Midwinter Mystery - Chapter Six - "The Ghost & Mr Foxe"

_{" The Ghost & Mr Foxe"}

_{John hauled his tired and battered body, with matching luggage, up the last few steps of the narrow dimly lit staircase, while keeping a watchful eye on the large VSOP Brandy 'night cap' that he held tightly in his other hand. The small walled gas lamps flickered wildly, from some unknown draught, casting long distorted shadows to seemingly dance over the stairway's old flocked wallpaper. Approaching his room on a landing that continued the similarly ill-lit theme, a growing sense of apprehension started to deepen, it was as if it's claustrophobic walls were slowly inexorably closing in on him and the dark feelings of despair that he had been trying so hard to hide from everyone, especially himself, during the last few months began to resurface once more.}

   _{After reluctantly placing his suitcase on the threadbare carpet runner, he proceeded to fumble in search of the doors keyhole with a large tarnished chubb key, while uncompromisingly refusing to let go of his rapidly diminishing glass of cherished Brandy. Finally, with the encouragement of a particularly firm shove he pushed the unwelcoming door open, creaking it's objection with rusty hinges as it went, and immediately threw his suitcase inside followed by himself.}

_{The room was in relative darkness, with only the light of the full moon shining through a small bare window offering any illumination. John peered around and quickly made out an old brass oil lamp on top of a nearby chest of drawers, deciding it best to relinquish his burden of transporting alcohol by the means of rapid consumption. Picking up the lamp he made short work of lighting it and was rewarded at once with a bright yellowish glow, turning the wick up higher he surveyed the rest of the room. It was a reasonable size for a single room albeit the sloping ceiling made virtually half of it inaccessible to anyone over the height of 4' ft, the décor seemed to be from the early 'Puritan' period, sparse in number and appearance The furniture consisted of:}

• _{1 x chest of drawers, aforementioned,}
• _{1 x bed - single use thereof}
• _{1 x wardrobe, tilting}
• _{1 x table chair, table not included}

_{John crossed over to the window and stared outside, the streets below were empty and all seemed clear particularly the night sky where he found temporary solace gazing up at the stars as they sparkled like sequins in a midnight blue veil. From gaps in the window frame he could feel the cold icy fingers from outside desperate to get in, so he turned away to face the small cracked porcelain sink. Opening the cold tap – he'd resigned himself to the fact that hot water would not even be an option - fully up he waited for the violent shuddering and spluttering of the pipes to subside their resistance to supplying anything after so long a period of inactivity, and then finally he was rewarded with a virtual ... trickle, escaping from it's unsympathetic spout. Bending over the sink he cupped both hands filling them with the freezing liquid and splashed the lot into his face. As he straightened up he caught sight of himself in the above mirror - which had started to lose some of the silver backing around it's corners - and studied the dampened facial features staring back at him, they were undeniably all his, he recognized every unfriendly line, every scar, every imperfection, but as to the nature of the man returning his gaze from the other side of the looking glass... that man he couldn't truthfully admit to knowing anymore.}

_{Unfortunately, the short cold shock therapy had only a temporary effect, it didn't take long for John to recall that he was still very tired, very hungry and beginning to feel more bewildered than ever before. Turning to his suitcase he decided to unpack just his night wear and wash bag for now, and call it a day – even though it was technically already another day. He pulled out a pair of heavy blue stripped cotton pajamas's from the case and gave them a good shake to open them up.} 

_{“ Lord, are you still using those ? I thought you said that ' that they had deserved their final night of retirement', ages ago ” came a familiar woman's mocking tone from somewhere behind him. “ Ah, yes I did, didn't I ! But, I reviewed...” John's reflex response to the all to familiar disarming voice stopped short as the realization that such a conversation was not humanly possible, he spun sharply around to confront his senses, and came face-to-face with Cathy,} his wife – his long dead wife.

    _{She stood just in front of the window, her straw blond bob with it's flicked out ends seemed to catch the lamp light imbuing her with a soft almost halo like effect, but the rest of her features were more fleeting to the eye, as if constantly fluctuating just out of focus. She was wearing a yellow slightly ribbed wool jumper with a round low neck - John thought how much it resembled one of her favourite ones, and how alluring she always looked wearing in it - with a white large collar blouse underneath, finished by a dark blue pencil skirt.}

