Oh Me, Oh My

London is the place where I would like to die
It’s got St Paul’s, Tower Bridge and then the great London Eye
It ‘s not one out of many
London’s worth your every penny
Though some people are uncanny
Like the baby murdering nanny 

Oh me, oh my
London is the place where I would like to die

The Thames is full of shit but it’s a lovely sight
Just like Amen Court and South Bank by night
Old Bailey’s just and fair
She’s got a tale or two to share
Babies’ bodies everywhere
She put Amelia in good care

Oh me, oh my
London is the place where I would like to die 

Have you ever seen a place grander than life?
Better pack your bags and grab your trouble and strife
Hop on a boat
Hop on a train
Better hop on a plane

You know it takes all sorts and London has them all
Downing Street, Canary Wharf and then Royal Albert Hall
People working round the clock
Some put you into a state of shock
Amelia Dyer wants to talk.
She’ll meet you again at Dead Man’s Walk

Oh me, oh my
London is the place where I would like to die

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Amen Court – The Amelia Dyer Chronicles

29-01-2014 Wednesday

22.30ImageAmen Court 

We sat there in silence for a little while. Outside you could hear the wind whistling through the trees. Tension built up as Mr Bent’s eyes darkened a little. He turned round very slowly, took a deep breath and sighed very heavily.

‘Sooner or later somebody was bound to find a body or two. A couple of fishermen were the unfortunate souls in this case. In their nets they found two very strange looking fish. They were the corpses of two babies. A police investigation lead to Amelia Dyer who was sent to New Gate Prison (that’s where the Old Baily is now). She was sentenced to death and had to stay in prison until the day of her hanging.

Between New Gate Prison and the wall at Amen Court there was a path called Dead Man’s Walk. It was named so for two reasons. First all those that were about to go air dancing had to walk across that path towards the gallows. Secondly, after you were hanged, they’d burry you underneath that path. Basically that meant you were walking on the graves of many (ex) prisoners and in fact also on your own grave. Dead Man’s Walk was aptly named.

On the day of her hanging Amelia Dyer walked amongst other prisoners towards her own death on Dead Man’s Walk. As she was walking she noticed a young warden along the path. A handsome boy indeed, so she looked him straight into the eyes and Scott – as was his name – looked back into hers. She came nearer and nearer and the kept staring each other in the eyes. When she was about to pass him she stared even deeper into his lovely eyes and whispered,’ I’ll meet you again someday, sir.’ As you can understand that was a very strange thing to say for a woman who about to make a long drop and a short stop.

Scott was a bit startled but had soon forgotten about it and continued working at New Gate Prison. After a couple of years he had completely forgotten all about it and was sitting in the staff room eating his food. As he was minding his own business he heard a voice calling. He had heard the voice before. Scott ran to the window and there she was, looking him into his eyes the same way she had done years before, saying those exact same words,’ I’ll meet you again some day, sir.’

Scott couldn’t believe his eyes. He ran outside to the place where she was, but she was gone. Vanished into thin air. She did leave him a little farewell present. Her handkerchief lay on the ground at the place she had stood. Scott picked it up and as I far as I know he kept his entire life, but never saw her again. And that, young Arthur, was the story of the Amelia Dyer – the baby farm murderer.’

I was completely frozen. The silence that fell cannot be described on a piece of paper. As if the temperature in the room had suddenly dropped below zero, my whole body felt numb. I just sat there and stared at Mr Bent in complete awe. Even stumbling words seemed impossible. Mr Bent stood up very slowly and walked into the kitchen to put away the cups. I just sat there staring, blinking, thinking.

See me tomorrow.  

