The Prime Minister, The Eu and the Brexiteers - A funny thing happened on our their way to vote

Breaking News: Yet another knife crime was reported yesterday as a 62 year old professional woman was callously set upon and stabbed in the back an incredible 391 times, by an unruly mob – or so-called Brexiteers. The woman, one Mrs.T.May, is said to be resting in an unstable condition, but is exploring a number of options to put this incident behind her. And they are:

1. Sink the whole country on the stock market and sell any remaining assets to America.

2. Overthrow the whole damn government...and start again !.

3. Go back to the House, and get the ministers to vote on their pay rises – the only time they can come together about the only thing they care about – and secretly slip in an amendment about accepting a ' No Deal' offer.

It seems to me that the fault doesn't lie so much with Brussels but in ourselves.... well the bunch of self serving, spineless, politically incorrect, elected losers !

One might get the impression that they - MP''s - don't actually want to leave Europe at all, and are doing their best to ensure it doesn't happen - but that would be ridiculous...wouldn't it ?.

@brexit @teresamay #Houseofcommons @HouseofCommons #teresamay #brexit #democracy

A Cautionary Halloween Tale in verse and rhyme

  Halloween doth fall once more, and so I am cursed to repeat my tale as I have before.

Below, is a TRUE story, of several accounts of accidental arson, darkness and despair. Just another All Hallows Eve at Burford Heights !! 

One of my favourite poems penned by my late father. 

Don't try this at home, and try not to have nightmares...whooooahhhh, haaha ! Ha ! Ha ! Ha! whooooah ! ...
...gasp, wheeze !

A Cautionary Halloweeen Tale

Halloween is here again
We're waiting for to greet
The children with their fancy masks
To claim their trick or treat

We're waiting in our entrance hall
With all assorted sweets
No sound of children anywhere
And no-one in the streets

So Debs & I just have to think
Of things that we could do
Lots of things that have been done before
But, we want something new

They're doing things in China
Not rockets on a ramp
They're making things to fly quite high
It's called a flying lamp

It's made of tissue paper
And put all around a frame
A square of cardboard put inside
To this you put a flame

Once it's lit you let it go
At this the thing should fly
We've seen it done so many times
They seem to go quite high

So in the garden we both went
Excitement was intense
The lighted lamp it went up
Against our garden fence

To us it was amazing
At least it was skybound
But then a trick of fate took hand
And it came back to the ground

We both were so disappointed
The thing that we then saw
The wind had blown our blazing lamp
To the the house next door

They did have a lovely parasol
With table and a chair
We hoped it wouldn't ALL burn down
With our flying flare

So, Debbie sent me packing
And charged me to the house
To get the pale and water
For the fire to douse

So rushing through the patio
For brownie points to score
I crashed into the window
That's in the sliding door

Then the next door lady came outside
To see what had been done
"Oh yes it's Halloween,"she said
"And I've missed all the FUN !"

E.W Burford

Midwinter Mystery - Chapter 16 - The Bells are Calling"

    There, over by one of the thick copse of trees that surrounded the field, George suddenly espied something from out the corner of his eye. An indiscernible figure, a mobile featureless mass, dissolving into the shelter of the trees. “ HULLO ?” he called out instinctively. “ HULLO? OI, YOU OVER THERE !” he continued more persistently with his attempt at contact. But to this there was still no reply. It should be noted that of all the things that George had question to doubt in life, his ability to talk – often and loudly - was not one of them. So the absence of any reaction from the mysterious passer-by gave him cause for concern. He could only speculate one of two things accountable for such behaviour: either the intended recipient had simply chosen – for what ever reason – not to reply to the calls, or it just hadn't heard them. And as George had watched the short lived imprint of his warm breath in the freezing air, like an audible smoke signal, it seemed fare to conclude that the fault was not in the sending of the message, but in it's reception. A lone, wild, thought set out on the long journey across his troubled mind. Was it possible that the dismal climate, itself - by natural or unnatural means – be strangely responsible for the interference of the message's dispatch ? That the freezing moisture-laden air was imbued with some kind of curious nonconductive property – impervious to sound, heat or life ? Capable of restricting the travel of words passing through it's saturated ether, like a drowning man trying to converse whilst submerged in water. Or was the estranged figure merely... as deaf as a post ! It seemed that the field of conjecture was still as unfathomable as the space between George's ears.

_{He stood motionless, for what seemed an interminable age, staring into the treeline waiting, watching, in case anything else threatened to emerge. But, it didn't. Eventually, with no other sign of movement or life imminent, he began to question if he had actually seen anything at all. Perhaps it was just a trick of the light, a misbehaving shadow, or some other unknown errant peculiarity. Then again, it may have purely been a figment of his imagination ( vivid as always ) creating something out of nothing. Whatever it was, he knew it deserved further investigation. He glanced around to check on the whereabouts of the rest of the group, and to see if any of them had witnessed his phantom mirage, too. But they were all too far away and wrapped up in their own singular thoughts to have noticed anything else. The closest person in proximity to George was Buster, and without his spectacles on he couldn't be relied on to see any further than his own hand – unless there was a pint at the end of it. And his hearing was so impaired – not to mention selective - that he only ever heard the penny drop, relatively speaking, when it was to his own advantage. In fact, the only one of Buster's sense's not to be affected, apparently, by age or abuse was his sense of smell, as it always seemed to detect trouble.}

   _{George was not acquainted with the phrase, 'so near but so far', but never had it applied so appropriately as to his current situation. For though his fellow brothers-in-arms were indeed in sight, spread out as they were, they may as well have been a hundred miles away - for all the good they were to him. To be surrounded by people and yet still feel alone inside was not a new experience to George. In fact, it was quite the contrary – it was an old and all too familiar one. And it only served to resurrect long buried emotions and memories which had haunted him for most of his life.}

   _{Orphaned, as he was, from an early age and never to experience the joy of adoption, due in part to his recurring ill-health issues and a series of unfortunate events that seemed to conspire against him. His only constant companions throughout his 'internment' were hope and dreams – as he painfully witnessed his friends slowly desert him, one by one, as they were taken from him to be part of their 'new' family. Eventually, after years of abject rejection and disillusionment of life, George was released into his, not so, brave new world. Standing outside the orphanage's iron gates, cold and bitter, with nothing more than the clothes on his back, a fistful of coins and an empty heart, he pledged that he was never going to rely on anything or anybody else ever again. Swearing to himself that from that moment on he would take care of himself – and only himself ! Since life had chosen to so mercilessly turn it's back on him, he was now going to turn his back - on the world. For the first time in his life he was free: free to do what ever he wanted, go wherever he wished, be who wanted to be – yes, at last he was truly free of everything. Except for one small matter – his past.}

