Originally Posted by the bear i am writing a bildungsroman set in Cornwall in the 1980s. the sequel will be a picaresque novel set in Blackpool in the 1990s. the prequel will be a roman a clef set in Huddersfield in the 1960s... i will call the trilogy "The Four Part Trilogy" bear  PS if you want to be in it send £24.99 for a basic character or £49.99 for a protagonist PPS there are definitely no vampires or other w*nkery in the trilogy |
Page 1
The view from the roof of the chip shop was enthralling. Esmeralda knew that there was nothing but the wide, wide ocean between her and America. She noticed a dolphin gambolling in the shallows... or maybe it was a porpoise. She also noticed some crow-black, sloe-black fishing boats bobbing in the harbor. The smell of the seagulls was almost overpowering.
A sudden commotion from below pulled her back from her reverie.
A small crowd of villagers was milling around on the pavement like mackerel in a washing machine.
"I said no vinegar you fool !!" cried the sun-tanned fisherman known only as Dave the Lobster.
Esmeralda scrambled through the skylight and dropped to the floor of the chip shop, narrowly missing the large jar of pickled eggs on the counter.
Esmeralda tossed her raven tresses and tapped Dave the Lobster firmly on his muscular shoulder.
"You are a fine grown-up Lobsterman daring to swear at my staff !!"
Dave reddened under his deep Atlantic tan...
"And who might you be my beauty ?" he snorted. "I can be your worst nightmare Dave the Lobster !!" Esmeralda ejaculated...although secretly she added "or your ultimate dream..."
to be continued
bear
trebear
The view from the roof of the chip shop was enthralling. Esmeralda knew that there was nothing but the wide, wide ocean between her and America. She noticed a dolphin gambolling in the shallows... or maybe it was a porpoise. She also noticed some crow-black, sloe-black fishing boats bobbing in the harbor. The smell of the seagulls was almost overpowering.
A sudden commotion from below pulled her back from her reverie.
A small crowd of villagers was milling around on the pavement like mackerel in a washing machine.
"I said no vinegar you fool !!" cried the sun-tanned fisherman known only as Dave the Lobster.
Esmeralda scrambled through the skylight and dropped to the floor of the chip shop, narrowly missing the large jar of pickled eggs on the counter.
Esmeralda tossed her raven tresses and tapped Dave the Lobster firmly on his muscular shoulder.
"You are a fine grown-up Lobsterman daring to swear at my staff !!"
Dave reddened under his deep Atlantic tan...
"And who might you be my beauty ?" he snorted. "I can be your worst nightmare Dave the Lobster !!" Esmeralda ejaculated...although secretly she added "or your ultimate dream..."
to be continued
bear
page 2
Esmeralda and Dave strode purposefully to the great harbour wall which the local people were used to calling the Cobb.
At the end stood a sad lonely figure staring out across the wide, wide ocean towards America.
Mr Blair often visited this part of Cornwall.
Dave was a great husk of a man, nearly seven feet high with the strength of a horse and shoulders to match. If the chitchat of the local maidens were to be believed the similarity did not end there.
Esmeralda pretended to be cross with Dave for the incident at the chip shop but they both knew that destiny was pulling them inexorably together.
Dave said in his thrilling voice " There be two new ponies up at Trebortha Farm. Happen thee might like to come and see 'em this Christmas Eve ."
Esmeralda was delighted that Dave was interested in asking her out but puzzled about the timing as it was only April.
She tossed her sable locks in a coy manner and said "That sounds splendid Dave the Lobster...but how about a quickie behind that Hanging Rock over there... i am so horny i could explode"
to be continued
Esmeralda and Dave strode purposefully to the great harbour wall which the local people were used to calling the Cobb.
At the end stood a sad lonely figure staring out across the wide, wide ocean towards America.
Mr Blair often visited this part of Cornwall.
Dave was a great husk of a man, nearly seven feet high with the strength of a horse and shoulders to match. If the chitchat of the local maidens were to be believed the similarity did not end there.
Esmeralda pretended to be cross with Dave for the incident at the chip shop but they both knew that destiny was pulling them inexorably together.
Dave said in his thrilling voice " There be two new ponies up at Trebortha Farm. Happen thee might like to come and see 'em this Christmas Eve ."
Esmeralda was delighted that Dave was interested in asking her out but puzzled about the timing as it was only April.
She tossed her sable locks in a coy manner and said "That sounds splendid Dave the Lobster...but how about a quickie behind that Hanging Rock over there... i am so horny i could explode"
to be continued
Page 3
Esmeralda and Dave approached the massive grey monolith known locally as Hanging Rock. Esmeralda had often been on picnics there whilst at St Jude's school. Dave had been in the same form although he was three years older than the other children. For some reason the picnics had stopped.
Esmeralda wanted to forget, to forget the world of chips and battered fish, and the dreadful carrion-bodied customers. She was strangely excited as she approached the ancient stone, and the colour flew in her cheeks, and burned blue in her eyes.
Her fisherman companion was recoiling away from her even now. She felt his experience had been deeper and wider than her own; much deeper and wider, and perhaps more deadly.
Shyly Esmeralda removed her simple chip-shop uniform. The cheap fabric produced a gust of static electricity as it brushed her flaxen mane.
Dave took longer to remove the heavy garments of the lobsterman's trade.
The rumours about Dave's anatomy had not been inaccurate, Esmeralda noted.
They faced each other like wrestlers, silent and alert.
A crack of lightning lit up the clearing as if to signal the start of their carnality.
After their frenzied coupling in the shadow of the prehistoric stone Esmeralda felt pleasantly languorous and quickly lost track of time. Dave had fallen asleep after his strenuous exertions and was now snoring gently on a bed of bracken.
Esmeralda noticed what seemed to be a bone protruding from the earth near the base of the stone....also a rusted buckle attached to some stained fabric, similar to a school bag. Probably a sheep or a deer she thought.
Soon it was time to return to the village to supervise the evening cooking at the chip shop. Tuesday was always busy; their Eat All You Can offer was very tempting to the locals.
Esmeralda & Dave cemented their relationship once more and then set off along the narrow footpath back to the village. The long shadow of the Hanging Rock pointed the way.
to be continued
Page 4
Esmeralda climbed wearily through the skylight onto the crow-black sloe-black tarry roof of the chip shop and sat down on an empty oil drum.
Being a soft, ruddy, country-looking girl, inclined to freckles, with big blue eyes, and curling , brown hair, and a soft voice, and rather strong abs, she was considered a little old-fashioned and 'womanly'.She was not a 'little pilchard sort of fish'...Dave called her 'Moi gargeous larngoosteen', whatever that meant.
Inshore and farther out the mirror of water whitened...white breast of the dim sea...wavewhite plastic bags shimmering on the dim tide. A cloud began to cover the sun slowly, wholly, shadowing the bags in deeper green...the sea lay beneath her, a bowl of bitter waters.
Esmeralda was surprised that Dave the lobsterman had not recognised her the previous day in the chip shop. After all they had spent eight years in the same classroom. Dave had departed suddenly just before the CSE exams, leaving Esmeralda to enjoy a modest success in Latin, Mathematics and Pottery.
Even in those days Dave had towered over the other pupils and most of the teachers. He was three years older than the other boys in the class; his unique learning style was not easily accommodated at St Jude's school.
Dave had his first motorbike at the age of twelve, and roared up to the school gates each day with a roll-up dangling from his fleshy, devil-may-care lips.
He was destined to follow in his father's footsteps and would one day inherit the twenty foot ketch which was a familiar sight around the lobsterpots in the bay.
Esmeralda had found him uncouth and charmless in those days, although many of her friends had enjoyed rides on his machine and a puff on his roll-up.
Her mother was of the same opinion and advised Esmeralda to aim higher than a crustacean gatherer for her husband.
After leaving school Esmeralda took two years out to find herself in South America. She still had her pet jaguar Guapa to remind her of those far-off times. Guapa was her constant companion and slept on Esmeralda's bed, smelling of straw and raspberries...
to be continued
Esmeralda and Dave approached the massive grey monolith known locally as Hanging Rock. Esmeralda had often been on picnics there whilst at St Jude's school. Dave had been in the same form although he was three years older than the other children. For some reason the picnics had stopped.
