Ta Chucks

"Ted's back again mum! Don't he look funny!" A haze of memory and a shortened fuse nicked the spoon from under her leaden thoughts. Ted did in fact return that day and in those two carrier bags were the iron meshings of two distinct influences on his life. The one and the other about to be spillled on a cafe's checkered cloth. "What could they be!" was the over-egged puddin' thought of Fred's.

Ted cleared his throat again...."is anyone going to get me a drink....I'm parched" Silvia drew a creamy pint of stout into a tankard which always hung over the bar...she handed the tankard to Ted... "So it's another story you have for us...I suppose there's a mystery attahced to those 2 carried bags....well don't keep us in suspenders....spill the beans....what have you been doing on Walton's mountain ?"

*Difficult pouring stout into a tankard while it's hanging over the bar...like it always did.*

I take no responsibility for the last posting. It was Pedantic.

But this particular beer tap pours up, because we are, after all, in some weird and wonderful parallel dimension....

Mum, mum it’s Ted back again, an’ he do look funny carrying them heavy bags. “What?” A haze of memory and a shortened fuse nicked the spoon from under her leaden thoughts. “Go in the back and get me a another bottle of brown sauce, there’s a luv” Ted did in fact return and in those two carrier bags were the meshings of two distinct influences on his life. The one and the other about to be spilled on a cafe's plastic chequered cloth. "What could they be!" was the over-egged puddin' thought of Fred's as he went into the back kitchen. All the café were agape now, waiting for Ted to speak. "Is anyone going to get me a drink, I'm parched?" Silvia drew a breath and laughed creamily, “thought we’d lost you there Ted, so good to see you back. Tea is it?” “Two sugars, ta!” “I’ll stick you a couple of muffins in too.” “What’s in the bags?” she quickly asked as lowered them onto a table, moving the condiments aside. He then sunk into a chair took off his cap and smiled openly with a hint of cheeky triumph spreading over his brown eyes. “Would’nt thee like to know.” This fish tank light spun magical spirals of colour onto Sylvia’s rustling pinafore as she breezed seductively over with Ted’s tea, handing it to him with a casual hand and the charm of suspense. "So! What do you have in store for us? Have you been poaching again? Smells a little funny. Spill the beans, there’s a dear.” After a swift draft of the cupped comfort and a complimentary sigh he replied “Can I empty them onto this here table then, then I’ll show thee what I’ve found” Nicky was shuffling her feet for attention under the window table, somewhat disturbed by the boy who had lifted himself from the gutter and was pressing his nose against the glass, also intrigued by the detail of Ted’s business here. The first bag poured down clunky onto the table, the café gape unabated as iron pipes, taps, bolts, parts spread forth before them various shapes and states of rust contrasting utterly with the royal blue check of a wiped table cloth. What weird and wonderful bounty was this thought Nicky back from the back now, his parallel dimension, clutching a tomato shaped ketchup bottle.

Ted, have you got a shilling for the gas meter?

*checks windows*

"Ted, are you 2 shillings short of a quid or somewhat. What the...dickens are you wanted this old junk for." "This aint any old junk!" retorted Ted. " It's special parts from a statue, that was outside the old works at Milll Bank." Nicky checks her napkin for the notes she had been taking. The boy had left a steam shape on the window pane and returned to his bike. They was what seemed to a gaping chasm of inspection and contemplation before anyone next spoke. "What kind of statue?" they all seemed to be asking of Ted. "The Iron Man of course, Hughes I think his name was, some big cheese from the North.." "So what you plan to do with his parts then, put them back together or what?"

Further action, despite the suspension of his interest and the encrouching darkness of the mill's interior, came in the form of Fred reassuming position as the true character for repair...

I strayed in here hoping to purchase a black pudding croissant and a mug of spoon-melting tea from Cousin Hilda, but what do I find? A young poetess with her head in the oven and a chap called Ted Huge constructing a monumental statue called 'The Angel of the North's Whippet'. No sign of Hilda... wait a minute, the hatch in the floor is open. Perhaps she's gone to change the barrel of Adelsdroop Ale. No.. good grief! there's a bunker down there full of people doing unspeakable....

"So what you plan to do with his parts then, put them back together or what?" Slvia had cheek etched in this swiftly given line. “might do, might not. I aint rightly thought about it yet. What do you think young Fred?” Fred was shocked to be questioned like this. He eventually, after a nudge from mum spoke in hesitant fits “I…think you should... Mr Ted…put them back into an iron shape or something...I’d help..looks like it could be a bike or a cart…but you’ll be needing some wheels. Can we mum?”

