The second attempt 1/8

'Boring isn't really the right word', Jennifer Jane thought to herself.

She was hovering above the clouds on her flying broom, eating the sandwiches that her Mother had packed for her earlier in the day. Her Father had added a small box with a lid to the broom’s handle, so now she was able to sit in comfort on her bicycle saddle, using the box lid as a table while she ate.

'Dull, that sounds a bit better'.

Now that she'd promised to be more careful about making unnecessary work for the witches, she didn't feel able to fly around any more without a care in the world. She'd arrived that morning at the Witches' Home intending to fly over the local area, just to keep her hand in with her navigation.

However, when she came through to the castle side of the Gate it was raining, so she quickly made up her mind and shot straight up in the air until she was in the sunshine above the clouds. She just hovered there thinking and was warm and dry when dinner time arrived, so she'd opened the box in front of her and started to eat her sandwiches. She was still trying to think of a word, which described exactly how she felt.

'Dull', wasn't really quite the right word either. It never seemed dull being able to fly on her broomstick. 'Uneventful', that was more like it, other than being able to fly, it seemed she was only going to be able to lead what passed as an ordinary life in this world in the future. She couldn't think of any problems that needed solving. Certainly no one had approached her with one for a long time.

Then she noticed a small break appearing in the clouds a mile or so away, where she guessed the village at Lurgin's Bridge to be. She finished her sandwiches, put the loose paper back in the box and flew down towards the gap. At least she'd find a bit of company in the 'George and Dragons', she might even be lucky enough to find Sir George there himself, telling the villagers about his adventures in her own world.

As she walked towards the inn carrying her broom, she realised she'd struck lucky. George's horse was tethered beside the door.

"He's just gone in to get himself laughed at again," said the horse with a sigh.

Sure enough George had just sat himself on the bar and was about to start one of his stories.

"Today I thought I'd tell you about the marvels of flying machines."

"What's the point of a flying machine?" interrupted one of his audience, before he could get any further. "Machines are used by people and if it's flying how do you expect them to keep up with it?"

The villagers fell about laughing, after all it was what they'd come for. No one ever believed a word George said and they could only think it funny that he seemed to believe it all himself.

"The whole point of a flying machine is to carry people quickly from place to place. They are made out of a very light metal called aluminium and can fly at speeds of four or five hundred miles an hour."

A stunned silence greeted this statement. It must have lasted for nearly ten seconds and then uproar broke out. Amidst the laughter people were making all sorts of objections.

"Metal don't even float, so how can you make it fly?"

"Think of the size the thing would have to be to get people inside."

"If it could really go at those sorts of speeds nobody inside would be able to breathe."

"What holds it up? I thought he'd said they don't have magic over there."

The local schoolmaster raised a hand and everyone stopped laughing for a moment, to hear what he had to say.

"I've just worked out some sums," he said, holding up a piece of paper for everyone to see, "at those speeds the machine would cover about seven miles in one minute. Even if you wanted to go as far as the next village, you'd never be able to get off before you'd gone past. It doesn't make any sense to me."

George tried to explain that aircraft were meant for travelling long distances of hundreds of miles but none of the customers in the inn would stop laughing long enough to listen to him properly.

He gave up amidst the uproar. "It's nearly always like this," he said, as he jumped down from the bar and came over to talk to Jennifer Jane, "I sometimes wish there was a way of bringing some of your world's things over here but the witches won't allow it."

"It's partly because people never leave the village," said Jennifer Jane, "I'm sure half of them think that if they went any further than the nearest market, they'd fall off the edge of the world."

George laughed in his turn. "Perhaps I'll start telling them about geography and space travel, that should get them going!"

Jennifer Jane left him to his audience and had a look out side. The weather was improving, so she tried to think of somewhere a bit quieter to go. She didn't feel like visiting the giant on the hill, once you'd seen his castle there didn't seem to be any point in going again, none of the fixtures and fittings ever changed.

The village on the south coast was too far away for her to be able to return that day and anyway she wasn't really too sure of the reception she'd get from the villagers. The timber yard appealed a bit more but then that was where she'd been kidnapped on her last visit.

"Oh bother! I'll go back home and take 'Drawrof' to see Barnacle Bill, I haven't visited him for a long time and I should be safe enough in my own world.