named streets….

If you follow the tram lines west of Bramcote Lane, you will shortly cross Ghost House Lane.

If you’ve ever wondered how it got its name, it’s because at the bottom of the lane, there once stood an old cottage called the Ash Flat House. Almost 200 years ago the house became the centre of some very strange goings-on, such that many people believed it to be haunted, and thereafter it became known as the Ghost House. Not only was the house alleged to be haunted, but it was also believed that a murder had been committed there. But beyond these few brief facts, little more in the way of detail was recorded, and such written accounts as existed were rather sketchy.

This area was farmland, but in the late 1940s building work began on the Inham Nook housing estate, and the Ghost House was demolished in 1952 as the estate grew. As a child, I was always intrigued by this story of a haunted house and an unsolved murder, but when I tried to find out more details – who was involved, who was murdered and why; who was the murderer, was he ever caught and tried; and when exactly did these events happen, if they really did happen – nobody seemed to know. So, in 1996, I set out to see what I could discover.

After considerable research in old newspapers, parish registers, census returns, wills and other documents in the Nottingham

Archives Office and Library, I was able to piece together a fascinating account which shed light on events which took place all those years ago, culminating in the publication in 1998 of my book The Chilwell Ghost – a New Investigation.

A newspaper report from 1850 stated that John Baguley had just died at Chilwell, confessing on his deathbed that about a quarter of a century earlier he had murdered a pedlar for his money and possessions, and buried the body. Armed with this one name and date, I was able to uncover much more evidence. This showed that the Baguley family lived at the Ash Flat House, owned by local landowner John Pearson, for whom Baguley worked. A pedlar, who regularly visited the area, had indeed gone missing in late 1827 and was never seen again. Witnesses said he intended to spend the night at the Ash Flat House and it was rumoured he was rather friendly with the family’s eldest daughter, Diana.

extent that nobody stayed for long. Many local people believed all this was connected with the murder. The story quickly spread, and it is said that people came from many miles around to view the house and, hopefully, witness the strange goings-on.

They were a family with a poor reputation in the village. Diana had produced three illegitimate children and in 1837, along with her sister Jane, was imprisoned for theft from two Nottingham shops. Baguley and his family were then evicted by Mr Pearson, and another family moved in. It was this family who first reported the strange happenings.

They refused to stay in the house and were replaced by another family, who moved on just as quickly.

But one mystery still remains, which I hope might one day be solved – what happened to the body of the pedlar? John Baguley himself claimed he buried it. But exactly where?

The house had become the centre of a serious outbreak of poltergeist phenomena.

Unaccountable banging on the shutters, objects moving, groans and other strange noises alarmed the inhabitants to such an

John Baguley was never brought to trial, for he died shortly after making his deathbed confession. No relatives had reported the pedlar missing, but as an itinerant, his current whereabouts may not have been known. And as he was a Scotsman, he might not have had any family nearby. All in all, he was the perfect murder victim. There was never an investigation, and in any case, the murder was committed before the existence of a police force.

The above is just a brief outline of what happened, but the book contains much more information and should be of interest for anyone interested in local history, or who just likes a true-life, mystery story. It is illustrated with photographs, sketches, old maps and reproductions of old documents.

The Chilwell Ghost - A New Investigation is published by Arundel Books, price £5.99.

Available at WH Smith in Beeston and most Nottingham bookshops.

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UFO s

T

e

shir m a h g n i t t o N r e v O

he acronym U.F.O. was created by the United States Air Force in 1952 to describe sightings of flying disc shaped objects previously referred to as ‘flying saucers’. This spate of sightings began in 1947 when aviator and businessman Kenneth Arnold, reported seeing nine such objects flying in formation over Mount Rainier on 24th June of that year. Arnold’s sighting was widely reported in the media and between 1947 and 1952 there followed many thousands of reports of unidentified flying objects of various shapes and sizes from all over the U.S.A. Certainly there was a general consensus of opinion amongst the general public that these were piloted extraterrestrial craft. Thus was born the modern U.F.O. story.

