John Henty @2020

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John Henty is the only person alive to have asked me to provide the voice

for a sofa! The fact that I agreed speaks volumes for our friendship. Now

I look forward to reading this ‘Ultimate Selfie’ and I hope it raises lots

of dosh for Friends of Lewes Victoria hospital. Enjoy! I know you will!




It was ten years ago this year that

I wrote a letter to the editor of Viva

Lewes with the suggestion that an

occasional feature on the hobby of

collecting might be of interest to his

growing band of readers. Lewes, with

its eclectic mix of antiques centres,

auction houses and charity shops, was

the perfect place to live for people

like me, I argued – people who collect


Happily, Alex agreed and “Henty’s

Twenty” was born and I became “our

man in the bargain basement” and

later, “our man in the antique shop

who scores every time”! It was fun

and over the years, I was able to write

about fellow collectors, stall holders

and other Lewes characters on my

page which eventually became “Lewes

Out Loud” or L.O.L.

And it is those monthly musings that I

am celebrating with this self-financed

publication which could, I suppose, be

described as the Ultimate Selfie! There

is another purpose though and that

is to say – if you derive any pleasure

from these merry magazine moments

(and I hope you will) then a donation

(could I suggest £5?) to my chosen

charity Friends of Lewes Victoria

Hospital would be greatly appreciated

– especially at this very difficult time.

Equipment at the hospital worth over

half a million pounds has been funded

by the Friends in the last five years.



They also funded half of the cost of

enhancing the Minor Injuries Unit

into an Urgent Treatment Centre.

Donations by bank transfer to Halifax

savings account 11280961 11-15-24

will ensure that every penny reaches

the designated charity or please send

a cheque direct to The Treasurer,

Friends of Lewes Victoria Hospital,

Lewes Victoria Hospital, Neville

Road, Lewes, BN7 1PE, East Sussex.

Thank You!!!

Thanks also to Everyone at Viva

Magazines, My Art Director, Rebecca

Cunningham, Artist, Leslie Norah

Hills for the cover, Edward Reeves,

159 High Street, Lewes and Gemini

Print in Shoreham-by-Sea.



It was an unusual gift for a nine year

old boy but then my Grandfather, Fred

Henty, was an unusual man. For a job, he

travelled the South of England on behalf

of the North British Rubber Company

and, being a bit of an eccentric in his black

beret, he was very good at it. Everyone

knew and liked Fred Henty.

It’s true a second hand typewriter may not

have appealed to most kids of my age but I

was delighted and immediately bashed out

a note of thanks to Grandpa which I still

have today.

Even then I liked working with words

and later at school in Croydon, I was

advised by one teacher to “try a soapbox

in Hyde Park” after he read a particularly

outspoken and bombastic essay of mine.

I was 13.

A caption writing job for the Shell

Photographic Unit followed and it was

here at No. 1 Kingsway in London, that

I learned the importance of meeting

deadlines and telling the whole story in a

limited number of words.

This certainly served me well on joining

a local newspaper as a feature writer in

South London. It also helped to have a

good sense of humour and crucially, to like

and appreciate all sorts of people.



In writing a page for Viva Lewes over

the past ten years, I have again enjoyed

the discipline of following the monthly

themes and confining myself to 500

words precisely.

It’s been a great pleasure too being part

of such a proactive publication and in

so lively (and lovely) a town. And... I

like to think (in fact I happen to know)

that “Plenty More Henty” has made

people smile over the years perhaps

with contributions like this one from

June 2011:

Hello Hello…. Anyone out there

in Laidback Lewes Land who can

tell me – in words of one syllable

– what a ‘dongle’ is. Wrong

answer I’m afraid madam – good

try though. No – the reason I

ask is because I was thumbing

through a John Lewis technology

catalogue recently and noted that

the majority of their L.E.D.

televisions on offer have ‘dongles’

sold separately. This worried me

– well it would do – wouldn’t it?

In July 2018 adhering to the monthly

theme for Viva caused me a tricky

moment or two:

I must admit it was a big relief

to be told that the Viva theme for

July was botany and not lobotomy

as I originally misheard the

editor’s briefing. Five hundred

words linking Lewes with a

surgical operation involving

incision into the prefrontal lobe

of the brain was going to be a

challenge I feared.



When you reach my age (don’t

ask!) reminiscing is often preferable

to recalling more recent events

– schooldays for example from

October 2011:



At school I was involved in two

societies. One I formed myself

with a friend called Colin and

it only lasted one lunchtime.