_{After this period of prolonged tormented reflection, the decision to act fell like a guillotine – cold, and brutally sharp. Exhaling deeply, as if expelling the last breath of resistance at what had to be done, he started trudging grimly through the snow towards the trees. Unable to say to for certain whether he was compelled to follow this course of action by his head or his heart, only that his gut was telling him, screaming at him, to turn back before it was too late. But, it was no good. He knew he had to see it through, call it duty, a momentary flicker of responsibility even, or perhaps it was a whisper of selflessness. Whichever it was, it had set him on a collision course directly into the arms of man's greatest fear – the unknown.}

   _{The deeper he ventured into the woods the more he lost sight of the rest of his party, until at last they were nothing more than a minor disruption to the ebb and flow of the murky mass that now lay claim to them. It had been getting steadily darker, even before he had entered the sheltering trees , but now under their looming boughs the restricted light condition intensified. The swirling ground mist around his legs held selfishly and tightly to any secrets it may have harboured. Not only laying waste to any chance of finding any footprints in the snow – earthly or otherwise - but also affecting his ability to cover the terrain with any degree of alacrity or proficiency. As the invisible irregularities of the ground pitted with various scattered rocks and exposed roots – the growing pains of large trees - hampered his progress with an endless succession of trips, stumbles and falls.}

    _{This type of prolonged exertion was something of a new experience to George, as he had devoted most of his formative years to maintaining a healthy and excessively respectable distance from anything that might be construed as.... WORK ! His other foot slipped on yet another sodden log buried beneath the surface of the treacherous snow - laying in wait for an unsuspecting traveler like some natural land mine – which sent him flying head over heels into the white stuff. Struggling to his feet he wiped his cold wet ruddy face dry with the backs of his hands, removing the excess freshness away, and then stopped and stood still for moment. Listening to the deafening silence and mesmerized by the shifting patterns in the mist – it was as if he had finally surrendered to the futility of it all. This brief 'time out' from his exertion afforded him the opportunity to think more deeply about his recent choices, and their possible repercussions. It was fair to say that until now his lifestyle hadn't exactly lent itself to being 'set' by time - and it's keeping thereof. Indeed, he had tended to prefer the more relaxed aspects of temporal timekeeping as attributed by the movements of certain heavenly bodies as they made their way across the firmament. The morning sun shining in his eyes was his alarm call to rise, and the moon in descent noted the time for him to retire for the night. But now, in his darkest hour, even he had to abide to a general principle of time - it's passing. The lateness of the which suddenly began to dawn on him - perhaps a little too late ! As he recalled the vicar's warning about the dangers of staying out for too long, and not allowing enough time for the return journey.}

_{It was at this point of his deliberation that another, more troubling, fact was drawn to his attention. Between the lessening light, the increasing mist and the unfamiliarity of the area, he realized that the searcher had just become ever so slightly... lost ! Whereas, he might be able to backtrack his way to a ridge nearby, after that he couldn't say for sure which way he had come from. Apparently woods all look the same in the dark.}

    _{George, stood frozen stiff, immobilized in both mind and body – caught on the crossroads of a moral dilemma – should he carry on in the hope of finding someone, or something else ? Or should he try to make his way back to the field, in the hope of catching up with the rest of his 'party' ? Damned or doomed, the double jeopardy of choices. Then from somewhere deep within in his tangled web of emotions – spun by fear – he erupted, “ OH, HELL'S KNICKERS !”}

_{He strode off, not so much in a determined manner more as desperate, back in the approximate direction from whence he came. This option appearing to be the slightly lesser of the two evils, from which he derived some small comfort from the thought that perhaps someone might actually come looking for HIM, and the nearer he could place himself to being found - the better.}

    _{The woods had never held that much interest to George, even at the best of times. He tended to view them as a backward step too far. After years committed to obtaining a better quality of life for himself he had little time, and even less inclination, to return to the earth's bosom - pleasure or otherwise. It was the classic debate, nature versus comfort. And now, in the dark, his conviction only strengthened in regards to spending as little amount of time as necessary in the great outdoors. Driven on as he was, almost oblivious to his the trip falls and lost footing in the snow. Blindly stumbling his way through the undergrowth, disturbing large bushes and small trees of the accumulation of snow that had been deposited within their branches.}

   _{Then, another misplaced step, leading to an unaccountable foot, a loss of balance, and a frantic grasp for something to cling onto. His grip mercifully finding a sturdy branch just in time, as his other foot shot out from under him - losing all contact with the earth. He swung from briefly before his wet fingers could no longer maintain their grip on the dampened snow covered limb. And was sent hurtling into a barrier of smaller branches. He almost ruptured himself with the first action and very narrowly avoided strangulating himself with the second. He splashed down to the ground like a dead weight. Where he remained sat, defeated in the snow, too tired and beyond caring anymore. No thought in mind just the sound of his heavy breathing and winter's empty song, playing in the air as it whistled through the trees and across the frozen ground, to keep his ears distracted.}

    _{Once his breathing and sense of reason had settled back down he began to became aware of an underlying background sound, which was hard to distinguish at first from the icy wailing already whispering in his ears, and he had to strain his hearing in order to make any sense of it. But it soon began to claw it's own way through, growing rapidly in strength and familiarity, a grim tonal note that would set his heart beating on a new rate. A bell, a church bell striking it's eerie toll slowly, steadily, purposefully calling out in the night – to who knows what. The unheavenly ringing of which galvanized him once more to his feet - albeit still a little unsteady - and refocused his self-preservation instincts. The puzzling thing about it though, was that as far as he knew, the only bell even remotely close to his position, was the one at the old monastery – the bell of the Mad Monk. But, that just couldn't be, George thought to himself, positive as he was that it was no where near the fields, they were searching. But then again, he wasn't sure just how long or far he had strayed from it, or if it was simply an echo of his fear. Whatever it was, it had reanimated him and he wasted no time in trying to distance himself as far as humanly possible away from the unholy chiming. This was no easy task, as the direction from which the bell haled from kept shifting – as did it's volume – seemingly in correlation with the course and strength of the wind that borne it. It truly was the wind of change. George could no longer tell if he was heading away or towards its, at one moment it was nothing but a gentle murmur in the air from the East, and then the next minute it shouted out to him from the North. He ran mindlessly and clumsily through it all, driven on by the one fact he believed to be true above all else – where so goes the bell, the Monk will surely follow.}

