The Avengers - Original - TV Series Rides Again !

_{Friends, Followers and Fellow Avenger Fans !}

 _{Spread the word and shout – with your best stiff upper-lip, naturally - from the rooftops, style and flair is back in town , and that's it's all right to strut yourself with a tightly furled umbrella once more. The Avengers series is now being aired in all it's glory on television again. Tune in week nights onto the True Entertainment Channel, Sky 183 and 184.}

   _{Black & White, Cathy and Emma – not forgetting Tara to boot – seek them out and enjoy the cold winter nights in glorious, warm adventures !}

_{The best of British to you All !}

Sandbach - A Karma Life

_{The Sandbach Journals ~ A Karma Life}

_{I have been a resident of the historic market town of Sandbach for some four months now - pending my unofficial naturalisation. Eversince my regional imigration back in July, a seemingly lifetime ago, there are still as many boxes to unpack as there are jobs to tick off as completed.  Sometimes I can relax and just live in the moment in this charasmatic, peaceful, historic, semi-countryside town, and then there are moments when I accept I still have a long way to go before I can really rest on me laurels.     I suppose we all fool ourselves – at some time or other – that all is well in our little lives. We believe we're sailing along on the calm and steady waters of our existence, or to put it another way … A STATE OF DELUSION ! I speak – from personal experience – of those unseen forces of chance and ill fortune – that some of us have come to know more intimately as, ' Bloody bad luck'.}

_{Mine started as many other hard luck story begins, a Monday morning. A cold wet Monday morning. A cold wet Monday morning in a car. A cold wet Monday morning in a car that was making a decidedly unhealthy noise. This transpired to be a very unwelcome crack in the front exhaust system and as everyone' knows this is the more expensive area on a car as it feeds some 'cat-a-licked-convertible' or some sort. But I drew comfort from the fact that at least it made a change from my 'big end' dropping it's usual clanger – a small consolation, I suppose. Anyway, heads were nodded, hands wringed and a comprehensive payment plan was agreed upon – I pay everything up front there and then, and get to drive my despair away at the end.}

_{A few days later, I had just started to move on with my life, when another piece of bad news ran me down... I lost my job ! I hasten to add - at this point - that this was down to economic cut backs and general re-structuring and NOT due to any action on my part. I was merely a casualty to the first dictum in employment law which clearly states ' he whoever shalleth enter into contract lasteth, shall geteth the BOOT FASTEST !'}

_{Finally, to bring the total number of unfortunate incidences to that unholy triumvirate power of three, I received one more disturbing breakdown in the status quo of serendipity. On the Thursday evening, whilst engaged in a extra-marital activity - trying to locate the Christmas decorations - in the garage, there was a sudden violent CRASH, this drew my attention to a 3ft long slab of granite laced worktop, a hangover from a recent kitchen do-over, previously seen propped up against some boxes, but now currently resting upon my flattened left foot. As I slipped my size nine loafer from out under the counter my mind struggled to come to term with a number of issues, what the hell happened, how much of my foot was still intact, was my shoe split asunder from the sheer force of the encounter and if a man cries in the garage, and there's nobody else there to witness it … can he really deny it ? A reflex action drove me out of the garage and towards the sanctuary of home for solace, comfort and a possible offer to drive me to hospital. I made my way across the yard like a refugee from a cheap nineteen thirties horror movie ' It Came from Out the Back !', my hands stretched out before me, reaching for the garden wall, my stiffened leg – a side-effect of pain and shock – was now only good in a supporting role, making me look like I was lurching from side to side, and a strange repeated moan emanated from my lips, a simple confirmation of ownership, “ My leg, my leg !”}

_{Anyway, all of this episode made me wonder why the Karma balance in life is so one sided, I mean what's the deal with bad things happen in three's, but you only get one piece of good luck ? If bad people can get away with things and get mostly what they want but only get a comeuppance way down the line, then what does that say about good people, if we just grin and bear it then eventually we can look forward to watching people we don't like crash and burn ? Surely, good people should have more good fortune as an incentive to stay good, and bad people just need to learn how to invest more prudently for the down turn.}

_{And more important than all of this.....just when the heck will I get my bit of good luck ? Please let it be soon, otherwise I may have to revise my other option.}

_{lifeandfunnies.blogspot.com}

Mystery Seekers Wanted - TalkingPictures channel

_{Mystery Seekers – Wanted}

_{If you are a lover of all things mystery based – like myself – then may I please recommend, nay urge you, to seek out the highly addictive and thoroughly entertaining TalkingPictures channel - Sky 343, Freeview & YouView 81. Here you will find an excellent selection of classic mystery films from the forties, fifties and sixties, along with long forgotten imaginative, inventive and original television serials, such as H.G Wells “ The Invisible Man” and “ Colonel March of Scotland Yard – the latter being my personal favourite, it stars Boris Karloff, and follows his investigations into the more “ queer” and unexplainable cases of Scotland Yard. Personally, I think his personal performance in this is, is worth the watch alone. Then there is the crime series Richard Diamond – it's no Peter Gunn I admit, but it's still a solid half hour mystery series – starring David Janssen, as the Private Eye with a very interesting answering service. Plus, a seriously over-looked western series called ' Stagecoach West'.}

_{There are some very interesting short films and documentaries from the fifties too ! I confess most content is in black and white, but if you really like well paced story lines, atmospheric scenes, glamour and thrilling mysteries, then tune in, but a word of warning your sky planner may not be able to keep up. The fine films – from a time before C.G.I - that I have watched and would recommend are: “Dead of Night”, “ Whistle Down the Wind”, 
“ Sapphire”, “ Seance on a Wet Afternoon” and “ Hell Drivers”.}

_{This has been a public information announcement - well in my opinion anyway - I truly hope you find this channel as unmissable as I do.}

_{Happy viewing my friends.}

_{The Avengers - " Let the Games commence !”}

_{Steed tosses his caber,}

_{While Emma has her Highland fling.}

_{The Autumn air was sharp and fresh as the vintage Bentley roared along the quiet country road, it's driver and passenger were seated comfortably, both stylishly and warmly attired for the season and the journey ahead.}

_{" I have to say Steed, that I'm somewhat mystified as to what exactly, this 'special sports day' is, that you're dragging me along to. Particularly at such short notice.... as usual ! After all, the tennis season has finished, there aren't any noteworthy racing events planned and you know only too well my feelings about football, so I can't think what's left ?” Emma pondered.}

_{"Why, the Highland Games, Mrs Peel ! That testosterone driven celebration of all things Celtic in nature. ”}

_{"The Highland Games ! You mean to say that you actually intend to drive ALL the way to Scotland just to impress me ?”}

_{"Not quite.” Steed replied sheepishly.}

_{"Which bit, the driving or wanting to impress me ?”}

_{"Why the driving, of course !” Steed defended himself – still on the lamb.}

_{"I see, well just how far do you intend to go with me, Steed ?”}

_{"Croydon !'”}

_{"CROYDON ! Are you sure you don't need a hand with that road atlas.... again ?” Emma teased. “ Since when did the Scottish 
' Olympics' transport itself down to the 'London scene' ?” she queried.}