At least 100 boys turned up

for the inaugural meeting of

the Conjuror’s Club and while

Colin pretended to cut off people’s

fingers with one of his tricks, I

proceeded to make money vanish

by asking for subscriptions to join

the club. When the headmaster

heard about this the following

day from the master whose room

we had invaded, he was not

wildly amused and threatened to

cut us both in half using a cane

rather than a saw. I hasten to

add, officer, that all the money

was recovered.

Just as well eh? In April 2017,

reflecting again on the past, I asked




Would you like to know what

I had for dinner on Thursday,

April 24, 1947? I heard

that madam – quite uncalled

for! Corned beef and mashed

potato is the unexciting answer

I’m afraid and then I went

shopping because my mum

was ‘very ill’ in the night with

what I described as a bilious

attack. A typical entry in my

Lett’s Schoolboy’s diary.

Getting out and about in the town

has provided me with numerous

opportunities to meet new people

but it started unpromisingly, as I

reported, in November 2015:

My promise to share more

than a polite ‘Good Morning’

with people in the High Street

got off to a rather wobbly start.

Walking down School Hill, I

spotted a couple on the other

side of the road. We waved

at each other. I crossed over,

explained that my wife was

at home, to which a bemused

but smiling Philip responded

“I don’t think we actually

know each other!” Well – we

do now!

Then there was this chance

encounter from August 2018 when:

In Eastport Lane I checked out

the well-being of a woman who

was crouched at the foot of the

flint wall to Grange Gardens.

Chirpy local resident, Ali,

reassured me that she was

only sewing wild poppy seeds.

Silly Me!

Indeed! Writing for Viva Lewes has

its benefits too as I discovered in an

early piece from August 2010:

Such is the popularity of Viva

in the town that I now know

what it must be like for Piers

Morgan to stroll into his

favourite Newick pub for a

quiet pint or two. Difficult!

It’s true I haven’t received any

begging letters yet but I have

noticed the Big Issue woman

outside Waitrose is becoming

increasingly friendly with her

“Good Mornings!”



Ever conscious of the fact that

I might be too parochial in my

monthly outpourings, occasionally

I have indulged in a blatant bit of

celebrity name dropping – like this

in July 2012:

So I said to Esther Rantzen

– I do hope you had better

weather for your presentation

in the festival village than I

did. It was wet, misty and unseasonally

cold. She fixed me

with those perceptive eyes of

hers, shrugged nonchalantly

and said “John – that’s life!”

Great idea for a TV show I

thought to myself – perhaps this

is the moment to mention my

projected antiques programme

‘Up Your Attic’? Too late.

She’d vanished into the murk

– shouting that someone had

spotted a Cornish pasty which

bore an uncanny resemblance

to John Prescott...

As a proud owner of Lewes Football

Club, occasional mentions of

the mighty Rooks were almost

guaranteed from time to time. This

from June 2015:

I suppose one way of achieving

a day by the seaside in landlocked

Lewes would be to hire,

for that day, one of the beach

huts recently established at the

Dripping Pan. You could then

pretend that the pitch was the

English Channel – or perhaps

Mediterranean, if you have

a vivid enough imagination.

Local seagulls could add to the

illusion and, as the inevitable

rain thunders down onto the

wooden roof, you could eat the

packed cheese sandwiches and

maybe contemplate a paddle in

one of the puddles outside.



And in February 2018:



Hats off to the nameless

gentleman in scarf and cap

who spent the entire second

half of a recent Lewes FC

fixture wandering the terraces

whilst slowly drinking from

a pint glass of beer which

never seemed to empty. Three

points for the Rooks, three

pints for our friend, I suspect.

Everyone happy!



And that’s what we want isn’t it?

Everyone going home happy! I

hope these extracts from ten years

of Henty’s happenings – humorous

and otherwise – will have given you

a few smiles in retrospect. A random

selection to end with...

# If you want a brilliant

example of regeneration, you

could do a lot worse than look

through my weary wardrobe –

please ask me first though!

# When I told the editor I

was planning to feature clocks

in my monthly article, she

commented “About time” to

which I replied “Yes – and

about other things too!”

# Christmas presents. This

year I’m thinking about a

Deer Deterrent (£7.99) which,

when fitted to a car, emits a

sound (not audible to humans)

to warn the deer. Obviously

works. When did you last see

a deer in the High Street.