In Nottingham, a group of ‘Ufologists’ were earnestly studying U.F.O. phenomena. Many of these men had been R.A.F. bomber crew during the War and had been witness to a type of U.F.O. known as ‘Foo-Fighters.

These strange balls of red, orange or sometimes white light, first made their reported appearance alongside a squadron of American aircraft in November 1944.

From this date onward the crews of Allied aircraft, both American and British witnessed the appearance of Foo-Fighters in both the European and Pacific theatres of war.

It was genuine ambition of one of the founding members of the Nottingham group to persuade George Adamski, starting in Nottingham, to do a lecture tour of the U.K. However, this never came to pass as Adamski died at the age of 74 in 1965.

After working together for several years the Nottingham group broke apart around 1966/67, after the club secretary experienced a more sinister aspect of the U.F.O. story.

As early as 1947, U.F.O. witness Harold Dahl, reported receiving an intimidating and threatening visit from men dressed in black suits who claimed to be government agents.

Throughout the 1950’s and 60’s reports of visits by what became known as Men in Black or M.I.B’s, to both U.F.O. witnesses and

Ufologist became more frequent. Popular opinion was that M.I.B’s were either genuine government agents or in some cases actual aliens.

The Nottingham club secretary, – a man in his early sixties who had studied the U.F.O. phenomena for a number of years and had amassed a library of books and files, – announced that he had received a visit from M.I.B’s at his home in Wollaton. These two men had told him that unless he gave up his U.F.O. interest, his house would be firebombed. Within days of the alleged visit he had sold or given away his entire collection of books, photos and journals and removed every reference to U.F.O’s from his home.

Fellow members of the club, even those he had been friends with for many years, never heard from him again.

A mentor of another Nottingham based U.F.O. group (who will remain anonymous here) lived alone in a ‘prefab’ in Aspley decided to advertise for a lodger to help pay the bills. Within a short time of putting a post card in a shop window a young man in his early twenties answered his advert. Giving his profession as a ‘Civil Servant’ the young man stated that he had business in Nottingham and need temporary accommodation. An agreement was made and the man moved in with nothing more than a single small suitcase. Over a few short weeks of his stay, the mentor stated that he demonstrated a good knowledge of Ufology and asked about both U.F.O. groups. At the end of his stay he asked to see members of the group.

At the meeting which followed, he claimed to have been an MI6 field agent, one of a number of operatives dispatched by the Government to investigate the threat to National Security posed

by U.F.O. groups. Thankfully he announced that they were no threat, packed his bag and they never saw him again.

Another member of the group encountered a siting of a U.F.O. which occurred back in the 1960s: “On a clear winters evening at around 10 p.m., I was driving my then girlfriend (now my wife) home to Chilwell. Our route took us through Bilborough past Strelley village and south along the Coventry Road. For those who do not know the area, this is a semirural road on the extreme western edge of the City of Nottingham. We had reach the cross-roads at Strelley and were turning onto Coventry Road when both of us saw high in the sky, a moving bright star like object approaching us from the south. Making a modern comparison I would say that it was like observing the International Space Station or other artificial satellite. I stop the car a little way past the crossroads and we both got out the vehicle to get a better look.”

“Almost immediately we saw that there was a second identical object approaching from the north. The two seemed to be on a collision cause, becoming larger and brighter as they approached. Slowly the lights drew together and at a point almost directly above our heads stopped and hung side by side in the sky like two bright stars. We continued to observe them in silence for what must have been 3 or 4 minutes.

Suddenly the northern light again began to move.

At this stage it became apparent that this object was lower in the sky than its companion, which now seemed even brighter. Moving a little faster than its original approach, it continued south and appeared to pass bellow its still stationary companion, which now shone with the intensity of Venus, (certainly, the brightest object in the sky). After several minutes the moving object was lost to view leaving our attention fixed on the bright object above our heads.”