_{"It's on temporary assignment to us, courtesy of some bureaucratic paper pusher in Whitehall, he thought it would be a good opportunity for a cultural exchange situation, a case of ' If they take the low road, and we take a high one, then we'll All be in kilts, b'fore ye... know it !' sort of thing.”}

_{"Hmmm, sorry, Steed, I didn't quite catch that last part, I was too distracted by the sound of Rabbie Burns, turning in his grave, ye ken !”}

_{Steed, masterfully handled his way down through the gears taking the Bentley into a dangerous hairpin curve, dropping them to the lowest point before skillfully pulling them back up to a climax, his foot pressing hard on the accelerator, he held the road tightly as he man-handled the powerful 3 litre engine effortlessly up the ensuing hill on the other side.}

_{Emma threw her head back, flicking unwelcome hair away from her face. “ I take it, Steed, that you have some ulterior motive in mind behind this obviously transparent gesture.”}

_{"Has anyone ever told you Mrs Peel, that you have a very cynical disposition ?” Steed glanced wryly across at his companion.}

_{"Constantly, but as far as YOU'RE concerned, I'm generally RIGHT !”}

_{"Well, there has been some uncorroborated intelligence that someone is passing sawed off cabers to our European cousins, along with inferior sausage meat intended for the Scotch egg market, and I believe there may even be illegal tampering of sporrans ! “ Steed confided.}

"SO, you're saying we're basically looking at a possible case of an inter-continental cabers, small changed sporrans and suspect Scotch eggs smuggling ring ! It's hardly sounds like a case for national security, Steed. Besides, hasn't the Scottish Tourist board been making a living out of those things themselves, for years !” she followed.

_{"Aye, ye ken, Mrs Peel. But, more insidiously than all of that, there have also been reports of fake tartan, to boot !” Steed frowned slightly at such a thought.}

_{"My, what a faux pair ! I mean you wouldn't be able tell you if you were dealing with a McGuffin or a MacGyver ! Still, it could be worse!”}

_{"How so ?” Steed queried.}

_{"Well, at least they haven't got their hands on the jock strap market, yet !"}

_{"It's no laughing matter, Mrs Peel ! This could destabilize the Scottish government leading to a possible clan uprising !”}

_{"So would an over abundant diet of wild oats and tall thistles !”}

_{"There are rumours that some of the contestants may well be using something to enhance their performance.” Steed plied.}

_{"What, drugs ! ” Emma turned her head to Steed in dismay.}

_{"NO, SURGICAL TRUSSES ! “}

_{" You know, I think I've changed my mind, Steed, football isn't all that bad, after all,” Emma proclaimed. Sinking deep back into her seat, she folded her arms across her chest, warily she studied Steed's facial features more closely, and observed a growing twinkle in his eyes, “ Wait a moment, you said this was a 'cultural exchange', but you never said what Scotland got out of this little deal ?”}

_{"You packed a LARGE suitcase, didn't you, Mrs Peel ?”}

_{Cue title sequence.}

_{lifeandfunnies,blogspot.com}

Changing Homes - The Sandbach Affair

_{From Here to Sandbach - A Moving Story.}

_{I suppose up until this point in my life, I would be what some people might call as a 'southerner' – not by choice mind you, more a chain of unrelated circumstances - a string theory, if you will. But that is all about to change along with everything else in my life - except my girlfriend of course, after all, there's no sense going completely crazy. For we are currently in the throes of packing up sticks – breakables et al – as we bubble wrap our lives up, and prepare to take lock, stock, and barrel out on the road, transporting them across several motorway systems, and a number of historical sites, en-route to a new compass setting – the North lands. Yes, the place where people are friendlier, house prices uncommonly lower and the weather is more changeable. I followed the reasoning, that if people are more friendly up North, then Scottish folk must be positively brimming over with congeniality. Alas, my girlfriend informed me that there is some geographical statute of limitations in place rending this particular attribute null and void - probably due to the Celtic clime or possibly a slow broadband reception or other - and I tend to trust her view, as she is more world weary than myself.}

_{'They' say that moving home along with marriage and death are among the most stressful things that you will encounter in life – I might have to check my sources on that last one. But, I can certainly testify to the verasidity of this conclusion, as it has consumed my entire life, ever since it was first 'suggested' to me by my loved one. From it's gentle conception – usually, around the mid-night hours, which apparently is the optimum time for any machiavellian plans hatched by the female of the species - of it's notion, to it's ' resistance is futile' conclusion. Finally, a surrender: and an agreement that change is as good as a nights rest. Followed by an 'innocent' exploratory expedition to the North Lands, resulting – naturally - in the purchasing of a domicile, categorised as ' a dream house' and so the 'adventure' begins.}

_{Now, friends, relatives and solicitors – not necessary in that order – shortly followed by surveyors, social media and then the WORLD – again, in no particular order – and all informed and notified of the pending process. Then if you're really unlucky you will be involved in some sort of 'chain' , which can be seriously detrimental to your dreams, hopes and sanity. As a general rule of thumb anything that involves the word 'chain' should be avoided where ever possible. Fortunately, we were at the top of this particular 'food chain', as it were, re: buyers versus buyees market, and things seemed to go quite smoothly - so I'm reliable informed by my girlfriend, well she should know better than anyone, as this whole shebang was pretty much her show.}

_{And so onto the final stages, packing and so forth. At first we are full of good intentions, with an ordered and methodical way of packing: books in this box, clothes in that one and glasses in the other. The following day the odd book seems to finds it's way into a box of clothes. By the end of day THREE, books, socks, Baby Cham glasses and that strange little ornament you inherited from somewhere along the way, are all wildly cast into the same box ominously marked 'Odds and Ends'. A life slowly disassembled, broken down and compartmentalized, or as my girlfriend commented surveying the aftermath,}

_{“ It's surprising just how much muck and cobwebs there is !” - highlighting her northern roots.}

_{As 'D' Day descents, our old home had been replaced by a cardboard monument, a testimony to power of blood, sweat and wrapping tape. A lifetime of emotions and memories flat-packed and marker penned ' To Be Continued ', now thrown into the back of a heavy goods lorry and shipped to a new post code, between the borders of 'hope' and ' tomorrow'.}

_{We set off a day earlier than the removal van, hoping to get ahead start on things the next morning, in our over-laden, but responsible packed cars, full of personal treasures and emergency supplies – tea/coffee making facilities and loo paper, the basic building blocks of any civilisation. I decided to tailgate my girlfriend – she seemed to instinctively know her way like an out of season duck flying in an inversed manner – on our journey up, while listening to an old cassette tape, retrieved from the back of some long forgotten drawer: Dawson Creek – Volume One. Changing it to the ' The Soprano's – Soundtrack' – courtesy of another 'lost' drawer, on the latter part of the trip, playing it loudly, fearing I might be overheard and exposed as a 'soft southerner', well there was no point tipping my hand too early.}