Serious consideration too for

a pure Outer Hebridean wool

collar which, according to the

advertisement, ‘Gives Urban

dogs just a hint of wildness’ for

£39. Wild? I’d be furious at

that price!

# Then there’s the hazard of

negotiating the ‘weak bridge’

at Lewes railway station.

The warning sign is hardly

re-assuring and what do the

letters MGW mean? When I

suggested ‘Might Give Way’ to

a local taxi man, he grinned

and said it actually stood for

‘Maximum Gross Weight’!



And finally:

Let’s be clear – when I reach the

Queen’s age, I will not be inviting

Frank Skinner to play the ukulele

at my 92nd birthday bash. No –

on March 25, 2028, I shall hire

Lewes Town Hall and invite

my favourite band from San

Francisco, Fee Waybill and The

Tubes to perform for me. Fee will

be 77 years of age himself that

year but he is still touring and,

if anything, age has improved his

outrageous performances. Make a

note of the date!




Here’s a crossword I’ve devised with a local theme! Me? I love codewords and in April

2018 commented in Viva: It amazes me that codeword compilers are able to produce

such teasers unendingly, using all letters of the alphabet. Who are these people, I

wonder, and could they be part of a cottage industry here in our own town, hidden

perhaps behind curtained windows in out of the way twittens?


1. Beef variety best for chips at the Pan

5. Tailless amphibian beloved of Viva’s

Michael Blencowe

8. Wise not to drink unless desperate

9. Of Cleves? Yes – but not Lewes

11. Rather shocking route

12. Wilmington’s tall guy

13. Sounds like a thoroughfare close to


15. Viva magazines deserve these surely?

18. A Saint twix Lewes High Street and

Southover Road

19. Former nationwide cinema in Lewes

21. Prayer ending

22. Stand-up needs one at the Con Club

23. Think over this answer

24. The practice of severe self-discipline


1. Lewes cinema gets involved with

oppressive rulers

2. Unsuitable answer

3. Sounds a quiet place for refuge on

the coast

4. Makes a pointed venue in Lewes

6. There’s a Potato Lane in this

village, East of Lewes

7. In 6 Down, you’ll also find Rushy...

10. Runny nose? O Blows mine to

clear the white stuff

14. Bloomsbury group gathered here

16. Best viewed on the downs to the


17. Month by month Viva highlights

these locally

18. Set this for an early call

20. Bored?

Answers on page 36!






The audition to be accepted by

East Sussex Federation of Women’s

Institutes for inclusion in their list of

speakers for the years 2007/2008 was

daunting enough.

Ovingdean village hall was full of W.I.

members from all over the county

and I was one of at least ten potential

orators who were required to speak

on their chosen subjects for no more

than ten minutes.

I was on immediately after lunch

which bothered me because I

reckoned the audience was bound to

have had a decent W.I. type spread

and forty winks might have been

preferable to my chuntering on about

Mabel Lucie Attwell!

However, it all went very well to

such an extent that the next day I

received a phone call at home from

one talks secretary who wanted to

book me for one of their meetings

the following week.

“I haven’t heard the result of my

audition yet” I pointed out, “Oh

we don’t worry about that” she told

me “Our representative thought

you were jolly good and would go

down well with our older members!”




And so it proved. The audition was

successful and now, thirteen years

on, I am about to reach my 200th

talk. The subjects are varied and

so too are the audiences and they

extend into West Sussex as well.

Selsey, perhaps, the longest journey

to the west and Tunbridge Wells to

the east.

Much of the time I travel to the

venues by car, relying very heavily

on a modest sat/nav device to seek

out the various village halls and,

believe me, they take some finding!

How I reached Rudgwick (which

is close to Horsham) in June

2013, I will never know. It was

a warm day and I was on a busy

dual carriageway when the voice

of ‘Melanie’, as I called her, ceased

abruptly. Battery dead! I was lost

and only just made my engagement

with seconds to spare. No one knew

where renegade Rudgwick was –

apart from the oft-quoted fact that

it was “Near Horsham”. Phew!!



And then there was Fairwarp

or was there? The night of

Valentine’s Day 2017 was

unromantically dark, little or no

moon and rain threatened as I set

off for what should have been a

fairly straightforward journey.

‘Melanie’ was in good voice as I

approached the Ashdown Forest

area on what she assured me was a

minor road – a mere five minutes

from my destination. And then –

the instruction to turn abruptly

right onto what appeared to be

an unmade up road. Really? “In

500 yards you will have reached

your destination” she chirruped.

