1. 14 Daily Echo, FRIDAY MARCH 27, 2009
NEWS ON THIS DAY
1625: Charles I was crowned King
of England and Scotland.
1863: Sir Henry Royce, co-founder
of Rolls-Royce Motor Company, was
born in Alwalton, near
Peterborough, the son of a miller.
1923: Chemist and physicist Sir
James Dewar, who invented the
vacuum flask, died in London.
1924: Jazz singer Sarah Vaughan
was born in New Jersey.
1931: Arnold Bennett, novelist
and writer (Clayhanger), died of
typhoid after a visit to Paris.
1945: The last of more
than 1,000 V2 bombs
dropped on Britain landed
at Orpington, Kent.
1958: Nikita Khruschev
ousted Prime Minister
Bulganin to take power in
the USSR.
1966: Football’s World
Cup was found in a garden
in south London by a dog
called Pickles after it was
stolen from a public exhibition in
Westminster Hall a week earlier.
1977: Two jumbo jets collided on
the ground at foggy Tenerife
airport, killing 574 people.
1980: Mount St Helens in
Washington state in the United
States became active after 123 years
dormant.
1980: North Sea accommodation
platform Alexander Kielland
collapsed, killing 123 oil rig
workers.
1989: Bank Holiday Monday was
the warmest for 37 years, with the
Midlands hotter than the
Costa Brava or the Canary
Islands.
1991: David Icke, former
goalkeeper, BBC sports
presenter and then Green
Party spokesman,
announced he had been
“chosen” to save the
world.
ON THIS DAY LAST
YEAR
A disastrous opening day for
Heathrow’s £4.3bn Terminal 5
culminated with British Airways
suspending all baggage check-ins at
the new site.
BIRTHDAYS
Julian Glover, actor, 74; Michael
York, actor, 67; Tony Banks,
musician (Genesis), 59; Quentin
Tarantino, film director, pictured
left, 46; David Coulthard, F1 racing
driver, 38; Jimmy Floyd
Hasselbaink, former footballer, 37.
Answer in Monday’s Echo
Yesterday’s answer: The Golden
Gate Bridge, San Francisco
Where in the world?
bournemouthecho.co.uk/news/features/columnists
On returning home the
next day and finding we
were a “chicken down”, as
it were, we set about
hunting the area to no
avail.
Trying to dismiss
thoughts of a rogue fox, we
set about erecting “Missing
chicken” posters, sat back
and waited.
Thank goodness for the
kindly Mr and Mrs Gruber,
who, it transpired two days
later, had picked up our
little traveller not far at all
from her garden home and,
finding nobody around who
could lay claim to her, took
her to the RSPCA.
What an adventure our
little old girl had. All that
way on the back seat of the
car (she apparently was “as
good as gold”) and a hotel
suite for the night at the
hands of our caring local
animal rescuers.
It was all somewhat
reminiscent of the film
Chicken Run, but without
the one that knits (unless
Mabel’s got a nice little
sideline in pullovers going
that we know nothing
about...), and of course the
fact that our little bundle of
feathers seemed genuinely
happy to see us on our
arrival.
She knew full well she
was going back home to be
with her friends in a place
where there’s plenty of
food, water and shelter and
she’s not going to end up in
a pie.
I love a happy ending.
A
S some of you will
know, our back
garden is home to
a little brood of ex-
battery hens who spend
their retirement days
utterly annihilating our
lawn and making the most
of the sun they didn’t see
for the first two years of
their lives.
We love our little
waddling pets no end, but
sometimes they like to test
this unconditional
adoration, and a recent
escape attempt by a certain
young hen named Martha
was a particularly good
example.
There had been a
“breakout” the day before,
Martha having discovered a
hole in the fence and
squeezing through in order
to scratch around in the
dirt on the other side of the
fence (they’re not looking
for much, these birds).
A friendly neighbour
pointed out the visit of this
stranger to his garden, so
we simply picked her up
and brought her back
home, no harm done, and
set about repairing the
hole... apparently not very
well.
WAITING at the bus
stop the other day, I
was standing
watching the traffic.
There’s nothing else
to do there really, is
there? Dull places,
bus stops, very dull.
Anyway, my
observations were
interrupted by the
repeated sounding of
a horn, coming from a
van negotiating the
roundabout.
Looking up,
expecting to see some
sort of angry
exchange between
drivers, I was stunned
to see instead the
idiotic driver of the
van accidentally
holding down the
horn, incapacitated as
he was by the
cigarette he was
smoking while
simul-
taneously
talking on his
mobile phone.
I kid you not,
this man was
attempting to
take a
roundabout
with NO hands
on the wheel, his
concentration
being absorbed
by the conversation
he was having and all
the while risking
dropping hot ash into
his groin.
There are no words.
Of course, the best
action you can take as
the innocent
bystander in this
ludicrous situation is
to take in the
company’s name and
logo, splattered all
over the side of the
van, and make a
mental note to never
ever partake of their
services – and make
sure you pass on your
advice to friends and
family.
Indirect action can
be so satisfying.
Look, no hands!
Chicken tale with
a happy hen-ding
GET A GRIP! Driving
is (or should be) a
hands-on experience
BID FOR FREEDOM: It’s
like Chicken Run at home!