Big Phish

Calling, calling, calling
But your calling is in vain
You’re too big for your bowl
And it’s driving you insane
Water’s getting thicker
There’s no one to hear you cry
Cause little fish are forgotten
When there’s bigger fish to fry

 There’s bigger fish to fry tonight

Pouring, pouring, pouring
How you’d love to see the rain
Wishing you were out there
Having nothing to complain
Staring at your castle
Silly thoughts just pass you by
If you were a salmon
You’d be the bigger fish to fry

There’s bigger fish to fry tonight

Crying, crying, crying
How you’re dying for some love
Prayers to the Lord
The Big Phish up above
Flushing of the toilet
You didn’t know that fish could fly
The bowl you left is empty
Now you’ve bigger fish to fry 

There’s bigger fish to fry tonight

The Baby Farm Murderer

28-01-2014 Tuesday

22.30

‘I hope you know what baby farms are,’ Mr Bent Continued,’ because I am going to talk about one. A baby farm is not a farm where you can pet babies and look at them from behind a fence. Baby farms were places where they’d put unwanted babies. Some of these babies came from wealthy women who, for instance, were not married and would be a disgrace to the family if anybody were to find out about the kid. Other babies would come from prostitutes. Having a baby is not a very good selling point, is it? So these women would put their dumplings into the hands of a baby farm.

Babies were left there for good; parents would never have to come and visit the kids. They’d pay the baby farm a large amount of money – some would pay monthly or yearly instalments, others would pay everything at once – and the lady at the baby farm would take care of the kids. This way no one was to find out about the unwanted babies and you could live the rest of your life as if you had never given birth.

Amelia Dyer had her own baby farm. She also had a problem. Amelia really loved money … a lot. She loved money more than anything. That, as you will understand, is not the problem; there’s nothing wrong with loving money. However, she hated … no … she loathed babies. From their tiny little feet to their disproportionally large heads, she hated every inch of them. But, she loved the money. Money … babies … money … babies.

As you can see, she had a problem. There she was with all that money, but also all those kids. What to do? She did what every baby-hating-but-money-loving woman would do in the 19th century: kill the babies. That’s what she did. She would choke the babies and dump their tiny little bodies in the river Thames. Problem solved.’

This is where I had to swallow. I got a bit of a lump in my throat. Who would do such a thing? What kind of woman would do that? Is money really that important? I couldn’t really grasp it. Mr Bent stared out of the window a little bit as he drank his tea and waited for the right moment to continue. Which in my case will be tomorrow, as I need to get some sleep. See me tomorrow. 

Amelia Dyer – the beginning

20140127_23113327-01-2014 Monday

22.30

So, as I was saying, I was making tea for us and Mr Bent came into the kitchen with his dowsing rod in his hands. He looked at the rods and played with them a little. Trying to hold them in different ways to make different geometrical shapes. While he was fidgeting with those darn things he said, in his thoughtful deep dark voice,’ You know, I’ve actually never quite understood these things.’ That’s when he threw them out of the window.

We stared at each other for a couple of seconds and then burst out in laughter. You should have seen the look on his face. He was dead serious when he said it and just chucked them out like that. I hope nobody was walking by at that very moment. He said he had something better for me. Well, actually, two things. Another story, and, what was even better, a book! The book he had been looking for wasn’t for him; it was for me. I made a picture of it to show you. It has got all kinds of freaky ghost stories about London. Sometimes I wish school made us read these kinds of books, they are way more interesting than things like ‘Gone with the wind’ or ‘Jane Eyre’

When tea was ready we sat ourselves down in sitting room, somewhere amidst all those books. Mr Bent said it was ok to just make a chair out of books if I wanted to. I thought it would a bit disrespectful, so I just threw some books on the floor and sat down on the sofa (I know, bad idea) while Mr Bent settled himself on one of the few … no, rephrase … the only free chair in the room. Which, as you can understand, wasn’t free anymore now.

He asked me if I had ever heard of a woman called Amelia Dyer. The name didn’t really ring a bell. Even after thinking really hard with my little thinker I couldn’t think of anyone who goes by that name. Even though I kept thinking Mr Bent was already saying it was useless to go on thinking. Amelia Dyer has been dead for a long time now; for over a century already. The world might be better off without her, too. She was not the nicest of woman.