Esmeralda wanted to forget, to forget the world of chips and battered fish, and the dreadful carrion-bodied customers. She was strangely excited as she approached the ancient stone, and the colour flew in her cheeks, and burned blue in her eyes.
Her fisherman companion was recoiling away from her even now. She felt his experience had been deeper and wider than her own; much deeper and wider, and perhaps more deadly.
Shyly Esmeralda removed her simple chip-shop uniform. The cheap fabric produced a gust of static electricity as it brushed her flaxen mane.
Dave took longer to remove the heavy garments of the lobsterman's trade.
The rumours about Dave's anatomy had not been inaccurate, Esmeralda noted.
They faced each other like wrestlers, silent and alert.
A crack of lightning lit up the clearing as if to signal the start of their carnality.
After their frenzied coupling in the shadow of the prehistoric stone Esmeralda felt pleasantly languorous and quickly lost track of time. Dave had fallen asleep after his strenuous exertions and was now snoring gently on a bed of bracken.
Esmeralda noticed what seemed to be a bone protruding from the earth near the base of the stone....also a rusted buckle attached to some stained fabric, similar to a school bag. Probably a sheep or a deer she thought.
Soon it was time to return to the village to supervise the evening cooking at the chip shop. Tuesday was always busy; their Eat All You Can offer was very tempting to the locals.
Esmeralda & Dave cemented their relationship once more and then set off along the narrow footpath back to the village. The long shadow of the Hanging Rock pointed the way.
to be continued
Page 4
Esmeralda climbed wearily through the skylight onto the crow-black sloe-black tarry roof of the chip shop and sat down on an empty oil drum.
Being a soft, ruddy, country-looking girl, inclined to freckles, with big blue eyes, and curling , brown hair, and a soft voice, and rather strong abs, she was considered a little old-fashioned and 'womanly'.She was not a 'little pilchard sort of fish'...Dave called her 'Moi gargeous larngoosteen', whatever that meant.
Inshore and farther out the mirror of water whitened...white breast of the dim sea...wavewhite plastic bags shimmering on the dim tide. A cloud began to cover the sun slowly, wholly, shadowing the bags in deeper green...the sea lay beneath her, a bowl of bitter waters.
Esmeralda was surprised that Dave the lobsterman had not recognised her the previous day in the chip shop. After all they had spent eight years in the same classroom. Dave had departed suddenly just before the CSE exams, leaving Esmeralda to enjoy a modest success in Latin, Mathematics and Pottery.
Even in those days Dave had towered over the other pupils and most of the teachers. He was three years older than the other boys in the class; his unique learning style was not easily accommodated at St Jude's school.
Dave had his first motorbike at the age of twelve, and roared up to the school gates each day with a roll-up dangling from his fleshy, devil-may-care lips.
He was destined to follow in his father's footsteps and would one day inherit the twenty foot ketch which was a familiar sight around the lobsterpots in the bay.
Esmeralda had found him uncouth and charmless in those days, although many of her friends had enjoyed rides on his machine and a puff on his roll-up.
Her mother was of the same opinion and advised Esmeralda to aim higher than a crustacean gatherer for her husband.
After leaving school Esmeralda took two years out to find herself in South America. She still had her pet jaguar Guapa to remind her of those far-off times. Guapa was her constant companion and slept on Esmeralda's bed, smelling of straw and raspberries...
to be continued
Page 5
Sergeant Cowie toyed with his pasty. Since moving to the South West Peninsula the previous month he had developed a love-hate relationship with the local delicacy.
On the whole he preferred the offerings from the local chip-shop; this meant queuing for at least twenty minutes whatever time of day he turned up.
However the extended wait gave him time to chat to Esmeralda, the alluring siren who presided over the shop. Sergeant Cowie was engaged to be married to his long-time fiancée Lorna in Edinburgh... but he saw no harm in his innocent flirtation with the purveyor of deep-fried comestibles.
The ostensible reason for his transfer from the Dumfries constabulary to Cornwall was as an experiment with inter-force cooperation between Scotland and England.
The real reason was to investigate rumours of child abduction and worse in the tight-knit fishing community.
Anonymous letters written on what appeared to be chip-wrappers had arrived at Scotland Yard accusing local businessmen & women of frankly bizarre crimes.
The decision to send him was finally taken when a specific accusation concerning a local child Rowena Morris was made.
So far Cowie had made only a few tentative enquiries in the area, all of which met with blank looks at best and veiled threats to his well-being at worst.
He decided that by cultivating Esmeralda he might be able to penetrate the veil of secrecy which enveloped the village... if that required penetrating Esmeralda then that was a price he was willing to pay...
to be continued
Sergeant Cowie toyed with his pasty. Since moving to the South West Peninsula the previous month he had developed a love-hate relationship with the local delicacy.
On the whole he preferred the offerings from the local chip-shop; this meant queuing for at least twenty minutes whatever time of day he turned up.
However the extended wait gave him time to chat to Esmeralda, the alluring siren who presided over the shop. Sergeant Cowie was engaged to be married to his long-time fiancée Lorna in Edinburgh... but he saw no harm in his innocent flirtation with the purveyor of deep-fried comestibles.
The ostensible reason for his transfer from the Dumfries constabulary to Cornwall was as an experiment with inter-force cooperation between Scotland and England.
The real reason was to investigate rumours of child abduction and worse in the tight-knit fishing community.
Anonymous letters written on what appeared to be chip-wrappers had arrived at Scotland Yard accusing local businessmen & women of frankly bizarre crimes.
The decision to send him was finally taken when a specific accusation concerning a local child Rowena Morris was made.
So far Cowie had made only a few tentative enquiries in the area, all of which met with blank looks at best and veiled threats to his well-being at worst.
He decided that by cultivating Esmeralda he might be able to penetrate the veil of secrecy which enveloped the village... if that required penetrating Esmeralda then that was a price he was willing to pay...
to be continued
Page 6
Sergeant Cowie left the office just after 1 am. He decided to walk home the long way via the harbour to enjoy the cool breeze from the ocean... the wide, wide ocean.
His crow-black, sloe-black shoes rapped out a military beat as he strode down the steep cobbled lane in the direction of the Cobb.
As he passed the chip shop he was surprised to see a familiar figure on the roof.
Pausing to adjust his night-vision goggles he gave Esmeralda a friendly wave. She seemed pleased to see the policeman and asked him to join her on the roof.
Sergeant Cowie scrambled up via the large metal dumpster at the side of the shop and a rusty ladder.
Esmeralda had retrieved some still-edible food items from the dumpster earlier in the evening.
Sergeant Cowie selected a jumbo sized sausage roll and a pickled egg from the bag which Esmeralda proferred. He removed his goggles and placed them gently on the roof with his helmet.
Sergeant Cowie left the office just after 1 am. He decided to walk home the long way via the harbour to enjoy the cool breeze from the ocean... the wide, wide ocean.
His crow-black, sloe-black shoes rapped out a military beat as he strode down the steep cobbled lane in the direction of the Cobb.
As he passed the chip shop he was surprised to see a familiar figure on the roof.
Pausing to adjust his night-vision goggles he gave Esmeralda a friendly wave. She seemed pleased to see the policeman and asked him to join her on the roof.
Sergeant Cowie scrambled up via the large metal dumpster at the side of the shop and a rusty ladder.
Esmeralda had retrieved some still-edible food items from the dumpster earlier in the evening.
Sergeant Cowie selected a jumbo sized sausage roll and a pickled egg from the bag which Esmeralda proferred. He removed his goggles and placed them gently on the roof with his helmet.
Esmeralda's constant companion the huge sloe-black crow-black jaguar Guapa lazily nuzzled Cowie's arm then discreetly moved to the far end of the roof, trailing a warm perfume of hay and bilberries.
They did not speak for several minutes... then Esmeralda asked " We are both looking for something I think Sergeant..."
"Everyone is looking for something , everyone is looking for someone..." replied the Hibernian law enforcement worker.
Esmeralda leant over slowly to remove some sausage roll crumbs from Cowie's shirt. Her auburn tresses brushed his lips...
