28th September from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

The West Cliff Green Murder Mystery

A day of sharp showers and grey drizzle between the occasional sunny spells. The sort of day to stay indoors, put on your warmest onesie and listen to a Murder Mystery story. Those of you who are new to this site may be astonished to learn of the horrible West Cliff Green Murder Mystery. Yes, there really is one. And there were not one, not two but three victims of some killer drill wielding maniac. But let us start from the beginning.

Back in the days of the Old Queen, 2016 it was. March of that year. A time when Donald Trump was yet to come to power, the Arctic Ice Cap began to melt and Boris Johnson ruled himself out as a candidate for the Prime Minister. Residents of the West Cliff noticed the foliage on two of the venerable pines was beginning to die back. Within a few weeks these magnificent relics from an earlier age were practically bare of green needles and appeared in a sorry brown state. The Council, for once, were quick to react and Forensic Scientists were called in. Their findings were horrifying. Holes had been drilled in the trunk and a substance, later identified as glyphosate was poured in. Arboralists did would they could in the form of first aid by plugging the holes which they estimated had been made sometime in June the year before. And then a third pine began to die. It was evident that a maniac was on the loose.

A climate of fear set in. Would there be more murders? What could be done? Brows were furrowed, Heads were shaken, tuts were tutted, theories advanced and fingers were pointed. The police were called in but despite there best efforts no evidence could be found that would lead to the culprits.

There were stirrings in the community that could have led to civil unrest. “They must not be allowed to get away with it.” But no one knew who “They” were. And then the Council did a very wise thing. In the place where the ancient pines had braved the wind and died the council planted six young saplings. If someone had hoped to increase their property value by clearing the view to the sea they were in for a sad come-uppance. A cctv camera was installed and a stout wire fence. Nevertheless one of the saplings was, in its turn, attacked but the other five are still there, proudly nodding in the breeze and the Wst Cliff Tree Murderer has never been heard of again. The fence has been removed but the residents keep a sharp look out for suspicious types carrying drills and packets of weed killer.

From 28th September 2021

A big wind. Lumpy sky. The sea makes a roar and a hiss like an autumn bonfire burning applewood. A refreshing and revivifying air that smells of new things.

From 28th September 2019

Railway modellers can bring apparent reality to a scene by including lots of tiny details that may go unnoticed in the ordinary run of things. Our world is made up of the trivial and the inconsequential, but these are the things that make it a solid reality. Sometimes the big things, the really big things disappear into the background and do not impinge on our day to day existence. I like to notice the trivial and inconsequential. An empty packet of jaffa cakes on the path outside, the way the dawn light catches a row of benches and turns them into an art work, the way the flowerless fronds of willowherb bend in a perfect arc, the way the surf on the beach is illuminated by the pale yellow dawn, the way wrens criss-cross the path at shoe height but can only be glimpsed from the corner of your eye, the voice of the crow. And for all of you who might know such things, is there a saint of the Trivial and Inconsequential and where can I find his or her shrine?

From 28th September 2013

When the sun breaks through the grey cloud it is quite warm enough to sit out on the clifftop. Sheltered from the breeze and the sea mist it is pleasant enough for a few minutes contemplation. The path is covered with the broken green urchins of the sweet chestnuts. The squirrels are having a field day. Under the corsican pines a soft carpet of their long brown double needles deadens the sound of the distant surf. Later Long raking breakers surging in across the bay. A stiff breeze and a watery afternoon sun. It feels electric.

From 28th September 2011

The sky is a cloudless pale blue, the sea is nearly indigo, the pine trees are dark green on the clifftop. This could be the mediterranean