   _{Night had relieved day of it's charge, and the moon was now noticeable in it's ascendancy. Which left George in even further consternation over his plight, as his route had taken him to the bottom of a steep narrow valley heading directly into some kind of deep round hollow set in the hills. The bell driving him, leading him, taunting his very soul and mocking his every effort at escape. Nearing the center of the gorge his pace slackened, slowing gradually until finally he came to a standstill. His rib ached sickening with the stitches and he squeezed it tightly for relief and took short sharp breathes of air to resupply his failing lungs. Taking advantage of this imposed respite he glanced around the surrounding wall of hills, hoping against hope, to see an easier way out from all this, or at least a recognizable landmark, but all there was – was despair. One last look back over his shoulder, to confirm whether or not anything else had come that way, offered only the briefest of consolation to his jangled nerves for as much as that pathway was indeed clear – the road ahead lay as menacingly in wait for him, as before.}

    _{Never had he felt so threatened, so in danger. And even though on some level George knew that his fears were primarily based on undirected sounds and faceless shadows – he was still powerless beyond reason, to stop them running away with him. But right now he was just standing still - except for the uncontrollable shivering - on the spot his arms wrapped around himself vainly trying to stem any further heat loss from his body. Then, the mysterious ringing abruptly ceased its unholy accompaniment, leaving him confused and alone to the cold biting night and his private nightmare.}

   _{This sudden unexplained cessation failed to provide George with the sense of comfort that he had hoped. Indeed, if anything, it only seemed to worsen his state of distress even further. As he dimly recounted a line from the poem, “ How did it go again ?” he muttered to himself in desperation. “ Something about, ' after the bell tolls, spectres long dead will be found ?'” he shuddered from his shoulders down to his boots at the very thought. And spun nervously around staring intently at the surrounding hills scanning them for any sign of spectral activity. An act for which he was duly 'rewarded' for. For there just below the brow of one of the more prominent hills appeared a glowing apparition, moving slowly, but steadily, down and through the trees on a 90 degree angle. Every now and then it seemed to dematerialize and reappear, almost immediately, on one of the other hills on the opposite side of the gorge, still descending on an angle, before repeating it's vanishing act again, and again. All the while, gaining ground on George, as if it was purposefully circling down on him, moving in for the kill.}

_{Needless to say, George soon found the necessary encouragement and resources to propel himself forwards, with all expediency, towards the end of the gorge. Once there, without hesitation he became a steep climb up one of the bank's of hill that rose up out of it, his eyes not his mind governing his way. Thought was discarded in favour of instinct as the most proficient means under the circumstances. As every part of his body was pushed to it's limits scaling the hill in the quickest way possible, hardly daring to look back over his shoulder at the phantom's progress. George fought the woody incline for every step of the way, most of it almost on all fours, climbing, clambering, pulling himself up over every obstacle. All the tme his breathing becoming more erratic and laboured. Finally, an assault over one of the many fallen trees, this one perhaps a little more larger than the rest, caused him to collapse in a heap on it's other side. Barely pausing to rest he turned round and crawled up as close as he could to the tree, then using the thick old trunk for cover he carefully raised his head up over it to assess the situation of this bizarre and deathly game of ghosts and coppers.}

_{But to his surprise he could no longer see any sign of his spirited pursuer anywhere. Could it be that he had actually managed to outrun it, or was he somehow beyond it's reach, whatever it was he began to feel the first sign of relief. That was until the horrifying strangled cry of pain pierced the frozen void from afar. His blood was transfused with cold terror as it coursed throughout his veins. The petrifying nature of the scream was chilling enough without doubt, but what followed was even worse... recognition. “ BUSTER ! BUSTER WHERE ARE YOU ? ARE YOU ALL RIGHT ? ANSWER ME ! ” George shouted desperately out in the dark, but deathly silence was the only answer.}

  _{Thank you for stopping in, I hoped you enjoyed my little story. Happy Halloween to you all, and to all a good night !}

_{Lifeandfunnies.blogspot.com}  

A Medium Evening - A Monologue from the 'other side' - A Spiritual Account

_{Have you ever been: or are you considering of going to, a Spiritual evening. If so perhaps this is how it may go:}

_{"Good evening, everyone ! My name is Danny and tonight, assisted by with my spirit guide, Jonny - we will attempt to contact those who have passed on, beyond the ethereal veil.”}

_{The medium will continue with their brief introduction and along with pointing our the nearest fire exits – always a worrying point – they will inform you of whwere they will be appearing next. The average spiriualist is a surprisingly, unassuming and 'down to earth' character - unless of course they hail from across the Atlantic pond, and will keep moving across the stage, presumably seeking out the best reception from anyone – dead or alive.}  

_{"Now, during the course of the interchanges, please keep any of your responses to just, 'Yes' or 'No'. Anything else will just confuse everything – particularly me , thank you !”}

_{"I'm sensing a dark matter... the black arts perhaps, no wait – magic, black magic – does anyone have a connection with BLACK MAGIC ? Anyone at all ? No ! Anyone PRACTICE Black Magic ? No-one, o.k. What about confectionery, who likes Black Magic chocolates ? tNOBODY, eh ? What, not even a box of ROSES ! Alright let's just put that to one side for now, we might come back to that, later.”}

_{" Okay, I have someone in the room now, a person that comes up to about here on me – just under my shoulder – maybe a bit taller, actually they might be standing on a box – I feel I should be looking at this section of the audience – does any of that make sense to you, sir ?”}

_{" You sir, the gentleman sitting on the end of the aisle ! Yes, I'm TALKING to you, sir - but I may be LOOKING at the woman next to you .”}

_{“ Yes, I know it's very confusing, but honestly I'm just hedging my options, this way I have a 50-50 chance to connect with someone, but I'm prepared to go to}

_{' phone a friend ' If I have to !”}

_{"I'm seeing medals, a row of medals. A military person, probably in the services – does that make that sense to you, sir ?”}

_{”No ? Oh, well he's trying to say something, ' Spit an' polish ! You have to give them a good polish, can you understand that ?”}

_{"I'm getting a sense of something else, he's trying to tell you something else ! It sounds like.. ' DON'T take 'em to that bloody Antiques Roadshow and try to flog 'em, YOU LITTLE GIT ! does that mean anything to you, sir ?”}

_{“ Still nothing ? You know you're not being very helpful, sir ! Alright, the energy is slipping now, so just take that with for now. We may come back to that later, thank you.”}

_{A movement away from that segment of the stage and a new prospect presents itself.}

_{" No, that's not an ethereal cloud enveloping you lady, it's just the vapour from my assistants e-cigarettte ! For the last time, Todd ! Don't set that thing off while I'm working ! You know how it sets some people 'off '!”}

_{"Okay, my spirit guide is approaching me now -}  

_{STOP DOING THAT, it's a disgusting habit. And he's bringing on an older person with him. If I said they were a loud person, but had their quiet moments, do you understand, Miss ?”}

_{"Please, Miss, just confine your answers to' yes' or 'no', otherwise you'll interfere with the spirits, and I won't be able to make broad, sweeping premonitions.”}

_{"Someone, either alive or dead, possibly a friend or family member, or even a friend of a family member, who's not very well, does that make sense to you ?”}

_{"No ! How about seriously ill ? Still nothing, hmmm, well, what about critically ill ?”}

_{"Nothing ! Nobody at all, eh ! RIGHT. DEAD ! THEIR DEAD THEN ! Passed -over, no longer of this mortal coil, does that make sense to you, Miss ?”}

_{" There's too much negativity in the room tonight. The energy is slipping away now, so please just take that away with you, maybe it might all be clear in the future. Go with love for now, thank you.”} 

This has been an affectionate account of my own personal experience.