Oh no I won’t – thought I as the

road narrowed to a single track

and meandered off menacingly

into a dense part of the forest.

Ahead, after a bumpy few seconds,

I spotted a white building to my

left which showed no sign of life

but at least had a courtyard which

allowed me to cautiously turn

round in the intense dark.

As I did so... a figure emerged

from out of the murk and

approached slowly along the

full beam of light from my



headlamps. “I’m looking for

Fairwarp village hall” I shouted,

“Giving a talk there at half past

seven”. The man stared vacantly

at me and in broken English said

that I would have to return the

way I had come. “No village hall

here” he grunted.

“Where am I then?” I foolishly

asked – somewhat in desperation.

“You’re in the middle of the

forest!” he offered and shuffled

back from whence he had come

into the darkness.

That was enough for me. My

presentation was due in less than

fifteen minutes, the rain was

coming down and by now, even

‘Melanie’ had lost her bearings.

Take me home I commanded as

we reached the road again – this

is one talk I won’t be making!

The only time I failed to appear,

I hasten to add, in those thirteen

years on the road. I have not

returned to Fairwarp either but

should you venture that way,

here’s the postcode to watch out

for. TN22 3DB. You have been

warned. I’m told Fairwarp is a

lovely village – once you find it!






First – a question. What do blow

lamps, Black Forest cuckoo clocks,

baked bean tins, gnomes and airline

sick bags all have in common? Well,

according to writer Brian Jenner,

the correct answer is that they are all

objects collected by an eccentric bunch

of British blokes – prompting the

unambiguous title for his illustrated

2003 book “Men and Collections”

(New Holland Publishers).

And yes – as Brian observes – it is

predominantly a male thing. In his

editorial, he suggests collecting is

most likely a reflection of the male

urge to hunt and the need to focus on

one particular thing. “Since women

juggle tasks, they cannot understand

these singular obsessions.”



Well that’s one way of looking at it

I suppose Brian and, of course, you

would expect him to find many others.

He goes on “Collecting combines two

passions. A love of hoarding things and

the search for the unattainable.” Then

there are also social benefits to do with

collecting. It allows men to get together

and to understand each other.

Now all of this somewhat pretentious

logic is music to my ears because,

unashamedly, I am and always have been

an inveterate collector and an eccentric

British bloke to go with it. Beard,

glasses – the works! Unfortunately

though, I have never been satisfied with

one particular interest which means that

I have ended up with a truly eclectic

mix of manifold memorabilia with no

apparent theme.

However, I can argue (and frequently

do) that there is a logical underlying

lineage about my objects, some of which

appear on these pages. For whatever

reason, they are all iconic in one way or

another. Yet it all started so innocently...

As a schoolboy at a single sex school

in Croydon, just after the war, Dinky

toys were all the rage and a shop in the

High Street had an impressive window

display of all the latest models, ranging

from armoured vehicles to post war

saloon cars. Attractively boxed, the toys,

however, were in short supply and word

of a new delivery always prompted a





dash down to Hunts after school and,

believe it or not, fairly disorderly queues


It was the same with fireworks which

were even harder to find in the buildup

to November 5. Penny bangers were

popular and just one rocket acquired for

sixpence was cause for much celebration.

Of course, the Dinky toys did not remain

in their boxes for long and a significant

fact today is that surviving models in

those original boxes are worth so much

more than their unboxed companions.

This is true of many other collectable

items too but packaging and condition

were not top of my priorities list back in

the late forties. Then it was a question

of road-testing the new model to the

accompaniment of realistic sounding

engine noises.







A parapet in front of Big School

provided the ‘road’ and models vied

with each other in a spirited South

Croydon version of Le Mans. That

is until the headmaster banned

such activity with the threat of

confiscating the toys (probably to

add to his own prized collection?).

Train spotting was for grown-ups

and I can recall seeing groups of men

standing at the far end of a Clapham

Junction platform with notebooks

in hand, cameras at the ready and

the occasional stool to sit on. Steam

trains, sadly, were on the way out and

the romance associated with them.

Somehow, diesel trains just didn’t

do it for me and, for a brief spell, I

became a bus spotter, with visits to

various depots in South London

and I even owned a short-lived

collection of bus tickets! Imagine

the excitement too when I captured

on my box brownie camera a blurred

image of the very first Route Master

bus (green) belting past me on its

journey to Purley. I still have that

black and white photograph today

in one of many photograph albums.