“It was at this point that something dramatic happened. A small pale blue, star-like light dropped from bellow the bright object. For a few seconds it appeared to free-fall and it shot off at great speed to the west. Seconds later a second identical light dropped and shot off to the east. This was repeated twice more with one light going south and the second north. The bright object now began to move and continued its original course north. The cold night air had gotten to us at this point and we realised that we had been observing the phenomena for over half an hour. Once back in the car we continued our journey back to Chilwell. I got a telling off from my future father-in-law for bringing his daughter home late. We did not tell him the reason why”.

JN

Beeston Memories

One of our more far-flung fans, Keith Walker from New Zealand, sometime sends us his memories of the Beeston he remembers from many decades ago. We thought we’d print some of these, and see if any of our more senior readers have similar memories...

I

haven’t lived in Beeston for many years although I was born and raised here.

I was born in Chilwell, just across the road from the Charlton Arms and in 1936 or ’37 (I don’t exactly remember, I was about 4 years old) my parents moved into a new house on Queens Rd West, close to Chilwell Manor Golf Course and across the road from the field at the rear of Barton’s garage where I and my mates played among the piles of old tyres left there. In Sept 1937 I started school at Church St School just behind Beeston Parish Church. Now, I am left handed and every time I picked up a pencil in my left hand, I was rapped over the knuckles. After three months of that I developed a severe stammer so I was removed from there and went to Park Lodge, a primary school on Park Rd just along from the Hop Pole on Chilwell Rd Beeston – or High St Chilwell, as the pub marks the change of name. It was only a few minutes’ walk from home up what I see is now called Wilmot Lane but all the time I was there was called Factory Lane. Myford’s Lathes were made in the semi derelict buildings at the top of the lane and opposite the Hop Pole.

Because of my stammer I had several years of speech therapy and elocution lessons which eventually ‘killed’ the stammer.

They also changed my accent somewhat so these days no one can tell exactly where I am from, it is what a friend described as a

The Beestonian is...

‘generic Northern accent, could be from anywhere north of a line from Bristol to the Wash.’

During the war, it is surprising how much freedom we kids had after school There were relatively few people around, most men were in the Forces unless they were in essential industries, Police and emergency services.

We would wander for miles and as long as we were home for dinner, no one seemed to worry.

We played in Barton’s field, in the golf course and around the Attenborough Nature Reserve which we knew just as ‘The Gravel Pits’. Certainly in the early part of the war we had plenty of air raids when we had to leave home and go to the shelters which were erected all over the place. The nearest shelter to home was about 100 metres along the road towards Beeston. The warning was warbling sirens from all the factories and the All Clear after the raid was a steady note from them. Even after all these years, if I hear a warbling factory siren, my stomach does a little flip!

In 1943, there was a severe scarlet fever epidemic and hospital buildings kept for a possible smallpox epidemic were opened to isolate those with scarlet fever. I got it and was put in hospital somewhere near the old City Hospital.

My parents visited me twice a week: they were not allowed to actually enter the ward but stood at the closed door and we talked through the glass. I was always

Lead Writer/Founder • Lord Beestonia Co-Founder/Resident Don • Prof J Editor • Christian Design • Dan Business Manager • Mel History Editor • Joe Earp

given a big bundle of comics and magazines which my dad collected from his workmates.

He was one of the managers at Ericsson Telephones factory. I had ‘complications’ so spent 13 weeks in the hospital. They were Impetigo, scabies, ringworm etc, all skin diseases caused by poor hygiene in the ward and as a result I was unable to take the 11 Plus school exams. Nothing from the hospital ward was allowed out while we were ill and for that 13 weeks, 7 days a week, dinner was Irish Stew and Rice Pudding. It was years before I could face either of those dishes again!

The 11 Plus decided whether you went to a Grammar School or a very basic Comprehensive School. As I couldn’t take the exam, that would have meant the Comprehensive School so my parents sent me to West Bridgford High School on Musters Rd, a private school owned and run by Mr and

Top-notch contributors this issue: Matt Turpin, Christian Fox, Jade Moore, Jimmy Notts, Scott Bennett, Prof. J, Christopher Frost, Debra Urbacz, Alan, Dance, Tim Pollard, Lulu Davenport, Colin Tucker, Joe Earp, Keith Walker, Tom Roberts, Daisy Leverington and Deman Printed by Pixels & Graphics, Beeston

Mrs Caro. I don’t know what happened to the school after I left but I found it had been closed some time when I was in Nottingham some 16 years or so ago.