Whatever you believe, I say go with an open mind, embrace it, and enjoy an alternative night out.

After all, it has to be better, than just staying in and watching Eastenders or football.

  lifeandfunnies.blogspot,com

Midwinter Mystery - Chapter Fifteen

_{Midwinter Mystery}

_{Chapter Fifteen – Divided We Fall}

_{The feeling in John's arm grew intensively, rapidly transforming from being just uncomfortable to unbearingly painful. Then suddenly, it subsided - as quickly as it had begun. It's welcome release courtesy of the doctor, as he removed the deflated blood pressure cuff from around John's upper arm. “ Hmm, it's still a little high there, you know. Tell me, is there a history of high blood pressure in ye're family, at all ?” he queried. John mulled the question over in his mind for a moment, “ Well, I know my mother had low pressure pressure, and as for my father, well, he had a couple of mild heart attacks, but that's about all I know of their medical history, ” he answered solemnly.}

_{"Well that may account for it, I suppose. But, as I said before, these repeated episodes of anxiety of yer's, and continually getting' yer'self all over excited – aren't helpin' matters, at all. Ye're mentally making yer'self physically unwell – and vice versa – so yer are.”}

_{"I see,” replied John accepting his condition as he sat topless – once more -on the examination couch in the surgery room. “ So, you're saying I should slow down or... something ?”}

_{"I would indeed be sayin' dat, at least I would, if I thought yer'd actually listen to me, dat is,” acknowledged the physician, folding the blood pressure equipment away back into it's box.}

   _{John tried to warm himself up by briskly rubbing both arms simultaneously, “ Well, for your information I'm feeling a lot better this morning, thank you. Perhaps, it's because you let me sleep in so late – even though I wish you hadn't.”}

_{"Ahh, now is dat not me prerogative, so it is. Still, I'm pleased to hear that yer 'think', yer getting better. Just, don't be in such a hellfire rush there, to push yer'self faster than need be. And remember, dat the mind and body aren't two different things yer know, there connected to each other – like all things. So try and listen to them both, when they're talkin' ta yer,” counselled the doctor.}

_{"I'll try, I really will ! But, I can't promise you anything though. You see, cases can have a life of their own too, at times. And, when they do, it's they who dictate when you can eat, sleep or have a life. Sometimes, it's all one can do just to keep up with them. So, to get ahead of them, it requires something extra, something special – everything you've got,” he reflected ruefully.}

_{"Ahh, well I tried me best so I did,” the doctor said resignedly. “But it's as I feared - the patient is deaf as well as dumb,” he smiled amiably. Then gestured to John to turn slightly around and look up into the light – from the window behind – so he could inspect his eyes. “ What about those two other fellers of yours then, could they not give yer a bit more help – til yer back on ye're feet, that is ?” he asked thoughtfully, as he engaged the gently art of persuasion on one of John's eyes, opening it up beyond it's normal capacity – with his thumb and forefinger.}

_{"Uhh, the jury's still out on that one, doctor. I haven't decided yet whether they're more a hindrance than a help - to be honest with you.” answered John candidly, his extended eye twitching spasmodically with the unwanted attention.}

_{"I'll not be knowing them all that well, meself yer understand. But, I always thought them to be a harmless coupla o' lads, so I did. Infact, I wouldn't be surprised that if yer gave them half a chance they'd loike ta take good care of yer,”}

_{"That's what I'm afraid of !” admitted John, his face distorted from being interfered with. “ Ugh, I'm not sure if their idea of “taking care” of me... is the same as mine !”}

_{The doctor released John's watery eye, letting it fall back to it's original condition, and patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. “ Well, everything looks all right there, so it does. At least, I can't see any long term damage yet, anyhow !” Then the doctor moved over towards his bureau desk and began rummaging around in one of it's drawers for something. “ AHH ! THERE IT IS !” he exclaimed suddenly, holding up a small amber glass bottle.}

_{John sauntered his way over to the bureau - now fully dressed except for his shoes - to examine for himself what “it”, was exactly, “ What do you have there, then ?” he asked, peering more closely at the mystery container.}

_{"This ? Why it's yer medication of course, what else would it be ?” came the confirmation, as it was held up to the light. The bottle was of the half full variety and lined by a thin film of powdery residue, which made it almost impenetrable to the human eye.}

_{"Medicine ? Me ? Oh no, that really won't be necessary, thank you !” said John.}

_{The doctor looked sceptically over his bifocals at the negative reaction, “ Ahh, let's not be havin' any of that, now. Fer it's nothin' but a mild sedative, so it is. To help yer mind unwind a little when yer need it !” he explained.}

_{"Hum, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not. It's just that I don't really like the idea of having to rely on support from... anything, right now !” clarified John trying to decline the offer as diplomatically as possible, without hurting the doctor's feelings.}

_{"Well, dat's up to yer I suppose. But they're only herbal, and I make them all here meself, yer know,” the doctor countered. John removed the cap of the bottle and holding it up to his nose took a sharp sniff of it's contents. The unmistakable pungent aroma that assaulted his senses, left him in little doubt to the exact nature and variety of it's 'herbal' composition.
“Look, why don't yer jus' take them for now. To be on safe side, like,” the doctor extended his small offering up towards John. “But, mind yer go easy on them though, they moight have a few... small.. side-effects, so they may,” he cautioned.}

_{"Side effects ? That doesn't sound good, what are they ?” John asked cautiously, relieving the doctor of the pill bottle and studying it's small worn label more closely.}

_{"Oh, well not dat much really. Perhaps, the odd bit o' drowsiness - or three - here and there.”}

_{"So, “avoid operating any heavy machinery” sort of thing, eh ?” confirmed John.}

_{"HEAVY MACHINERY ! Mercy, man, yer shouldn't be left alone on a BICYCLE, on this stuff !”}

_{"I see, is that all or is there anything else I should be wary of ?”}

_{"Well, I suppose yer moight experience the occasional hallucination, now and again. But nothin' to worry yer'self about, I'm sure,”}

