Chapter two
Aunt Betty's place
The next week came and went, and Barry had spent most of his time with his dad in the garage, trying to upgrade the robot and get it ready for packing.
“ When you get to Aunt Betty’s tomorrow, you will have couple of days to yourself. This robot won’t get to you until Tuesday or Wednesday at the latest, and when it does get there, all you have to do is adjust this,” dad said, pointing to a small thingy in the robot’s back, “ and tweak this,” again pointing to something small and un-identifiable, “ And then you push that, switch that, and finally, and this is the tricky bit, turn that anti-clockwise.”
“ Anti-clockwise,” Barry repeated, taking notes on a small pad that he had balanced on his knee.
“ And it should work,” said dad, unconvincingly.
Barry noticed the worry in his dad’s voice, but chose not to say anything. How he would regret that in years to come. Stupid boy.
“ Leave it to me, dad,” said Barry, wishing he could he go with his parent’s, but as usual, keeping it under his hat.
Mum joined them, with that look that says, I know something you don’t.
“ Look what I found,” she said, and as Barry turned to see what she had, Zed appeared from behind her.
“ Hello,” said Zed, looking a bit sheepish.
“ Zed, where have you been?” asked Barry.
“ Nowhere much. Had some schoolwork to catch up on,” he replied, nervously.
Zed looked toward dad, who caught his eye ( polished it and rolled it back ) and quickly turned back to what he was doing.
“ Barry, can you go in the house, and get me the packing materials they sent for the robot,” said dad.
“ Sure,” said Barry, eager to help as always, and off he went, at a limps pace. Once out of earshot, Dad spoke to Zed.
“ Everything ok? Are you all sorted for tomorrow?” he asked.
“ Yes, I think so,” Zed replied. “ I’m really looking forward to it.”
“ Keep an eye on him for me,” said dad, “ you know how clumsy he is.”
“ You can rely on me,” said Zed, with an air of responsibility.
“ Good. He doesn’t know yet. We thought you might like to tell him.”
“ Tell him what?” said Barry, returning with his arms full of packing materials.
“ I’m coming with you, to Aunt Betty’s,” said Zed.
A massive grin spread across Barry’s face.
“ Oh Yes!” said Barry, and he jumped for joy. Bad move Barry.
He landed badly on his broken foot, and fell sideways, knocking the shelf on his left, high into the air.
The chain of events that followed were not unusual in the Trotter household.
A rusty tin, filled of old nails and screws, and those little brass hooks that nobody seems to have a use for, (recognise that one folks?), and a tin of mouldy paint were sent flying towards the ceiling, while everything else on the shelf ended up on the floor, where Barry finished up too. Fortunately, the lid on the paint tin was stuck solid and it bounced harmlessly away into the far corner of the garage. The tin of screws and nails had a different ending. Well, they would have, wouldn’t they?
It was almost as if every individual screw and nail ( and hook ) had it’s own idea of where it wanted to be. As the tin hit the ceiling, each piece of metal, flew in a totally different direction, showering everybody and everything with shrapnel, and the tin decided that Barry’s head looked particularly inviting, as it came down and hit it’s target.
“ Far out,” said Zed, feeling very hip.
“ Ouch!” said Barry, feeling very hurt.
“ Clumsy twat!” said dad, feeling he should clear up the mess.
***
“ Have you always been like that?” asked Zed, in the car on the way to Aunt Betty’s.
“ Like what?”
“ You know, clumsy.”
“ I guess so, can’t really remember,” said Barry, “ I think it comes from my mum’s side. A couple of years ago she accidentally killed one of our cats."
“ Really, how?” said Zed, paying full attention.
“ It wasn’t well, so she crushed up four aspirin and put it in the cats milk. Poor thing died of kidney failure as a result. At least, that’s what the vet said.”
Barry kept a straight face as he told his sad tale. And it was sad, but true.
“ That’s horrible,” said Zed, with tears welling up.
“ Putting it out for the dustbin men was the bit that upset me most. I’ll never forget seeing his stiff tail sticking out of the bin like that. Couldn’t even get the lid on.”
Zed, having a weird sense of humour, and already seeing the funny side,
started to snigger, and within seconds was in tears of laughter. His stomach hurt so much, he had to pull his knees up under his chin.
“ You're making it up,” laughed Zed.
“ I wish I was. So far as I can tell, we’ve lost four cats, two budgies, about fifty goldfish, and the one and only dog we had, got wise, and legged it. Never to be seen again. And please don’t ask me about the hamsters. I can still see one of them, to this day, floating down the stream on a bit of toast. I’m convinced he was waving.”
“ Stop,” said Zed, “ I can't...catch...my breath.”
Zed was now curled up in a small ball, in the back of the car, and he was now in agony.
“ I’m serious,” said Barry. “ I guess we were just never meant to have pets.”
“ Well, if you get like that, I’ll have you put down,” said Zed, wiping away his own tears.
“ Thanks a bunch,” said Barry.
“ Don't mention it,” said Zed. “ That's what friends are for
***
The rest of the journey was spent, with our two heroes to be, talking about what they liked and disliked about school. They couldn’t understand why Mr. Matthews, the gym teacher, insisted on wearing pink satin shorts for P.E.
And what was that silly little moustache all about. The boys had a good laugh about that, but in the end, they both agreed on one main issue. That their school was crap.
By lunchtime they had arrived at Aunt Betty’s country farmhouse, further out in deepest Essex. Situated in the middle of a huge plot of land, the farmhouse entrance had a small gravel driveway, surrounded by a well-kept garden. The house itself was quite big. Four good-sized bedrooms, a big living room, complete with the latest thing, colour T.V. and a large kitchen diner.
Whenever Barry had been there before, he’d always spent most of his time in the kitchen. Well, that’s where the best parties always end up. Not that Aunt Betty threw parties. She was far too weird.
Outside the kitchen door was another well looked after garden, about half an acre in size, with trees surrounding the perimeter.
Behind the trees, at the south end of the garden, was a wide, slow moving river, next to where Barry had built his secret hideaway the last time he was there.
The car slowed to a stop and Zed gave the place the once over.
“ Cool,” he said, slowly.
“ Not bad is it?” said Barry.
Years before, the farm had belonged to one of Barry’s great grandfather’s.
The land was used to keep livestock, but after an affair with the local vicar, and we’ve all heard that one, Barry’s great grandmother walked out and left the old boy to it.
Having been given that ‘new found’ freedom, Barry’s great grandfather decided to become a vegetarian, and that, as they say, was that.
He sold all of the stock, and the locks, but kept some of the barrels.
With the money he gained, he bought the farm outright, then sold it, for a huge profit, moved to Monaco, and became an international playboy. Let that be a lesson to us all.
But, of course, that was a long time ago.
Aunt Betty was handed the keys almost forty years ago, under a cloud of mystery. Something to do with the strange disappearance of a local vicar, but nobody knew the full details.
Barry had explained most of this on the way. He also told Zed, that Aunt Betty was two side plates short of a dinner service, but she was also harmless. Zed thought he had a rough idea of what to expect, but what was waiting for them, was not even close.
As the boys got out of the car, Aunt Betty, or Batty, as she was known to her close family and friends, was standing in the doorway, dressed like the Queen, including a ceremonial tiara. The only things not quite right, were the boots. Aunt Betty was wearing a pair of green wellies.
Zed stared in disbelief.
“ Yep,” said Barry, “ nothing has changed. Hello Auntie.”
“ Hello Terry,” she said.
“ It’s Barry, and this is Zed,” said Barry.
“ Zed,” said Aunt Betty, “ that’s a funny name. Do you have any brothers or sisters?” she asked.
“ Yes I do,” replied Zed, who should have seen it coming.
“ Are they all named after letters of the alphabet?” she asked, quite seriously.
“ Er, no,” said a stunned Zed.
“ Pity,” she said, “ so much easier to remember. Come on you two. I’ve put you both in the same room. Garry, you know the way, don’t you.”
“ Yes Auntie,” said Barry, “ and it’s Barry.
“ Of course it is, deary, course it is,” said Aunt Betty. “ Now run along and get yourselves cleaned up, and I’ll prepare some lunch.”
“ Ok,” they said, and off they went to find their room.
“ She’s mad,” said Zed, after a few minutes.
“ I tried to warn you,” said Barry. “ You wait and see what you get for lunch.”
“ Is it that bad?”
“ Well, if last time was anything to go by, I would say that’s a big yes. She tried to give me raw cauliflower sandwiches once. Her sardines in custard was a masterpiece.”
“ You’re joking,” said Zed.
“ Have I lied to you yet,” said Barry, feeling tired after pulling himself up the stair rail.
“ Well,” thought Zed, “ can’t we get your folk’s to send us a food parcel with the robot.”
“ Good idea, but we have no way of contacting them. There’s no phone. I’m afraid it’s grin and bare it time.”
Zed started to think to himself. Ok. No phone. I’ll get that sorted out, and quickly. It’s time for a few changes.
“ Great,” said Zed.
“ Not a word I would have chosen, but look on the bright side, it’s only for a week.”
“ Great,” said Zed again, thinking to himself, not if I can help it.
***
And lunchtime, as predicted, was not a let down. The bread was green, having been made with cabbage and Brussels sprout, and not mould, which was a relief to Zed, as he was sure he’d seen his mum throwing something very similar in the dustbin, only a few days before.
There was also pickled pineapple cookies, and peanut flavoured cheese. The main course was a dark red soup, with black things floating in it. As hard as Zed tried, he couldn’t even look at the soup, let alone eat it. He was convinced he was being stared at. They couldn’t be eyes, could they?