I well remember the big floods of 1946 and ’47. The school was closed for a month on both occasions. The 1947 floods were the worst, Ericsson’s factory was surrounded by water, there was a wall round the site which with pups running all the time, kept the water out of the factory. To get people to work, double deck buses would run through the floods with extensions to lift the exhaust pipe out of the water and the workers would ride on the upper deck. My dad told me later that when the waters had receded enough to turn the pumps off, there was sufficient fuel left for around another 12 hours or so.

KW

Stockists: Rye, The Hop Pole, The Crown, The White Lion, The Star, The Greyhound, Flying Goose, Mish Mash Gallery, The Malt Shovel, The Guitar Spot, Broadgate Laundrette, Bubba Tea, The Bean, Beeston Library, Cafe ROYA, Newsagent on Chilwell Road, Metro, Beeston Marina Bar and Cafe, Attenborough Nature Reserve, Pottle of Blues, Greenhood, Beeston Nursery, Oxfam Books, L’Oliva.

FOOD!

& film !

F

ood scenes in films have always existed to remind the audience that even though the people onscreen are much hotter, richer and more talented than the viewing audience, they still need a decent meal like ordinary folk from time to time. This month I list my all time favourite food scenes while binge eating a bag of own brand peanuts.

Please enjoy.

What We Do in the Shadows: Regardless of a hilarious late-night chippie takeaway scene, seek this film out for its sheer hilarity.

A bunch of vampires film a mockumentary about the perils of modern life, one of which is not having chips after a mental night out.

I definitely could not be a vampire, you couldn’t even have garlic sauce on them.

Lady and the Tramp spaghetti scene: Until I was 4 years old I didn’t really believe in love, I thought it was a dystopian ideal circulated by a corrupt government to get people to pay more taxes, but then I watched 2 dogs kiss by accident while eating Italian food and I knew love was real. I still think Lady could do better, though.

9 ½ Weeks: This entire film marked my transition to womanhood and gave me a lifelong interest in top of the range fridgefreezers. Bet theirs was A+ for energy conservation.

Not sure about a blindfolded buffet though, I’d prefer toast and Netflix if I’m honest.

The Martian: Matt Damon becomes a farmer on Mars. Stay with me, he does science stuff too and is funny with some actual jokes, but mainly he’s a space farmer. How many crops have YOU grown on Earth? EXACTLY. Impressive stuff if you like extreme farming. Which I do.

Beetlejuice: Do yourselves a favour and rewatch The Banana Boat Song scene on youtube.

I’m assuming you know what I mean, and if you don’t then I’m afraid we probably can’t be penpals any more. I once showed this to my daughter and she had nightmares about hands coming out of soup for months. She just really doesn’t like soup.

DL

Jurassic Park jelly wobble: This scene still makes me anxious.

We learn that raptors can open doors and it still frightens me as much as when my toddler managed it for the first time and caught me plucking my ‘tash.

What do you want to be built on the site opposite Tesco’s?

We took a selection of responses from FB page Beeston Updated “Health centre. I think beeston is about the only place that hasn’t got one . Also would be good to have a walk in centre in it so we don’t have to travel the other side of town to nems and walk in” Sarah Nicholls

“Indoor market with smaller shops where local people and students can rent a space to sell local made products. Could be a place also for a farmers market. Carpark on the top floor with indoor toilets” Amanda Purdy

“A market indoor if possible x that sells shoes” Yvonne Edmonds

“Facility to accommodate theatre, music events and art exhibitions, plus café - a bit like Lakeside Arts Centre (without the Lake!) and Djanogly. Would be a great focal point for visitors to Beeston.” - Pam Miller

“Classic motorcycle shop with tea room” Nick Boultby “A coffee shop, Beeston’s crying out for one” Paul Andski

“Toilets” Geoff Hatfield

“Make it beautiful and keep it as open space” Kerrie Brown “How about a Youth Centre that offers, free-of-charge, a range of activities that ALL 10-16 year olds can access? Each 1-2 hours would offer plenary sport or other activities, which promote Health and Mental Health Wellbeing?”