_{"In that case then.... I definitely WON'T take them ! I'm doing quite nicely for those sort of 'side effects', as it is. And, I certainly don't intend on chemically inducing anymore, thank you very much !” concluded John. Returning his attention to the bottle in hand. he began tapping a finger on the small white label stuck to it's front, “ I can't quite make out the writing on here. What does it say exactly ?”}

_{"Oh that, why it's nothing but an old practice label. I always re-use the returned bottles, so I do. Fer are they not as hard to get around here as a decent tin of tobacco !” the doctor answered matter-of-factly. “ I always give them a good wash out mind yer - before I refill them. If dat's what's botherin' yer, ” he added recognizing the concerned expression on John's face.}

_{"But, your name's on it though, right ? Doctor Miller ?” John checked his facts.}

_{"Doctor Miller ? Now where the devil did yer get dat from ?” asked the doctor.}

_{"Oh, it was written on a prescription form I saw on this desk the other night,” John half turned round to look down at the bureau, but it had clearly been tidied since then and there was no sign of any such paperwork on it now.}

_{"Yer must have been dreamin' or somethin', probably still under the effects of dat blow to yer head. Gettin' things all mixed up and back to front, fer sure. Seeing things dat aren't there. It's bound to happen to anyone in ye're... state of mind, so it is,” the doctor thought out loud. “ No, me name's Doctor Seamus Michael Kelly O'Finnegan at yer service !” he revealed proudly. “ But, der's a lot of Irish in there to remember, so yer can just call me 'Doctor' if yer loike – most people around here do.”}

_{John frowned, he was sure he had seen that prescription, and the other doctor's name written upon it, the previous evening. But he could hardly corroborate his version of events by admitting that it was actually the ghost of his long dead wife who had brought it to his attention. Could it be that they were both nothing more than a creation, a by-product, of his own imagination. His inner mind struggling to piece together fact and fiction, reality and fantasy, law and disorder. An attempt to bring sense to a life - where there was none. Yes, perhaps in reality – and the cold light of day - neither of them ever happened or existed. Feeling a little light-headed for a moment he sat down on the armless chair and rested a while, waiting for it to pass. The suspicious part of his nature wondering if the doctor had surreptitiously administered a course of the 'medication' already, but he soon discounted this notion as being too fanciful.}

_{" I must be making a move back to the station house, soon,” John finally announced, his head firmly back on his shoulders. “ You never know, somebody there may have actually noticed my absence by now,” he mused slightly. “Any idea how I might get back there ?”}

_{"Ah, now as luck would have it, I do know of a feller who might give yer a lift back, so I do. He comes by this way most days. I don't know his name, but he always gives me a wave as he passes,” the doctor glanced at his pocket watch. “Infact, he's due by at any moment, so he is.”}"We'd better get moving then,” said John standing to his feet. “ Oh, by the way, what sort of a vehicle does he have ?” he checked warily.

_{"Well, it's one of them horse and trap sort of contraptions, so it is,”}

_{"Oh, really,” replied John more warily. “ I don't suppose - by any chance - that there's more than one of them around here, is there ?”}

_{The doctor thought briefly about it, before delivering his verdict. “ No, no, I don't think so. Why ?” John's face noticeably dropped – followed by the rest of his demeanor - at hearing this. For this meant but one thing. Another unfortunate encounter with 'Lucky' the wonder horse - and its not so blessed owner - was on the cards. “ You know what, maybe I will take some of those tablets off you, after all,” he sighed.}

   _{Buster and George had finally gathered a small band of merry men together - some more merrier than others – almost, coincidentally, at the same time the public house had 'encouraged' it's patrons out onto the street for the afternoon. And met up with the vicar and his humble offering of volunteers as prearranged. Due to the pressing concerns about time, the vicar had already taken the liberty of dividing the search area into quarters, and selected which two parts he and his followers would be responsible for. The remaining half being left to Buster and George to carve up between themselves.}

    _{And so it was that they set off together up the long narrow steep road, up into the hills and beyond, on their way to the fields. For the most part, the spirit in the party was running high – although a lot of that may be contributed to the recent proximity of alcohol – and they made short work of the first half of the hill. A little less so on the the following half, and by the time they reached the top they were completely exhausted. While waiting for the last few stragglers to catch up with them the party took the opportunity to regroup. Some just needing to catch their breath, while others wanted to rest their weary bones, but all of them... deeply regretted 'volunteering' for this arduous expedition.}

_{The light snowfall earlier in the day only added to the their plight, as the dejected souls were submitted to irregular flurries of blinding snow. Newly fallen loose snow, lying on the surface of the bleak landscape, was being swept up and along by a series of low strong bursts of wind and hurled callously at them. And as if this wasn't enough, there was the noticeable decrease in visibility. Mist was coming, as it always did – as if in some strange way it knew - whenever someone trespassed this far out from the valley. Already the first wispy strains were creeping their way slowly, inexorably towards them – dragging it's body behind.}

   _{The mists in this region owed their unusual density to the fact that they were more of a hybrid - an elemental fusion between mist and fog. Conceived and forged by a number of meteorological forces and anomalies. Partly due to Mistry being much nearer to the coastline than would at first be thought. The high surrounding hills sheltering it away from the roar of it's sea and it's wild open tempestuos ways. But the deep valley could also be a mixed blessing at times. A burden which it's inhabitants had, had to 'adjust' to over the years - particularly in wintertime. For then, the hills ceased to be a sanctuary from the elements and instead became an inescapable open prison - under siege from the wintry ravages of the season. For those few months of the year the village was virtually barricaded in by a wall of snow and ice - patrolled by an eerie sentry of mist. The locals had a name for this unusual 'border' area - “No man's land.” And they tried, whenever possible, to avoid crossing it unless absolutely necessary, and on such occasions when this was so, they treated with deadly caution.}

  _{The weather wasn't the only thing giving them cause for concern. The subversive mutterings - which had been slowly simmering for the last mile or so – had started to grow in voice and number. Spreading it's discontentment like an infection through their ranks. Until the feeling of dissent could be contained no more. Many of them - mostly from Buster and George's camp – began to express their concerns, and fears, about the futility of carrying on any further. No reason was left unturned to strengthen their case for heading back home. But it was their closing argument that really helped matters swing their way. Choosing as they did, to reject common sense for the more radical approach of - fear and intimidation. Since the 'leave' party now outnumbered the 'remain' party by three to one, it was decided it best - for everyone - if they went 'peacefully' their separate ways.}