“ Something wrong with the soup, deary,” Aunt Betty asked. “ That’s home made beetroot and black olive, one of my speciality’s.”
“ I had a big breakfast, so I’m not really hungry,” lied Zed.
“ Can’t stand it myself,” said Aunt Betty. “ Gives me wind. Oh well, there’s plenty of fruit. When you’ve both finished, Billy can show you around, while I tidy away this mess and get dinner ready.”
“ What are we having?” Barry asked, and instantly wishing he hadn’t, once he’d seen the worried expression on Zed’s face.
“ Pizza,” replied Aunt Betty.
“ Brilliant,” said Zed, relieved.
“ With pickled egg and jam topping.”
They both grabbed as much fruit as they could hold, and made their way outside.
***
It was a warm, bright day. Summers are like that, occasionally. Well, not that often. And if the current weather is a thing of the future, we should be seeing winter in August. So that means, eventually summer and winter become one. That also means that Christmas will be in the middle of the summer holidays, and that means that school’s all over the world will never be shut, at the same time as being open. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Anyway, back to this gripping tale.
Barry took Zed to the riverside, to show him his little hideaway, or where it used to be. Barry hadn’t been here for almost a year, but he was sure his hideaway was here. He looked around. No, this can’t be right, he thought. The river, the trees, everything was here, except his hideaway.
“ It’s gone,” he said, “ at least, this is where I left it.”
“ Are you sure?” asked Zed.
“ Of course I am. Must have blown down. Yeah, that’s it. Oh well, we could always make another one.”
“ Sounds good to me,” said Zed. “ Where do we start?”
And the two boys spent a busy afternoon making a new den, on the site of the original, totally unaware they were being watched.
“ So who’s this Penny then?” asked Zed.
“ Just this spotty girl who lives over there,” said Barry, pointing away towards the north.
“ Your mum say’s you’re besotted with her. What’s she like?”
“ My mum doesn’t know anything,” said Barry, defensively. “ Penny is ok, but I don’t really know that much about her. She’s a bit older than us, and she’s built like a brick shithouse. You know, big muscles and stuff. She’s a farm girl and she’s worked there nearly all her life.”
“ Will we meet her?” asked Zed, sounding interested.
“ Don’t know, probably,” answered Barry. “ I’m getting hungry,” he added.
He went to where they had left the fruit. It was gone. No surprises there then.
“ Where’s the bloody fruit?” Barry yelled. Zed joined him, and sure enough, there was the fruit, gone.
Without warning, there was a dull thud, and when Zed turned to look at Barry, he found him doubled up, in agony.
“ Call me spotty, would you, Barry bloody Trotter,” said Penny, as she hurled another apple toward him. The apple bounced off the side of Barry’s head, and Zed caught it.
“ How’s that,” said Zed.
“ Not out, and not funny,” said Barry, not knowing what bit of him to rub better first.
“ Er, hello Penny. This is my friend Zed.”
Barry was trying his best to be humble, and failing. Penny wasn’t interested.
“ So, I’m built like a brick shithouse am I? Which bit? The inside, which smells, or the outside, which is ugly? Choose carefully, I’m armed,” she said, tossing another apple up and down in her hand.
“ Not what I was expecting,” said Zed.
“ Who’s he?” asked Penny.
“ I told you once,” said Barry. “ This is my friend, Zed.”
Zed offered his hand as a welcome, and Penny shook it.
“ That’s a funny name,” she said.
“ Obviously,” said Zed.
She looked at the gangly youth. Nice, she thought, then turned her attention back to Barry.
“ I’m surprised you came back after the last time.”
Barry went as red as a new cricket ball.
“ Why? What happened?” said Zed, waiting to find out what his friend had been up to.
“ Are you going to tell him, or shall I?” said Penny.
“ It will probably sound better coming from you,” said Barry. “ It’s a bit embarrassing.”
“ Ok,” Penny started, “ we used to have a prize bull. Brainless Barry there, walked through the field in a red T-shirt. That was enough to start poor old Grumpy off.”
“ Grumpy?” said Zed.
“ Yes. He was a miserable beast,” said Penny, with fond memories. “ Anyway, the bull went mental. He got into the field with the cows, and caused them to stampede. We never did round them all up. Shortly after that, the bull went on the rampage in the local village, causing thousands of pounds worth of damage. The china shop was a write off. Then the bull managed to get into the village pub, which is the only one in a ten-mile radius, and smashed the place to pieces, much to the horror of the locals. If I were you Barry Trotter, I would stay well away from the village.”
“ Confined to barracks,” said Zed.
“ It’s unfair,” said Barry. “ I didn’t know.”
Zed stared at the other two, while thinking over something that had been said.
“ Used to have,” he said.
“ What?” said Penny.
“ You said you used to have a prize bull. What happened to it?” Zed urged. He wanted to hear more.
“ Well, isn’t it obvious. They had to shoot it because of all the damage it had caused. We’ve been trying to pay for all the repairs ever since. We’ll never be able to afford another bull.”
“ Could have happened to anyone,” said Zed, not really grasping the full scale of what had happened.
“ Oh, so you can get us another prize bull, just like that, can you?”
Zed went quiet. He didn’t have to think too hard about that, but decided not to say.
“ And the only reason it happened at all,” an angry Penny went on, “ is because you are so damn clumsy.”
“ I said I was sorry,” said a sorry Barry.
“ That’s as maybe,” said Penny, “ but it still don’t replace no prize bull, do it?”
Zed was still quiet, preferring not to get involved in what now seemed to him, a petty squabble.
“ So what am I supposed to do?” said Barry. “ If I stay here all week with Aunt Betty, I’ll go mad.”
“ Or die from food poisoning,” quipped Zed.
“ Cooking hasn’t changed then?” asked Penny.
“ Not really,” said Barry. “ The best thing I ate last time was your mum’s shepherd’s pie. Do they really use real shepherd’s?”
“ You prat,” said Zed, “of course they don’t. Although after that lunch, I must admit, I’m starving.”
“ You took the words out of my mouth,” said Barry.
“ Still thinking about your stomach,” Penny said to Barry. “ Well, you might as well come with me, then. I think we still have some roast beef left.”
And the three of them went on their merry way.
***
On the way to Penny’s place, the boys told her about the robot, and what had happened in Barry’s garage. Barry showed Penny the lump on his head, from the tin.
She laughed when he told her about the explosion, and the effect it had on Zed, but Zed didn’t mind. He wasn’t even listening. His mind was elsewhere. He needed to get to a phone. He could make things all right again, but first he needed a phone.
“ Do you have a telephone?” he asked when they got to Penny’s.
“ Yes, and hot running water too,” she replied sarcastically. “ It’s through there.”
She pointed to one of the rooms off the entrance hall.
“ Thanks,” was all he said and he disappeared.
“ So when does the new robot arrive?” enquired Penny.
“ Oh, it’s not a new one,” said Barry, tucking into his dead bull sandwiches, and sweating profusely, because he’d over done it with the horseradish sauce.
“ It’s the same one as before, we just modified it. It should be here by Wednesday. Are you coming to see it?”
“ Why not?” said Penny.
“ All done,” said Zed, as he returned to the kitchen.
“ What is?” asked Barry.
“ You’ll see,” was all that Zed would say, because he know had his mouth full of dead ‘you know what’.
***
“ Hello boys,” said Aunt Betty when they returned. Zed almost ran back out through the door. There was Aunt Betty, doing the washing up, wearing a fluorescent pink diving suit. She still had her wellies on though.
“ Got this the other day. Thought I might wear it for a special occasion. What do you think?” she asked them.
Barry knew how to handle this.
“ It suits you,” he said. “ Do they come in other colours?”
“ Yes Buddy, lime green and banana yellow. But this is my favourite.”
She turned back to the sink, whistling a long forgotten sea shanty. Then suddenly, she stopped whistling and said,
“ Oh, Zed dear. You had a package delivered. I left it upstairs in your room.”
“ Yes,” said Zed, excitedly. “ Part one.” And he ran to the bedroom, with Barry in limp pursuit.
On the bed, as promised, was a large box about three feet long, by two feet high, and two feet wide.
“ What on earth is that?” asked Barry, all excited like.
“ I told you I couldn’t live without real food,” said Zed, hastily unwrapping a Harrods food hamper.
“This is part one of my plan. The rest will follow shortly.”
“ What rest?” asked Barry, totally gobsmacked at the food inside the now open hamper.
“ You’ll see,” said Zed, as he tossed aside a small note he’d found inside the hamper. Barry, never one to miss an opportunity, picked up the note, which read,
“ with compliments,…the Ministry.” It also had a small crest to one side.
“ I’ve seen this before,” said Barry, “ but I can’t remember where.”
“ Oh, really!” said Zed, knowing full well that Barry had seen the crest on some of his fathers paper work.
“ Oh well,” said the ginger one, “ maybe it will come back to me. I better go and tell Auntie to cancel the pizza.”
“ Good thinking,” said Zed. “ Part two will be here soon.”
“ How many parts are there?” Barry wanted to know.
“ Only six,” said Zed, then added for good effect, “ I love it when a plan comes together.”
***
After Korean fried chicken had delivered part two, the two boys sat in their room and listened to the evening closing in, but it wasn’t very loud, because they could hear Aunt Betty running around outside, hooting like an owl.
Zed was getting used to the odd behaviour by this time, but Barry was convinced she was getting worse. He told Zed about last year, when Aunt Betty had stood in a field, dressed as a scarecrow. Each time a bird had landed in the field, she yelled ‘Bugger off’ at it, through a loud hailer.