"Please ...I am engaged to be married..." he gasped, but they both knew that the time for words had passed...
Esmeralda silenced him with a large saveloy which she had been saving at the bottom of the bag.
She expertly removed his uniform and folded it tidily behind the air-conditioning unit.
The static electricity from her golden hair briefly illuminated her flushed face as she pulled the green tabard over her head.
Sergeant Cowie lay back chewing thoughtfully on the saveloy. Somewhere at the back of his mind a disturbing thought flickered but it slipped away. Surely Esmeralda could not be involved in Rowena's disappearance ?
Cowie put all thoughts of the case to one side and concentrated on pleasuring the wanton chip-shop manageress.
Esmeralda enjoyed their congress but could not help comparing Cowie to Dave the lobster... at least she would be able to walk straight in the morning.
Half an hour later Cowie staggered in to his lodgings, taking care not to wake his elderly landlady Mrs Ginster.
The other lodger was the barmaid from the local tavern, a comely wench called Willow. Cowie could hear her muffled voice singing some sort of local song which she accompanied with slaps on the wall.
Cowie quickly fell asleep and dreamt that he had got his truncheon out and was playing cadenzas by the pump, on a xylophone made of saveloys and on the roof of the chip-shop the usual suspects were doing the can-can...
to be continued
They did not speak for several minutes... then Esmeralda asked " We are both looking for something I think Sergeant..."
"Everyone is looking for something , everyone is looking for someone..." replied the Hibernian law enforcement worker.
Esmeralda leant over slowly to remove some sausage roll crumbs from Cowie's shirt. Her auburn tresses brushed his lips...
"Please ...I am engaged to be married..." he gasped, but they both knew that the time for words had passed...
Esmeralda silenced him with a large saveloy which she had been saving at the bottom of the bag.
She expertly removed his uniform and folded it tidily behind the air-conditioning unit.
The static electricity from her golden hair briefly illuminated her flushed face as she pulled the green tabard over her head.
Sergeant Cowie lay back chewing thoughtfully on the saveloy. Somewhere at the back of his mind a disturbing thought flickered but it slipped away. Surely Esmeralda could not be involved in Rowena's disappearance ?
Cowie put all thoughts of the case to one side and concentrated on pleasuring the wanton chip-shop manageress.
Esmeralda enjoyed their congress but could not help comparing Cowie to Dave the lobster... at least she would be able to walk straight in the morning.
Half an hour later Cowie staggered in to his lodgings, taking care not to wake his elderly landlady Mrs Ginster.
The other lodger was the barmaid from the local tavern, a comely wench called Willow. Cowie could hear her muffled voice singing some sort of local song which she accompanied with slaps on the wall.
Cowie quickly fell asleep and dreamt that he had got his truncheon out and was playing cadenzas by the pump, on a xylophone made of saveloys and on the roof of the chip-shop the usual suspects were doing the can-can...
to be continued
page 7
The headmistress of St Jude's school smoothed back her greying hair and tucked a few stray fronds into her tight bun. The sports fields stretched away into the distance below her window.
Tomorrow was the annual sports day and the weather forecast for once was favourable.
She swivelled round widdershins in her new Ikea chair to face the door.
Her deputy was loitering just outside the office, expecting to hear some instructions from on high. He was not disappointed..."Oh there you are Mr Horniman. Have you prepared the guest list for tomorrow ?"
Horniman blushed uncontrollably and stammered "the list, erm, why yes I have it right here Headmistress " and handed his boss the single sheet of typed paper.
"I see that you have invited Sergeant Cowie... did you not think to consult me first ? Surely I should be made aware immediately of any police involvement in the school ?"
Horniman hated it when she called him Surely.
"But Headmistress this is not official business... just an invitation to the sports day...he may not even accept"
"How dare you contradict me Mr Horniman" the furious pedagogue screamed "You disgust me you vile vile....MAN"
Horniman knew that it was not worth replying and retreated to his much smaller office down the corridor.
He was well aware that The Headmistress was not a huge fan of the police for some reason, and he should have been less eager to invite Sergeant Cowie.
Cowie seemed a decent sort in spite of his profession. Horniman's fiancée Esmeralda reported that he had settled well into village life, and was a regular customer at the chip shop. Horniman was glad that Esmeralda was widening her social circle. The local fishermen and their wives were the salt of the earth but very unstimulating company for anyone with interests beyond crustaceans and nappies. Poor Esmeralda had these last few days volunteered to help Dave the lobster with his paperwork... the inspectors from the fish ministry wanted to check his quotas. Esmeralda was the only person Dave knew who could read properly and had not been assaulted by him.
Horniman had offered but Esmeralda said that Dave was uncomfortable with male teachers.
Tomorrow was the first day of May and the whole village was expected to turn out for the sports at school. Each year Horniman was responsible for the group photograph. These portraits of the village were hung along the corridor separating his office from the inner sanctum of the Headmistress. Children waiting to be punished were able to see what their parents had looked like when they attended St Jude's.
Horniman checked his equipment carefully. He had considered buying a digital camera but for now would persevere with his ancient Rollei.
Last year's picture had been less than satisfactory and the Headmistress had removed it from the corridor.
Horniman had not told the Headmistress that he had asked the dour policeman to present the trophies tomorrow. She would find out soon enough.
The trophies glistened softly in the cabinet in the corner of Horniman's office. He had personally polished them the previous day. So many familiar names... Pengale, Penhelly, Penrose, Penwith, Penthis, Penthat, ....
Glancing at his watch Horniman decided that he could slip down to the chip shop for lunch. He tiptoed out of the office and down the stairs. Fortunately the Headmistress was engrossed in her Readers' Digest "It pays to Increase your Word Power" article and did not hear him escape.
Horniman squeezed through the gap in the green chain link fence behind the gymnasium and headed downhill towards the harbour. He lit up his first cigarette of the day... a bulky roll-up which he had confiscated from Donna Penbarry, a pert year 5 whom he had apprehended with her mates behind the music block that very morning.
Horniman inhaled deeply and felt his troubles melt away. He hummed to himself as he approached the chip shop. The £10 which he had demanded from Donna as the price of his silence would buy a splendid luncheon.
Horniman finished the contraband cigarette and flicked the stub into the crow-black, sloe-black dustbin at the edge of the pavement.
Entering the shop he saw Esmeralda hurriedly move away from Sergeant Cowie, who was clutching a large red saveloy at waist level. Horniman was pleased to see them both and embraced Cowie warmly.
"I will have one of those saveloys too methinks Esmeralda !!" he said, although his speech sounded slurred and he found it difficult to focus.
"And a large portion of that Guacamole too" he said, waving in the direction of the mushy peas.
Before he passed out Horniman seemed to see Cowie tucking the saveloy into his trousers... surely Esmeralda could have given him a bag he thought as his legs gave way...
to be continued
The headmistress of St Jude's school smoothed back her greying hair and tucked a few stray fronds into her tight bun. The sports fields stretched away into the distance below her window.
Tomorrow was the annual sports day and the weather forecast for once was favourable.
She swivelled round widdershins in her new Ikea chair to face the door.
Her deputy was loitering just outside the office, expecting to hear some instructions from on high. He was not disappointed..."Oh there you are Mr Horniman. Have you prepared the guest list for tomorrow ?"
Horniman blushed uncontrollably and stammered "the list, erm, why yes I have it right here Headmistress " and handed his boss the single sheet of typed paper.
"I see that you have invited Sergeant Cowie... did you not think to consult me first ? Surely I should be made aware immediately of any police involvement in the school ?"
Horniman hated it when she called him Surely.
"But Headmistress this is not official business... just an invitation to the sports day...he may not even accept"
"How dare you contradict me Mr Horniman" the furious pedagogue screamed "You disgust me you vile vile....MAN"
Horniman knew that it was not worth replying and retreated to his much smaller office down the corridor.
He was well aware that The Headmistress was not a huge fan of the police for some reason, and he should have been less eager to invite Sergeant Cowie.