‘For this story,’ as he added a little more bass to his voice,’ I have to take you back to the late 19th century. It were different times then, what with Jack the Ripper about, stirring up life in London. Great many killings were going on at that time and not all of them were done by dear ol’ Jacky.’

A loud noise of things falling filled the room.  It made an awful racket. We looked round us to see if we could see what had happened. A bunch of books fell down from one of the shelves and on their way down they had knocked over a quite inexpensive vase that shattered into pieces as it hit a very thick book. Mr Bent couldn’t be bothered. He took of sip of his tea, which was still piping hot, and swallowed it as if his throat was made of lead. Maybe that comes with old age, I dunno.

I will have to continue my story tomorrow. I can assure that it is going to be amazing. Though it’s a bit sad too. My bed is calling me and I can hear it calling me over the song I’ve been hearing in my head all day. Does everybody have that? A song that just gets stuck in your head for days and you can’t help but humming it or singing it in your head. The most frustrating thing is that I keep on repeating one bit of the song because I forgot the lyrics to the rest of it. All day long I’ve been walking around singing the same two lines, then I pause for a bit – there are more lines but I just don’t know the words – and finish with the last line of the verse and head into the first line of the chorus ending in a lalala, because I just don’t know the rest of the bleeding song anymore. I hope I am the only who has this, I wouldn’t want anybody else to suffer like this. See me tomorrow.

26-01-2014 Sunday

Mum’s shopping spree was a great success to that  respect that we didn’t get into any arguments, at least not a lot. Of course she had to point out my chubbiness every now and again whenever I needed a larger size of anything. I suspect her of deliberately picking clothes one or two sizes too small, just so she could make her statement. Maybe it would have worked better if she weren’t size elephant herself.

I found some pictures we took on Christmas day so I’ll put them up on Facebook. Oxford Street is not my favourite place to be in London, but it’s got a lot of shops and it sells what Mum wants to buy. I know that there are nicer places to go to, but Mum does not want me to go shopping at a place like Camden. She’s just acting posh. I happen to love Camden and it would have given me a chance to get some Yumchaa tea and velvet cake.

So, what did I get? I got: two pairs of jeans, three shirts, some new underwear and socks, a tie, and a lovely woolly hat that Mum hated but I loved. Mum says it messes up my hair, I said that if she didn’t want it to mess up my hair, she should see to it that I got a proper haircut that cannot be messed with. That was more or less the only argument we had. Today was a good day.

If you were wondering about my Dad’s whereabouts, he was at home. Mum had made an entire list of chores for him to do while we were out shopping. It was a list of mostly things that had to be fixed, repaired or mended; men stuff. Dad likes men stuff. Makes him feel useful. So, by the time we got home everything was more or less fixed. The tap was still a bit leaky and one of the kitchen cabinet doors was gone, but other than that, perfect.

After dinner I went to see Mr Bent. That man must be impossible to live with. Piles of books and papers blocked the door. He had to get all of that out of the way first before he was able to open up the door for me. Inside it was like he had emptied his bookcases and thrown everything onto the floor, it was a gigantic mess. I have told you about his condition, this must take ages for him to get back onto the shelves again.

After I had finished staring at the carpet of books, I asked Mr Bent,

‘What on earth happened here?’

‘ I was looking for something,’ was his reply.

‘ But,’ pause for dramatic effect ’WHAT!?’

‘ Just, some book I thought I had somewhere.’

‘ Mr Bent, please, don’t tell me you threw all your books on the floor, just because you were looking for one in particular?’

‘ Yes, and my efforts paid off; I found it.’

‘ Well, at least you’ve got that going for you, which is nice. But what

about this mess?’

‘I’ll start putting back those books tomorrow. I think I’ll put them back in alphabetical order. That might be the wisest thing to do.’

This is where he more or lest started mumbling and talking to himself. It became inaudible to me, so I tried looking him into the eyes and said,

‘ Can I help you?’