This was fine by Barry. It meant he had to feed himself. After three days and nights of this, she finally returned to the house, and being absolutely shattered, she then slept for another three days. In the meantime, Barry had eaten every decent scrap of food he could find, and he put on so much weight, that his folks blamed Aunt Betty for over feeding him. Poor Aunt Betty was hardly even there.
Still, Barry was happy.
No more gherkin and Neapolitan ice cream, no more tripe and strawberry yoghurt, but best of all, no liver and bacon.
“ She said special occasion,” said Zed all of a sudden.
“ Eh?”
“ When we came in this evening, your Aunt said she was wearing the scuba gear for a special occasion. What’s that meant to mean?”
“ Doesn’t necessarily mean anything with Aunt Betty. Getting up in the morning is a special occasion to her,” replied Barry.
“ Oh,” said Zed, thinking it a bit odd, but not pursuing the matter.
Someone was knocking at the door, someone’s ringing on the bell, open the door and let ‘em in.
“ That’s strange,” said Barry. “ I’ve never known Auntie to have visitors this late.”
Aunt Betty called up the stairs, “ Zed, it’s a gentleman for you.”
Barry watched Zed leave the room, and followed him down the stairs to the front door.
“ Keep him talking, while I do my hair,” said Aunt Betty, who skipped off to do said hair.
“ Sign here mate,” said a man in a brown boiler suit, and hair to match. He handed Zed a small key.
“ What’s it for?” asked Barry, impatiently, but Zed thanked the man and said nothing else.
Zed shut the door with Barry trying his best to see over his shoulder.
“ Where’s the nice man?” said Aunt Betty hurrying back.
“ He had to go,” said Barry.
“ Oh bollocks!” she said.
The boys went back to their room. Barry had a thousand questions, and he had to start somewhere.
“ What’s going on Zed?” was a good start, but it didn’t make any difference.
“ Wait till tomorrow. You’ll see,” was all that Zed would say.
Barry was thinking all this secrecy was getting too much, but he didn’t think it for long. He fell asleep.
***
The following day saw a few more people visit Zed. Delivery vans had come and gone. Barry sat and scratched his head at all the comings and goings. Lots of different items had been left in the barn, and some had been put up in the boy’s bedroom.
Barry was still thinking about the key, that Zed had received the night before, when the answer suddenly arrived.
It was a moped, and Barry was dumbstruck. He demanded to know what was going on, but Zed still wasn’t giving in, as he said,
“ Not long now, and all will be revealed.”
“ But it’s a bloody motorbike.”
“ It’s a Yamaha fs1e, 90cc. The classic moped. Nice, innit,” said Zed, happy with his personal plunder.
“ Yeah, lovely.”
Barry didn’t have a clue.
***
Shortly after lunch, Penny arrived at he farmhouse looking for Zed.
“ Oh great, not you as well,” said Barry, getting a bit miffed. People had been asking for Zed all day. Well, it felt like it to Barry.
“ It’s important. Well, where is he?” she said, being a bit bossy.
“ Here,” said Zed, coming in from the garden. He had just finished riding around the grounds on his fizzy. Well, that’s what they used to call them in my neck of the woods.
Penny ran at him, and Zed having a problem with people running at him, girls included, put up his fists, like you do. She threw herself straight at him, and pinned him to the floor, then gave him the biggest kiss on the lips he’d ever had.
“ Disgusting,” said Barry.
“ Thank you,” said a very happy Penny to Zed. “ But how?”
“ How what?” Barry asked, getting more and more impatient.
“ Just, you know, everything.”
“ He won’t answer,” said Barry, feeling very confused.
“ Oh, it’s nothing. Just friends in high places,” said a very happy Zed.
Barry was close to exploding.
“ Would somebody please tell me what the bloody hell is going on here?” he screamed.
“ We have a new bull, thanks to Zed. And all our debts have been paid, and the pub is being refurbished as we speak,” said an excited Penny. “ Unfortunately, there’s nothing they can do about the china shop, but, hey, great isn’t it?”
Penny was close to tears of happiness.
“ But how?” Barry asked.
“ It was nothing,” said Zed. “ Just a phone call to the right people. While I was at it, I made a few arrangements. The moped, the hamper, the fried chicken for last night’s dinner, and tonight’s dinner, if you will join us Penny, as my guest, will be the finest Indian cuisine, being flown in directly from Bombay.”
“ Holy shit, Batman,” was all Barry could say.
“ I would love to come,” said Penny. “ What time?”
“ About seven, if that’s ok with you.”
“ Sure, see you both later,” she said, and was gone.
“ Why are you staring at me like that?” Zed asked Barry.
“ Right now, I’m not sure. I thought I knew you, but this has blown me away. Are there any more surprise’s I should know about?”
“ No, I don’t think so. Well, not for a while, anyway. We won’t have to worry about food while we’re here. That’s all taken care of.”
There was another ring at the door.
“ Zed,” came the call from downstairs, and off he went again. Two minutes later he returned with another bit of note paper.
“ That’s the phone sorted out as well,” he said triumphantly.
“ The Ministry again,” said Barry, studying the note. “ I know this from somewhere,” he repeated from earlier.
***
Later that day, a large black car with tinted windows, arrived at the house, followed by a VW mini-bus full of Asian folk.
Aunt Betty was wearing an enormous space suit, complete with helmet, and gold visor, while doing the gardening. She waved in slow motion, as the mini-bus went past, and all the occupants waved back, looking bemused.
As the bus unloaded the staff for the evening’s meal, Zed went over to the car and got in.
“ Is everything ok?” asked the man in the back seat.
“ Yes. He still doesn’t have a clue. Are his parent’s safe?” asked Zed.
“ Yes, no problem there. We may have to keep them out of the way for a bit longer, for their own safety. Will that be a problem?”
“ Not at all. As long as the goodies keep coming. Oh, by the way, the phone was connected this morning. Here’s the number.”
“ You are doing a good job, Agent Hercules. Keep up the good work. I’ll be in touch soon.”
Zed got out of the car, and walked over to Barry, and they both watched the car drive away.
“ I’ve seen that somewhere, but I just can’t place it,” said Barry.
***
The Indian feast came and went without a hitch, apart from Barry getting mango chutney on his trousers.
The three kids sat in the kitchen dining area, and watched waiters coming and going with many, many different dishes of food, of the highest quality. The smell of the rice’s and spices was mouth watering. The kid’s tucked in.
There were different Naan breads, some stuffed, some not. There were dishes made with meat, some with vegetables, and more than enough with both.
And to follow, was the best Italian ice cream, again, especially flown in for the occasion, with a little help from the powers that be.
As they finished with their complimentary wafer thin mint, Penny declared it was time to leave, as she had to be up early, to help with the new bull.
She thanked Zed again, and he walked her outside.
“ Why do you do all this?” Penny asked.
“ He’s my friend,” said Zed. “ I have to look after him.”
“ He must mean a lot to you,” she said, “ to go to all this trouble, I mean.”
Penny knew the answer to that, but being a girl, she just had to ask.
“ More than you will ever know.” He paused, then added, “ I’ll tell you about it soon.”
“ You’re not gay, are you?” Penny asked.
“ Don’t be daft. I’m only ten,” said Zed.
“ Oh yes, silly me. Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“ Ok. The robot’s coming tomorrow, so that should be fun. See you then.”
And with that, they parted company, split the profits and lived happily till the next day.
***
The next morning, after a huge breakfast, (which was cooked by one of the Asian chef’s, who’d got so drunk the night before on cooking sherry that he claimed he’d been locked in one of the kitchen cabinets, he ended up missing his return flight to Bombay), Barry and Zed ventured out to the barn to start un-packing the robot, which had arrived earlier, first class…and if you believe that…
They put the packing to one side, and Barry went to get a hammer out of his toolbox, to beat out the dents received in transit. Zed followed the instructions that Barry had written down.
“ Your spelling is rubbish,” he said.
“ Why?” asked Barry, who always wanted to be a doctor.
“ It says here, turn knob puss button.”
“ It should be push. I would have thought that was obvious,” said Barry, thinking, prat. “ Turn knob, push button,” he added.
“ Ahhhh!” said Zed, understanding at last.
Zed turned a knob, and pushed a button.
“ There,” he declared, “ done. We are ready to rock ‘n roll.”
“ Just got to wire it up then,” said Barry.
Zed went pale remembering the last time. It took his mum almost a week to get his underwear clean.
“ Ok,” he said, “ but it’s your turn.”
“ What, with my record? Do you think that’s a good idea?” replied Barry.
“ We could always ask your Aunt to do it,” said Zed.
“ Or we could ask Penny.”
“ Ask Penny what?”
The boys stopped to look at Penny.
Zed noticed she was wearing her hair differently from the night before. Last night up, this morning not up. She had two platted pigtails, that both just touched the top of her dungaree shoulder straps. The pigtails were held in place by two large black metal hair grip’s, in the shape of butterflies.
“ You have this annoying habit of creeping up,” said Barry, going red and failing to stay cool.
“ Er, we have a slight problem you might be able to help us with,” said Zed, diffusing the situation.
“ Like what?” Penny wondered.
“ We need someone to throw the mains switch,” said Barry.
“ Why can’t you do it?” she asked.
“ We’ve had problems before. Electricity does strange things to my clothing,” said Zed.
“ And what’s your excuse?” Penny asked Barry.
“ I’m accident prone,” said Barry, “ and with my track record, we’ll probably all get killed.”
“ Fiddlesticks. Give it here,” said Penny.
Barry looked to where Zed had been standing, but Zed had dived for cover behind some old bails of hay, which are accident prone themselves, when it comes to sparks.
“ This won’t work,” Penny said, as she looked at the fuse box on the wall.