Cowie seemed a decent sort in spite of his profession. Horniman's fiancée Esmeralda reported that he had settled well into village life, and was a regular customer at the chip shop. Horniman was glad that Esmeralda was widening her social circle. The local fishermen and their wives were the salt of the earth but very unstimulating company for anyone with interests beyond crustaceans and nappies. Poor Esmeralda had these last few days volunteered to help Dave the lobster with his paperwork... the inspectors from the fish ministry wanted to check his quotas. Esmeralda was the only person Dave knew who could read properly and had not been assaulted by him.
Horniman had offered but Esmeralda said that Dave was uncomfortable with male teachers.
Tomorrow was the first day of May and the whole village was expected to turn out for the sports at school. Each year Horniman was responsible for the group photograph. These portraits of the village were hung along the corridor separating his office from the inner sanctum of the Headmistress. Children waiting to be punished were able to see what their parents had looked like when they attended St Jude's.
Horniman checked his equipment carefully. He had considered buying a digital camera but for now would persevere with his ancient Rollei.
Last year's picture had been less than satisfactory and the Headmistress had removed it from the corridor.
Horniman had not told the Headmistress that he had asked the dour policeman to present the trophies tomorrow. She would find out soon enough.
The trophies glistened softly in the cabinet in the corner of Horniman's office. He had personally polished them the previous day. So many familiar names... Pengale, Penhelly, Penrose, Penwith, Penthis, Penthat, ....
Glancing at his watch Horniman decided that he could slip down to the chip shop for lunch. He tiptoed out of the office and down the stairs. Fortunately the Headmistress was engrossed in her Readers' Digest "It pays to Increase your Word Power" article and did not hear him escape.
Horniman squeezed through the gap in the green chain link fence behind the gymnasium and headed downhill towards the harbour. He lit up his first cigarette of the day... a bulky roll-up which he had confiscated from Donna Penbarry, a pert year 5 whom he had apprehended with her mates behind the music block that very morning.
Horniman inhaled deeply and felt his troubles melt away. He hummed to himself as he approached the chip shop. The £10 which he had demanded from Donna as the price of his silence would buy a splendid luncheon.
Horniman finished the contraband cigarette and flicked the stub into the crow-black, sloe-black dustbin at the edge of the pavement.
Entering the shop he saw Esmeralda hurriedly move away from Sergeant Cowie, who was clutching a large red saveloy at waist level. Horniman was pleased to see them both and embraced Cowie warmly.
"I will have one of those saveloys too methinks Esmeralda !!" he said, although his speech sounded slurred and he found it difficult to focus.
"And a large portion of that Guacamole too" he said, waving in the direction of the mushy peas.
Before he passed out Horniman seemed to see Cowie tucking the saveloy into his trousers... surely Esmeralda could have given him a bag he thought as his legs gave way...
to be continued
page 8
Horniman awoke on an unfamiliar bed late the next morning. From the smell of grease and cigarettes he assumed that he was at the chip shop. Esmeralda had tucked him up on her camp bed in the office at the back.
Memories surfaced in his befuddled mind at random. "Sports. Day...today... Oh no !!"...the first event was due to start at Noon. Horniman consulted the clock on the office wall. He had just twenty minutes to return to school and be ready to greet the guests and supervise the first event.
As luck would have it the starting time had been put back an hour due to the Mayor being delayed on the ferry so Horniman was able to tidy himself up somewhat in the staff loo.
There was nothing he could do about the miasma of chip-shop effluvia ...he would have to stand downwind of the guests.
The Headmistress appeared preoccupied with the sports events and did not immediately remark on his late arrival or disappointing grooming.
Once the guests had arrived, including the dapper Scottish Law Enforcer, Horniman rounded up the contestants in the first event which was Hurling the Pasty.
Each child had brought its own pasty. Some were suspiciously heavy and appeared to have been lacquered to improve their flight characteristics ( the pasties, not the children ).
Others had brought fresh pasties which would no doubt disintegrate either in the air or on landing, scattering a largesse of mincemeat and vegetables for the sloe-black crow-black crows which gathered in readiness at the edge of the sports field.
Horniman had checked the list of previous winners... for seven years in a row Dave the Lobster had dominated the event until his abrupt schism with the education system at age 14.
The favourite this year was Luke Penhaligon...the scion of another crustacean-bothering dynasty. He was barrel-shaped with arms as thick as telegraph poles.
He was rumoured to have already made several conquests amongst the girls of his year group and now at the age of 10 was the natural heir to Dave's crown.
The teachers loathed Luke and in class he was left to his own devices, which consisted mainly of producing detailed crayon drawings of his own and girls' anatomy. On days when the School Inspector was due Luke was given £5 and put on the ferry with other undesirables.
Horniman clutched the starting pistol. It was a modified Schmeisser which his Uncle had brought back from Bremerhaven after the war. The modification consisted of shortening the barrel by two inches so it fitted into his coat pocket.
The ammunition was original. Horniman had to remember to switch the gun to single-shot to avoid wasting bullets.
The Headmistress nodded her permission for the event to begin. Horniman raised the weapon and pointed it in the direction of Hanging Rock where he hoped nobody was picnicking.
The deafening roar of the vintage weapon echoed from the Rhyolitic Breccias and Plagioclase Gabbros which comprised the mainly Late Jurassic rocks surrounding the village. Hanging Rock itself was an intrusive big-feldspar Granite with micaceous inclusions.
Luke was unaware of the Geological and Crystallographical subtleties of his surroundings. Rocks were rocks. Some rocks he could pick up and throw at people.
He remembered throwing a rock at a girl some time ago. A bad memory.
Now he was ready to throw the pasty. He smirked at Horniman... the pigeon-chested incomer...an emmet... today he smelled quite pleasant though.
With a flick of his thick wrist Luke propelled the pasty up into the Empyrean. The pasty flew straight and true. It soared upward as if 'twould reach the throne of Apollo himself... then it hesitated for a few precious moments at the zenith, before remembering its sublunary destiny and plummeting to earth like a carbohydrate thunderstone.
A great cheer erupted from the spectators as the pasty embedded itself into the windscreen of the Headmistress' Morris Minor.
The official distance of the throw was 220 yards, beating the previous record set by Dave the Lobster of 218 yards.
Luke raised his right arm in a stiff salute to the adoring girls who surged towards him... he would soon have fresh material for his drawings.
to be continued
Horniman awoke on an unfamiliar bed late the next morning. From the smell of grease and cigarettes he assumed that he was at the chip shop. Esmeralda had tucked him up on her camp bed in the office at the back.
Memories surfaced in his befuddled mind at random. "Sports. Day...today... Oh no !!"...the first event was due to start at Noon. Horniman consulted the clock on the office wall. He had just twenty minutes to return to school and be ready to greet the guests and supervise the first event.
As luck would have it the starting time had been put back an hour due to the Mayor being delayed on the ferry so Horniman was able to tidy himself up somewhat in the staff loo.
There was nothing he could do about the miasma of chip-shop effluvia ...he would have to stand downwind of the guests.
The Headmistress appeared preoccupied with the sports events and did not immediately remark on his late arrival or disappointing grooming.
Once the guests had arrived, including the dapper Scottish Law Enforcer, Horniman rounded up the contestants in the first event which was Hurling the Pasty.
Each child had brought its own pasty. Some were suspiciously heavy and appeared to have been lacquered to improve their flight characteristics ( the pasties, not the children ).
Others had brought fresh pasties which would no doubt disintegrate either in the air or on landing, scattering a largesse of mincemeat and vegetables for the sloe-black crow-black crows which gathered in readiness at the edge of the sports field.
Horniman had checked the list of previous winners... for seven years in a row Dave the Lobster had dominated the event until his abrupt schism with the education system at age 14.
The favourite this year was Luke Penhaligon...the scion of another crustacean-bothering dynasty. He was barrel-shaped with arms as thick as telegraph poles.
He was rumoured to have already made several conquests amongst the girls of his year group and now at the age of 10 was the natural heir to Dave's crown.
The teachers loathed Luke and in class he was left to his own devices, which consisted mainly of producing detailed crayon drawings of his own and girls' anatomy. On days when the School Inspector was due Luke was given £5 and put on the ferry with other undesirables.