_{Well, we've finally arrived - I had the opening title sequence of the Beverley Hillbillies playing in my mind, for some reason - at Sandbach - a historical Market Town - in one family sized lorry and two cars and are now currently wading through, no strike that, we are presently in that state of unpacking limbo, where you find everything.. except the one thing that you're desperately trying to locate – it's probably in one of those 'Odds and Ends' boxes, buried in the garage underneath a pile of moving boxes and old empty suit cases  ...at the very back. But we have high hopes to shortly regain access to the front door, in order to seek out new life and socialization. And then once unpacked all we have to do is completely redecorate the house, re-landscape the whole garden whilst trying to find gainful employment, and make new friends.... simple, right ?}

_{lifeandfunnies.blogspot.com} 

A Medium Evening - A Monologue from the 'Other Side'

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

_{"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, through the ethereal veil.” The medium will appear surprisingly 'down to earth' - unless of course they hail from across the Atlantic, and will constantly keep moving across the stage.} 

_{"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 maybe, no wait – it's 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 ? NOBODY, eh, not even a box of ROSES ! Alright let's just put that to one side for now, we might come back to that, later.”}

_{" 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, I think their standing on a box – I feel I should be looking at this section of the audience – does that make sense to you, sir ?”}

_{"Yes, you sir ! The gentleman sitting on the end of the aisle, I'm TALKING to you, sir - but I'm 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 ?”}

_{“ He's trying to say something, ' Spit an' polish them up' can you understand that ?”}

_{"I'm getting a sense of something else, he's saying, ' Don't take them to the bloody Antiques Roadshow and try to flog 'em, you little git ! does that mean anything to you, sir ?”
" Still nothing ? You're not being very helpful, sir ! Alright,} the energy is slipping now, so just take that with you for now, and we may come back to it later, thank you !”
_{" No, I'm afraid that's not an ethereal cloud enveloping you lady, it's just the vapour from my assistants} e-cigarette ! TODD ! I told you NOT to light one up in 'ere while I'm working !"

_{"Okay, my spirit guide is approaching me 
– stop doing that, it's a disgusting habit -and he's bringing on an older person. 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 Mysteriy Series - The Town of No Return - Chapter Five

_{The Town of No Return – Chapter Five}

_{'The Town that Never Was'} 

_{John stepped out from the darkness, a shadow of his former self, gone the assured, well dressed man-about-town, now there was only a mud infused heavily abused and generally altogether broken citizen. He stood - swaying slightly with exhaustion – on the brow of a hill looking over Mistry. From this vantage point he surveyed the quiet semi-slumbering little village} taking stock of escape routes and noteworthy landmarks, consciously staying just beyond the reach of it's gas fueled street lamps – a feature he found of peculiar interest – while plotting out his next move. Was this seemingly 'lost' Mistry, really responsible for the mysterious and unaccountable lack of contact with the rest of the world ? What lay in wait for him, would he be met with open arms or closed minds ? More importantly just how long would he have to be stationed here, in order to 'redeem' his reputation and prove himself fit – both physically and mentally - for active duty once more ?

_{Somehow, he had miraculously managed to survive the recent trial and tribulations of his nightmarish ride on the wild side - with only the minimal of interruption from the unseen forces of collision and absurdity. His weary body and even more wary state of mind were close to collapse. He had parted company with Lucky - the wonder horse - and it's distressed driver a couple of hours earlier, after deciding it more expedient and safer, on a personal level, if he walked the remaining miles back to Mistry under his own steam.}

Channeling _{the final reserves of strength, John inhaled deeply through gritted teeth, drew himself up, shoulders back, chest out and stomach in. Accepting his predicament with a steely resolution he proceeded with the mission, slowly descending from the hillside with mixed feelings of relief and apprehension.}

_{The center of the village consisted of all the usual stalwarts of rural life, post office, general store, library, church and at least one public house ( a beacon of light and hope in any community ) and by all accounts there should also be lurking somewhere within it's vicinity .... one police station. In the very heart of this tableau a large imposing and sinister looking tree stood guard, it's base wreathed by a warped and well worn bench. John crossed the dimly lit cobbled square, passing several lifeless houses on his set course towards the local tavern – possibly the scene of an unlawful assembly, given that it was long since closing time – it's weather beaten signboard, swinging and creaking from a post in the bleak freezing night air, heralding} ' The Crow Inn ' and adorned with a painting of one such glossy feathered scavenger, resting on the arm of a sorrowful looking scarecrow.

_{He approached the doorway and without even pausing to look through it's small bottle glass window, pressed down on the latch, pushed open the stiff old door and stepped inside.}

_{For the first time since arriving in this back-water stretch of the Cornish coast he felt the existence of a possible civilized society operating within it's borders.}

   _{The large inglenook stone fireplace, with it's deep wrought iron grate - framed on both sides by two small wooden barrels resting upon one another - was host to a roaring welcoming fire offering resistance to the cold night air outside, whilst creating a relaxing and convivial atmosphere to the small band of denizens contained within its darkly polished half paneled walls. Most of whom fell into two categories, those who stopped talking and turned to look at the new 'intruder' and those who seemingly disregarded his entrance, choosing to surreptitiously acknowledge the fact themselves. John started to move his way through the hazy cloud of pipe smoke and ' Old Shag ' roll-up cigarettes, with their heady distinctive mix of strong, sweet woody aromas. He carefully avoided eye-contact at this juncture, for fear it might it might encourage an outbreak of small-talk, which at present he was unavailable for comment – his ever tiring state and growling stomach being his prime concern.}

_{Reaching the bar he sidled through a small opening in the congregated mass of bodies attached to it's side like barnacles. Once in-situ – while waiting to be served - he took the opportunity to take in the rest of his surroundings, the thick oak beams and rafters - decorated with an array of pewter mugs - the bare saw-dusted floor boards and a glass encased snowy owl, all indicated to him that it was a public house of considerable repute and long history.} 

_{"You cut it really close, Mister ! Another few minutes and I would've had to lock the door,” came a warm full bodied female voice from over the counter.}

_{"I take it, that you're the V.L.P we were told to expect,” it continued.}

_{John turned back towards the bar to address the claim, finding himself facing a pretty, middle-aged auburn haired woman, with a figure that was more than a match for the way she spoke. “ I think you'll find that's supposed to be a 'V.I.P' ” he corrected her.}

_{"No, I'm right. V.L.P. Very Lost Policeman !” she responded, the small lines around her soft green eyes, deepened slightly threatening a smile.}

_{"How can I be 'lost', when this is where I'm supposed to be ? ” he reasoned despite his degenerative state.}

_{"If you're here, then trust me - you're LOST ! This place isn't exactly well marked on the map,” she moved closer to the counter, wiping it over with an old bar towel cleaning up any excessive spillage.}

_{John finished unbuttoning his heavily damp overcoat and began to flap it around to encourage the warmer clime to circulate the rest of his body.}