“ Why not,” said Barry.
“ Because red is positive, and black is negative,” she said.
“ Are you sure?” said Barry. “ That’s probably where we went wrong last time.”
Zed came out from his hiding place, looking slightly relieved.
Penny swapped the cables over and said,
“ Are you ready?”
The boys looked at each other, then turned to look at Penny. They nodded their readiness.
“ Ok, here goes,” she said. She held her breath and pulled the switch down.
There was not so much of bang this time. More of a whoosh, as a huge surge of electricity ran along Penny’s arm.
As it reached her shoulder, it took a sudden turn downwards, toward her feet. As it reached her shoes it made the ends of her laces melt. Then the surge shot back up her body, singeing every hair she possessed, which was particularly embarrassing at this moment in time, as Penny’s hormones were raging, and unfortunately, puberty was in full swing.
Eventually the surge reached her head, where the two hairgrips acted like small detonators. There was a small crack on each side of her head, and Penny’s pigtails took off, like two extra thick arrows.
One flew towards Barry’s head, but in the nick of time, he ducked, and the pigtail missed him by inches. The other shot between Zed’s leg’s and came extremely close to pinning his balls to the wall behind him.
With a look of absolute horror, Penny, with a blackened face and smouldering shoelaces, slowly raised her hands to where her pigtails used to be.
“ Maybe the cables were the right way round, after all,” she said.
“ Phew! That was close,” said Barry. “ And I thought I was clumsy.”
“ Close! You feckin’ idiot,” said Zed, sweating profusely. “ If I had hair on my nuts, it would all be gone by now.”
“ Don’t mention hair,” cried Penny, as she ran out of the barn, with a plume of smoke chasing her.
“ What’s her problem?” asked Barry.
“ I dunno. Never could understand girls,” said Zed. “ They’re all weirdo’s.”
“ Yeah, I know what you mean,” said Barry.
After a bit of thinking, Barry said,
“ This robot?”
“ What about it?” said Zed.
“ I think we should leave it for a while.”
“ Gets my vote.”
“ Ok.”
“ Cool.”
“ Fantastic.”
“ Smashing.”
“ Pucker.”
Sunday, 29 November 2009
Friday, 27 November 2009
Night Shift News
And another week ends. And what a week it was. Angelo retired, bless him. All the best ones leave. That makes it sound like all the crap ones are left behind, and that would mean me. That's not what I meant at all. Must learn to concentrate on what I'm writing about. It was another tough week on the LSM's, but they always are. And the next few weeks will be even tougher in the build up to Christmas. I've been plonked on the flat machine for the next 3 weeks, unless something else crops up. So, let the fun commence.
In other news, The London Olympic Committee could be heading for trouble with the Health and Safety Executive over the noise levels of the starting pistol. When asked, a spokesman for the HSE removed his earphones and said, " What? Oh yeah, well they're a bit loud aren't they. We're thinking of using silencers. The Athletes would then be expected to watch the big screen and wait for the puff of smoke from the gun. The other option is to ask one of the spectators near the starting line to shout bang." Before replacing his earphones he was asked what he was listening to, he replied " ACDC."
And in sports, today's football results will be read out after the games have finished and not before, like some had hoped.
In other news, The London Olympic Committee could be heading for trouble with the Health and Safety Executive over the noise levels of the starting pistol. When asked, a spokesman for the HSE removed his earphones and said, " What? Oh yeah, well they're a bit loud aren't they. We're thinking of using silencers. The Athletes would then be expected to watch the big screen and wait for the puff of smoke from the gun. The other option is to ask one of the spectators near the starting line to shout bang." Before replacing his earphones he was asked what he was listening to, he replied " ACDC."
And in sports, today's football results will be read out after the games have finished and not before, like some had hoped.
Night Shift News
This will be the new title from now on, then i can condense what I'm doing. The book is a big project so time is limited. But if all goes well i should have the entire book on here before Christmas. That will leave you 1 shopping day to get it all sorted because you will all be so riveted by my scrawling's that you won't be able to be dragged away..
Firstly, the box flu has taken a new twist and has seen number one actually return to work. The scientists didn't see this coming and have been forced to issue new ID cards in case of cloning. The boxes however are denying all responsibility. A spokesman for the boxes said, " You're only picking on us because we don't have a union."
The latest output figures for the office have gone through the roof, but the roof repair team are confident of getting them back. " Little buggers keep leaving holes where holes shouldn't be," said the building manager. " We're going to need a tighter mesh," he continued. " In the good old days, we used to use corrugated iron. Never had any of these problems back then, no. The buggers used to get out the windows instead."
And a sports update...The Romford Senior York Stacking team have just claimed a Gold medal at the International Postal Old Boys Club Championships for stacking 4 yorks on top of each other. There was one tricky moment when it looked like one of the team were stuck, but that quickly passed. The Team captain had a quick word to say after the event. " It was a brilliant team effort. I can't stop. I've got to get my mates finger out of the fridge." He then hurried off to the canteen.
And a final note. For those of you expecting to do some star gazing this weekend, look up.
Firstly, the box flu has taken a new twist and has seen number one actually return to work. The scientists didn't see this coming and have been forced to issue new ID cards in case of cloning. The boxes however are denying all responsibility. A spokesman for the boxes said, " You're only picking on us because we don't have a union."
The latest output figures for the office have gone through the roof, but the roof repair team are confident of getting them back. " Little buggers keep leaving holes where holes shouldn't be," said the building manager. " We're going to need a tighter mesh," he continued. " In the good old days, we used to use corrugated iron. Never had any of these problems back then, no. The buggers used to get out the windows instead."
And a sports update...The Romford Senior York Stacking team have just claimed a Gold medal at the International Postal Old Boys Club Championships for stacking 4 yorks on top of each other. There was one tricky moment when it looked like one of the team were stuck, but that quickly passed. The Team captain had a quick word to say after the event. " It was a brilliant team effort. I can't stop. I've got to get my mates finger out of the fridge." He then hurried off to the canteen.
And a final note. For those of you expecting to do some star gazing this weekend, look up.
Justtin
Justtin-by Steve Newhouse
Part One
Chapter One-The End
All the best tales start at the beginning, and this is no exception.
Although it must be said, the best tails belong to animals, and I think, personally, that the animals prefer it that way, and who am I to argue. But to help us with this tale, we must start at the end.
The end of the washing machine, the end of the fridge, the old television and the old wireless radio, and the whole ‘old thing’ in general, ( because we learned to move on,) but more importantly, the end of the Apple Mac.
For it was, with these ageing machines, that dad Trotter, with or without the help of his amazingly clumsy son Barry, had somehow managed to build the first mega-droid class 1.
They didn’t bother giving it a name, thinking it wouldn’t last, and not wanting to get too attached. This sorry robot was the prototype for the now popular class 6.
The first five attempts had all met with distasteful destruction, and dad didn’t want to talk about it.
But this time, it was right.
Apparently.
This time, everything was A-OK. Top notch. Tickety boo. Top sausage. Apex
Chipolata. Hot dog, even.
Apparently.
But as you can see, there is still a need to go back to those early days. Mostly, to get away from the food references, and try to establish the plot.
***
It was the mid to late 70’s, and a 10 year old Barry was rushing home from pretending to be at school, as always, to help his father in the garage, which was attached to the side of their home, in the sunny hamlet of Romford, which is attached to the east side of London.
Barry was short for his age, but well built. He had bright ginger hair, which was always cropped, to keep down his school’s head lice problem, and always flat on one side, due to the fact that Barry could only sleep properly on one side, having a nasal disorder which was being looked into. Much to Barry’s disgust. Barry was a likeable lad, who would part with the time of day for anybody, and he adored sweets. But then, show me a ten-year-old that didn’t like sweets and I will show you a liar.
Barry was still rushing. He’d done this a thousand times before, and usually with the same result.
He rushed up the road, he rushed up the drive and he rushed towards the house.
CRASH!!! He went through the front door. CRASH!!! He went through into the kitchen. CRASH!!! He went through to the garden. “ OUCH!!!” He yelled, as he banged his elbow on the doorframe. Barry’s instant lack of concentration and sense of direction saw him crashing head first into the two dustbins, which his mum had just deposited lunchtime’s leftovers.
Dazed and confused, Barry sat up rubbing his knee, smelling of fish heads, mash and ketchup.
“ Why me?” he mumbled as he got up, and brushing himself down, he remembered why he was there. So nursing his bloody knee, he limped to the garage to find his dad.
“ Hi dad,” said Barry, as he entered the garage.
“ Hello lad,” said dad. “ What happened this time? You look a right bloody mess, and I’m really sorry to have to say it, but you stink.” “ It’s not my fault,” said the boy. “ Mum moved the bins again.” Mum had a habit of doing this, so to Barry it seemed a good enough excuse, and the obvious fish tail wedged in his nose didn’t need that much explaining, surely? “ Well that’s alright then,” said Barry’s father, not really listening. “ Pass me that screwdriver. We’re almost finished.”
“ Really? That was quick.” “ That’s what she said last night,” said dad, reminiscing. “ What?”
“ Never mind that, lad. Well, what do you think?” They both stood back to view their handiwork, well, dad’s handiwork really. Barry being the clumsy sort, was more of a spectator, but dad would never let him think that. A screwdriver here, a hammer there. But when it came to the technical stuff, Barry was usually at school, playing footy, or playing truant. It was all the same to Barry. He’d already made up his mind to follow in his father’s footsteps, so school seemed like a waste of time. Not that Barry hadn’t taken it all in. In his head, he was a lot smarter than dad had taken him for. He knew just as much about the robot as dad did, but he didn’t want his dad to look a fool, so he kept quiet. Well, that’s the way Barry saw it. Being a ten-year-old who knew everything was such a burden. Then again, there were things he knew, and there were things he didn’t. He just wasn’t sure whether he should let his defences down, and admit he was wrong, occasionally, or just muddle through the day.