Horniman clutched the starting pistol. It was a modified Schmeisser which his Uncle had brought back from Bremerhaven after the war. The modification consisted of shortening the barrel by two inches so it fitted into his coat pocket.
The ammunition was original. Horniman had to remember to switch the gun to single-shot to avoid wasting bullets.
The Headmistress nodded her permission for the event to begin. Horniman raised the weapon and pointed it in the direction of Hanging Rock where he hoped nobody was picnicking.
The deafening roar of the vintage weapon echoed from the Rhyolitic Breccias and Plagioclase Gabbros which comprised the mainly Late Jurassic rocks surrounding the village. Hanging Rock itself was an intrusive big-feldspar Granite with micaceous inclusions.
Luke was unaware of the Geological and Crystallographical subtleties of his surroundings. Rocks were rocks. Some rocks he could pick up and throw at people.
He remembered throwing a rock at a girl some time ago. A bad memory.
Now he was ready to throw the pasty. He smirked at Horniman... the pigeon-chested incomer...an emmet... today he smelled quite pleasant though.
With a flick of his thick wrist Luke propelled the pasty up into the Empyrean. The pasty flew straight and true. It soared upward as if 'twould reach the throne of Apollo himself... then it hesitated for a few precious moments at the zenith, before remembering its sublunary destiny and plummeting to earth like a carbohydrate thunderstone.
A great cheer erupted from the spectators as the pasty embedded itself into the windscreen of the Headmistress' Morris Minor.
The official distance of the throw was 220 yards, beating the previous record set by Dave the Lobster of 218 yards.
Luke raised his right arm in a stiff salute to the adoring girls who surged towards him... he would soon have fresh material for his drawings.
to be continued
Page 9
Uranium 239 begat Thorium 234 begat Proactinium 234 begat Uranium 234 begat Thorium 240 begat Radium 226 begat Radon 222 begat Polonium 218 begat Lead 214 begat Bismuth 214 begat Polonium 214 begat Lead 210 begat Bismuth 210 begat Polonium 210 begat Lead 206
This stable isotope dwelt in the Rammelsberg Mountain in the Harz range of Lower Saxony for several million years before being dug up by a gnarled miner called Benno Hartzfeld in 1872.
It was later smelted in the nearby forest and made into ammunition for the Schmeisser factory at Suhl in Thuringia in 1893.
Our particular bullet was carried unfired through many conflicts beginning with the Boer War... it survived the battles of Spion Kop, Paardeberg and Sanna's Post as well as taking part in the sieges of Ladysmith and Mafeking.
After an uneventful first world war during which it lay undisturbed in a Potsdam Quartermaster's drawer the bullet saw active service in the next conflict. It froze in Stalingrad where it was picked up in a Schmeisser MP 40 by a tank commander from the Soviet 65th Army.
The commander drove his T-34 tank westward and in May 1945 dropped the pistol outside 77 Wilhelmstrasse in Berlin.
It was later looted by an American trooper from the 29th Infantry Division on his way to Bremerhaven and swapped for a pair of sealskin boots belonging to a young Midshipman from the British Navy ... a certain Albert Horniman... whose nephew shortened the barrel and fired the gun each year to start the St Jude's sports day.
This particular year it was the turn of our bullet. Horniman had aimed it towards the Hanging Rock which normally was deserted... the bullet described a graceful parabola, slightly distorted by air friction and a light breeze from the sea.
It ended its flight not flattened against the solid igneous rock but inside the cranium of Dave the Lobster who had been lying in a crevice observing the sports field through a pair of Zeiss binoculars which had been captured from a U Boat which ran aground in Mevagissey in 1942.
The bullet span around the inside of Dave's substantial brain casing, before coming to rest in his right nostril.
Next to Dave's gargantuan corpse lay a shovel, two hessian sacks and the dismembered skeleton of a female child....
to be continued
Uranium 239 begat Thorium 234 begat Proactinium 234 begat Uranium 234 begat Thorium 240 begat Radium 226 begat Radon 222 begat Polonium 218 begat Lead 214 begat Bismuth 214 begat Polonium 214 begat Lead 210 begat Bismuth 210 begat Polonium 210 begat Lead 206
This stable isotope dwelt in the Rammelsberg Mountain in the Harz range of Lower Saxony for several million years before being dug up by a gnarled miner called Benno Hartzfeld in 1872.
It was later smelted in the nearby forest and made into ammunition for the Schmeisser factory at Suhl in Thuringia in 1893.
Our particular bullet was carried unfired through many conflicts beginning with the Boer War... it survived the battles of Spion Kop, Paardeberg and Sanna's Post as well as taking part in the sieges of Ladysmith and Mafeking.
After an uneventful first world war during which it lay undisturbed in a Potsdam Quartermaster's drawer the bullet saw active service in the next conflict. It froze in Stalingrad where it was picked up in a Schmeisser MP 40 by a tank commander from the Soviet 65th Army.
The commander drove his T-34 tank westward and in May 1945 dropped the pistol outside 77 Wilhelmstrasse in Berlin.
It was later looted by an American trooper from the 29th Infantry Division on his way to Bremerhaven and swapped for a pair of sealskin boots belonging to a young Midshipman from the British Navy ... a certain Albert Horniman... whose nephew shortened the barrel and fired the gun each year to start the St Jude's sports day.
This particular year it was the turn of our bullet. Horniman had aimed it towards the Hanging Rock which normally was deserted... the bullet described a graceful parabola, slightly distorted by air friction and a light breeze from the sea.
It ended its flight not flattened against the solid igneous rock but inside the cranium of Dave the Lobster who had been lying in a crevice observing the sports field through a pair of Zeiss binoculars which had been captured from a U Boat which ran aground in Mevagissey in 1942.
The bullet span around the inside of Dave's substantial brain casing, before coming to rest in his right nostril.
Next to Dave's gargantuan corpse lay a shovel, two hessian sacks and the dismembered skeleton of a female child....
to be continued
Page 10
Esmeralda had attended the sports day annually since leaving school, apart from her two year sojourn in South America where she found herself, contracted malaria and gave birth to twins who were adopted by the brujo of the Amazonian tribe with whom she was staying at the time. She swapped the twins for a large female jaguar called Guapa who was now her constant companion.
The brujo contacted Esmeralda in dreams to let her know how the twins were doing.
After witnessing the epic pasty hurl by the odious Luke Penhaligon Esmeralda wandered off in the direction of Hanging Rock followed by Guapa who looked forward to chasing the rabbits which flourished on the bleak yet not unwelcoming moorland above the village.
As she approached the vast bulk of the granite monolith Esmeralda felt a growing sense of unease, which grew to panic and terror as she spotted the remains of Dave the Lobster. Scrambling up to the crevice where D.t.L had secreted himself Esmeralda gasped in horror at the scene. Dave lay naked apart from a large pair of binoculars around his neck. A neat hole in the gap between his eyebrows showed where the 19th century bullet had found its target.
Immediately Esmeralda realised that her fiance Horniman had inadvertently slain his rival with the starting pistol.
The contrast with their previous visit to the rock could not have been more vivid.
Soon the process of rigor mortis would restore the stiffness to Dave's loins which Esmeralda had enjoyed a few days previously.
Esmeralda turned to her constant companion Guapa who was sitting behind her with a puzzled look in her sloe-black crow-black eyes.
It would seem that Dave had been eating a takeaway shortly before his demise... a pile of bones lay next to him, beside some sacks and a shovel.
Esmeralda passed the bones to the grateful jaguar who crunched them in her powerful jaws. Soon the last morsel disappeared into the vast pink maw and Guapa licked her lips contentedly. Esmeralda was sure that the take-away was not from her shop as they only sold chicken, whereas these bones were probably from a larger creature. Maybe a goat ? or a seal ? A moue of annoyance appeared on Esmeralda's freckled visage... how fickle men were... she always gave Dave an extra large portion whenever he visited her shop and never charged him the full price.
Now she had to decide what to do with Dave... an altogether more substantial problem than the take-away.
Once the rigor set in it would be almost impossible to move the huge man's corpse from the crevice.
Esmeralda decided that she needed help. She hurried back to the sports field and located her fiancé Horniman by the long-jump pit where he was being harangued by the Headmistress. She quickly explained what had happened to Dave and the consequences if Horniman's unintended marksmanship became public knowledge.