_{"I'm sorry darling, this must be something of a shock to you right now, if it's any consolation I'm just as surprised as you are, believe me,” she spoke empathetically. John remained speechless and motionless, his arms hanging down in front of him bridged by the pair of pyjama bottoms held tightly in both hands, any usual reply hampered by an inability to process the supernatural contact. Cathy tilted her head “ Okay John, you really must try to relax darling. Try a controlled breathing exercise, you know the one, out through your mouth, in through your nose, slow deep breaths now” offering her supportive guidance.}

_{John, automatically followed the instructions, but still struggled to verbalize his thoughts and feelings, instead he merely raised his arms – still attached to each other by their cotton bond - and pointed a solitary finger at her and then, “ Cathy ? Is it...you...is it really you ?” he blurted out.}

_{"Yes, it's 'really' me, well in spirit anyway,” she answered, remaining by the window Cathy rested her hands on both hips, John recalled how she would always adopt this pose for a photograph, as she was never too sure what to do with her hands.}

_{"No, no this isn't happening, you can't be here ! Ghosts don't exist...YOU TOLD ME THAT, YOURSELF !” he exclaimed slightly excitable.}

_{"Yes, I know I said that, but obviously the few books that I'd read on the subject hardly qualified me as an expert, while as you were so keen to constantly remind me,' there's no substitute for experience',” Cathy retaliated, then as an after thought, “ Look, darling let's not get caught up in some existentialist debate here, for all we really know I might be nothing more than a manifestation of a memory, a residual of emotions exorcising themselves in this form with this voice. Or, perhaps I'm simply something you ate that's disagreed with you, how did Scrooge put it ….' there's more of gruel than the grave about me 'she smiled warmly at him.}

_{John moved towards his former corporeal wife but as he did so her image started to shimmer and distort, rather like when you look at a reflection in one of those amusing fairground mirrors. He backtracked to his original position and waited to see if she would calm down, although in life this tactic seldom worked, “ I don't understand are you haunting me then or what ?” he pressed. Cathy remained silent for a moment, she merely returned his gaze as if awaiting an answer from a higher body and then, “ Honestly, all I now for sure are what my senses tell me, I can only trust the things that I see and feel, and you John, I know you darling more than anything else. Your eyes tell me that you've lost your way, I feel the pain and the torment in your soul and everything about you calls out for help... more than you've ever needed it before.”}

_{John looked around the room whilst searching his thoughts, trying to make sense of it, but all his years of experience in the force hadn't prepared him for anything like this. He staggered slightly on his feet, the physical hardship of the day, the alcohol, and the onrush of conflicting emotions were finally taking their toll on him. “ Help ! Why now then ? Why haven't you spoken to me before, I've seen you, you know that right ?” his frustration, his anger, his guilt fighting each other to be voiced. “ I thought I was going out of my mind !” he placed the fingertips of his right hand on his temple and set them to work, slowly massaging it around, vainly hoping to relieve the inescapable migraine that was slowly sinking it's own fingers into his brain.}

_{"I don't know, there could be any number of factors, it could be a transitional process for instance, the spirit world isn't exactly a science you know, perhaps a change of location escalated by the break from your familiar environment, or maybe.... it's you John... you just wasn't ready to listen until now !” she estimated.}

_{The wind outside picked up, whipping the thin bare branches of a nearby tree against the window pane, and then from somewhere in the distance a gunshot rang out disturbing the domestic scene.} 

_{“ What was that ?” startled Cathy, turning her head towards the disturbance. “ It's probably just some excited poacher or other,” he dismissed, frowning as the headache and the effort to keep Cathy in focus increased. “ Anyway, what were you saying just then, that you're my guardian angel or something ? If I couldn't protect you, save you, while alive, then what makes you think you can help me....dead ! Look, I don't need anyone or anything okay, I prefer it this way, not responsible for anyone but myself. I can take care of myself, honestly ! ” he gave up trying to stay on his feet and dropped himself down on the bedside and his pyjama bottoms to the floor.}

_{"REALLY, IS THAT SO !” Cathy asserted, she remained steadfast to her location, but her voice became more resolute with it's conviction. “ Let me see if I understand your predicament correctly. You were about to lose your job, so you've been sent to this old lost town, searching for some 'lost' police station or other, you've already lost half of your luggage and a moment ago you stood there and confessed to me that you were worried about losing your mind, does that sound about the shape of things ?” she concluded.}

_{"You missed one, “ he added solemnly. Cathy returned a quizzical look at him.}

_{"What ?” she pursued.}

_{"You ! I lost you,” John answered. “ Everything else is just...collateral damage if you like,” he replied in a purgatory tone.}