Certain things were about to happen in Barry’s life, that would change his life forever. It hadn’t occurred to Barry before, but he had no idea what his father did for a living, so he asked.
“ Dad.” “ Yes son.” “ Where do you work?” “ I can’t tell you,” “ Why not?”
“ Coz if I tell you, I’ll have to kill you. Hush hush, and all that.”
He might have been confused, but that was good enough for Barry, coz it was good enough for his dad.
Barry’s father, dad, always seemed to be at home these days. There was the odd occasion that dad disappeared for a few days, but he usually turned up again, and nearly always in time for tea. Nothing sinister in disappearing for a few days, you would think, but you’d be wrong wouldn’t you. Of course you would. Barry’s father was, or in fact is, a tall muscular man, very much like Pierce Brosnan, during his James Bond era. He had well groomed hair and a six pack to die for. Unlike myself, I have a party seven, bought and paid for. Dad had worked for the Government in Whitehall since he left school.
Originally, a communications officer, he worked his shift of two days, two nights and four days off, which proves to even the dumbest of animals, there are eight days in a week.
As the years went on, he became more and more curious. Here he was, collecting information from one part of the world, and passing it on to another part, and not knowing much else about what happened in between. So one fine day, dad decided he wanted to know where these messages were coming from, or who? And where they were going, and to who?
He asked his superiors, but they told him, ‘All you need to know is, that you are doing your country a great service’. But that wasn’t good enough. He decided to investigate for himself. One particular message came in, going to an address in North London. Dad memorised the address, and the message, and set off to deliver it himself. It was only a short ride on the underground, and twenty minutes after leaving his office one lunchtime, he arrived at the address he had memorised.
In front of him was a wooden door, which had been painted bright red. He knocked, and after what seemed an eternity, the door finally creaked open to reveal a small old man, dressed in a butler’s outfit. He was bent double and staring at his shoes. “ Hello,” said dad. “ My name is Trotter. I’m from Whitehall. I have a message for a Mr. William’s.”
There was no answer. Maybe he can’t see me, thought dad, so he sat on the doorstep to look up into the butler’s eyes.
“ Ah, there you are,” said the old man. “ What do you want? I haven’t got all day you know.”
“I have a message for Mr. Williams.” “ William has a massage. What? At this hour? He doesn’t usually do that sort of thing until after I’ve gone to bed. Thinks I don’t know.” “ No. I have a message for…Look, is he in?” “ What? You’ll have to speak up.” This was harder than dad had expected. Maybe that’s why they use machines, he thought. “ Is Mr. Williams here?” dad asked, raising his voice. “ Who’s there?” asked a man in the background. “ Somebody offering a massage, sir,” said the old man. How come he could hear him? thought dad. “ A bit early, isn’t it? Oh well, they better come in. The library is free. Wait for me there.”
The old butler stood to one side, and let dad make his entrance. The old man closed the door and lead dad to the library. “ Wait in there, sir. He won’t be long. He’s getting changed.” “ What for?” dad asked. “ It’s better with no clothes on, trust me.” Dad was wondering if he’d done the right thing. How difficult could it be to deliver a simple message?
He paced the room and tried to find something interesting to look at, but this was a library, and dad wasn’t particularly a book person, so he decided to take a seat and polish his shoes with a handkerchief that he pulled from his inside pocket. A few minutes had passed, when a stout chap came in the room, closing the door behind him. Dad stood up quickly, remembering his manners and looked at the figure in front of him. The fellow was dressed in an ill fitting, silk dressing gown, and had afghan carpet slippers on his feet. “ Now, what’s this all about? I didn’t ask for a massage.” “ That’s a stroke of luck,” said dad. “ I’m not here to give you one.” “ Well, out with it man. Why are you here? And hurry up. I haven’t got all day.”
He walks around in his dressing gown, and he hasn’t got all day, thought dad. “ I have a message, from Whitehall.”
“ For me?” the man said, looking a little surprised. “ Yes.” “ Well, what is it then?” “ Oh, right. The shipment will be ready on Sunday.” “ Is that it?” “ Afraid so,” said dad. “ Are you sure?” “ Certain,” said dad. “Oh well, thanks for coming.”
“ No problem,” said dad, thinking how easy it had been, and wondering why there was all this need for machines.
“ Before you go, can I ask you something?” “ Of course,” said dad. “ Can you just do my back for me?”
***
When he returned to his office, he was met by a glum looking individual, who pulled him to one side.
“ Ah, Trotter. Glad to see you made it back in one piece. Satisfied the old curiosity, have we?” Dad looked surprised, but didn’t understand. “ Only, that message you’ve just delivered,” continued the glum one, “ has just been handed to the wrong people. A simple mistake to make, but nevertheless, we, that is, the powers that be, want it back. And seeing as you know where it is, we, that is, the powers that be, have decided that you should go and retrieve it.” “ What, on my own?” said dad, in utter amazement. “ Well, old chap. You were curious enough to take it.” “ But, I’ll need help, surely?” “ Ah, help is it? Well, all I can say is, that as much as we like you, and as much as we want to help, I’m afraid you’re on your own. All you have to know are two things. Firstly, if you get through this in one piece, we, that is, the powers that be, may have other work for you, almost definitely in the same field.” “ Sounds good to me. I’m interested already. What’s the second?” “ If you screw up, you’re dead.”
“ Can I think about it?” “ Too late. You’re train leaves Westminster in less than ten minutes. Be on it.” And on it he was. “ Oh bollocks!” he said under his breath, as he sat on the train. He got off at the same stop as he had before, and made his way to the same house. Here we go again, he thought, as he knocked on the door. This time, there was no answer, at all. Now what do I do? He thought. He looked up and down the road. Nothing there. I wonder if there’s a back way, he thought. He walked along the road a little, and found what he was looking for. A small alleyway leading down the side of the buildings, with access to the rear of the properties. Probably here for the dustbin men, thought dad. He made his way along the alley to where he thought the William’s place was. In front of him was a tall red brick wall, with a gate that was almost off it’s hinges. Far too easy, he thought. He pushed his way through the gate and stood in a large, well kept garden. He looked toward the house. No sign of life, so here goes he thought. Dad trod carefully on the immaculate lawn and reached the house with no problems at all. As he faced the back of the house, there was a set of stairs going up on the right. At the top of the stairs was a door. To the left of the stairs was a small window, leading to a basement room, but the window looked shut, so the obvious choice was the door. He climbed the stairs and had a look through a window into a small kitchen. The place looked deserted, so dad tried the door handle. And sure enough, the door opened, and in he went. It had occurred to dad, that he had no idea what he was looking for. He moved through the kitchen, and stopped at the door on the other side. He listened for any sign of movement, but nothing was apparent. Gently, he pushed open the kitchen door and ventured into the hall. He decided to go to the library, where his earlier meeting had taken place. Maybe something was there. He didn’t know what, but it made sense, didn’t it? The library door was open slightly and dad eased inside, but again found nothing, except a faint smoky atmosphere. Somebody smokes too much, he thought.In the centre of the room was a desk, and it drew dad like a magnet. He still didn’t have a clue what he was looking for, but on the corner of the desk was a note pad. Dad picked it up, and in the light he could make out the words Shipment, Sunday scratched in the surface. “ That’s it,” he whispered to himself tearing off the page, and then the few underneath to hide the imprint. He made his exit, exactly the same way he had come in. I would make a good burglar, he thought to himself, as he made his way back to his office, whistling a merry tune.
***
“ Did he pass the test?” “ Yes,” said the glum one, “ but it should have been harder.” “ All in good time. We like this one. We, that is, the powers that be, believe he has what it takes to become a top agent.” “ Still think the test should have been harder.”
“ Oh, do shut up. You miserable bastard.”
And that’s how it happened. Honest. It’s so easy, anyone could do it. But if Barry knew, then it would have explained a lot. The occasional disappearing dad, the time his mum went missing, and dad had to find lots and lots of money to pay for her return fare. A king’s ransom, or something similar dad called it. Barry never did find out where she went. She didn’t want to talk about it. A strong woman, that Harriet Trotter. Barry didn’t want to pry, so he left it alone. Well alone. But there were also the times when strange guests would arrive, unannounced, wearing dark glasses and long over coats, even in summer, which must have looked bloody obvious, and they always wore trilby hats. Why trilbies? Maybe the fedora shop had sold out. I guess we’ll never know. But the 70’s were a bit weird anyway. The glamour. The fashions. The music. Ah! The music. Remember Showaddywaddy, T.Rex or the Rubbettes. Great times. ( Oh shit! Showing my age.) I digress. There were also the black cars, with tinted windows, parked on every street corner, watching every move. But Barry never really took much notice. He was too busy growing up, playing on his roller skates, or helping his dad in the garage. Barry would have loved to have played on the swings, like normal kids. But an accident involving a swing, a doughnut and a pop bottle finally convinced Barry’s mum and dad that playgrounds were not for the Barry Trotter’s of the World, so Barry’s World was slightly different to most other kids. It was a World wrapped up in cotton wool, and Barry hated it. All Barry ever wanted to be, was normal. Why couldn’t he stick gum in girl’s hair like other kids? Mum had explained, that if that was what he wanted to do, then it was ok by her, but she also reminded him, that eventually he would come off worse, for whatever reason, and that she wasn’t always going to be there to clear up the mess, or ultimately, wipe away his tears. And a good little Barry did as he was told. For now.