Horniman made his excuses to his irascible boss and accompanied Esmeralda up the narrow footpath to Dave's lonely resting place. Horniman brought a tow rope from the boot of his ancient Triumph.
With the help of the powerful jaguar the gunman and his fiancee dragged Dave away from the rock and down to the edge of the country lane which skirted the base.
Esmeralda waited anxiously with her pet while Horniman fetched the car. They managed to install Dave across the back seat with his feet protruding from the window. They covered the feet with one of the sacks. Guapa sat on top of the deceased lobsterman and fell asleep at once.
Horniman parked the Triumph at the rear of the chip shop and after checking that the coast was clear they managed to transfer the giant corpse into the cold store where he took his place among the frozen cod, dogfish, coley and other marine ex-life.
Esmerald knew exactly how she was going to dispose of Dave's remains....
After witnessing the epic pasty hurl by the odious Luke Penhaligon Esmeralda wandered off in the direction of Hanging Rock followed by Guapa who looked forward to chasing the rabbits which flourished on the bleak yet not unwelcoming moorland above the village.
As she approached the vast bulk of the granite monolith Esmeralda felt a growing sense of unease, which grew to panic and terror as she spotted the remains of Dave the Lobster. Scrambling up to the crevice where D.t.L had secreted himself Esmeralda gasped in horror at the scene. Dave lay naked apart from a large pair of binoculars around his neck. A neat hole in the gap between his eyebrows showed where the 19th century bullet had found its target.
Immediately Esmeralda realised that her fiance Horniman had inadvertently slain his rival with the starting pistol.
The contrast with their previous visit to the rock could not have been more vivid.
Soon the process of rigor mortis would restore the stiffness to Dave's loins which Esmeralda had enjoyed a few days previously.
Esmeralda turned to her constant companion Guapa who was sitting behind her with a puzzled look in her sloe-black crow-black eyes.
It would seem that Dave had been eating a takeaway shortly before his demise... a pile of bones lay next to him, beside some sacks and a shovel.
Esmeralda passed the bones to the grateful jaguar who crunched them in her powerful jaws. Soon the last morsel disappeared into the vast pink maw and Guapa licked her lips contentedly. Esmeralda was sure that the take-away was not from her shop as they only sold chicken, whereas these bones were probably from a larger creature. Maybe a goat ? or a seal ? A moue of annoyance appeared on Esmeralda's freckled visage... how fickle men were... she always gave Dave an extra large portion whenever he visited her shop and never charged him the full price.
Now she had to decide what to do with Dave... an altogether more substantial problem than the take-away.
Once the rigor set in it would be almost impossible to move the huge man's corpse from the crevice.
Esmeralda decided that she needed help. She hurried back to the sports field and located her fiancé Horniman by the long-jump pit where he was being harangued by the Headmistress. She quickly explained what had happened to Dave and the consequences if Horniman's unintended marksmanship became public knowledge.
Horniman made his excuses to his irascible boss and accompanied Esmeralda up the narrow footpath to Dave's lonely resting place. Horniman brought a tow rope from the boot of his ancient Triumph.
With the help of the powerful jaguar the gunman and his fiancee dragged Dave away from the rock and down to the edge of the country lane which skirted the base.
Esmeralda waited anxiously with her pet while Horniman fetched the car. They managed to install Dave across the back seat with his feet protruding from the window. They covered the feet with one of the sacks. Guapa sat on top of the deceased lobsterman and fell asleep at once.
Horniman parked the Triumph at the rear of the chip shop and after checking that the coast was clear they managed to transfer the giant corpse into the cold store where he took his place among the frozen cod, dogfish, coley and other marine ex-life.
Esmerald knew exactly how she was going to dispose of Dave's remains....
to be continued
Page 11
The telex machine in the corner of Cowie's office whirred into life. The message informed him that his investigation into the disappearance of poor Rowena Morris had been extended to include another missing person, a certain David Polkinghorne aged 33, also known as Dave the Lobster.
His cronies at the Mermaid tavern had reported him missing 24 hours previously. His lobster boat "Claws 28", was still moored in the harbour and his pet weasel Jeremy was still locked in the wheelhouse. The last reliable sighting of Jeremy's owner was two days previously when he was seen walking towards the Hanging Rock with a pair of binoculars. The local postman had jokingly asked him if he was going birdwatching and Dave had replied "Oi moight be". That was the day of the School Sports.
Cowie had accepted the invitation to present the prizes. Most of the trophies were won by a sly unpleasant oik called Penhaligon. Cowie could always spot a wrong 'un and the musclebound illiterate ticked all the boxes.
The investigation into Rowena's disappearance was making very little progress, despite the sterling efforts Cowie was making to pump Esmeralda, both for information and to satisfy her gargantuan carnal appetites.
Apparently the unfortunate child had last been seen wandering towards Hanging Rock with a picnic basket clutched under her arm on St Enioc's day.
The rather vague third hand report was obtained from a fish porter who had in turn picked it up from the barmaid at the Mermaid Tavern. She could not remember which of her customers had mentioned it. It could have been any of a dozen lobster fishermen, surfers or sub-aqua enthusiasts.
Cowie decided to try his luck with the local surfers. They liked to hang out at the pebbly Arrow Beach which lay over the headland beyond the harbour.
The path to Arrow Beach passed close to Hanging Rock.
Cowie consulted Esmeralda about the correct attire for his surfing trip. She borrowed some cut-off shorts and a tie-dye shirt from her fiancé as well as some flip-flops. She advised the policeman that blonde hair would enable him to blend in with the other "dudes", and lent him her Farrah Fawcett wig.
After a brief tutorial on "surf-speak" Cowie felt ready to penetrate the tight-knit surfing brotherhood at Arrow Beach.
Early the next day Cowie strode up the narrow path past the sinister bulk of Hanging Rock. A few minutes later he reached the ridge overlooking Arrow Beach.
Already there were several surfers in the waves. "Gnarly", he thought to himself.
Looking back towards the village he could make out the familiar shape of the chip-shop. Esmeralda was about to open the cold-store at the back. She seemed rather furtive, but perhaps the distance was confusing matters.
Cowie pressed ahead. His flip-flops slapped comfortingly on the footpath, and soon he passed the deserted pillbox which guarded the entrance to the beach.
Cowie strode up to the nearest surfer and cheerfully announced "Yo dude, the waves look radical today don't they !!"
The teenager muttered something about pork products and wandered away.
Undeterred Cowie next tried a young surfer girl who was smoking a large handmade cigarette on a huge pile of kelp.
"Yo honey, bitchin' tubes in the bay !!" The girl eyed him suspiciously. Surely the policeman had worn short black hair the previous day...now he seemed to be wearing an ill-fitting blonde syrup.
"Whatever, bro" she replied.
Cowie squatted at the edge of the kelp pile and smiled up at the ravishing "chick".
"I would like to ask you a few questions if you have a minute, erm, like which of the dudes here is the gnarliest ,you dig ?"
Donna inhaled deeply on her doobie and blew the aromatic smoke into the copper's face.
"You need to speak to Jake the Snake. However since he is under the age of 18 you will need an appropriate adult to attend the interview, dig ?"
Cowie was horrified that his carefully crafted disguise had been so transparent to this girl who surely should have been in school instead of hanging out at the surf beach.
"Well young lady, you have correctly identified me as a police officer. I must ask you to accompany me to the station as I believe you are truanting."
Donna ripped off her bikini top and screamed "Help, this perv is noncing me up" and ran towards the group of male surfers who had been watching from the edge of the water.
The muscular surf boys discarded their boards and charged towards Cowie who had whipped out his warrant card... would they believe he was a policeman ?... would they care if he was a policeman ? Would they notice that Donna had embellished her modest embonpoint with a pair of socks ?
to be continued
The telex machine in the corner of Cowie's office whirred into life. The message informed him that his investigation into the disappearance of poor Rowena Morris had been extended to include another missing person, a certain David Polkinghorne aged 33, also known as Dave the Lobster.