This questions woke him, it was as if it was his cue. As if someone suddenly pressed ‘play’.

‘ No, I’m beyond repair, love. Besides, what else is there to do for an old man like me?’

Can you believe it!? For one book that he’s probably not going to read anyways, because he’ll forget. At least he made me make tea this time, which is already a big change for him. He never lets anybody do anything for him.

While I was making tea, Mr Bent came into the kitchen with the dowsing rods. Of course he had an amazing story tell as well. Mind you, it had nothing to do with the dowsing rods; totally unrelated to each other. The story will have to wait till later this week, because I am deadbeat and really have to go to sleep. I got home at 22.30 and Mum was not happy about it. See me tomorrow.

Heaven Or Bust!

Had some trouble sleeping, so I came up with this. 

Heaven Or Bust

This ship is sinking

The captain is dead
He’s got two holes
In the back of his head
‘n’ I don’t think they were there before 

This ship is burning
The flames rising high
A hole in my head
That might cause me to die
‘n’ I don’t think it was there before 

All hands are screaming
Their fingers are burning
Their bodies have turned into dust
Ashes to ashes
We’ll take to the skies
Thumbs up it’s heaven or bust 

The ship is no longer
The captain is dead
Heaven has an angel
With a hole in his head
‘n’ I don’t think it was there before 

All hands are screaming
Their fingers are burning
Their bodies have turned into dust
Ashes to ashes
We’ll take to the skies
Thumbs up it’s heaven or bust

Ghost Hunter Man

25-01-2014 Saturday

21.00

ImageI don’t have to come to terms with being on the heavy side, it’s the rest of the world out there; they have to come to terms with me being a bit chubby. The only thing I have to do is to make sure it will stay being chubby (or just athletic) and do not turn into something obese. That is one of the reasons why I have decided to start doing push-ups. I have to do them while my arms can still reach the floor when I’m lying on my stomach.

Today I watched the film Beverly Hills Ninja. It’s not hilarious, but quite funny for an American film. Haru is a rather fat Ninja and not a very good one. While all the other Ninjas are on a mission, Haru has to guard the dojo. A lovely looking lady distracts him and he leaves. I am not going to go into the story any further, the reason I mentioned it is because this Haru character kind of reminded me of what I might grow up to be like if I don’t mind my weight. Also, I was kind of daydreaming about becoming a martial artist myself. As a ghost hunter I think I could use some of those ninja skills (and not just my invisibility skills).

Mum would probably disagree, she doesn’t even know about me being a Ghost Hunter. By the way, did you see my new outfit? I made it this morning. I did not have to sew anything together – thank God. I took one of my old plain T-shirts and painted a logo on it that I designed myself. After that I ripped another old shirt apart and cut a nice mask out of it. I have wondered though how it is that superheroes are not recognized just because they are wearing something over their eyes. Just like that Green Lantern guy; it’s so obvious! I’ll just wear the mask because I think it’s cool and I think they do to. To be honest, I look a lot better in the picture wearing that outfit than I do in real life.

Come to think of it. I guess most people in those films aren’t as pretty as they seem to be on the screen. They are not as pretty as they are. They wear make-up and I bet that with all those new films a lot of retouching is done to make those actors look even prettier. I bet I wouldn’t even recognize most of them if they weren’t wearing their make-up. That is why I have decided never to fall in love with a film star; they’re as fake as can be.

Having said that, back to reality. I am just a normal boy with no super powers, just a cheap superhero outfit that I made myself, but at least I have dreams. It’s up to me – and Mum – to make those dreams come true. Which is why I am going over to Mr Bent’s tomorrow. I know he was supposed to come here, but I don’t think he’ll be coming in anytime soon. Knowing him he’ll just say things like,’ Germs! Germs everywhere!’ Because I had the flu this week.