***
The school summer holidays were approaching fast, and Barry couldn’t wait. The mega-droid class 1 had been completed, and was ready for it’s first real test. But dad had insisted on waiting until the holidays had started, and hoping that Barry was clumsy free, so that they could both dedicate as much time to the robot as possible.
***
It was the last day of term, and Barry decided to go to school, just so he could enjoy being sent home. He sat and yawned his way through all of his lessons, and when he wasn’t yawning, he was drumming his fingers on his desk, to an imaginary tune. A bit like a postman’s whistle. Tuneless. When the school bell rang at the end of the final lesson, Barry was so impatient, he leapt from his chair to make a quick getaway, only to slam his knee into the underneath of his desk, which lifted off the ground and came straight back down on to Barry’s foot, with an almighty crack.
“ OUCH!!!!” screamed Barry, milliseconds before he passed out.
***
“ It’s only a small break to the metatarsal, but he has a cast on it, to support the bone while it heals,” said the doctor. “ A few weeks and he should be as right as rain. All he has to remember, is to keep the weight off his foot. To start with, two days bed rest and then ease him up gently. He should be able to walk on it, with the aid of crutches, I may add, in about a week.”
“ But mum,” whinged Barry, “ what about the robot?” “ You heard the doctor, Barry. Now shut it.” Barry was taken back by his mother’s quick snap. “ Bugger,” he said in his head, but he always took notice of what she said. Barry’s mum was a tall, skinny woman with a long thin face, short mousy brown hair, and some of the biggest breasts you’ve ever seen. If she had ever taken a career on the stage, it would have been balancing. I can see it all now.
“ Ladies and Gentlemen, presenting the incredible, Trying to stand up in one go woman, Mrs. Harriet Trotter.” It has a certain something. Not quite sure what. But it has something. By coincidence, Harriet also worked in Whitehall, which incredibly, is how she met dad. She was the superior who had told him what a great job he was doing for his country. They didn’t even like each other to start with, but through mutual friends, they got to know each other better, and it wasn’t long before they became an item, and were at it, hammer and tongs, every given opportunity. But after a year, they got married, and less than a year after that, Barry came along, and that, as they say, was that. The sex stopped, almost as quickly as it had started. Although, at this point, I must add, that it is a well-documented fact, that if you don’t want a physical relationship with someone, then the best thing to do, is marry them. Marriage. The ultimate passion killer. Who’d of thought it. Barry’s mum had thought it. She wasn’t daft. It was all part of her plan. One child, and no more. She’d got Barry, and that was enough. She couldn’t be bothered with all that baby stuff. No, not any more. She was happy, and that’s the way she planned to stay. If dad wanted more, he was just going to have to adopt one. Pure and simple. No messing. The end. Well, that’s what she thought about it all. But then, we don’t always get what we want, do we?
***
It was a long week for Barry. Nearly the full seven days, and he was bored. Some of his schoolmates had been round to see him, mostly to laugh at his clumsiness. Zed Hercules, in particular, had been to see Barry two or three times a day, and would bring him sweets and comics. Barry’s favourite comic was Dandy, and Zed had loads of them. So as far as Barry was concerned, Zed could come as often as he wanted. Zed was a bright lad, with dark bushy shoulder length hair, and was a tall lad for his age, with lean features. He lived with his parents, a few streets away, and had been Barry’s friend since both of them could remember.
But Zed had a secret, and not even Barry knew. But Barry wouldn’t have been bothered, because he had decided that Zed was his best friend, in the whole wide world. And that suited Zed, because he liked the robot. A lot. Zed would spend lots of time in the garage, talking to Barry’s dad, about all manner of different things, secret or otherwise. And dad was pleased to have the company, while Barry rested his foot. A few days later, Barry was up and about, being his usual clumsy self. He’d already managed to tip his bowl of porridge on the cat’s head, but the cat didn’t mind. It had so many lumps on it’s head from previous occasions, that this time it hadn’t hurt, and the cat had got the milk, so it was happy. When Barry had helped his mum to throw away the broken bowl, he limped to the garage to see his dad. He was a little surprised to see Zed already there, polishing the front of the robot. “ Blimey! You’re early. Did you wet your bed?” Barry asked, trying to be funny. “ None of your……er, No!” said Zed, who then hurriedly continued to polish the same bit of metal he was doing before. Barry ignored him. “ Hi dad,”
“ Hello boy,” said dad. “ How’s the foot?” But before Barry could answer, dad went on. “ Today’s the day we test the mega-droid. I’ll need your help.” “ Cool,” said Barry. “ Can I help?” asked Zed. “ You already are,” said Barry. “ That’s the best bit of polishing I’ve seen this morning.” Zed noticed the sarcastic overtones, but being bigger than that, he chose to ignore them.
“ Easy boys. There’s plenty to do yet,” said dad. “ Like what?” Barry asked. “ Well, nothing really. I was just joshing. No, all we have to do is give it some life. You know, power.” “ Ahhhhh!” said the boys in unison, but Barry’s “ah” was drawn out slightly longer. “ All we have to do, is connect this cable here, to that mains box there,” said dad. “ Zed, would you do the honours?” asked dad. Barry’s pang of jealousy didn’t last long, as both boys became embroiled in what they were doing. Zed connected the cable, under dad’s careful instruction, and Barry took over the polishing. At last, the robot was ready. “ Ok,” said dad, “ stand well back. We don’t want any little accidents, do we?” That sounded fair enough to Barry, so he stood well back, dragging Zed back with him. Dad moved over to the main switch on the wall, and without a countdown, or anything else, he threw the switch.
There was an almighty silence, followed by the loudest bang the boys had ever witnessed. Barry rocked on his heel, the other being wrapped in plaster, and not wanting to be involved. Where as, Zed, after picking himself up, ran off, very quickly, leaving a small puddle behind. “ What’s the matter with him?” asked dad. “ He had one of those little accidents you didn’t want,” replied Barry. “ What now, dad?” “ Buggered if I know,” said a fatherly figure. They both stared at the robot. Everything was intact, except the inner circuitry was a bit burnt out, but that was all. “ We’ll start again after lunch,” said dad, not to be put off by a silly little noise. “ Right-O,” said Barry, equally enthusiastic. “ Lunch is ready,” called mum, amazingly coincidentally. “ It’s only salad though, coz we’ve got no electricity. Where’s Zed?” “ He had to leave,” said Barry, with a smirk, but meaning no malice at all. “ Such a nice boy,” she started to say, but the men of the house were too busy making their way to the dining room to take any notice.
***
“I’m going to change the circuit board, and I thought about adding a voice program this time,” said dad, over lunch. Barry dropped his fork, which pinned the cat’s tail to the floor. But yet again, the cat didn’t mind. It was the fourth time this week, and today was only Wednesday. “ That would be brilliant,” Barry said, spitting lettuce everywhere. “ Steady lad,” said dad, wiping lettuce from his lap. “ It could take ages, and unfortunately I have to go away next week, so I will do as much as I can during the rest of this week. I may be gone for more than the usual few days. Also,” he added, “ mum is coming with me this time. We’ve arranged for you to stay with Aunt Betty while we’re gone. Shouldn’t be more than a week.” But Barry had already stopped listening. Oh no! he thought, not batty Betty. How could they do this? So close to getting the robot finished. Just not fair. I hate her cooking. The stupid countryside. Cow crap everywhere. Thoughts were rushing through his head. How could he get out of this? “ Do I have to?” Barry asked, knowing what the answer was going to be. “ Don’t be silly, Barry,” said mum. “ You’ll have a lovely time. You can go and see that Penny, at the farm. You came back full of stories about her last time.” That was exactly the point. They were stories. Barry had such a dull time at Aunt Betty’s, he’d invented lots of things that didn’t actually happen. He’d failed to mention the fact that Penny would ridicule him about his clumsiness, and the trouble it had caused. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up the pretence. Oh well, he thought. If he could get dad to send the robot to Aunt Betty’s, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. He’d have something to keep him occupied. He could keep it in the barn, no problem. “ Dad, can you send the robot to Aunt Betty’s?” Barry asked. “ One step ahead of you lad. It’s already sorted.” “ Brilliant,” said Barry, cheering up. “ Ok, I’ll do it.” “ That’s a stroke of luck,” said mum. “ You had no choice.”
***
And then there was Penny. Penny was twelve, eighteen months older than Barry, but ten years wiser. She was every bit a country lass, having worked with her parent’s on the farm since she could walk. Penny was a pretty young thing, with long blond hair and freckles, but you couldn’t call her little. Throwing bails of hay around from the age of four, she had more muscle than an average fish market. Her parents found it hard to keep her in clothes, so they kept her in the barn. She had to make do with her fathers cast off’s because of her size. But she led a happy life and she knew how to enjoy herself. She was fun with a capital F.
She also had a serious side, and a vicious tongue, but the only person to witness this was Barry. She thought he was an idiot, and she had good reason. He cost my folks a fortune, she thought. I won’t forget. I’ll make him pay. Wait until that pillock comes back here. I’ll smash his face in. She was angry over an incident that happened during the last school summer break, and every day she woke up, and threw another dart at a picture of Barry, that she had taken in happier times, before the clumsy one had done his thing. Penny knew that Barry would be back this summer, and she plotted and planned. She was going to get him, good and proper. But in her heart she knew she wouldn’t harm Barry. She wasn’t that kind of girl, and he was just a clumsy prat, she thought. Little did she know that a lot more trouble was on its way. A lot more than even she could have imagined.
Part One
Chapter One-The End
All the best tales start at the beginning, and this is no exception.
