Postcards from Kronk - the second collection of daily stories. (2025)

She huffs at me again for my latest failure and in turn I try to make my expression less annoying and pretend to listen. Pretty soon all my faults will be seen as the small beans they truly are when compared to the maelstrom that is about to descend upon us. I'd read an email, sent in error, my username being remarkably similar to a member of the government. In June the shadow cabinet is to be reshuffled. Now, I don't do current affairs or science but I've never heard a more ominous sounding phrase than 'shadow cabinet'. I check the computer screen , just been outbid for one of the last available nuclear bunkers. I make a move to the keyboard but as I do so the screen dies. Sound behind me. I'm not sure if she's laughing or furious, standing there holding the plug in her hand. Need to act fast. " Darling, " I say, " I have something to tell you "

She was blessed and she never forgot that, Huda Azra Ibrahim Nunu, the first ever female Jew to appointed Ambassador by an Arab nation. That was what she'd always thought she'd be remembered for, long after her body had returned to the soil. Looks like she was wrong. The Jewish community in Bahrain only numbers 37 people now, the exodus having started shortly after the second world war when the oppression and repression became too much to bear. But her fmaily had stayed, and she'd survived and blosomed, becoming the dutiful Ambassador, wheeled out as necessary, to show the inclusivity and progressive nature of the new regime. She'd smiled and bowed and laughed and clapped. Shown strength but not aggression, biding her time. She looks at the document ,her signature curvy and confident, clear, nothing spidery or evasive about it. The best things in life grow slowly, advice sagely offered by her Grandmother when as an 8 year old girl Huda had been ...

The lift door opened. And that wouldn't have been too bad if I couldn't hear a tiger roar. I stood there unable to move, counting the decisions I could have taken to avoid ending up trapped in a lift in a hotel. Of course it wasn't a tiger but the cry of a thousand angry men storming the building, searching for the last of the water. I'm going to stand here for ever, that's what ill do.

The man rises and speaks confidently, with obvious distain. "From a certain angle I can make the farm hands, as they stand in line waiting for their money, look like insignificant ants, drowning in honey. Although early days I am convinced this can become reality. This entirely innocent thought has led me to this court room where I must now waste my time by explaining my machine to you lot. M'lud."

I said he wouldn't last and when the squirrels started to disappear finally McClaren accepted his time in charge of the Forest was drawing to a close. When they returned driving tiny tanks armed with spears made from porcupine quills he understood a little clearer it was time for him to go. He was a brave man, a learned man with big ideas who wanted to bring the forest into the twenty first century, he had plans and excel spreadsheets, 3d visualisations of tree clusters and a paper for undergrowth renewal. He'd been to college and wore a tie and liked meeting people and animals. If you want my opinion he was lucky it was the squirrels that got to him first as the recent toileting guidance hadn't gone down well with the bears at all .

If you ever end up in the outback, in an area name of Gawler Ranges you may see, amongst the salt lakes, emus and kangaroos, a water tower some forty foot high. And if you climb that tower you could stand inside the now famous and empty water tank and look out towards Lake Everard in the west and Lake Acraman in the north, take in the beauty and majesty of our country. I guess, if you did find yourself in the water tower it was the crime and scandal that brought you there in the first place. But remain open minded, I suggest you concentrate on the panorama, the bouldered rock fields rather than looking to the container itself. Ignore the ticc tac scratches in the rust that marked the last days of his captives, ignore too the stains on the floor and the corroded chains. Climb back down and marvel at Mother Natures gift to humanity, remember those who were released, the photographs from the newspapers as they were reun...

After the appeal courts upheld the freisans claim Ba Rowbottom had to throw every penny she had into making the necessary adaptions yet still it wasn't enough. This wouldn't have happened if the townies hadn't have won the election. Anyone with experience of guerilla warfare or civil disobeience, please leave your email adress with Barry. Thank you, that's it for now, meeting closed, lets have a cloudy ale.