Mr Ordinary man walking his whippet back down the hill grunted something to the boy on the bike, about his back wheel catching up with the front. "bloody fool!" the immature bravery of the boy's mind couldn't quite coin his father's dismissive words so he said nothing and rode on.

The hill broke free to wheels of his ardous riding speed, slowing now as the cafe became more of a speck. The fuse of endeavour lit however he had to get to Mill Bank, he knew where it was, what he was looking for. Ted had dropped such an important clue, sure he was of its value.

Riding for life through wind and the spin of spokes the boy broke clearly free of summit and skirted the fields of Mill Bank. The late evening sun was now closing in and brandishing smashed window glass with red and dull yellow. The building had stood vacant for some years, since at least the twenties. Clearly out of breath he began to soft peedle and eventually climb off and push towards the ribbed remains of the broken entrance. Anxiety began to take more of a hold and he stumbled.

'Soft peedle'? Is that the opposite of 'hard sell'?

Soft clouds of dust shrouded the entrance as he picked himself up and ambled in looking for hard ground to step on. it all looked dark and dangerous in there, but still he moved in, continuing his search. Back in the cafe Sylvie had given Nicky permission to help with Ted's foolhardy project. Ted was now spooning more sugar into his tea, considering the remains of daylight and smiling at the chance for further action.

All thoughts of repair were halted by the sudden arrival or one of the carrier bags, bourne on a swift zephyr. Red in colour, and seemingly possesed of a life of it's own: Fred became entangled in the once neatly ironed polythene. Fred lost consciousness.....

@

.../dark cloud # browns the cafe window. Looking out Sylvie thinks about closing down as she always does at this time. A familiar face turns the corner...

@last closing in on her work schedule like a tide at dusk. She was caught between a sudden retreat of quick steps and a rooted acceptance of its unknown feeling on her presence, although she knows it will be cold...

come on, please try to be a bit original, you'll be reviving muffin the mule next!

He was distracted for a moment by a small boy on a bike passing by the café door, which was closing behind him. She didn’t require any answer to affirm her role, she would just go right on talking. This was Slyvia, owner of the ‘Fulbright’ and village peach, adept at serving and selling you her fancies in thought and forever waiting to serve. Now was her chance and she took it fully by the throat. “…been out walking again have we Ted, long time no see, I was only just telling our Fred ‘bout that time you caught the school bully pressing his face against my lazy susan…muffins will it be today, freshly toasted luv with only the best curd?”

At that precise moment I pushed the plunger on the detonator box and blew the whole damn village to kingdom come. Slapping my hands together in satisfaction I climbed back in my Land Rover and headed home elated, knowing that I had struck a blow for all those pissed off with the drivel emanating from the crap tea shop!

A small explosion in Ted’s head made him think for some reason of carrier bags...out of the cafe he rushed, over the stone slabs still littered with fish bits. The small boy on the bike was still there, hanging around for some reason, circling like homing pigeons. “That Ted, Sylvia chuckled, he’s such a cuckoo, probably forgot something like before...he’ll be back shortly, you mark my words.” She hurried about her business, tipping various lids on the pots, stirring some omen for the villagers. The friability of her pastries was renowned in these parts so too her hair, frequently photographed for country style.

You're a determined little sod aren't you.

Not many people in today thought Nicky, staring out of the cafe window up towards the moors in search of something wild to get her mind into. Her eye settled on the brass of the door knocker at the vicarage opposite. This must be like talking to myself she thought so said the same to Slyvia, ( “Not many people in today!”) who was now reprimanding Fred determinedly trying to squeeze his finger into his ear.

....it all had a kind of glitter to it....and not-quite-gleam hangiing in the air in front of his face. It might have been the drug. An artificial hit. Or an effect of light. Whatever it was it unnerved him in the moments before he spoke.....he ran a finger across his eye brow and cleared his throat......

The whole room waited with baited breath, wondering if this time he would actually have something to say that would stun the whole room, and at the same time hoping that it wasn't another fishy story. Marcus realised that the weird, glittery gleam hanging in the air was, in fact, a large cloud of overpowering perfume that was drifting around quite happily behind the landlady. He scratched his head, cleared his throat again, coughed, coughed again, then nicked somebody else's pint and took a swig. Finally, he was ready to speak....