Gary Adams “Giant ball pit” Darren Kirkbride

Bow

Selecta

Hello, good citizen of Beeston, how are you this lovely spring day?

Very well, thank you - the sun is shining, the Crown has been refurbished and… hang on a minute, you don’t normally start your turgid ramblings with an individual greeting, what’s going on?

Ah. Bother, you noticed. Weeeell… this column is a bit different. It tackles some… er… odd subject matter. I just thought I’d warn you.

Don’t read it out loud, m’kay? Especially in the pub.

As some of you may know, my lovely wife Sal is really quite poorly with a scary and incurable breast cancer which has spread to her bones, liver and brain. She’s coping with it reasonably well though, for the most part she’s in good spirits and we have our beautiful three year old daughter to keep us laughing which helps a lot. Moreover, thanks to the enormous generosity of a considerable number of very lovely people we recently had our garage converted into a downstairs bedroom for her as (just after we got married last September) Sal lost the use of her legs and partially because of this is unfortunately now quite often in considerable pain.

I’d promised her and her best friend Lou a spa break before Sal’s diagnosis nearly two years ago as who wouldn’t enjoy a champagne filled weekend of pampering, relaxation and massage? Because of her condition though it appears almost impossible now as there don’t appear to be many hotel/spa resorts that will treat clients with advanced cancer (insurance issues I guess). So I thought I’d see if there was anyone locally who could help, not only for Sal and her pain but also for me as I do a lot of lifting these days and Sal keeps insisting, probably very sensibly, that I need to look after myself as well as her.

So I went online and Googled ‘Beeston Massage’.

Wow. Wow? Why ‘Wow’?

Erm… look, I’m not hopelessly naïve, nor do I imagine Beeston is a haven of purity, decency

and light (after all, our town topped the list of ‘Places People Have Extra-marital Affairs’ a couple of years ago) but one of the first links I found was to a site that reviews the… ahem… professional services of ‘Ladies of Transactional Affection’, so to speak.

Come again?

Very funny. Imagine a ‘TripAdvisor for Personal Services’ with a very in-depth and detailed review of the ‘goings on’ at the (now already closed) new massage parlour on Regent Street, as well as a many other locations. It was, to quote Star Trek’s Mr Spock, “Fascinating”.

I read sections of the reviews out to Sal, her Mum and a group of friends when they were round and we were all laughing fit to burst (which was actually great therapy in itself).

I find that hard to swallow…

Stop that now. Anyway, it just got me thinking about the ‘darker’ side of Beeston, what goes on behind closed doors and how much of a good or bad thing it was. As I said, I’m not that naïve to think it doesn’t happen everywhere and Beeston is surely no exception - so I’m not sure why the Broadgate establishment only lasted a few weeks before closing…

Maybe they’ll wait fifteen minutes and try again?

You’re just being silly now. But as I said, maybe Beeston is packed full of naughtiness – or is demand drooping (sorry, dropping)? Was the closure due to local pressure, lack of demand or not paying the right business rates? Might it simply be that Beeston is no longer the illicit nookie capital of the UK, (and if not should we be pleased or disappointed)?

No idea, I’m going to the pub for a stiff one.

Oh suit yourself, I can tell you’re not taking this seriously. The really sad thing is Sal and I still haven’t found somewhere who can provide a nice, soothing and entirely respectable massage.

Oh, that’s a real shame. I do so love a happy ending….