_{"You don't say !” he said somewhat sarcastically. “ Look, I know it's late, but I'm starving. Is there any chance that you could rustle up something for me to eat ? I'd really appreciate it.”}

_{"Well, there might be a cold pastie-under-glass, hiding around here somewhere, from lunchtime... yesterday,” she offered feint hope. “ But, I can't vouch for it's freshness mind you, or take any responsibility for it's actions !”}

_{"I fully accept your terms and conditions,” he said raising an open flat hand as if taking a solemn oath, smiling wryly through still frozen lips. “ Now, how about a drink ? What's good on tap around here ?” he asked, glancing along the bar at the small but impressive line-up of vintage ceramic and brass pump handles.}

_{"This one's quite popular with our regulars, “ she replied sagely, clasping one of the beer handles displaying signs of excessive wear and tear, and pulled it slowly steadily down releasing the amber liquid into an awaiting glass tankard. Slipping the heady ale across the bar to him she stood back and waited for his verdict.}

_{He held the glass up to the light, attempting to peer through it's murky consistency in a sedimental act. Then drank deeply from it, before realising that something wasn't quite right, “ Ugh ! What the --- is that ?" he exclaimed.} 
"It's ' Badger's Claw'” the barmaid replied.

_{"Is that it's name or what it's made of ?” he asked grimacing.}

_{"That's it's name ! Why, don't you like it ?”}

_{"Like it ? I can't believe you've a licence to serve it !” He held the glass back up to re-examine the evidence.}

_{"I thought you said this was 'popular' with your regulars, “ he recalled, placing the tankard back on the counter. “ FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE WHY ?” he asked in disbelief.} 

_{"Because, it's the ONLY BEER we serve ! There hasn't been any delivery from the brewery for months. So, the locals took it upon themselves to brew their own. I guess this..” she gestured towards the guilty pump,” ..is what you'd call their 'first draught'. It's not as bad as all that, if you consider the lack of materials they had to work with,” she defended, clearing a few 'dead' glasses from the bar.}

_{"I admit, it's an acquired taste, but don't worry, you'll get used to it – eventually. Along with not having any hot water or electric when you want it,” she continued, serving John the questionable pastie on a small plate with just a single knife for company.}

_{"I have no intention of 'getting used' to ANYTHING ...especially bad beer and poor public utilities ! Neither of which I would exactly call an endearing local feature,” he answered curtly.}

_{"Well, if you're not going to enter into the spirit of things, then you're going to find life a little bit ...lonely around here ! “}

_{"Don't worry about me, this is just a temporary position. I very much doubt if I shall be here for all that long” he said smugly, cutting into the pastie and carefully taking an exploratory bite. Grimacing once again, his body and taste buds rejecting the cold indigestible piece of pastry. He pushed the dish away from him in a final act of surrender,} 

_{“ Let me guess, 'BADGER Pie' !” he surmised.}

_{"Speaking of name calling..” she responded, disregarding his last remark,} "..just what, shall I call you ?”

_{"I'm Detective Inspector John Foxe !” came the formal introduction.}

_{"Ohhh, sorry ! But I'm a one name, kind of a gal !”}

_{"Well, I suppose you could call me, Inspector Foxe”}

_{"Good, JOHN, it is then ! I'm Wendy. Wendy Gale, and 'yes' I've heard all the jokes, thank you very much !” she held out a hand for the customary shake.}

_{John, nodded his head gently accepting the hand gesture. She turned away to tend to one of the bottle optics from the back wall then returned with a double single malt whisky and presented it to him, announcing “ I believe this warrants a welcoming toast, or something !”} 

_{To which he gratefully - without hesitation – accepted the token gesture of goodwill and drank it straight back.}

_{"What, no speech !” Wendy observed wryly.}

_{"Ahh...sorry ! But, I'm not really a speech kind of a guy !” he retorted. “ So, this village is it really...”}

_{"Charming ? “ Wendy interrupted.}

_{"No “}

_{"Peaceful ? “}

_{"No, DEAD ! I was told it's something of a 'ghost town' these days, is that true ?'” he queried.}

_{"That's unfair ! Yes, it can be quiet around here true enough, but you can't go around making a judgement like that – not at this time of night, anyway !” she countered.}

_{"Well, I'm pleased to hear it, my job is hard enough as it is without digging up anybody's ghosts." John's thoughts turned briefly to his dead wife.                                                               " Hmmm, I suppose they wouldn't make the best witnesses, would they ?" Wendy reasoned.}"You know there's a branch sticking out your coat, don't you “ she followed.

_{"What ! Where ?”}

_{"You mean you can't see it, with that big ol' detective nose of yours !” she said, waving a finger in the general vicinity of the surplus wooden appendage.}

_{John mumbled something under his breath as he extracted it.}

_{"I'll have you know that this is a very revered village, why there's even an account of Mistry as far back as the Doomsday Book, “ she proudly announced.}

_{"Hah ! Why doesn't that surprise me ?” said John, playfully rolling the empty whisky glass between his hands.}

_{"Tha' be right ! “ came a strangled voice.}

_{John turned his head to look down at a wiry elderly gentleman, who currently occupied a position just left of his elbow. He was a disheveled looking character, standing with a slight stoop in a crumpled herringbone three-piece suit, open white granddad shirt and heavily scuffed black boots. “ William the Conqueror 'imself passed thru' here, and wrote ' It's a small, hidden township – but stranger BEWARE.... OF WEDNESDAYS !” he recounted, with half-crazed eyes.}

_{"Wednesdays ? What's wrong with them ?! John's curiosity was hooked.}

_{The old informer, moved even closer to John, then carefully looking over both shoulders as if afraid of being overheard imparting such a dark secret,}

_{"That's when BLACK NECROMANCY is practised, deep in the woods under cover of night” he replied in hushed tones.}

_{"NO HE DIDN'T ! You daft beggar !” said Wendy chastisingly, gently flailing his arm with a bar towel. “ IT'S HALF-DAY CLOSING ! ” she concluded.}

_{Wendy and her accomplice stifled a chuckle between themselves, “ I'm sorry, but teasing strangers has become something of a pastime around here,” she empathized.}

_{"Hmmm ! I should've guessed, especially with that line about this place being a town... which it clearly ISN'T,” John addressed the old boy.}

_{"Ah, no ! That was Old Mistry, this is NEW Mistry,” he explained.}

_{"Old Mistry ?” John arched an eyebrow, quizically.}

_{"Aye, Mistry was a town long ago, but a terrible curse fell upon it that led to strange and unaccountable happenin's,“ the suited gent became wide eyed with the prospect of recounting the tale.}

_{"Mysteries in Mistry, how novel, “ John mused. “ Go on then, I'm listening !”}

_{"Well, it began with the mysterious disappearance of the townsfolk and shortly there was a fire, the likes of which has never been known before or since, it blazed for days - laying waste to everything. Nothin' was left standing. It was almost as if someone or SOMETHING wanted to bury Mistry's existence forever . Now it's jus' a hand-me-down story - the town that never was !”}

