Miles Henderson Lived here (1)

“And this is the very rock that Miles Henderson once sat on,” said Whitcombe for the ten thousandth time. He never tired of it, he was proud of the town’s most famous resident. “Feel free to take photos of yourselves sitting on the rock. You never know, you might gain inspiration from sitting there.”

This time around there was an American couple in the party. “We’ve just been to Outersville,” the man said, “and apparently he sat on a great stone there. We’ve got photos of us on the same stone.”

“I wouldn’t believe everything they say at Outersville,” said Whitcombe.  “They tend to exaggerate their connection with Miles Henderson. He lived here in Innesville, and only very occasionally visited Outersville.”

“At Outersville they said he lived there, and only rarely visited Innesville,” the American said.

The party walked on. “And this is the highlight of the tour, something we in Innesville are very proud of, the very house that Miles Henderson was born in and lived in all his life. It was here that Henderson wrote all his great works.”

“I was here this morning and the guide said that the house was in Outersville.”

“Ah, yes, technically the far wall of the house just falls in Outersville, but most of the house is here in Innesville.”

“The Outersville guide said the opposite,” protested the American.

“Well he would say that wouldn’t he?” 

The party walked on.

“And now to end the tour,” announced Whitcombe, “A drink in the Henderson Free House, the pub Miles Henderson used to frequent ‘for inspiration’.  This is his barstool.  You may take a picture of yourself on the seat.”

“Excuse me,” said the American. “but the guide this morning said that he used to drink in the Miles Tavern in Outersville. Here,” he held up his phone, “This is me sitting on his stool in the Tavern.”

“I’m sure he may have passed through the Miles Tavern, but this is his stool. Innesville is where he lived, this is where he wrote, where he drank.”

“That’s what the guide said this morning.”

xxx

Back at the Tourist Information Centre, Barker was waiting.

“Good tour Whitcombe?”

“Seventeen people.  But there was an American couple, wouldn’t shut up about Outersville. And they didn’t tip.  You’d think if Americans knew anything at all it would be how to tip.”

“Have you heard the announcement from the Writing Council?”

“What’ve they done, finally decide to cite Innesville as Miles’ place of birth. It would make life a lost simpler if they did.”

“No, they are organising a Miles Henderson festival in June, on what would have been his 175th birthday.”

“Excellent, this should raise the status of Innesville as a literary centre. It is with us, isn’t it Barker, not ‘them’.”

“They haven’t announced that yet. They say they’re looking into the most appropriate location.”

“Well we can’t let Outersville get it, we wouldn’t hear the last. We should write a letter to the Writing Council, making the case for Innesville.”

“We could do that,” said Barker. “I was thinking maybe a petition.” He held up a piece of paper, with a petition on the very issue.  “Do you want to be the first signature.”

“Well done Barker. This is exactly what we need. Hit the ground running. Get copies printed, I’ll share it with the next tour. A lot riding on it. Not just the festival, but where the Writing Council announces it effectively going to be his official home town. We need to win this, Barker.”