His cronies at the Mermaid tavern had reported him missing 24 hours previously. His lobster boat "Claws 28", was still moored in the harbour and his pet weasel Jeremy was still locked in the wheelhouse. The last reliable sighting of Jeremy's owner was two days previously when he was seen walking towards the Hanging Rock with a pair of binoculars. The local postman had jokingly asked him if he was going birdwatching and Dave had replied "Oi moight be". That was the day of the School Sports.
Cowie had accepted the invitation to present the prizes. Most of the trophies were won by a sly unpleasant oik called Penhaligon. Cowie could always spot a wrong 'un and the musclebound illiterate ticked all the boxes.
The investigation into Rowena's disappearance was making very little progress, despite the sterling efforts Cowie was making to pump Esmeralda, both for information and to satisfy her gargantuan carnal appetites.
Apparently the unfortunate child had last been seen wandering towards Hanging Rock with a picnic basket clutched under her arm on St Enioc's day.
The rather vague third hand report was obtained from a fish porter who had in turn picked it up from the barmaid at the Mermaid Tavern. She could not remember which of her customers had mentioned it. It could have been any of a dozen lobster fishermen, surfers or sub-aqua enthusiasts.
Cowie decided to try his luck with the local surfers. They liked to hang out at the pebbly Arrow Beach which lay over the headland beyond the harbour.
The path to Arrow Beach passed close to Hanging Rock.
Cowie consulted Esmeralda about the correct attire for his surfing trip. She borrowed some cut-off shorts and a tie-dye shirt from her fiancé as well as some flip-flops. She advised the policeman that blonde hair would enable him to blend in with the other "dudes", and lent him her Farrah Fawcett wig.
After a brief tutorial on "surf-speak" Cowie felt ready to penetrate the tight-knit surfing brotherhood at Arrow Beach.
Early the next day Cowie strode up the narrow path past the sinister bulk of Hanging Rock. A few minutes later he reached the ridge overlooking Arrow Beach.
Already there were several surfers in the waves. "Gnarly", he thought to himself.
Looking back towards the village he could make out the familiar shape of the chip-shop. Esmeralda was about to open the cold-store at the back. She seemed rather furtive, but perhaps the distance was confusing matters.
Cowie pressed ahead. His flip-flops slapped comfortingly on the footpath, and soon he passed the deserted pillbox which guarded the entrance to the beach.
Cowie strode up to the nearest surfer and cheerfully announced "Yo dude, the waves look radical today don't they !!"
The teenager muttered something about pork products and wandered away.
Undeterred Cowie next tried a young surfer girl who was smoking a large handmade cigarette on a huge pile of kelp.
"Yo honey, bitchin' tubes in the bay !!" The girl eyed him suspiciously. Surely the policeman had worn short black hair the previous day...now he seemed to be wearing an ill-fitting blonde syrup.
"Whatever, bro" she replied.
Cowie squatted at the edge of the kelp pile and smiled up at the ravishing "chick".
"I would like to ask you a few questions if you have a minute, erm, like which of the dudes here is the gnarliest ,you dig ?"
Donna inhaled deeply on her doobie and blew the aromatic smoke into the copper's face.
"You need to speak to Jake the Snake. However since he is under the age of 18 you will need an appropriate adult to attend the interview, dig ?"
Cowie was horrified that his carefully crafted disguise had been so transparent to this girl who surely should have been in school instead of hanging out at the surf beach.
"Well young lady, you have correctly identified me as a police officer. I must ask you to accompany me to the station as I believe you are truanting."
Donna ripped off her bikini top and screamed "Help, this perv is noncing me up" and ran towards the group of male surfers who had been watching from the edge of the water.
The muscular surf boys discarded their boards and charged towards Cowie who had whipped out his warrant card... would they believe he was a policeman ?... would they care if he was a policeman ? Would they notice that Donna had embellished her modest embonpoint with a pair of socks ?
to be continued
Page 12
Things were not looking good for Cowie.
A gang of surf hoodlums was seeking rough justice on the pebbly arena of Arrow Beach.
He was the innocent victim of a cowardly false accusation by an evil 10 year old truant, who was even now stoking up a fat one with a smirk on her freckled face as she waited for her surf-buddies to reach their target.
Just as the pack of feral wastrels was about to pounce on the unarmed policeman a shot rang out from the direction of the disused pillbox which nestled in the jumble of mainly rhyolitic gabbro rocks behind the beach.
The terrifying figure of The Headmistress of St. Jude's emerged from the recesses of the gun emplacement clutching the shortened Schmeisser machine pistol which she had borrowed from her deputy Horniman.
The leader of the surf Nazis lay squirming on the pebbles, his left buttock shredded by 40 grams of Thuringian lead.
"Stay right where you are mother****ers " screamed the enraged senior education manager.... " or you can eat lead like that ********** Jake "
The other surf Nazis were quite willing to obey her instructions and huddled together with their arms around each others' shoulders doing that irritating teenage sobbing ritual.
"I saw you try to frame Sergeant Cowie you evil truant bitch " the Headmistress adressed Cowie's 10 year old nemesis. "Now you must pay the price ".
She tied Donna's hands behind her back with the discarded bikini top and forced her to walk up the path towards the village, but not before confiscating the now rather dishevelled blonde wig from Cowie and planting it over her own severe grey hair.
She fired two more shots in the direction of the defeated surfers to discourage them from following.
One of the shots took out Jake the Snake's other buttock... the other took out a dolphin which was trying to mate with a discarded surfboard just beyond the breakers.
The Headmistress and her prisoner disappeared from view over the ridge...with Cowie following from a distance, having staunched Jake's wounds with kelp, a natural antiseptic, and the two socks which Donna had abandoned.
To his horror he watched the Headmistress and Donna divert from the path and head towards Hanging Rock... Cowie now knew what had befallen poor Rowena whose only crime had been truanting from the classrooms of Miss Rodda, the Head Teacher from Hell, on St Enioc's day.
Although Donna had nearly caused his demise a few minutes earlier Cowie knew where his duty lay. But how to prevent Miss Rodda from carrying out her extreme form of punishment on the young stoner ?
The crazed pedagogue was armed with a powerful, if antique, weapon and, Cowie had to assume, plenty of ammunition. Against this Cowie could only muster his untested knowledge of Shaolin Kung Fu and whatever weapons he could fashion in the next crucial minutes.
to be continued....
Things were not looking good for Cowie.
A gang of surf hoodlums was seeking rough justice on the pebbly arena of Arrow Beach.
He was the innocent victim of a cowardly false accusation by an evil 10 year old truant, who was even now stoking up a fat one with a smirk on her freckled face as she waited for her surf-buddies to reach their target.
Just as the pack of feral wastrels was about to pounce on the unarmed policeman a shot rang out from the direction of the disused pillbox which nestled in the jumble of mainly rhyolitic gabbro rocks behind the beach.
The terrifying figure of The Headmistress of St. Jude's emerged from the recesses of the gun emplacement clutching the shortened Schmeisser machine pistol which she had borrowed from her deputy Horniman.
The leader of the surf Nazis lay squirming on the pebbles, his left buttock shredded by 40 grams of Thuringian lead.
"Stay right where you are mother****ers " screamed the enraged senior education manager.... " or you can eat lead like that ********** Jake "
The other surf Nazis were quite willing to obey her instructions and huddled together with their arms around each others' shoulders doing that irritating teenage sobbing ritual.
"I saw you try to frame Sergeant Cowie you evil truant bitch " the Headmistress adressed Cowie's 10 year old nemesis. "Now you must pay the price ".
She tied Donna's hands behind her back with the discarded bikini top and forced her to walk up the path towards the village, but not before confiscating the now rather dishevelled blonde wig from Cowie and planting it over her own severe grey hair.
She fired two more shots in the direction of the defeated surfers to discourage them from following.
One of the shots took out Jake the Snake's other buttock... the other took out a dolphin which was trying to mate with a discarded surfboard just beyond the breakers.
The Headmistress and her prisoner disappeared from view over the ridge...with Cowie following from a distance, having staunched Jake's wounds with kelp, a natural antiseptic, and the two socks which Donna had abandoned.