_{"Perhaps, I can offer a different chain of events, one that might be able to shed some light on your so-called 'mystery'” John smirked.} 

_{“ There was a great BIG fire, that decimated the 'town', leaving everyone homeless. So they simply ...CLEARED OFF ! Case closed.”}

_{"No ! No ! No ! The people left first, I tell ye !” protested the agitated gent.}

_{"Let's just agree that ONE of us is right, and the other is … MISINFORMED, shall we ?” John compromised, brandishing his glass in the air, indicating that a refill was required. 
“ Anyway, just how did this 'new' Mistry come about then ?” he asked, feigning interest in his companion while waiting for service.}

_{"Ah, that was after Lord Temple arrived, an' the discovery that this place was at the center of – ”}

_{"Awright, that's enough of the history lesson for one night ! Can't you see the poor man's had it for the day ?” Wendy interjected, as she renewed John's drink. “ Your night-cap, sir,” she said placing it in front of him.” I'd better open a tab up for you, something tells me you're going to need it.”}

_{John had to admit she was right, the long arduous day and the affects of the alcohol were catching up with him, so he threw the whisky down his throat, made his excuses, collected the room key and turned in for the night.} 

<sub>“ Tomorrow is a new day, a fresh start, “ he told himself as he made his way to the stairs, “ things can only be better, it's not like things can get any worse than today,” with these few words of encouragement to himself he smiled, confident that he was finally turning a corner for the better. 

lifeandfunnies.blogspot.com</sub>

London Metro-lites - An Underground Story

_{Underground, Overground and Wandering Free}

_{The British London Underground can be a rather isolating experience, - well} to be honest all Metro based networks can be - what with the mad descent into the bowels of the earth, culminating with being herded into a claustrophobic vessel and fired through a shaft of darkness, rather like a loaded bullet shooting along the barrel of gun. But, there is an even greater and more subversive element at work here, a unique social environment, where the prevalence is towards a younger class of travelers. These particular human corpuscles – HOMOglobins – coursing through the system, DE-oxygenating it along their way, seemingly providing a hormonal and colourful energy for the network to thrives upon,

_{as if a regular transfusion of this vibrant life force was essential to it's constant running. On my recent excursion into the dark side, I couldn't help but notice that there was a distinct lack of passengers over middle age – or as I prefer to call it... the age of dissent – taking advantage of this form of transport, in a scene reminiscent from a subterranean version of "Logan's Run". Perhaps they simply desert the city at the weekend, preferring to head out into the country to satisfy their wild side, or take advantage of those weekend getaways that try to encourage us that there is more to life than the daily drudgery of it all, and at affordable prices. But, whatever the reason, I could only see young people, sharing my lonely passage into the unknown – I knew where I wanted to go, it was just trying to find the damnable place that was proving to be beyond my grasp.}

_{Only the disembodied voice supplied by the PA speakers, supplying any sense}

_{of reason or shared communal direction, urging the masses to “ Mind the age gap, and keep flowing on the left side,” as if fearful that anyone stopping may congeal the general circulation. He who hesitates were in danger of being washed along with the current flotsam and jazz buskers, without any hope of parole or assistance from anyone with a native tongue or living within at least a 50 mile radius. All the off-season traveller had to fall back on was the myriad of hieroglyphics – mockingly masquerading as line information - adorning the platform walls offering only faint hope and growing feelings of inadequacy, and the even more confusing overlaying sketch-o-graph prints, that a child of five could work out, so long as they had the IQ of Stephen Hawking – apparently Einstein's, a secret rail enthusiast, was close to completing his greatest work, a treatise on the simplification of a unified underground network, but stopped suddenly when he realised that it was just easier to prove his theory of relativity, and that dark matter was probably best left in space.}

_{In conclusion, I can only surmise that underground travelers fall into two main classes, those who are busy living life and those who know how to enjoy it.}

_{May your fares always be shorter than your journey.}

_{lifeandfunnies.blogspot.com}

Midwinter Mystery Series - Chapter Four

<sub>Midwinter Mystery - The Town of No Return

"Not Only... But Also “</sub>

_{The opaque misty mass drifted slowly over the snow covered ground, an unrelenting climatic phenomenon swallowing up everything in it's wake. Only the fluctuating weak spots in it's density offering any sanctuary to those 'careless' enough to be lost inside. Then, from somewhere in it's depths, two dim yellowish looking eyes materialized, growing larger and brighter as they traversed their way through the whitened haze.}

_{These particular set of “eyes” were actually a pair of halogen lamps belonging to one large and aged car, currently making it's nocturnal return trip to the small village of Mistry. The vintage vehicle trundled along, disrespectful of the night, the mist and it's driver's preoccupation with his female passenger. “ Are you sure, you know where you're going, George ?” questioned the rather concerned young lady seated next to him.} 

_{“ Yeah ! Of course I do, Doll ! ” he replied, in his best reassuring manner as he leant forward – his nose almost pressing against the windscreen – straining his eyes to peer through the ever thickening veil of mist ahead of them.}

_{The girl rolled down the side window and stuck her head out, squinting as the damp freezing air flooded her eyes. “ Well, I can't see a thing ! So, I don't know how you're managing to ?” she stated doubting her chauffeurs earlier declaration.}

_{George glanced over in her general direction, trying to locate the source of the chilling} outside forces, as the internal climate rapidly equalised with the external. 
“ Blimey, Pegs ! Close that window, will ya, it's flippin' brass monkees' out there, and you know the heater's not workin' !” he explained, becoming increasingly frustrated with the lack of progress on the journey home, and more importantly with his would-be girlfriend. Peggy let out a small grunt as she struggled to close the window, the handle too stiff and awkward for her to turn, “ I'm just saying, that if I don't get back in one piece, my dad won't 'alf be mad with you George ! And you know what a devil of a temper he has on him, that's all !” she said. He smiled weakly, trying to mask his true feelings in this matter, “ Look, don't worry about it, Babe ! I promise, I'll 'ave yer safely tucked up indoors before yer dad's even finish'd 'is last pint at the 'Spitting Feathers' ... 

_{scouts honour !” he said, throwing a feeble two finger scout salute to his eyebrow – it was a promise he sorely intended to keep, as he was only to well aware of her father's rather hot-headed reputation.}

_{George Clemens was young of soul, but had an air of worldly experience about him, which was surprising as he had never actually seen any of it. He was the personification of the term ' local lad', but he had big dreams and grander plans for his future, all he needed now was the money, resources, and a whole lot of luck. One of those high hopes, was the courting and betrothing of a certain young lady by the name of Miss Peggy Twelvepiece. In this personal mission, he had invested a considerable amount of time, effort and resources – to little or “No Chance !” avail.}

_{Peggy was an only child, and although not spoilt, her father – the gamekeeper of the Squires's, large estate - was overly protected of his 'little girl', and highly distrustful of any and all suitors, particularly if they had any connection with the local constabulary - and for some unexplained reason, an even stronger dislike of anyone who happened to have the name of.... George Clemens.}

_{Peggy had finally managed to close the window and had proceeded to set about} 'securing' her own attire, which had come loosened after wrestling with the handle. She was short, lithe slip of a girl - 21 years of age, but couldn't lay claim to having 'never been kissed before ' -  and was regarded by many, herself included, as being 'quite pretty'. She sat still for a moment recovering her composure and collecting her thoughts, a pensive frame of mind reflecting in her expression, ” Anyway, I thought we were going to see a romantic film this evening ! ” she eventually disclosed.