I also have the autograph albums

that I started around the same time

and which prompted me to write

my first ever feature to appear in

print. A theatrical garden party at

the Kennington Oval got things off

to a good start but I do wish I had

carried a pen with me because the

pencilled contributions have faded

over the years and they include

Ivor Novello, Richard Dimbleby,

Michael Redgrave and Naunton

Wayne. It goes without saying that

celebrity autographs do have value

but condition is very important

and so too is provenance – how

the signature was obtained, where

it was signed and under what




In all honesty, I have never been overly

concerned at the long term value of any

item in my various collections and I

always encourage others to adopt a similar

approach. If you truly appreciate an item –

then acquire it because you like it and not

because it may have some greatly improved

value in years to come.

Evidence increasingly shows that this

is not always the case anyway. Another

thing to remember is that not everyone

will share your enthusiasm for whatever

it is you lovingly collect/hoard/stash

away. This probably explains why fellow

enthusiasts frequently congregate together

in draughty church halls, produce bizarre

newsletters and go on coach outing to

obscure exhibitions. Reassurance.

It certainly helps to have a partner who

understands the need to do these collective

things but, as Brian Jenner wisely adds

“A hobby is like one’s relationship with

money. It is good to be well-organised and

take care of your investments. It is mad to

hoard them and let them be an obstacle to


Space is another serious issue and it needs

to be noted that some men are not allowed

to show off their collections. They are

confined to a loft or garden shed along

with their prized possessions. In my case, a

move to a four-storey house was the start of

some very eccentric behaviour on my part.














A working juke box would not go

through the front door which had to be

removed. Two (yes – TWO) telephone

kiosks (each weighing three quarters of

a ton) were offered to a local museum.

A player piano was lowered into the

basement and remained there when we

eventually moved to another property.

And guess what! The new house was

a single-storey chalet style bungalow

which fortunately boasted a sizeable

loft and garage. You see, I write from

experience but have absolutely no

regrets about my jackdaw tendencies.

Our modest shop in Fowey, Cornwall,

celebrated them for several years. A book

followed and lecture tours continue to

this day. Final word comes from Brian

though because he sums it all up for

me by writing “A collection provides

meaning, structure and purpose to life”.

Who could ask for anything more?

Footnote from Viva in March 2012:

People often ask me why I collect things

and what I would recommend them to look

out for. For the sake of simplicity I usually

offer this answer “An elephant never tires

of carrying its own trunk”. Actually this

came from a pack of prawn curry which I

purchased in COOK but it sums things up

nicely for me.



Ironically, the April theme for Viva Lewes was VOICE. The Coranavirus has

temporarily silenced that voice but here is my contribution for the ill-fated edition.

I offer it in the firm belief that both Viva magazines will return and when they

do, their mindful messages will be louder than ever. Hear this!

When it comes to remembering

people from my chequered

broadcasting past, inevitably it is the

voice I recall rather than the visage. In

terms of recognition, my focal point

then is predominately vocal.

There was a good example on this

page in 2015 when I described a

brief encounter with BBC Radio 4

newsreader, Peter Donaldson, who

died earlier that year in the town. I

wrote ‘It was at a Rocket Radio party

in Lewes and I recognised Peter

immediately from his distinctive voice.

A voice which I’d last heard locally

at that years’ Remembrance Day

ceremony at the war memorial’.

How important the voice! It was

my mother who always urged me to

‘speak nicely’ as she put it and mum,

a telephonist at London’s prestigious

WHItehall exchange in the 1930s,

obviously knew the importance of

enunciating clearly. It served me well

I have to say.

Two school chums of mine in Croydon

went on to be vocal virtuosos – one in

broadcasting and the other on stage.

Tim Gudgeon, of course, became best

known for reading the football results

on Saturday afternoon’s TV sport

and continued in the job well into his


Incidentally, he was matched only by

a Radio 2 colleague who will always

be remembered for churning out the

same results on radio’s Sports Report.

James Alexander Gordon was quite a

character with his prosthetic leg and

beguiling Scottish charm.

Martin Jarvis, whose home was in

South Norwood, was foremost a

stage actor but gained enormous

recognition in the audiobook world

reading, amongst other things, the

Just William stories.

