an irreverent look at Writtle Village, Essex, its people and goings on!
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This site has been updated on December 2006


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Contents
Welcome Page

     


2006

From the Writtle PC

 



2004

History of the Bells

New Bells June Dedication

Writtle Fun Day

2003

Broadband Easter meeting


Writtle Annual Meeting

Writtle Local Elections

 Wear Pond Expansion

New Visitor to Writtle

Broadband
Writtle Update

December 2002
They don't apply to me

Italian Job

Police Presentation

Previous issues


A Lid too Far

On the Buses Update

Village Meeting

Teddy Bears
Aerial Runway

Golden Jubilee Celebrations

Residents Association Meeting



Polo Shirt Offer

 April 2002
The Queen Mother

On the buses in Writtle

 The Hunting debate

 Feb 2002
Lodge Road
Traffic Calming


Fang-id

Feedback results

Police Picture

2001 fete
Cheque Presentation


2001 Archive
 Dec 2001

Christmas Fable

Community Policing Writtle Style

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

Festive Gruel 

 July

Pooper Snooper for Writtle?

Writtle Fete

All Saints Bell Appeal Barndance

Hannibal the Terrapin of Wear Pond


The Great Post Box debate Update 

Election Results

The Wheatsheaf Charity Golf Day Pictures 

 May
Writtle Parish Annual Meeting

The Great Post Box debate

The Green After the Circus

Albania Calling

Election Information

Teddies Galore!

All Saints Bell Appeal

Wheatsheaf Charity Golf Contest







 

Previous Issues
April, May

Dog Poo
and related matters


Road traffic,  
a  problem?


On Writtle pond 

Fuel Prices etc

What is Art? 

What is Philosophy?


On Writtle Pond
A Duck-u-Soap
By Ben

"Duck." Goose spat.
"Duck-duck-duck-duck-duck-duck-duck-duck-duck."
"Goose baby, you know what happens when you get yourself worked up like this." 
Maverick preened, each feather fanning as she combed, sending a fine mist across the bigger of the two islands. Their island. 
'Mav' was white, pure white, and proud of it. Her mother had been proud of it, too. She often thought that the brown-grey speckles on Goose's head and neck were the rough bits, the bad bits, straining to get out, to make their mark on him – and on her, given half the chance. 
"People's gonna stop bringin' the bread, honey." She didn't look at him. Preening relaxed her when Goose got wound up. Preening always relaxed her. 
"That little boy? You nearly had his fingers. As if the rain ain't enough – you're gonna 
get yourself skewered by a mad as hell umbrella-wielding daddy of a kiddy with no 
digits, 'cause you snapped 'em off in a duck-induced rage. All that honkin' an' snappin'. 
Pure white, Mamma said, pure white. I ain't surprised we ain't got no…"
"Alright, alright, I tell you," Goose snapped. "You and the honkin' gaggle. There's time enough for little ones, just as soon as we gets the space and the honkin' privacy we's due on this here pond on this here green. How is it, I ask you, that just when things is starting to settle down, just when we can start to stretch our wings a little, Miss Al Orange lands another duck. Big-breasted Al. Lands him right here, on this here honkin' pond on this here honkin' green. You'da thought that harem of honkin' Mallards was enough to satisfy that giant harlot, but no…"
Chris P. Aromatic was white, too. The rain washed over him in the weak sunshine, making him glint as he soared, up, over the post office. Suddenly, he dropped altitude at what he considered to be an astonishing, heart stopping rate, and braked sharply through 
270 degrees to execute a near perfect two-point landing. Let the greenheads top that, he thought. He stretched his neck, pointed his tangerine beak and, in his eyes, powered majestically through the pond in the direction of the nearest Mallard. 
"QUACKQUACKQUACKQUACKQUACK!"
Chris watched it panic, flap and lift away. Five – well, four greenheads on the pond 
today. Soon they would all stop coming. Al was his, they would see. He was white, like 
her, and they were becoming inseparable. Yes, she was bigger than him, bigger than all of them, but he was duck enough. She didn't really love the stupid greenheads, she just liked the attention. God, all that flapping. Soon it would be just the two of them. Them and the bread – all the bread, but for that crotchety Goose…

 

 

 

Village Links
www.writtlevillage.co.uk     www.writtleringers.org.uk   www.writtle-village.com
www. writtlepc.co.uk   www.wheatsheet.co.uk    www.branchline.org  
 Wheatsheaf Public House