_{"Wot ! “ The Bride of Frankenstein !” He replied, laughingly.}

_{"Don't take that tone with me, Mr Clemens ! It was a perfectly reasonable assumption to make, after all, brides usually get married don't they, and weddings are supposed to romantic, aren't they ?” Peggy re-examined the facts as she understood them.}

_{"Ah ! Well, yes...” he flustered, his words falling over themselves for a reasonable answer,}  

_{“ ..that's right ! Marriage, is a very romantic... thingy, in fact I think it's THE most romantic thingy, EVER !” he smiled weakly, congratulating himself in the belief that he had satisfactory averted a potentially hazardous situation.
Peggy frowned, a furrow of concentration crossing her brow,} "And last month, didn't you take me to see that film, what was it called again... oh yes “ The BRIDES of Dracula” really, George, I'm beginning to wonder if you have something against marriage,” she extrapolated, folding her arms tightly across the chest and tossing her head - accompanied by a small upturned nose - up in the air to demonstrate dissatisfaction.

_{"Honestly, Pegs ! I don't have anything against marriage ! I think it's er … er … really good constitution, an' all that !” he tried to mount an argument for defense.}

_{" It's an INSTITUTION ! “ she corrected.}

_{" NAH ! It's not as bad as all that ! “ he said.}

_{" You, you... big LUMMOX HEAD !” she exclaimed in a fit of pique.}

_{George was taken aback by this outburst, stunned for words, there seemed no discernible recourse open to him. A feeling of hopelessness rose up threatening to put pay to the rest of his evenings plans.}

_{" NOOOO ! LOOK OUT !” screamed Peggy suddenly, pointing frantically at the ghostly hooded figure that mysteriously} appeared in the road ahead. George reacted with a high-panic cocktail of reflex and adrenaline, as he frantically wrenched the steering column hard right to avoid hitting the faceless, whitened apparition – as it turned to face them, raising it's arms up across it's body in an act of defiance or fear – and from there on in it became a fight between man and misguided machine, as he desperately wrestled the car for control. It's off road trajectory slewing them dramatically up one of the grassy verges, then down again, crossing back over the road, up over the verge on the opposite side. The assault against the frozen ground forces continued – as it's wheels bumped, jostled and bounced their way across the unfriendly terrain, whilst simultaneously weaving between the onslaught of trees. Then, an earth spewing climax befell them, as George stamped his foot hard down, pushing the brakes – and his luck – as far as he could, seemingly going through the floor at one point, in a last ditch attempt to stem the flow, hopefully, before crashing into the dark, broad towering tree, that was rushing dangerously towards them. There came a screeching, squealing uproar, as the car bucked, shuddered and slid under his command, finishing on a crescendo – a long unnerving, high-pitched howling, drowning out everything.

_{George slumped forward, his head resting upon the tops of his hands – which were still clamped steadfast to the steering wheel – he was physically and emotionally exhausted, neither of which condition was exactly a natural state to him. Slowly regaining his faculties he was lured further back to consciousness by the protracted shrilling, noise, that was starting to aggravate his growing headache. He righted himself back up to a sitting position, and took stock of his situation. A cursory inspection confirmed that nothing seemed broken or not where it should be, either to himself or his beloved car, it's engine was still running without any sign of disruption – there was even that odd familiar ticking sound that the motor would make whenever it overheated. But, he couldn't see anything that would explain the persistent alarm that continued to pierce the night.}

_{He looked over at his co-pilot, who was currently curled up in a ball on the floor, lying somewhere between being half out the door and half out of her mind. Her head hanging down, long brown tangled hair – recently restrained under an unflattering woolen hat - now loose and free - draped across her face. He placed a hand gently on her shoulder and apprehensively pulled her back up. As her hair fell away, he discovered that the cause of the unusual noisy emission was... Peggy ! Her unearthly siren song, was a 'Scream' Symphony, in the key of Terror, major.}

_{"Hey, It's okay ! It's all over now ! “ George patted her gingerly on the shoulder in an awkward, self-conscious manner as he attempted to offer soothing words of  comfort and solace.}

_{“ There, there, that's a good girl !”}

_{Then, hesitantly he asked, “ Are you alright, down there, then ?” as she began to unravel herself from the floor.}

_{"DOES IT LOOK LIKE I'M ALRIGHT, TO YOU ? YOU GREAT, BIG CLUMSY CLOD !” she snapped, slapinged his knee back in return.} 

_{“ What do you think you're playing at, you could have killed me.... or something !!” she admonished.}

_{"It weren't my fault ! It was that bloomin' geezer s}tepping right out in front of us, that did it !” he thumbed a closed hand back over his shoulder, indicating their past troubles.

_{"Did... did.. “ Peggy stammered her fearful thoughts out into the open, “ ..we hit him ?” her breathing becoming erratic with short, fast gulps as the trauma of the situation dawned on her.}

_{"I.. I..don't think so, “ George shifted nervously, a telltale fevered brow hinting of his deepening worry.}

_{"Well, don't you think we SHOULD be sure about that sort of thing,” she said marshaling her concerns.}

_{"I .. er ... guess so ! I mean ..er, yeah.. yeah of course, “ he nodded, as much to assure himself than Peggy. “ I'll .. er .. get out an' have a look around, then shall I ?“}

_{With that, he shoved hard on the door, putting his back into it which was no easy task given that it was now located just above his right shoulder - the door, not his back that is. A result of them being on an acute angle as the car's final resting place left the driver's side on a slightly elevated level – on top of an small unaccountable mound of earth.}

_{As he endeavored to climb out the door, Peggy attempted to return to her seat – placing her hands on either side of her, she began hauling herself back up – whilst removing a few errant strands of hair away from her eyes with a short sharp blow out the corner of her mouth. By now, George had managed to convince the door to stay open, by forcing it fully back on it's hinges, and was commencing his impersonation of a wholly ill-equipped mountaineer, struggling against the odds and an uncomfortable disposition, sitting at a 45 degree angle behind a large steering wheel whilst possessing the upper body strength of someone half his body weight.}

_{Peggy finally reappeared visible to the outside world, through the dirty steamed up windscreen. Reclaiming her recently dethroned seat, she felt secure enough to commence rummaging around in her handbag for an emergency repair kit – consisting of the basics: 1 x reflective surface ( compact mirror ), 1 x straightening tool ( hairbrush ), various restraining ties ( assorted safety pins ) and 1 x high visibility covering ( deep cherry lipstick ).}