That’s it for today. I am going to finish up on my report about the Natural History Museum. I got a long way yesterday and I even managed to get some of those pictures up. I don’t if you have looked me up on Facebook already. You should, I could use some friends there. Sometimes it feels I am talking to myself. Cheddar says,’ Woof y’all.’ See me tomorrow.  

Something Special

 

You’re such a lovely lady
Except for your ears maybe
Given to you by your mother
She’s had them since she was a baby
She got them from her father
She hasn’t seen him lately

You are something special, I can tell
Fallen straight from heaven
On your way to hell

I’ve had it with this weather
But let’s go and have a stroll dear
I want to talk about our future
And maybe buy one when the time’s here
Your granddad had no future
Walked under a train dear

We are something special, I can tell
Fallen straight from heaven
On our way to hell

I wonder where we are now
Some dark and shabby lane
The wind is getting stronger
Taking shelter from the rain
You look a lot like your mother
Our kids will say the same

They will be something special, I can tell
Fallen straight from heaven
We’ll keep them from hell

Dinosaurs and Whales and Shit

24-01-2014 Friday

22.30

Jinkies, I totally forgot. Today we went to the museum. I just remembered writing that one of the school bullies threw somebody down the stairs but I forgot to tell that we were at the Natural History Museum. We were working on this school project; a biology project to be more precise. I got so caught up in this bully story and being a ninja that I forgot to tell you where I was and what we did.

I was totally in stealth mode today (which gave me the idea for the ninja bit). Lucky me, they counted everybody on the bus. I am one of those pupils who usually gets left behind. I wander off, lose track of time, get lost, you name it, I do anything to not have to go back. Just kidding. It’s just that I am hardly ever outside on my own, other than going to school and back home again. That is why I try my best to take in as much as I can and thus I lose sense of everything around me.

Most of my classmates brought their mobile phones to take pictures. Mum gave me a shitty old camera that I was unable to operate properly. She said I should feel lucky that it was a digital one and not one that still uses films. I gave her big (though fake) smile to show my appreciation. As soon as I have figured out how to get the pictures on my computer I will put some up – if there are any good ones. For now you will have to do with what I tell you about the museum. I am going to keep it short though, because it is nearly time for bed.

First of all, the Natural History Museum is big, very big and most of it is really interesting. There was only one part I found incredibly dull. Not even reasonably dull, not incredibly dull. It is also kind of a fishy part of the museum (bad pun intended). They were just some big rooms with small sea creatures in them. I didn’t time it, I don’t think I spent more than five minutes in there.

Wait, rewind, and let’s start at the beginning. As soon as you walk into that building you look straight into the eyes of this fantastic Dinosaur skeleton. I will have to Google all of their Latin(?) names, because I didn’t take any notes and my knowledge on dinosaurs is next to nothing. This skeleton reaches way up to the ceiling (so you’re not really looking into his eyes, because they are way up there, and you are way down there). Next to that beast I felt really slim.

Anyways, if you turn left immediately, you enter the exposition room where they have this sort of path that takes you along tens of real looking life-sized dinosaurs. They have got bones, full skeletons, replicas, eggs, and so much information. They put up all these signs with information on their habitats and how they lived and what might have caused their extinction. I don’t remember ever heaving read anything about it in the bible. You have to start upstairs and walk along this bridge-like contraption. This also gives you a good overview of the entire exposition. It was actually kind of creepy. Some of these dinosaur skeletons looked so much alive.

At the end of the bridge you are get to see a moving dinosaur. To be honest, although it must not have been easy to make, it did look a little bit fake compared to all the other things. I did fancy the dinosaur eggs and the little baby dinosaurs. I think they were nicer than the big brawling bully that was taking up too much space.

As it is nearly time for bed, I am going to say one last thing. The whales and their skeletons were also breath taking. I never imagined whales were that huge and that animals that big still live on this planet and even in the sea. They made me feel small and insignificant. I wonder if the little fish in the ocean feel like that when they see a whale passing by. Whatever. See me tomorrow.