To his horror he watched the Headmistress and Donna divert from the path and head towards Hanging Rock... Cowie now knew what had befallen poor Rowena whose only crime had been truanting from the classrooms of Miss Rodda, the Head Teacher from Hell, on St Enioc's day.
Although Donna had nearly caused his demise a few minutes earlier Cowie knew where his duty lay. But how to prevent Miss Rodda from carrying out her extreme form of punishment on the young stoner ?
The crazed pedagogue was armed with a powerful, if antique, weapon and, Cowie had to assume, plenty of ammunition. Against this Cowie could only muster his untested knowledge of Shaolin Kung Fu and whatever weapons he could fashion in the next crucial minutes.
to be continued....
Page 13
Cowie focussed his thoughts as he had been taught by Master Wang so many years ago at the temple in Hunan.
He bowed deeply in the Four Directions and prepared himself for the greatest challenge of his martial arts career. At stake was the life of a young girl; despite her lack of spiritual evolution Cowie was bound by his temple oath to protect her.
Every morning the dour Scot had faithfully completed his secret exercises and devotions.
Now his arcane training would be put into practice for real.
Cowie felt the Qi energy swirling through his chakras. He spread his legs wide and adopted the pose known as Sleeping Crane.
Next he stretched his fingers and made the fearsome Spear Throwing sign. He was ready.
Discarding the flip-flops Cowie scrambled up the side of Hanging Rock and crawled towards the edge overlooking the demented Headmistress and the wretched Donna.
Miss Rodda was waving the pistol at Donna and appeared to be listing her faults prior to shooting her.
Fortunately the list was extensive, buying time for Cowie to plan his move.
As the Headmistress finished her litany of accusations against her pupil and prepared to fire Cowie hurled himself headfirst off the rock. His aim was true and his head cracked into the skull of Miss Rodda, using the deadly Two Coconuts manoeuvre. The pistol discharged but the bullet flew harmlessly in the direction of Arrow Beach, removing the right ear of Jake the Snake on its way down.
Cowie landed lightly on his feet as he had been trained in the Swan's Feather discipline. Miss Rodda lay unconscious; the blonde wig had cushioned Cowie's impact which would otherwise have been fatal.
Turning round to look for Donna he was horrified to find the German machine pistol inches from his face.
"you killed moi Jakey copper... now it is your turn" screeched the ungrateful beach waif.
Even Shaolin monks cannot stop bullets safely... Cowie closed his eyes and waited for the darkness.
Donna pulled the trigger to launch the last bullet in the Schmeisser's magazine.
The stress of recent repeated firing on the antique firearm had distorted the barrel.
When the now insensate Headmistress had dropped the weapon it had smashed against a particularly hard piece of granite. The quartz matrix combined with feldspars, notably orthoclase and plagioclase, with smaller amounts of albite, biotite and green chlorite to produce a tough specimen similar to the famous Narvikite from Norway.
Ironically this was the same rock used to make headstones in the graveyard of St Enioc's church.
Soon the headstone carvers would be in business again.
The damaged barrel exploded violently as the final bullet tried to escape.
Donna was killed instantly by a shard of tempered steel embedding itself in her forehead... Cowie was momentarily stunned.
When he recovered his senses he saw that there was nothing he could do to help the surf chick.
But where was the Headmistress ?
During the drama of the gunplay Miss Rodda had regained consciousness and dragged herself out of sight of the policeman.
Her body was found the next day. The pathologist gave the cause of death as traumatic cranial fracture but was puzzled by lacerations to her torso and what might even have been teethmarks where pieces of flesh were missing. Almost as if a wild animal had attacked her. He put it down to a fox disturbing the educatrix's corpse... there were no savage beasts in Cornwall after all, were there ?
EPILOGUE
Six months later Cowie returned to the village. His work was done, the inquests completed and all the reports filed.
Dave's disappearance had been officially accepted as tax-related absconding. Reports trickled in of a huge Cornish fisherman working as far afield as South Africa and Argentina.
The Headmistress and Donna lay beneath crow-black, sloe-black granite headstones in the graveyard of St Enioc's church.
A memorial to Rowena was carved in Hanging Rock by the villagers and a solitary Rowan tree planted nearby.
Esmeralda admired her large solitaire diamond ring. She was looking forward to being a policeman's wife.
Cowie focussed his thoughts as he had been taught by Master Wang so many years ago at the temple in Hunan.
He bowed deeply in the Four Directions and prepared himself for the greatest challenge of his martial arts career. At stake was the life of a young girl; despite her lack of spiritual evolution Cowie was bound by his temple oath to protect her.
Every morning the dour Scot had faithfully completed his secret exercises and devotions.
Now his arcane training would be put into practice for real.
Cowie felt the Qi energy swirling through his chakras. He spread his legs wide and adopted the pose known as Sleeping Crane.
Next he stretched his fingers and made the fearsome Spear Throwing sign. He was ready.
Discarding the flip-flops Cowie scrambled up the side of Hanging Rock and crawled towards the edge overlooking the demented Headmistress and the wretched Donna.
Miss Rodda was waving the pistol at Donna and appeared to be listing her faults prior to shooting her.
Fortunately the list was extensive, buying time for Cowie to plan his move.
As the Headmistress finished her litany of accusations against her pupil and prepared to fire Cowie hurled himself headfirst off the rock. His aim was true and his head cracked into the skull of Miss Rodda, using the deadly Two Coconuts manoeuvre. The pistol discharged but the bullet flew harmlessly in the direction of Arrow Beach, removing the right ear of Jake the Snake on its way down.
Cowie landed lightly on his feet as he had been trained in the Swan's Feather discipline. Miss Rodda lay unconscious; the blonde wig had cushioned Cowie's impact which would otherwise have been fatal.
Turning round to look for Donna he was horrified to find the German machine pistol inches from his face.
"you killed moi Jakey copper... now it is your turn" screeched the ungrateful beach waif.
Even Shaolin monks cannot stop bullets safely... Cowie closed his eyes and waited for the darkness.
Donna pulled the trigger to launch the last bullet in the Schmeisser's magazine.
The stress of recent repeated firing on the antique firearm had distorted the barrel.
When the now insensate Headmistress had dropped the weapon it had smashed against a particularly hard piece of granite. The quartz matrix combined with feldspars, notably orthoclase and plagioclase, with smaller amounts of albite, biotite and green chlorite to produce a tough specimen similar to the famous Narvikite from Norway.
Ironically this was the same rock used to make headstones in the graveyard of St Enioc's church.
Soon the headstone carvers would be in business again.
The damaged barrel exploded violently as the final bullet tried to escape.
Donna was killed instantly by a shard of tempered steel embedding itself in her forehead... Cowie was momentarily stunned.
When he recovered his senses he saw that there was nothing he could do to help the surf chick.
But where was the Headmistress ?
During the drama of the gunplay Miss Rodda had regained consciousness and dragged herself out of sight of the policeman.
Her body was found the next day. The pathologist gave the cause of death as traumatic cranial fracture but was puzzled by lacerations to her torso and what might even have been teethmarks where pieces of flesh were missing. Almost as if a wild animal had attacked her. He put it down to a fox disturbing the educatrix's corpse... there were no savage beasts in Cornwall after all, were there ?
EPILOGUE
Six months later Cowie returned to the village. His work was done, the inquests completed and all the reports filed.
Dave's disappearance had been officially accepted as tax-related absconding. Reports trickled in of a huge Cornish fisherman working as far afield as South Africa and Argentina.
The Headmistress and Donna lay beneath crow-black, sloe-black granite headstones in the graveyard of St Enioc's church.
A memorial to Rowena was carved in Hanging Rock by the villagers and a solitary Rowan tree planted nearby.
Esmeralda admired her large solitaire diamond ring. She was looking forward to being a policeman's wife.
Horniman had accepted the news with good grace, and decided that he ought to see the world before he became too old. South America seemed a promising place to start.
Meanwhile Esmeralda had to prepare another batch of pasties. The new recipe was a sensation with her customers, who all agreed that vinegar brought out the flavour of the meat.
THE END
Meanwhile Esmeralda had to prepare another batch of pasties. The new recipe was a sensation with her customers, who all agreed that vinegar brought out the flavour of the meat.
THE END
trebear