_{George rolled his straggling lower half out of the window, and then - unable to resist the laws of motion – the rest of his body followed suite, rolling right out the car. Cat like reflexes, well honed muscle coordination, and Olympian levels of suppleness.... none of these attributes unfortunately, were at his disposal. Instead, he adopted the far more familiar ' falling to the ground like a sack of potatoes' technique that he had employed on so many painful previous occasions.}

_{His landing was not so much as ' tuck and roll' or even ' hit and run', more a case of ' hit rock and roll, and roll and roll !' only the car's running board preventing him from disappearing completely under it's chassis.}

"Ooooww ! Arrrrgh ! Ooohhh !” he groaned a medley of pain - which was threatening to become his signature tune – as he stretched an arm out to reach the outside handle, clamping it with a vice like grip, he began to extricate himself from floor. Once he had attained the more respectable vertical position, a long with a firm and even foothold, he proceeded towards the front of the motor – leaning against it for support as he went. He stopped for a moment to warm his freezing hands on it's heated engine cover, and listened to it's old, faithful motor, still chugging and spluttering away. The car's bodywork was 'decorated' with an array of bumps and dents – and even more scratches – all badges of honour in its long and loyal service to... it's careless log book holder.

_{He bowed low over the bonnet, his arms almost encompassing it in a friendly embrace, and in a hushed voice, acknowledged his gratitude for it's continual support, “ There, there, that's a good girl !” patting it gently as he did. Staring across it's long length – sloping down to the radiator grill - his attention was momentarily drawn to the thick mist gradually curling and swirling along, on it's slow nightly passage, highlighted by the two shafts of light from it's headlamps. Following directly on from there, he looked upon the massive oak tree – rearing up only inches away from them - that had been so close to denting something other than just the car.}

_{"Well ! Can you see anything, yet ? ” came the impatient little voice, from inside the car.}

_{George looked back over his shoulder, “ No, not yet ! Jus' give me a minute, will ya !” his curiosity starting to get the better of him. Passing between the car and the tree – the immobile and the unmovable – he walked back into the ever deepening murky shroud, trying his best to retrace their tracks in his quest for the missing stranger. Going as far as he could without losing sight of the car's glowing rear lights, fearing he might lose himself next if he did. The mist and the night conspired to isolate his senses, their resistance to sound and vision, offering nothing in return except the heavy damp air.}

_{George took a few more tentative steps into the unknown, before being disturbed by the haunting ringing of a lonely church bell, stabbing it's way through the wintry atmosphere. A religious calling, from somewhere, way off in the distance, broke the silent order of the moment, raising the hairs on the back of his neck, along with a worrying concern: Who was ringing it at this ungodly hour, and just what was it's intention – alarm or warning ? Only one thing was sure, thought George, it signaled trouble for someone, but for whom did it toll - only time would tell.}

_{He stood transfixed to the spot, caught between conflicting emotions – frantic hysteria and paralyzing fear – as he anguished over the worsening situation and his limited options. Then his face visibly dropped, the jaw slackened and the eyes were replaced by two small black shiny balls, for in a moment of clarity, he recalled, roughly, where they had 'landed', and even more importantly, the location and name of the nearest bell tower.}

_{"Oh, Crickey ! It's 'im... it HAS to be HIM !” he called back to the car and his expectant girlfriend, with the terrifying conclusion.}

_{" 'IM, WHO ?” came the slightly irritated reply.}

_{George started to run back towards the car, there wasn't any point searching now, struggling to reveal the identity of the unwelcome pedestrian, as if actually speaking the name gave it credence and substance. Finally, in a single bound, he leaped back inside the car, not bothering to close the door behind him properly, turned the engine over, threw it into gear and wildly exclaimed,} "It's The Mad Monk, Pegs ! THE MAD MONK OF MISTRY !”

_{lifeandfunnies.blogspot.com}

Midwinter Mystery Series - Chapter Three

_{The Town of No Return – Chapter Three}

_{“ A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to ...”}

    John, moved away from the station, just managing to side-step a line of precariously looking low-hanging icicles, from the roof's guttering, at the last moment. Preparing himself for the unwanted excursion ahead, he turned his tweed overcoat collar up around the ears – hoping to reduce exposure to the elements - and tugged his black trilby hat, further down, tightly over his head.

   _{A bright full moon made the most fleeting of appearances through a cloud filled night sky, below it the wintry landscape seemed to gleam and sparkle as a myriad of frozen ice crystals were caught in it's gentle lunar glow, and surrounding distant trees were little more than a collection of dark, silhouetted shapes set against the horizon.}

   _{Detective Inspector John Foxe, set off on the journey towards 'civilization', a long slow trek against the most inhospitable of terrains, waiting ahead of him. At first it was just the thought of the distance that concerned him, but after a while it was the growing cold and the condition of the long winding road, that really started to take it's toll. The bitter winter wind cut right through his clothes, numbing everything, but a determination to reach his destination. Whilst, what passed for a 'road', was nothing more than an indistinguishable snow ridden track without borders or end.}

   _{After, locating and crossing the old wooden walk through bridge,} he proceeded to doggedly follow the rest of the Station Master's directions towards the next landmark feature - the crossroads - which characteristically to this region... was not signposted. From there on in the going became tougher as the darkness seemed to close in around him the further he pursued the 'road' into the growing dense forest. Continuing along the woodland 'avenue' - heavily lined with a variety of tall, thin stark trees - he could hear the whistling wind playing it's lonely symphony on the organs of the forest, a supernatural composition, for his ears only. Added to this, he was plagued by the constant impromptu cascading of unwanted snow from the more thinner loftier branches and hampered by the restriction of any illumination as the trees filtered out any of the fleeting moon's rays, as it weaved itself in and out of the starless night cloud.

     _{John felt his feet beginning to slip and slide from under him, the tread in his shoes now being completely negated by the frozen packed ice deposited into their very soles by the deceptively deep snow. As he tried to maintain his balance and plot the most expedient course through the maze of trees and bushes – which consisted heavily of a thick gorse undergrowth - he became aware of an eerie silence. Only the sound of his own feet breaking through the crisp virgin snow, crunching and compressing it underfoot, and the serenading from some unseen owls – disturbed the tranquility of the unnatural scene.}

_{He stopped a moment for respite, his breath becoming short erratic gasps as his lungs filled with the freezing winter air, which seemed to becoming increasingly sharper with every inhalation. He'd just changed carrying the suitcase to his other side - it's constant collision against his kneecap having become a sore point – when he felt the ground rumble under his feet, followed by a chilling, in-human clamour from somewhere behind him. Turning to face this strange disturbance head on, a baying and wild eyed charging steed loomed out of the darkness baring rapidly down on him. Desperately discarding his bag into a nearby ditch and then throwing himself immediately after it as the rampaging bronco stormed it's way past. There then followed a crashing, rattling, ear-splitting sound of splintering wood against metal and a strangled human cry, “Whoooa, there boy ! Easy, Lad !”}

