Slippy Slips

Shippy Shipman (obviously), Stringy Shipman (he was very skinny), Smelly Shipman (a faint whiff of the boys bog seemed to follow him closely): in the end it all seemed to settle around Slippy Shipman. Not the worst of nicknames, nor the best either but definitely better than Smelly.

Slippy was of the middle range in most things. He could read and spell competently, and follow much of what he was required to know in order for his school not to fall too far in the SATS league tables.  He had a few friends of the non-heroically-sporty variety and was rarely bullied either by teachers or peers. His parents loved him dearly but had no illusions of his excellence. They just wanted him to be happy without seriously wondering how that state might be achieved.

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Turning to Glass

They sparkle like diamonds, the sharp angles of their colourless faces reflecting beams of light through the computer screen. They are The Glass Girls. Dazzling the brightest of all is Anastasia Parfait, queen of the online Pro-Glass-Lifestyle world.

How glamorous they are. How happy, cool and confident. How completely the opposite of me: A teenage failure. Unpopular, unprepared for GCSEs. Sad about my parents’ divorce. Missing my Nan. Suddenly there’s nothing in the world I want more than to become glass.

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What a holiday

Me and my wife wanted a nice special holiday. So we said we will save and look for nice hotels. So we went to get some brochures to see what looked the best and we saw a lovely hotel with a nice pool and a nice bar. Sun tan and beer at the pool, sports bar to play pool, bowls, and bingo and all other things.

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Hard Fact

Her husband was a Strictly Come Dancing addict. You couldn’t get his attention when the programme was on. But when she said, ‘Malcolm, I think I’m pregnant,’ he turned the tv off immediately, and danced her around the room. They’d been trying for ten years and now she’d conceived.
When the first scan revealed a girl, Malcolm began drawing up a list of necessary purchases such as a cot and a baby car-seat. ‘Do we buy pink clothes, or is that sexist stereotyping nowadays?’ he asked solemnly.

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BUT…

It was to be the most exciting evening of my life.
A gala dinner and night in a five star hotel in London all expenses paid, a reward for all my hard work.
Time spent in the spa at the hotel, then the full beauty treatments. Hair, nails all perfect. My outfit the most expensive I’d ever bought.
Walking into the ballroom I noticed people smiling, as I went past feeling good. A waitress sidled up to me, ”Madame you have your dress tucked in your underwear.”

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Brian does good for his parents

“I once found a magic lamp” said Brian “and a genie popped out of it.”

“Oh yeah?” Susie replied in her nasally croak “Was it a big burly man, naked from the waist up or was it a beautiful lady calling you master or some up?”

“It wasn’t like anything you could imagine,” Brian snorted “Didn’t look remotely human.”

“Was it pink?” yawned Susie “Did it have tentacles.”

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Un Conte de Noel Noir

Theresa sighed as the carriage clock astride her antique fireplace ticked its fingers around to midnight. Her first post-premiership Christmas was starting as inauspiciously as her career ended: alone with only a glass of malt for company. She downed the whisky and patted the arms of her chair, readying herself for the climb to her bedroom when a shift in the shadows drew her attention. Her hand reached for the panic button.

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TIDAL WAVE

I was watching the news about the weather climate.  It’s warming up and the ice is melting which is worrying.  And seeing other places being flooded, I thought that it would never happen here. Keeping up with the weather forecast, which was saying we were safe, told me there was no way we could get it as bad as some others places. But then I was talking to a mate,  and he said have you heard that we could have high waves. I said, ‘How high?’ ‘Oh about 120 foot in the sea, but about 60 foot on land.’ 

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The Tsunami

The news reporter has just put a warning out. It suggests that a wave could hit Swansea like it has hit other places just months ago. She said, ‘People are trying to stay calm but everyone is scared and worried, nobody knows when or how soon it will arrive and what damage it might or might not cause, but many want to be prepared.’

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The Big Wave – Martha’s Story

Of course there had been warnings. The Met Office issued  a statement for ‘the people of Great Britain.’ This statement consisted of a lacklustre attempt to inform us what to do in the event of a flood. Swansea City citizens were to pop down to the Civic Centre and collect 5 sandbags. I ask you…..how are people going to carry 5 sandbags up Constitution  Hill?

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Rogue Wave Causes Havoc

“We interrupt this programme for a newsflash.”

News reporter

“News has just come in of a giant wave hitting Swansea beach.  Witnesses have stated that the wave was halfway up the tower of the Grape and Olive.  Emergency Services are at the scene, over to our reporter.”