_{The remaining depleted party reassembled themselves and set forth again, continuing to follow the road - or at least as much as they could still make of it before it evaporated into the mist – in a heavy silence. A silence that spoke a hundred words of dark thoughts and unanswerable questions, for what lay in store for them. It wasn't much further before they began the descent down the other side of the hill. The slow climb up it now replaced by a rolling tumbling gait. Their pace quickening as the incline steepened and they were caught between worlds – no longer walking but not quite running. Their course set, and seemingly in the clutches of some irresistible force, they plunged headlong into the chilling barrier of vapour waiting below.}

    _{As the mist encompassed them all, they narrowed their eyes – adjusting their vision accordingly to the new atmospheric conditions – and squinted into it's grey depths. Mercifully, they could still make out course of the road, well for 30 feet or so ahead of them anyway, and the sombre escort of lined trees. They proceeded cautiously on, closing up their ranks in a more huddled formation. None daring to mention the fact that since entering the murky mass the temperature had fallen, and was continuing to do so, the greater the lack of transparency grew.}

_{But their luck, and their nerves, held. The mist seemingly granting them safe passage for the rest of their journey, or at least it didn't worsen as much as they feared. And there was still a few of hours of daylight afforded to them by the time they reached the fielded area. Although the parson warned them of the dangers of overstaying their welcome, “ Don't forget, we have to allow time for our return journey, and the later we leave it, the less light and more mist we'll have to contend with !”}

_{They broke up into two groups, and started out over the designated search areas – as earlier agreed. Once there, there subdivided again into lesser groups and spread themselves even more thinly out over the fields. There was a lot of area to cover and very few bodies on the ground, particularly where Buster and George's party were concerned. And the low hanging mist, seemingly hovering over the ground, ensured that this was going to be harder than they thought.}

    _{Such was the distance between the two parties, that contact with each other was virtually impossible, or at least highly impractical. So all they could do was carry on with their separate searches – uninterrupted - until one or the other had anything worth reporting. The adverse conditions and the semi-solitary state of the group started to wear heavy on them and seemed to prolong the passage of time. Soon, George was unable to tell how long he had actually been out there - was it two, three or more hours ? All he knew for sure was that the longer they stayed out there, the less chance there was finding anything. Then, as the light began to fade, along with any hope, George felt a sense of despair take hold of him. Was this it ? Had he failed his new chief ? And what was going to happen to everyone now ? Questions without answers, that's all he had. If he could only turn back time, maybe he could put things right. But, he might just as well pray for a miracle than to follow this line of thinking. No, all was lost that was all there was to it now, he thought. Turning slowly around, he looked back from whence he had came, the past always easier to see than the future. And there, in the midst of darkness came light. A fleeting wish given substance, a very dark substance.}

      

_{© Michael Burford, 2018}

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Midwinter Mystery - The Prologue

      _{The Town of No Return - The Prologue}

     _{It was deep into midwinter, and the woods were heavy with a foreboding sense of death, that permeated the atmosphere of the chilling early morning. The wood, for the most part, was nothing more than just a collection of various shades of grey, punctuated by the odd coniferous tree, or two, with some of the more evergreen shrubs to offer the slightest resistance to the colourless scene. The rising sun hung low on the skyline as it's heavily filtered rays attempted to break through the skies freezing bleak shroud, with only minimal effect, to awaken another day - minus any of it's life-affirming warmth.}

_{But, despite this chilly tableau, the lower areas of the woodland, were showing signs that it's snowy covering wasin retreat, a fact wasted on the small, furry, inhabitants, who were still fully committed to their ritual states of hibernation, as if they knew, deep down, that this phenomenon was just a temporary polar ceasefire.}

     _{The raw, morning air was motionless, as if unable to move due to being saturated with the damp freezing cold. deathly silence. Then, from out of no-where, a crow suddenly swept down, cawing as it dove into the newly exposed wet leaves on the ground. It cawed once more while it's head flitted sharply around surveying the area for any tell-tale movement in the undergrowth, then plunged itself – violently - beneath the layer of leaves where it began tossing and turning the earth into the air, as it began the search for hidden morsels of food. Then, as sharply as it had began, it ceased. The crow's head shot to the surface as if sensing some unseen presence or danger, and cried out again and launching itself into the air, fast powerful wings, flapping wildly as it took flight, disturbing the leaves left behind. This radical displacement of the immediate landscape, revealed a foreign body – or rather part of one – re: one upturned frozen human hand, it's gnarled grey condition self-evident that life had long since slipped through it's icy fingers.}

   _{The crow had only removed itself to a few feet away, deciding to take refuge on an old warped rudely constructed signpost. Once more it commenced it's haunting lament, which seemed to echo in the emptiness between the trees, shattering the unearthly peace. Then slowly and steadily it began to pace along, from side to side, the top of the wooden sign, dislodging the last of the covering snow, and there, crudely etched into the wood in red was an arrow pointing the way, and underneath it, it simply read: Mistry – Dead Ahead .}

© Michael Burford, 2018

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Midwinter Mystery - Chapter Fourteen - " The Town of No Return"

_{Midwinter Mystery}

_{Chapter Fourteen}

_{The series of short sharp stabs deep into it's very hearth, finally evoked the first few sparks of life from the pitiful looking fire, as it began to crackle, spit and glow it's way into existence. It was a small but timely reward for all of Buster's persistent efforts at rekindling the fireplace with nothing more than a box of short-fused matches and a rusty old poker stick, There was at last a dawn, a slim promise of a fire yet to be, rather than just the smoldering pile of smoke it had been for so long. Then, using the poker as a prop he struggled to his feet and rose up from the ashes.}

_{"Crikey, wot the heck's been going on in 'ere ?” coughed George as he entered the charge room.}

_{"I've been tryin' to light this blinkin' fire, ain't I !. What does it look like I've been doin' ?” replied Buster wearily dropping the poker down by the side of the grate.}

_{"I dunno, do I, cos I can't see nothin' on account of all this smoke !” George responded, waving a hand across his face to help alleviate his stinging eyes. “ 'Ere, don't you go startin' on me ! It's taken me half the stupid morning to get the darned thing going ! And I'm tellin' you now, if you bring another load of damp logs back here – you can flippin' well start the thing yourself !” Buster informed sharply. Then, as he peered through the smoky haze at his compatriot, it began to become clear to him the true extent of the problem. “Oh ! The perishin' chimney must be blocked up again or something. Probably another one of them bird's nests has got itself stuck up there, I expect ,” he surmised, whilst slipping his trouser braces loosely back over a pair of semi-collapsed shoulders, and then proceeded to brush a hand down the arms of his collarless shirt to wipe any of the loose sooty covering away from them.“ A good sweep up there should fix it !” he pronounced. George squinted over at Buster, his red eyes still sore from the smoky condition of the room, while he removed his overcoat, “ When did you last clean it out then ?” he asked. “ Eh ! Oh, no, It weren't me ! It was old Bert Harris, the window cleaner - don't you remember him ?” enlightened Buster. “ He used to wash all the windows around 'ere., at one time. Sometimes he'd even clear your gutters out and sweep yer chimney an' all ! Why the last time I saw him now was about...ohh, must be nigh on... well it couldn't have been longer than...” Buster stretched his greying matter to the limit before coming up with nothing, “ Ah ! Do you remember when they stopped rationing ?”}