   _{John laid stunned and breathless – the landing had knocked the air out of him – for while, but the cold wet snow soon hastened his recovery. Slowly he raised himself to his knees, and from there he carefully rose to his feet, after conducting a brief inventory of appendages. Treading carefully back to the 'scene of the crime' he discovered that his assailant was a small pony and trap set-up, led by a considerable large sweat slathered carthorse and it's smaller, crumpled looking, distressed, sweat slathered driver.}

_{"Damn fool ! You could have killed me, man ! “ John shouted out furiously.}

_{"Who's that, there ?” the driver queried his unknown accuser, straining his eyes to look beyond their ability.}

_{"Never mind who I am ! Why the hell are you driving around like some crazed maniac, at this time of night ?” pressed John.}

_{"What ! Well, I don' have much choice in the matter, do I, not when a man's 'ome is at sake, !” answered the heavily sideburned driver.}

_{"Oh ! I see ! Whose home is in danger ?” John's tone changed to one of concern.}

_{"Mine ! Who else would I care about ?” the driver squinted at John oddly, as if to get a better measure of the man.}

_{"Your's ! Of course ! What ever was I thinking of !” replied John, sarcastically.}

_{"So, what's wrong with this house of your's, then ?” his curiosity getting the better of him.}

_{"It be on fire, that's whats 'wrong' with it !”}

_{"Ah, so you're rushing over there, to save what you can ! “}

_{"No, I be on me way to fetch the fire brigade, and bring 'em back with me !” said the driver.}

 _{"Wouldn't it be easier to just call them over the telephone? ”}

_{"NOPE !”}

_{"Why not ?”}

_{"Cos.... I DON'T HAVE ONE !” exclaimed the driver. 
“ Besides, it wouldn't of done much good even if I did, what with it being Sat'day, and all !”}

_{"Ah, Saturday ! That old chestnut again,” said John. “ But, please go on, enlighten me, what has Saturday to do with anything,” he continued.}

_{"Well, Emily, always goes to the pictures on a Sat'day night”}

_{"I see... well actually... I don't ! Who exactly is Emily ?”}

_{"She's the local switchboard operator !”}

_{"Let me guess, she's with that George fellow, too !”}

_{"That's right ! How d'yer know about that ?” the driver said, slightly surprised.}

_{"Lets just say, he's on my 'most wanted' list, right now ! ” John quipped.}

_{He approached the driver from his guarded position, behind a large tree, whilst still detaching clumps of the wild gorse bush from his overcoat, remnants from the near hit and miss incident, while the front of his trousers were saturated by lying in the snow, “ Look, are you heading any where near Mistry, by any chance? Only, I'd really appreciate a lift, if you were !” he asked.}

_{"Well, if it stops yer blathering then climb up, and be sharp about it ! I've wasted enough time on ye already !” responded the harassed driver.}

_{John hastily threw his suitcase onto the bench seat, between the driver and himself, and then took his place beside them. The driver whipped the reins, and commanded loudly, “ Gerrup, Boy ! Away with ye Lad ! “ The horse snorted, nodding and waving it's head, in the air, before taking up the slack and slowly breaking into a steady cantor.}

_{As they resumed their neck breaking mission through the night, John wondered if the trap had an emergency brake system fitted. “ How, do you know where you're going, I can't even see beyond your horse's head !” he expressed concern.}

_{"Ah ! Well, Lucky and me have bin travelling up and down this road, fer so long that we can tell where we are by the bumps in the road," the driver smiled proudly.}

_{"Hmmm, like a phrenological road map,"mused John.}

_{“ Eh ? Look don' worry y'self , Mister ! We know ev'ry inch of this old track, don' we boy ?” said the old boy, gently slapping the reins once more.}

_{This statement didn't help John's growing anxiety, especially as it was almost immediately followed, by a swift departure from the road, and a careering, jostling ride through a curtain of wet twigs and dead branches. Then, as quickly as began, it was over, and they were back on track again.}

_{"Haven't you ever heard of the old saying ' Less haste, and more... a full and long life'?” asked John, as he gripped harder onto the wooden bench seat.}

_{The driver glanced over at him, one of his wiry grey eyebrows arched in an expression of bewilderment, “ Look, Mister, we can't afford to dawdle abou', the nights one thing, but the mist is somethin' else all together,” he said.}

_{"What are you talking about, man ? There isn't any sign of mist !” questioned John.}

_{"Not yet ! But, mark my words, there will be, and it's gonna be a mighty thick one, I can feels it stirrin' in me bones,” there was an element of fear in the drivers voice.}

_{"Really?” doubted John, as he looked around him . “ Do you get many mists around here, then ?”}

_{"Aye, real heavy pea-soupers, that's what you city folk call them, ain't it ?”}

_{"What makes you think, I'm from the city ?”}

_{"Ye dress too fancy for these parts, ye talk funny, and nobody I knows walks around at night with a suitcase ! ”}

_{"Fair enough !” countered John, and then returned to the previous topic of conversation, “So, is that where Mistry, gets it name from – the weather ?”}

_{"Mebbe ! One of the reasons, anyway”}

_{"What would the other ones be then ?”}

_{"We don't talk about 'em, not to strangers anyway. But, you'll find out for y'self soon enough, 'specially if you go 'round pokin' your nose into things that don't concern ye.”}

_{"Well, that's an occupational hazard for me I'm afraid to say, asking questions is my business” said John.}

_{"It's not the questions ye have to worry about, Mister.... it's the answers”}

_{After that, they rode together but in tandem silence, one waiting for the inevitable, the other a sign - that the end was near. John was the one to break first, as another imponderable dawned on him, “ Just, why do you call your horse, 'Lucky', anyway ?”}

_{"Ahh ! 'Cos, he's blind in the left eye.”}

_{"I fail to see whats so 'lucky', about being blind in one eye ! ” stated a slightly flummoxed, John.}

_{"Well.. he's got one good one, don' he ! What are you, one of those 'Pissomists' – eyes half closed – types ?” speculated the driver.}

_{"That's PESSIMIST ! “ exclaimed John. “ And, NO, I'M NOT ! We obviously just have different views on the definition of good fortune, that's all !” He exhaled, deeply, through his mouth, trying to dispel this irrational line of thinking.}

_{Then, on the subject of 'second sight', he concluded, “ It must be quite tiring having to be the lookout for the both of you, especially in these conditions.”}

_{"Aye, even 'arder since the cataract took me right eye,” the driver confessed.}

_{"WHAT ! You mean you can't see either ! Why, that's the blind leading the... criminally negligent ! Stop this thing now, man ! I'll walk the rest of way, on my own ! Go on stop it, STOP IT NOW, YOU OLD FOOL !” and with that John leant over, as he tried to make a grab, for the reins.}

_{"THERE IT BE !” the driver shouted out proudly, “ I TOLD YE IT WAS COMIN', DIDN'T I !”}

   _{John looked up, to see a towering wall of impenetrable mist, looming up before them, there was nothing he could do, it was too late. They plunged deep into it's heart, at full gallop, shouting and swearing.... now nobody could see where they going, or knew how it was going to end.}

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