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Reciprocity

A line of makeshift shelters fringed the hillsides above the city. Outside crude shacks groups of people sat facing the sea, looking out at ominous signs of turbulence which been a familiar part of earlier lives. Many had experienced rapid costal land erosion where homes had once been.  Some had been fortunate escapees from rogue tides and surging waves that had wiped out people, dwellings and, often, all means of surviving. People had fled for their lives, joining the worldwide population of climate refugees in search of safety and clean water.

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Remains

They’d put the timber barriers in the few places where there was no sea wall. A high tide was due that night and they were prepared; the sea road would remain dry. In late afternoon the sky turned grey, and the clouds became worryingly dark. One large black cloud over the city appeared to have bloated cheeks and sockets for eyes. Somebody said it was the face of the devil.

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It Will Never Happen

“My word professor, this has to stop. I agreed to let you use the engineering students to build that enormous building that is indestructible .But I cannot have you phoning  Plantasia asking for their animals to be bought here .Your disciples have been creating panic by going around St.Thomas telling everyone a tsunami is coming .My phone has been red hot, there’s talk of the police becoming involved. They will be taking you away in a strait jacket if you’re not careful, think of the reputation of the university, man.” 

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How to survive a (man-made) natural disaster, by Sophia, aged 9

How to survive a (man-made) natural disaster, by Sophia, aged 9

  1. Don’t rely on the grown-ups

The climate change scientists warned that the wave was coming. But that was before the government silenced them.

Our parents were all too busy arguing about Brexit to help.

“Dad?” I said, “Can we move to the Midlands?” 

“Is this about that tsunami nonsense again?” he laughed, stuffing yet another loaf of emergency No-Deal-Brexit bread into the freezer. “It’s scientifically impossible, Sophia.” 

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Global Warning

To be honest we had had enough warnings. For years there had been premonitions of what was to come. Scientists had proof that the temperatures were rising, the sea levels were rising due to the receding ice at the poles.

There had been programmes telling us, and satellites showing us but nothing had been done. Governments were unwilling to force change and definitely against putting any money into avoiding the impending catastrophe.

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Bringar’s Renewal

Bringar was cold, which was odd because it was a warm summer day. Even amongst the pigeon guano and moss atop Town Hill water tower nearly six hundred feet above Swansea Bay the sun bathed everything with its glow. But he felt cold with the chill of a life reaching its conclusion.

It had not been a good life, although he had lived it as well as circumstances allowed. In truth that amounted to keeping himself fit with night-time exercises in the privacy of his room, reading the newspapers he found in the bins, tending to the old man’s needs when called upon, and suffering the beatings his daily failings earned him.

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Armageddon

15 year old Jake handled the Rib with great aplomb as his bedraggled family scrambled aboard at the top of West Cross hill, teenager Amy was still texting as she held her phone clear of the water. Walter, the huge Newfoundland who’d found the RIB settled down inside with a loud huff. Mike his owner had spotted the RIB spinning in circles with its dead owner. ‘Fetch,’ he’d yelled to Walter. There was grandma huddled in the corner muttering to herself, granddad was clutching ‘Sapiens’ trying to read and teenage Ian was busy checking out the RIB’s supplies. They all wore wetsuits and life jackets but were in a pretty sorry state. Swansea Bay had turned into the Sea of Swansea and disappeared under a massive 120 foot tsunami. Despite constant warnings in all the media and loudspeakers bellowing out across the town few had been properly prepared for the devastation.

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An Act of God

It was a brave new start. Eirwen told her friends, “You must come and see me. I’m 14 floors up and the views … honestly! It’s like living on a cruise ship!”

Now she was confused. Very confused, her cheek pressed hard against the carpet. The sun fell in a sharp line across her face. She remembered a deafening sound. There had been a roll of thunder, except it wasn’t thunder, because it came from below … a helicopter, in trouble, rapidly closing in, skimming the surface of the sea … But now, everything was strangely muffled and she was on the floor, paralysed. This must be what a stroke is. Without moving her head, she could see the clock on the wall, in bright sunlight. It was 3 minutes past 4.

***

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Vetch – Moving On

I was a big Swansea city fan, most Saturdays down at the Vetch Field watching some

good or not so football down there, and they were wanting to move to bigger and better things at the new stadium. Then they had a few good seasons at the top playing good football at the new Liberty but now we are playing in the Championship. We are doing well at the moment

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