Tim Pollard Nottingham’s Official Robin Hood

SCREEN

TEST

WINNERS OF THE 3rd Beeston Film Festival

T

he room upstairs at the White Lion was packed on Sunday night (12th March) as the winners of the 3rd Beeston Film Festival were announced to a very excited and eager audience. Thanks must go to Sergio the landlord of Beeston’s most sociable pub, as it has been the base for the festival, since John Currie and James Hall launched it back in 2015.

After months of planning and preparation, some 90 short length films from across the world have been screened over four days, with the launch taking place at the University of Nottingham’s Sir Clive Granger Building on the Thursday. This first evening saw the inaugural Three Counties Festival Night, which was split into two categories; short films of up to five minutes in length, and long films, which were up to fifteen minutes in duration.

Prize money was on offer too, courtesy of the Matthew Martino Benevolent Fund. All the other films were shown at the White Lion.

Best Animation: Cuerdas Best Drama: Soldier Bee Best Documentary: Cecil & Carl Best Comedy: Braquage Serenade Best Script: Braquage Serenade Best Actor: Shauna Macdonald for Soldier Bee Best Director: Pedro Solis Garcia for Cuerdas Best Cinematography: Stewart Whelan for Cinephiliac Best Sound: Cinephiliac Three Counties Short: Portrait of a Craftsman Three Counties Long: Cadence Rising Star: Night Owls Audience Favourite: The App Best Film in Festival: Braquage Serenade A number of Beeston based shops and companies sponsored the B’Oscar awards. They were: Art, Culture, Tourism Artworks Broadgate Laundry Charlie Fogg’s Chimera Cutting Edge Happy Daze L’Olivia Pamela Sietos Clothing PN Design ROK Jewellery Rye Café & Bar The Berliner

There were a number of categories that a number of the films were shortlisted for.

Thirteen judges from around the globe had viewed all the films to find the best in each of the areas, such as horror, comedy, script and cinematography.

No cash prizes here, but the winners did receive a wonderfully crafted ceramic award: the B’Oscar, created by Nottingham artist Anna Collette Hunt.

I caught up with a weary but ecstatic John after the ceremony to find out how the four days went. “It’s been the best one so far”, he replied grinning from ear to ear. “It just goes to show the amount of talent that there is in the East Midlands. The 2018 festival is going to be bigger and even better. The support that the festival has received has been phenomenal. All the students from the university that have helped out have been fantastic”.

So on to the fifteen winning films and filmmakers: Best horror film: Woods

I also spoke to James, who was busy packing away the IT equipment, and asked for his

thoughts. “It’s been great, but much harder work than helping to organise the Oxjam music event”.

Finally, one face that I recognized in the audience was that of local actor, puppeteer and storyteller Melvyn Rawlinson.

I asked Melvyn whether he had been involved in any of the productions. Yes he said, I appeared in the film ‘I Am God and Severely Underqualified’.

This tells the story of a writer struggling with the dreaded writer’s block, and how he gets

e car y a ded ll d Fu d fun for an sions ged a ses dren rs l a chi -5 ye 0

over it.

John and James will shortly be e-mailing a weblink to those that attended the festival, so they will be able to watch their favourite films again, or catch up with any that they missed. For everyone else, you’ve missed out. Some may make it to a cinema release, or might turn up on YouTube.

You never know, there may even be plans to create a ‘Beeston Film Festival’ compilation DVD. Now wouldn’t that be exciting!

CDF

Nur chil turing d the care in hea Bee r t of ston

Call us now on

0115 7750185 to book a visit and find out why our families love us! www.beestonnursery.co.uk

BEESTUMPED WHO DO YOU CALL WHEN THE GRAVEYARD NEEDS A SPRING CLEAN? ​GHOST DUSTERS! NO? OH. SORRY. HERE’S A SPOOKY QUIZ INSTEAD...

1. M ary Shelley wrote what book when she was just 19?

2. K enneth Branagh played the eponymous doctor in 1994 but who played his monstrous creation?

3. T hat actor is well known now for his comic talent but what director gave him his first comic role opposite Jonathan Pryce?

4. T hat director has been trying for years to get one particular project going to no avail but by whom was the novel it is based upon written?