_{They both fell silent, looking down at the bare wooden floor – there was only 4 ft between them, 2 x reasonable steps, 1 x life apart - with only the ticking of a small travel clock buried somewhere in John's suitcase, growing louder and louder marking the passing of time without words.}

_{Finally, Cathy opened up, “ John, you have to let go of things ! Please darling, move on with your life, and stop blaming yourself for my death …” at this point she was interrupted by a further gunshot exploding out in the darkness, this one seemingly nearer than before.} 

_{“ That sounded like a rifle discharge to me,” she shared her considered opinion.}

_{"Hmm, you're probably right, “ he replied slightly distracted.” what of it ?”}

_{"Well, I always thought poachers were supposed to be .. well stealthy creatures, more traps than guns sort of thing, not just blasting away at anything that moves. After all, the whole poaching thing is an illegal activity, isn't it ?” she mused.}

_{"Yes, of course it is ! Perhaps it's a gamekeeper shooting off to warn some would-be poacher away !” he chided.} 
"My, poachers AND gamekeepers all prowling around out there, lock, stock and fully loaded. Your little town certainly seems to come alive at night, let's just hope you can say the same about it's inhabitants come the morning.” Cathy looked at the lamp, it's flame becoming more agitated, “ It's late John, you need to sleep now. Tomorrow's another day, my love. Sweet dreams.” a hard draught from between the window frame's timber, found the lamp and distinguished it without conscience, plunging the room into oblivion, not that John was concerned about such things, for he was there already, passed flat out on the bed, his pyjamas if not the world at his feet.

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Portland Day Spa and the Curse of One Size Fits All Spas

 

_{I wouldn't exactly call myself an aficionado. but I'm certainly no stranger to the world of white over sized toweling robes and one size fits all waffle slippers, or in other words Health Spas. Of which, my most recent of excursions took me – well in an accompanying capacity that is – and my girlfriend on HER special day, courtesy of a generous birthday gift, down to the small, family owned Portland Day Spa, in Southport.}

_{We arrived in good time, thanks to favourable traffic management, seasonally good weather conditions and – for once – a sympathetic Sat Nav. Now, at this point I must stress the virtue, nay importance, of car sharing, for as the saying goes “ first impressions are important, “ or as Robbie Burns once said. “ It nae favours a man's travels in time or far, if he cannae fin' a place to park his car.” I always think companies should give some form of incentives to guests to travel together, “ a coupon for group on” perhaps, not just for the practicality of it all, but for the environment.}

_{The spa is an old, slightly surprising building, rich in character with a very unexpected and interesting history. It started it's humble beginnings – so I was reliably told – as a Quaker church, but as the story goes, catastrophe fell upon it during the infamous ' Wild Oats Plight' which soon thinned out it's congregational masses, thus leaving the building open to new offers, and so it was reborn as a synagogue, The writing was well and truly on the wall, well actually to be more precise it was displayed in the colourful stained glass windows. There the symbols of faith were brightly adorned, the menorah shared it's light with a Star of David, and there was even space for the more obscure Jewish artifacts, the celery stick lays down with the cracked egg and next to the rock cake well that's what it looked like to me – heathen that I am – yes, no 'pane' was spared in the spreading of the word. But, in the end even this lost tribe finally relinquished it's claim on this piece of real estate. Perhaps they simply slipped away one night, in an act of a northern diaspora. Anyway, there is an air of middle-eastern promise held with-in it's walls and dark corridors, that go to create a very distinctive and unique atmosphere.}

_{They spa places great importance in the individual, here every COUPLE can INDIVIDUALLY enter the changing room, one pair at a time that is, 'the customers went in two by two, hurrah, hurrah, the lady and the old man, too !', to paraphrase an old song. I'm not sure if this is just confined to mixed sexes or if this an open door policy that swings both ways, figuratively speaking. This principle also carries itself on to the solitary bag the couple receive to convey their wet swimwear around with them. However, there is a slight armistice during lunch when they 'splash out' by allowing you ONE ice cube PER PERSON, such decadence ! On a final note I would recommend allowing time to check out, because you may face delays waiting for the changing room to become available, one way or another you're going to get caught out with it.}

_{These little idiosyncrasies are not a critique, merely a curious observation of procedure, for overall the staff are very polite, professional and helpful, the lunch was absolutely delicious, we sampled the prawn curry, and of course the building - the star of the show - go to make this a great experience for any day spa-er, old or new, and is more than a welcome antidote from all those clinically sanitised fifty shades of beige spa's that over populate this industry.}

_{Go on, try something different for a change.}

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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.}

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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.}

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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 ?}

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