And talking of audiobooks, a former

Radio Brighton colleague, Simon

Vance, now living in Southern



California, is much in demand these

days in America for his work in this

rapidly expanding field. According to a

recent study by the National Literacy

trust in this country, ‘audiobooks can

be the key to unlocking a child’s love of


‘They enable children of all reading

abilities and interests to access and

explore the incredible world of stories

which are brought to life by a range

of exciting voices, different accents

and sound effects’. It is predicted that

the sale of audiobooks will overtake

e-books this year. No wonder Simon

has just built himself a new studio

outside Los Angeles enabling him to

work from home – lucky fellow.

Other voices I have encountered over

the years. Another Brighton friend

claimed to be the voice on the London

underground, warning people to “Mind

the gap!” When producing programmes

for hospital radio, I worked with Brian

Cobby who was for many years the

time-telling man for British Telecom.

Such a rich unmistakeable voice which

made him instantly recognisable. He

enjoyed that.

My only voice recognition of any note

was outside Brighton station a few years

ago when I offered to help a visually

impaired gentleman cross a busy road.

“I’m OK thank you John” he said, much

to my amazement. Reassuring though. I

had a listener!



A literary friend once described a

collection of my cryptic poems as

‘certainly mind over doesn’t matter’. I

think it was meant as a compliment! Put

it this way, I didn’t object at the time

and even today, the five carefully chosen

words continue to resonate in my zany

approach to everyday life.

In fact, I’ve always had a penchant for

poetry and the rhythm of words expressed

in verse has frequently helped me to

justify my circumstances at important

times. For example when I decided to

hand in my notice to the BBC in 1978...

I’ve climbed down off my shelf

To discover myself

To shake hands with the man who

is me

Going out on a limb

To encourage the ‘him’

Who has never become BBC

For ten years in the South

I’ve been known as a mouth

The spokesman that everyone hears

Now it’s time to say “No”

To switch off and go

For a mouth read a pair of keen ears!



Or this dedication to a medication...

It’s clearly no joke

To suffer a stroke

And that’s why I’ve taken this pill

But it may cause a cough

So I’m going to leave off

ATENOLOL I wish you no ill!

Three stories in verse – mostly aimed at

children, proved popular over the years

and started with the story of a mouse

in Brighton who formed a gang in an

attempt to save the West Pier from

demolition. Marlborough The Mouse

or ‘Duke’ to his mates was chewing

a calendar – he was partial to dates!

“Olly – The Brolly” who hated getting

wet was next and then Cheshire The

Cheese-Loving Bear was born – as an

illustrated book and CD which received

praise from no less a person than

illustrator Raymond Briggs. He wrote

‘It was jolly funny and I’ve asked my

assistant to send a donation’. Happily,

Cheshire raised a fair amount of ‘dosh’

(as Raymond put it) for various Sussex

charities. More fun verse...

On a visit to friends on Orkney I met


I’m Randy the Ram, that’s who I am

Not useless ewe or lolloping lamb

Alone in a field from morn to night

It’s greeting humans that’s my delight!

I dash across whenever they’re near

And make my motives perfectly clear

A friendly face, an offered hoof

Let no one say that I’m aloof

And when I lay me down to sleep

It’s humans I count not bloody sheep!!!



And then this – following a tour of

Brighton’s sewers. BRAINDRAIN…

A tour of the sewer made me feel


All those tunnels and ladders and


Yet hither and thither came the

sound of a zither

And the bloke in the front’s

name….was Lime!

Down below, don’t you know, it’s

an all-action show

And the workers are flushed with


And what floats in the gutter is

their bread and butter

A point they find hard to express!!!



It would be strange if I did not mention,

albeit briefly, the circumstances under

which this pint-sized potboiler has been

produced. Difficult! All the more reason

then for another BIG THANK YOU to

Viva Magazines, Rebecca, Leslie, Tom,

Judy and Mark at Gemini Print for

being there!

THANK YOU also dear reader,

especially if you have been able to

contribute to the Friends of Lewes

Victoria Hospital at a most crucial time.

I really look forward to meeting some

of you when the ‘clouds’ have cleared

away. Grange Gardens for a cuppa?



Across: 1. Dripping, 5. Frog, 8. Seawater,

9. Anne, 11. Outre, 12. Longman, 13. Streat,

15. Awards, 18. Andrews, 19. Odeon, 21. Amen,

22. Audience, 23. Mull, 24. Ascetics.

Down: 1. Despots, 2. Inapt, 3. Peacehaven,

4. Needle, 6. Ringmer, 7. Green, 10. Snowmobile,

14. Rodmell, 16. Sunsets, 17. Issues, 18. Alarm,

20. Ennui


Portrait by Lewes-based artist

Leslie Norah Hills

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