Although it must be said, the best tails belong to animals, and I think, personally, that the animals prefer it that way, and who am I to argue. But to help us with this tale, we must start at the end.
The end of the washing machine, the end of the fridge, the old television and the old wireless radio, and the whole ‘old thing’ in general, ( because we learned to move on,) but more importantly, the end of the Apple Mac.
For it was, with these ageing machines, that dad Trotter, with or without the help of his amazingly clumsy son Barry, had somehow managed to build the first mega-droid class 1.
They didn’t bother giving it a name, thinking it wouldn’t last, and not wanting to get too attached. This sorry robot was the prototype for the now popular class 6.
The first five attempts had all met with distasteful destruction, and dad didn’t want to talk about it.
But this time, it was right.
Apparently.
This time, everything was A-OK. Top notch. Tickety boo. Top sausage. Apex
Chipolata. Hot dog, even.
Apparently.
But as you can see, there is still a need to go back to those early days. Mostly, to get away from the food references, and try to establish the plot.
***
It was the mid to late 70’s, and a 10 year old Barry was rushing home from pretending to be at school, as always, to help his father in the garage, which was attached to the side of their home, in the sunny hamlet of Romford, which is attached to the east side of London.
Barry was short for his age, but well built. He had bright ginger hair, which was always cropped, to keep down his school’s head lice problem, and always flat on one side, due to the fact that Barry could only sleep properly on one side, having a nasal disorder which was being looked into. Much to Barry’s disgust. Barry was a likeable lad, who would part with the time of day for anybody, and he adored sweets. But then, show me a ten-year-old that didn’t like sweets and I will show you a liar.
Barry was still rushing. He’d done this a thousand times before, and usually with the same result.
He rushed up the road, he rushed up the drive and he rushed towards the house.
CRASH!!! He went through the front door. CRASH!!! He went through into the kitchen. CRASH!!! He went through to the garden. “ OUCH!!!” He yelled, as he banged his elbow on the doorframe. Barry’s instant lack of concentration and sense of direction saw him crashing head first into the two dustbins, which his mum had just deposited lunchtime’s leftovers.
Dazed and confused, Barry sat up rubbing his knee, smelling of fish heads, mash and ketchup.
“ Why me?” he mumbled as he got up, and brushing himself down, he remembered why he was there. So nursing his bloody knee, he limped to the garage to find his dad.
“ Hi dad,” said Barry, as he entered the garage.
“ Hello lad,” said dad. “ What happened this time? You look a right bloody mess, and I’m really sorry to have to say it, but you stink.” “ It’s not my fault,” said the boy. “ Mum moved the bins again.” Mum had a habit of doing this, so to Barry it seemed a good enough excuse, and the obvious fish tail wedged in his nose didn’t need that much explaining, surely? “ Well that’s alright then,” said Barry’s father, not really listening. “ Pass me that screwdriver. We’re almost finished.”
“ Really? That was quick.” “ That’s what she said last night,” said dad, reminiscing. “ What?”
“ Never mind that, lad. Well, what do you think?” They both stood back to view their handiwork, well, dad’s handiwork really. Barry being the clumsy sort, was more of a spectator, but dad would never let him think that. A screwdriver here, a hammer there. But when it came to the technical stuff, Barry was usually at school, playing footy, or playing truant. It was all the same to Barry. He’d already made up his mind to follow in his father’s footsteps, so school seemed like a waste of time. Not that Barry hadn’t taken it all in. In his head, he was a lot smarter than dad had taken him for. He knew just as much about the robot as dad did, but he didn’t want his dad to look a fool, so he kept quiet. Well, that’s the way Barry saw it. Being a ten-year-old who knew everything was such a burden. Then again, there were things he knew, and there were things he didn’t. He just wasn’t sure whether he should let his defences down, and admit he was wrong, occasionally, or just muddle through the day.
Certain things were about to happen in Barry’s life, that would change his life forever. It hadn’t occurred to Barry before, but he had no idea what his father did for a living, so he asked.
“ Dad.” “ Yes son.” “ Where do you work?” “ I can’t tell you,” “ Why not?”
“ Coz if I tell you, I’ll have to kill you. Hush hush, and all that.”
He might have been confused, but that was good enough for Barry, coz it was good enough for his dad.
Barry’s father, dad, always seemed to be at home these days. There was the odd occasion that dad disappeared for a few days, but he usually turned up again, and nearly always in time for tea. Nothing sinister in disappearing for a few days, you would think, but you’d be wrong wouldn’t you. Of course you would. Barry’s father was, or in fact is, a tall muscular man, very much like Pierce Brosnan, during his James Bond era. He had well groomed hair and a six pack to die for. Unlike myself, I have a party seven, bought and paid for. Dad had worked for the Government in Whitehall since he left school.
Originally, a communications officer, he worked his shift of two days, two nights and four days off, which proves to even the dumbest of animals, there are eight days in a week.
As the years went on, he became more and more curious. Here he was, collecting information from one part of the world, and passing it on to another part, and not knowing much else about what happened in between. So one fine day, dad decided he wanted to know where these messages were coming from, or who? And where they were going, and to who?
He asked his superiors, but they told him, ‘All you need to know is, that you are doing your country a great service’. But that wasn’t good enough. He decided to investigate for himself. One particular message came in, going to an address in North London. Dad memorised the address, and the message, and set off to deliver it himself. It was only a short ride on the underground, and twenty minutes after leaving his office one lunchtime, he arrived at the address he had memorised.
In front of him was a wooden door, which had been painted bright red. He knocked, and after what seemed an eternity, the door finally creaked open to reveal a small old man, dressed in a butler’s outfit. He was bent double and staring at his shoes. “ Hello,” said dad. “ My name is Trotter. I’m from Whitehall. I have a message for a Mr. William’s.”
There was no answer. Maybe he can’t see me, thought dad, so he sat on the doorstep to look up into the butler’s eyes.
“ Ah, there you are,” said the old man. “ What do you want? I haven’t got all day you know.”
“I have a message for Mr. Williams.” “ William has a massage. What? At this hour? He doesn’t usually do that sort of thing until after I’ve gone to bed. Thinks I don’t know.” “ No. I have a message for…Look, is he in?” “ What? You’ll have to speak up.” This was harder than dad had expected. Maybe that’s why they use machines, he thought. “ Is Mr. Williams here?” dad asked, raising his voice. “ Who’s there?” asked a man in the background. “ Somebody offering a massage, sir,” said the old man. How come he could hear him? thought dad. “ A bit early, isn’t it? Oh well, they better come in. The library is free. Wait for me there.”
The old butler stood to one side, and let dad make his entrance. The old man closed the door and lead dad to the library. “ Wait in there, sir. He won’t be long. He’s getting changed.” “ What for?” dad asked. “ It’s better with no clothes on, trust me.” Dad was wondering if he’d done the right thing. How difficult could it be to deliver a simple message?
He paced the room and tried to find something interesting to look at, but this was a library, and dad wasn’t particularly a book person, so he decided to take a seat and polish his shoes with a handkerchief that he pulled from his inside pocket. A few minutes had passed, when a stout chap came in the room, closing the door behind him. Dad stood up quickly, remembering his manners and looked at the figure in front of him. The fellow was dressed in an ill fitting, silk dressing gown, and had afghan carpet slippers on his feet. “ Now, what’s this all about? I didn’t ask for a massage.” “ That’s a stroke of luck,” said dad. “ I’m not here to give you one.” “ Well, out with it man. Why are you here? And hurry up. I haven’t got all day.”
He walks around in his dressing gown, and he hasn’t got all day, thought dad. “ I have a message, from Whitehall.”
“ For me?” the man said, looking a little surprised. “ Yes.” “ Well, what is it then?” “ Oh, right. The shipment will be ready on Sunday.” “ Is that it?” “ Afraid so,” said dad. “ Are you sure?” “ Certain,” said dad. “Oh well, thanks for coming.”
“ No problem,” said dad, thinking how easy it had been, and wondering why there was all this need for machines.
“ Before you go, can I ask you something?” “ Of course,” said dad. “ Can you just do my back for me?”
***
When he returned to his office, he was met by a glum looking individual, who pulled him to one side.
“ Ah, Trotter. Glad to see you made it back in one piece. Satisfied the old curiosity, have we?” Dad looked surprised, but didn’t understand. “ Only, that message you’ve just delivered,” continued the glum one, “ has just been handed to the wrong people. A simple mistake to make, but nevertheless, we, that is, the powers that be, want it back. And seeing as you know where it is, we, that is, the powers that be, have decided that you should go and retrieve it.” “ What, on my own?” said dad, in utter amazement. “ Well, old chap. You were curious enough to take it.” “ But, I’ll need help, surely?” “ Ah, help is it? Well, all I can say is, that as much as we like you, and as much as we want to help, I’m afraid you’re on your own. All you have to know are two things. Firstly, if you get through this in one piece, we, that is, the powers that be, may have other work for you, almost definitely in the same field.” “ Sounds good to me. I’m interested already. What’s the second?” “ If you screw up, you’re dead.”