_{"Yeah, it was 'bout six or seven years ago now, weren't it ?” George answered hanging his coat up on the coat stand. “ 'Ere ! That wasn't the last time it was cleaned out, was it ?” he asked incredulously.}

_{"Nah, of course not ! That's when old Bert kicked the bucket – passed away I mean, that is !” said Buster respectfully correcting himself.}

_{"No, I reckon it was probably about five, or so, years before that !” Buster nodded knowingly, confirming his belief and ran a hand around the inside top of his trousers stuffing his shirt tails back into them,}

_{"Blimey ! That'll make it over 10 years ago, no wonder it's blocked. We must have cremated 'alf the bloomin' wood up there since then !” George interceded, lifting the flap counter up as he made his way through into the main room.}

_{"Yeah, that sounds 'bout right !” said Buster. “ He used to let me watch him do it, you know. He had this special long pole, you see, and you could attach other bits onto it to make it longer, if you needed, and then he'd stick this round wiry brush on it's other end and shove it right up...”}

_{"Don't go giving me any ideas old-timer, you're already looking all Sooty and Sweep as it is,” George interceded. “ And if you keep goin' on about it I know just the small wiry thing I'll be using to shove up there, meself !” he concluded as ran a finger over the thin layer of soot on the counter top. “ Look, I'll crack open a window in here to let some fresh air in, while you get started cleaning this mess up before the Chief gets back,” he suggested.}

_{"So you think he's gonna come back, then ? ” Buster asked cynically.}

_{"I hope so. But I jus' don't know what could of 'appened to him,” George sighed heavily. “ I went back out to the field this morning to have another scout around for him, but it's just the same as yesterday. No clues, no sign, no Chief !” George replied despondently before commencing thumping on the sides of the window frame, a couple of times, with his closed fist to loosen it enough to open on it's frayed sash cords.}

_{"I thought you were going to ask around the village this morning, if anyone had seen him ?” queried Buster, kneeling back down by the fireplace to start sweeping up some of the ash and soot debris up with a dustpan and brush.}

_{"Nah, I changed me mind 'bout it. I mean what's the point, most people here haven't even met him yet so how would they know if they'd seen him or not ! It's like asking them to search for a stranger in a haystack !” answered George. “ You know, I was thinking, do you realise that I'm probably the last man to have seen 'im alive,” he continued solemnly.}

_{"Blimey ! As if things weren't bad enough for him already !” Buster chimed in.}

_{"Wot d'yer mean by that ?” challenged George defensively.}

_{" Jus' that he hasn't exactly been lucky since he got here, 'specially when he's been with you, has he ? I mean he's been here just a couple of days and he's already had a crack to the head, been in a car accident and now he's gone missing – just like the other fellah !” Buster explained himself.}

_{"Well, that ain't all my fault !” George snapped sharply.}

_{"Mebbe not, but come to think of it, you have been with him every time something bad's 'appened to him, aint'cha !” Buster's mind seemed to become clearer than the state of the smoke filled room they stood in.}

_{"Wot are you trying to say ?”}

_{"Nothing ! But if he don't turn up again soon then things might not look too good for either of us, will they ?” Buster responded in a rare moment of clarity. “ And if news ever gets out back up the line that we've lost someone else -well, people might start thinking something funny is going on down here !”}

_{"SOMETHING FUNNY' IS GOING ON DOWN 'ERE !”}

_{"Yea, but they don't know that, do they. All they'll see is that you and the Chief went out one morning - and only one of yer came back !”}

_{"Lumme, you're right ! I never thought of it like that !” George started to fully appreciate the darker implications of his predicament. “'Say, we'd better get a move on to find him and fast ! Otherwise, my head's for the chop, for sure !”}

_{"I DON'T BELIEVE IT ! YOU HAVEN'T ANOTHER ONE ALREADY !” came the unexpected and abrupt outburst from behind them. Turning sharply around they were confronted by the unexpected arrival of the vicar, who had entered the station, unannounced, to catch the tail end of their confessional conversation - and was clearly alarmed to hear this disturbing development. “ How long has he been missing ?” he asked tersely.}

_{"Oh, 'bout a day or so,” George answered with a shrug of the shoulders.}

_{"A DAY ! Why didn't you come and tell me about it, I might have been of help ?”}

_{"Well, we were kind of hoping he'd sort of turn up on his own like, sometime” answered George rather sheepishly.}

_{"Hmm, 'hoping' is just a poor substitute for praying, young man. But, I suppose it doesn't do any harm either, let us just pray that he is somewhere safe and well for now !” reflected the vicar solemnly. “ I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound as if I'm judging or preaching to you, or anything like that, even though the pair of you are clearly in need of it,” the vicar continued, changing the nature of his discourse to a more humanitarian and empathic tone. “ But this situation could effect the lives of so many others, more than just yourselves, you know. You do realise that, don't you ?”}

_{George felt a pang of discomfort in his stomach, a condition that had been growing strangely worse over the last few hours. The exact cause of which was elusive to the P.C. Could it possibly be perhaps that despite his rather cavalier approach to work and numerous personal foibles, the thought of being responsible for a life other than his own was starting to weigh heavy on his conscience – as well as his digestive system !}

_{"Of course I understand, to a degree, why you would prefer rather to keep this to yourselves. What with your, shall we say, somewhat dubious past record on the subject - colleagues mysteriously vanishing and so forth,” the holy man conceded. “ I believe Oscar Wilde, may have assessed your situation more succinctly and colourfully when he wrote, 'To lose one Chief may be regarded as being unfortunate, but to lose two is just plain carelessness,' I trust you'll forgive my little paraphrasing there, ” he asked, his mouth turning up at the sides with small smile, as he stood as close to the counter as humanly possible, his hands clasped together on it's surface, their fingers knitted together in a holy union.}