5. A s well as being the year that book was published 1605 was also the year of which famously thwarted assassination attempt?

6. A few years ago a lot of people were seen sporting masks based upon the culprit of that assassination. What was the film it was first seen in?

7. A nd what actor wore the mask in the film?

8. F inally, whilst he isn’t connected to Frankenstein, that actor was in which hammer horror reboot attempt of 2010?

Nightlight on Wollaton Road ANSWERS: 1.Frankenstein 2.Robert De Niro 3. Terry Gilliam 4. Cervantes 5.

The Gunpowder Plot 6. V for Vendetta 7.Hugo Weaving 8. The Wolfman

CODEWORD

by Dan Cullen Full colour giclée prints available from Mish Mash gallery, Chilwell.

H

ere at Beeston Beats we don’t do things by halves, (usually pints are the weapon of choice). Me and fellow Beatsonite, Miss Donna Bentley, relentlessly trawled through the Beeston entertainment listings before finally homing in on an upcoming event at Attenborough’s village hall.

For those not in the know, a ceilidh (celi or Highland fling), pronounced Kay-Lee is a sort of barn dance and not the 1984 song by Marillion, All together now...“Kayleigh is it too late to say I’m sorry? And Kayleigh could we get it together again?” Nope?

Ask ya mum.

The premise is simple: a social event with Scottish or Irish folk music with traditional dancing (grab ya partner, dosey doe and all that malarkey). Sounds straight forward enough. Having

never been to an event at the hall and still having my ceilidh virgin plates firmly attached, decisions were made and tickets were booked, Priced at a reasonable fiver - bring a bottle and including supper - while profits went towards St Mary’s Church fund, the evening was a bargain.

The night in question was St Patrick’s; after spending the day in Nottingham watching the parade and wearing a silly hat I got free at a bar, I was feeling all ready to take on the shindig. On arrival the hall was packed to the rafters with only space in the room at the back to find a seat, adamant that a few drops of alkimihol was needed before my pins hit the dance floor. Which leads me nicely to a quick confession: I struggle with choreographed dancing. You name it - the cha cha slide, time warp, Macarena, and even the ponytailed Whigfield’s simplistic dance for Saturday night - it leaves me quite honestly puddled, exhausted and confused. Mixing up mi lefts with mi rights I usually tend to copy

OXJAM UPDATE Will there be an Oxjam Beeston Music Festival this year? Behind the scenes, there are meetings going on so fingers crossed. The date to pencil into your diary is Saturday 14th October for the famous ‘Takeover’ that’s almost certainly WHEN it will happen IF it happens. If you want to make sure, why not contact us and offer your help? Email Colin on colintucker18@gmail.com

Fox

Piano Tuning

Nottingham, Derby and Leicester A professional tuning at a competitive price

07528322262 christianafox@msn.com FB: Christian Fox Piano Tuning foxpianotuningnottingham.wordpress.com

the person closest to me just to survive the incident without huge embarrassment. If that person is like me I dread to think about the outcome...

Luckily enough, the night catered for people with dancing dyslexia like me, with slow and clear instructions from the “caller” tactfully adapting to those more skilled in the dance and those with the grace and etiquette of a merry moose. Merry being the operative word as I had awkwardly supped away through a bottle of the nearest garage’s finest wine (on offer at a bargain of two for a fiver of course), a taste sensation, with nutty hints of paint stripper, methylated spirits and an oaky musk of dank cellar.

Providing the musical accompaniment for the night were south Nottingham band ‘Fiddle Factor’, a group of family and friends dedicated to enhancing the experience through a back drop of fiddly Irish folky tunes through the medium of violin, flutes and even

on occasion bagpipes.

After checking out some dance routines on Scottish dance net previously, I was relieved more advance moves such as the Virginia reel, Swedish masquerade, or the sausage machine, were left out: the mind boggles, as me mam would say.

The main objective of the ceilidh is to have fun and not fall on ya bum which I managed to achieve in both parts. Would I go again? Of course, good friends and helping a good cause while having a laugh is what it’s all about. Also there was cake, chocolate cake and a supper of a yummy filled roll and coleslaw side.(It really was all about the cake though.)