_{"Well, if it's good enough fer that 'Wilde' fellah then it's no bother to us either,” answered Buster - admittedly without fully understanding what he was replying to – from somewhere under a pair of heavily perplexed wiry eyebrows, nudging his co-conspirator sharply in the ribs for support. But, George's thoughts were busy elsewhere, keeping him too preoccupied to respond, “ Do yer think it really looks that bad, your Reverence ? I mean we didn't have nothin' to do with it – honest !” he ejected nervously. “I tried me best to find him yesterday. Honest did ! I searched all over that field, twice, but there just weren't nothing of him - anywhere. Then by the time I'd finished and walked all the way back 'ere from up there it was jus' too late in the day to go knockin' on anyone's door,” George spoke surprisingly straightforward and responsibly, perhaps trying a bit too hard to justify himself to his inquisitor. “Besides, it sounds like he's probably better off somewhere else - away from me !” he added cynically, in lieu of recent events.}

_{The vicar nodded his head, on a number of occasions, throughout George's story and explanation for not involving anyone else at the time, as if acknowledging his approval of the Constable's conduct in the matter. And at the end of it all he seemed sufficiently satisfied that they had acted with the best - if not the most diligent - of intentions. And decided, for now, not to trouble them with the original reason he came over to the station in the first place, or that he was to harbouring his own grave reservations about things yet to come. “Now let's have any talk like that right now, young man, Instead let us concentrate our thoughts on finding the Inspector, shall we. You know, it's at times like these that we find out who our true friends are, those who we can really depend on. Now, I appreciate this may not exactly fall under an ecclesiastical matter as such, but I say 'carpe diem' ! So, why don't we form a search party of other like minded souls – people who we can trust - and strike out while the trail is still, relatively, fresh. Unity, secrecy and pray are our greatest allies right now in locating the Inspector as soon as possible. Because, I assure you gentlemen, that if we fail - your heads won't be the only one for the 'chop' !” suggested the vicar, darkly.}

_{"Now, I fear that time and providence may not be on ours, or the Inspector's, side for much longer,” he warned, his hands breaking formation and splaying their fingers out across the counter, as if he was preparing to launch himself over it . “ Therefore, I propose that we give ourselves only until the end of the day to locate him, and if we're still a man down by the then, we'll no other choice but to surrender ourselves to the mercy of the authorities ! And from then on the 'die is cast', as they say, for us all. This whole village will fall under the closest of scrutiny for this, mark my words ! We will won't be friends and neighbours to them, we'll simply be – suspects ! I dare say such an investigation would draw all manner of people down here, stirring things up and causing disruption to our peaceful way of life. Then there's all the photograph's and intrusive questioning into our personal affairs. No, none of us would want any of that – would we ?” he asked staring across the counter at his would-be collaborators, shaking his head in a leading manner.}

_{The two beleaguered respondents shifted awkwardly on their feet for a moment before following suit, hesitantly shaking their heads in agreement in a kind of conditioned reflex. “ Very good ! Well, in that case may I suggest we proceed with all due alacrity gentlemen. I'll return to my church and ring the bells, an alarm call to rally my followers. Whilst you rustle up a select band of villagers of your own. Then we'll meet back here and divide into smaller groups to cover more area. Agreed ?” Once more the pair answered with their heads, silently nodding them. “ Yeah ! sounds all right ! Hey, maybe we should have done all this when the Sergeant disappeared, eh ?” piped up Buster, shuffling nearer to the counter.}

_{"Perhaps, who can say for sure. Unfortunately, hindsight is a cruel gift that only avails itself to us AFTER the tragedy. Still, let us not dwell on such thoughts shall we – they'll only... complicate matters. Instead, we should simply take comfort from the fact that you know you tried your best, and when all is said and done that is all anyone can ask of you - or we of ourselves. If you ask me, the only good things that can be drawn from the past are memories and lessons, everything else like regret and guilt are best left closed away with yesterday !”}

_{The vicar bade a final farewell and with a slight gracious bow of the head he took his leave of them. Only to pause at the doorway and turn around, his face betraying a perplexed frame of mind. “ By the way, do you know why the Inspector was sent down here now – at this particular time ? I mean, it's not as if there's been any new development in the Sergeant's disappearance or anything – has there ?” he asked casually.}

_{"We dunno, he didn't say nothin' 'bout it to us. Why ?” George replied lifting the counter flap open again.}

_{"Oh, no reason,” responded the vicar innocently, “ just natural curiosity, I suppose.” And satisfied with the answer he turned on his heels and continued on his way out the door.}

_{Buster followed George through the counter and joined him by the window to watch the mild cleric strolling away. “ I wonder why vicars use all those funny words when they talk ?” mused George thoughtfully.}

_{"Wot, LATIN ?” snapped Buster.}

_{"Nah ! The big ones, y'know - the ones no one else understands !”}

_{"Beats me, I never understand him what he's talkin' about half the time anyway, and the other half I don't listen to,”}

_{"Yeah, his English does sound a bit Double Dutch don't it ! I guess its must be 'cos of them 'enthusiastical' matters he was going on about !” George concluded rationally while retrieving his overcoat from the stand. Slipping an arm into one of the coat sleeves he let out another thought, “'Ere, what do yer make of all this 'posse' stuff, then ?”}

_{"Well, I don't think we've got much choice in it, I mean we ain't exactly done much good on our own so far – have we ? At least this way there'll be more people to share the blame around with when things go wrong !” came the voice of experience.}

_{"Hmm, you might 'ave something there, old-timer. Hey, you never know,” said George settling the coat comfortably over his shoulders, “ if we manage to find the Chief ourselves they might even give us a medal or something !”}

_{"What like a CBE, or one of them RCMP's ?”}

_{"RCMP ! You silly clot, don't you know nothin',” laughed George. “ It's a RSVP !”}

_{George started off towards the door, “ C'mon then, let's get a move on. Something tells me we've got a long day ahead of us !” he said over his shoulder.}

_{"A long, cold, wet one, I reckon !” said an unimpressed Buster. “ 'Ere, I just had a funny thought, we have to find a group of people before we can get started to find one man ! Heh, Heh, Heh” he chuckled to himself.}

_{"Yeah, hilarious !” replied George sarcastically. He watched Buster convulsing at his own joke for a moment. “Mind you don't do yerself a mischief laughing like that,” he advised. And then followed with, “ Where d'yer think we should start looking ?”}

_{"The pub !” proffered Buster without hesitation.}

_{"Done !” accepted George, “but just one small one though, got it !”}

_{"'Course, just one small double to whet me whistle like, and then we'll see who wants to get lost with us.”}

_{"Hmm, okay well I'll wait over there for you, then,” said George buttoning up his overcoat.}

_{"Eh ! What are you talking about, Im comin' with you,”volunteered Buster.}

_{"Nah, you won't. You've got to get yer'self cleaned up and....”}

_{"'And' what ?” Buster challenged,}

_{"Well, we're gonna be out for quite a while, right ?” George reached for the nearby door handle, “So... you'd better put that fire out, before you leave !” And with that he jumped out the door pulling it quickly shut behind him.}

_{© Michael Burford, 2018}

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