Next issue, Donna takes the helm of the good ship Beeston Beats as I am off to become a pirate keeping the look out at Beeston Marina Company as we sip rum and fight seagulls for our supper.

Ooooo arrrrr!

LD

So far, we have the following fundraisers in prospect: Saturday 1st July - ‘Oxjam Unplugged’ at Middle Street Resource Centre featuring Paul Carbuncle (folk/punk) and ‘Foreign Accent’ (Hungarian folk/rock) with others to be added to the bill. Look out for adverts and ticket sales shortly.

In addition, there will probably be a pub quiz, a ceilidh and our nowregular Classical concert (this last in November). We are also anticipating an evening of operatic arias and a repeat of last year’s mini choir festival as well as acoustic and all kinds of rock. So, something for everyone IF it all comes together. Watch the Oxjam Beeston website and Facebook page for updates.

CT

Gossip from the

HIVEMIND

Quote of the Month comes courtesy of John Delaney, the affable council officer overseeing the development of Phase 2 (see front cover story) was recently the guest at a packed Civic Society public meeting. When asked about the possibility of a mural, he apologised for what might be perceived as a lack of interest on his part ‘I’m a trained engineer, so I’m afraid the idea of a smooth, blank, flat wall really excites me’.

shock after signs that his party were on a trajectory towards power (he beat the Lib Dems in a 2014 election in Clifton).

But we heard whispers from a mystery source (well, it was Dave himself, and he said it in a normal voice) that a return to politics might be on the cards. Perhaps a stand against our own MP here in Broxtowe? Or does the incumbent already come across as a bit of a joke?

++++++++++++ We ran an April Fools Story over on our Facebook page claiming that Banksy had been commissioned by the council to provide Beeston with a much needed street-art makeover.

To make the story obviously balls, we also claimed leader of Broxtowe Borough Council Cllr Richard Jackson was a fan of hip-hop. Didn’t take long for the first comment to come in: ‘Due to the Council’s cuts in services, especially to the vulnerable, perhaps we can call him MC Hammer (the poor)?’. You can indeed, but we’re not touching it *crab-inpants dance*

As Britain signs its own suicide note in the form of Article 50, it’s time for those who are annoyed with being run by a cabal of idiots in Westminster to make a pledge for their own independence and self-determinism. No, not Scotland or Northern Ireland –Beeston! This very magazine’s distant roots lie in an article written a decade ago positing that very idea (annexing Toton, Bramcote, Wollaton -just the parkand Attenborough). Time to rock it out again. Who’s in?

Time for the Kingdom of Beestonia to rise, time to liberate ourselves from the shackles of Broxtowe. Your time is here, Broxit!

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A delight to find out that local legend, serial political candidate Lord Biro, aka Dave Bishop, is a fan of this publication, and reads it in Broadgate Laundrette (a fine choice!). His retirement from standing in by-elections for the Church of the Militant Elvis / Elvis Bus Pass Party et al was announced this January, making headlines across the national news: a

A serious bit, like they do in Comic Relief. We’re chuffed to report that the recent collaboration between The Beestonian and Nottingham Alternative Film Network raised over £600 for Médecins Sans Frontières. Attendees got some great films, a magnificent curry and some incredible guests. Now, we’ll hand back to Lenny in the studio….

The

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BEEST in ‘April Showers’ And as I think about the DO’s I’ll DARE, And the rain seeps through my underwear

April rain makes a mystery of Beeston But seeking no shelter, I wait.

White wind swirls across rooftops And in the hiss of the grey I wait...

The drip drop drips against pavement and voices are muted but near...

A serrated SCREAM slices through heavy damp air.

And in the yellow glow of a soft window I see warmth without fear but out here, I wait.

Thanks!

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And I run and I run though my feet have gone numb, But I run to catch up with my fate.

For this is my motive, my purpose, my meaning...

This is the reason I wait.

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