“ Can I think about it?” “ Too late. You’re train leaves Westminster in less than ten minutes. Be on it.” And on it he was. “ Oh bollocks!” he said under his breath, as he sat on the train. He got off at the same stop as he had before, and made his way to the same house. Here we go again, he thought, as he knocked on the door. This time, there was no answer, at all. Now what do I do? He thought. He looked up and down the road. Nothing there. I wonder if there’s a back way, he thought. He walked along the road a little, and found what he was looking for. A small alleyway leading down the side of the buildings, with access to the rear of the properties. Probably here for the dustbin men, thought dad. He made his way along the alley to where he thought the William’s place was. In front of him was a tall red brick wall, with a gate that was almost off it’s hinges. Far too easy, he thought. He pushed his way through the gate and stood in a large, well kept garden. He looked toward the house. No sign of life, so here goes he thought. Dad trod carefully on the immaculate lawn and reached the house with no problems at all. As he faced the back of the house, there was a set of stairs going up on the right. At the top of the stairs was a door. To the left of the stairs was a small window, leading to a basement room, but the window looked shut, so the obvious choice was the door. He climbed the stairs and had a look through a window into a small kitchen. The place looked deserted, so dad tried the door handle. And sure enough, the door opened, and in he went. It had occurred to dad, that he had no idea what he was looking for. He moved through the kitchen, and stopped at the door on the other side. He listened for any sign of movement, but nothing was apparent. Gently, he pushed open the kitchen door and ventured into the hall. He decided to go to the library, where his earlier meeting had taken place. Maybe something was there. He didn’t know what, but it made sense, didn’t it? The library door was open slightly and dad eased inside, but again found nothing, except a faint smoky atmosphere. Somebody smokes too much, he thought.In the centre of the room was a desk, and it drew dad like a magnet. He still didn’t have a clue what he was looking for, but on the corner of the desk was a note pad. Dad picked it up, and in the light he could make out the words Shipment, Sunday scratched in the surface. “ That’s it,” he whispered to himself tearing off the page, and then the few underneath to hide the imprint. He made his exit, exactly the same way he had come in. I would make a good burglar, he thought to himself, as he made his way back to his office, whistling a merry tune.
***
“ Did he pass the test?” “ Yes,” said the glum one, “ but it should have been harder.” “ All in good time. We like this one. We, that is, the powers that be, believe he has what it takes to become a top agent.” “ Still think the test should have been harder.”
“ Oh, do shut up. You miserable bastard.”
And that’s how it happened. Honest. It’s so easy, anyone could do it. But if Barry knew, then it would have explained a lot. The occasional disappearing dad, the time his mum went missing, and dad had to find lots and lots of money to pay for her return fare. A king’s ransom, or something similar dad called it. Barry never did find out where she went. She didn’t want to talk about it. A strong woman, that Harriet Trotter. Barry didn’t want to pry, so he left it alone. Well alone. But there were also the times when strange guests would arrive, unannounced, wearing dark glasses and long over coats, even in summer, which must have looked bloody obvious, and they always wore trilby hats. Why trilbies? Maybe the fedora shop had sold out. I guess we’ll never know. But the 70’s were a bit weird anyway. The glamour. The fashions. The music. Ah! The music. Remember Showaddywaddy, T.Rex or the Rubbettes. Great times. ( Oh shit! Showing my age.) I digress. There were also the black cars, with tinted windows, parked on every street corner, watching every move. But Barry never really took much notice. He was too busy growing up, playing on his roller skates, or helping his dad in the garage. Barry would have loved to have played on the swings, like normal kids. But an accident involving a swing, a doughnut and a pop bottle finally convinced Barry’s mum and dad that playgrounds were not for the Barry Trotter’s of the World, so Barry’s World was slightly different to most other kids. It was a World wrapped up in cotton wool, and Barry hated it. All Barry ever wanted to be, was normal. Why couldn’t he stick gum in girl’s hair like other kids? Mum had explained, that if that was what he wanted to do, then it was ok by her, but she also reminded him, that eventually he would come off worse, for whatever reason, and that she wasn’t always going to be there to clear up the mess, or ultimately, wipe away his tears. And a good little Barry did as he was told. For now.
***
The school summer holidays were approaching fast, and Barry couldn’t wait. The mega-droid class 1 had been completed, and was ready for it’s first real test. But dad had insisted on waiting until the holidays had started, and hoping that Barry was clumsy free, so that they could both dedicate as much time to the robot as possible.
***
It was the last day of term, and Barry decided to go to school, just so he could enjoy being sent home. He sat and yawned his way through all of his lessons, and when he wasn’t yawning, he was drumming his fingers on his desk, to an imaginary tune. A bit like a postman’s whistle. Tuneless. When the school bell rang at the end of the final lesson, Barry was so impatient, he leapt from his chair to make a quick getaway, only to slam his knee into the underneath of his desk, which lifted off the ground and came straight back down on to Barry’s foot, with an almighty crack.
“ OUCH!!!!” screamed Barry, milliseconds before he passed out.
***
“ It’s only a small break to the metatarsal, but he has a cast on it, to support the bone while it heals,” said the doctor. “ A few weeks and he should be as right as rain. All he has to remember, is to keep the weight off his foot. To start with, two days bed rest and then ease him up gently. He should be able to walk on it, with the aid of crutches, I may add, in about a week.”
“ But mum,” whinged Barry, “ what about the robot?” “ You heard the doctor, Barry. Now shut it.” Barry was taken back by his mother’s quick snap. “ Bugger,” he said in his head, but he always took notice of what she said. Barry’s mum was a tall, skinny woman with a long thin face, short mousy brown hair, and some of the biggest breasts you’ve ever seen. If she had ever taken a career on the stage, it would have been balancing. I can see it all now.
“ Ladies and Gentlemen, presenting the incredible, Trying to stand up in one go woman, Mrs. Harriet Trotter.” It has a certain something. Not quite sure what. But it has something. By coincidence, Harriet also worked in Whitehall, which incredibly, is how she met dad. She was the superior who had told him what a great job he was doing for his country. They didn’t even like each other to start with, but through mutual friends, they got to know each other better, and it wasn’t long before they became an item, and were at it, hammer and tongs, every given opportunity. But after a year, they got married, and less than a year after that, Barry came along, and that, as they say, was that. The sex stopped, almost as quickly as it had started. Although, at this point, I must add, that it is a well-documented fact, that if you don’t want a physical relationship with someone, then the best thing to do, is marry them. Marriage. The ultimate passion killer. Who’d of thought it. Barry’s mum had thought it. She wasn’t daft. It was all part of her plan. One child, and no more. She’d got Barry, and that was enough. She couldn’t be bothered with all that baby stuff. No, not any more. She was happy, and that’s the way she planned to stay. If dad wanted more, he was just going to have to adopt one. Pure and simple. No messing. The end. Well, that’s what she thought about it all. But then, we don’t always get what we want, do we?
***
It was a long week for Barry. Nearly the full seven days, and he was bored. Some of his schoolmates had been round to see him, mostly to laugh at his clumsiness. Zed Hercules, in particular, had been to see Barry two or three times a day, and would bring him sweets and comics. Barry’s favourite comic was Dandy, and Zed had loads of them. So as far as Barry was concerned, Zed could come as often as he wanted. Zed was a bright lad, with dark bushy shoulder length hair, and was a tall lad for his age, with lean features. He lived with his parents, a few streets away, and had been Barry’s friend since both of them could remember.
But Zed had a secret, and not even Barry knew. But Barry wouldn’t have been bothered, because he had decided that Zed was his best friend, in the whole wide world. And that suited Zed, because he liked the robot. A lot. Zed would spend lots of time in the garage, talking to Barry’s dad, about all manner of different things, secret or otherwise. And dad was pleased to have the company, while Barry rested his foot. A few days later, Barry was up and about, being his usual clumsy self. He’d already managed to tip his bowl of porridge on the cat’s head, but the cat didn’t mind. It had so many lumps on it’s head from previous occasions, that this time it hadn’t hurt, and the cat had got the milk, so it was happy. When Barry had helped his mum to throw away the broken bowl, he limped to the garage to see his dad. He was a little surprised to see Zed already there, polishing the front of the robot. “ Blimey! You’re early. Did you wet your bed?” Barry asked, trying to be funny. “ None of your……er, No!” said Zed, who then hurriedly continued to polish the same bit of metal he was doing before. Barry ignored him. “ Hi dad,”
“ Hello boy,” said dad. “ How’s the foot?” But before Barry could answer, dad went on. “ Today’s the day we test the mega-droid. I’ll need your help.” “ Cool,” said Barry. “ Can I help?” asked Zed. “ You already are,” said Barry. “ That’s the best bit of polishing I’ve seen this morning.” Zed noticed the sarcastic overtones, but being bigger than that, he chose to ignore them.
“ Easy boys. There’s plenty to do yet,” said dad. “ Like what?” Barry asked. “ Well, nothing really. I was just joshing. No, all we have to do is give it some life. You know, power.” “ Ahhhhh!” said the boys in unison, but Barry’s “ah” was drawn out slightly longer. “ All we have to do, is connect this cable here, to that mains box there,” said dad. “ Zed, would you do the honours?” asked dad. Barry’s pang of jealousy didn’t last long, as both boys became embroiled in what they were doing. Zed connected the cable, under dad’s careful instruction, and Barry took over the polishing. At last, the robot was ready. “ Ok,” said dad, “ stand well back. We don’t want any little accidents, do we?” That sounded fair enough to Barry, so he stood well back, dragging Zed back with him. Dad moved over to the main switch on the wall, and without a countdown, or anything else, he threw the switch.
There was an almighty silence, followed by the loudest bang the boys had ever witnessed. Barry rocked on his heel, the other being wrapped in plaster, and not wanting to be involved. Where as, Zed, after picking himself up, ran off, very quickly, leaving a small puddle behind. “ What’s the matter with him?” asked dad. “ He had one of those little accidents you didn’t want,” replied Barry. “ What now, dad?” “ Buggered if I know,” said a fatherly figure. They both stared at the robot. Everything was intact, except the inner circuitry was a bit burnt out, but that was all. “ We’ll start again after lunch,” said dad, not to be put off by a silly little noise. “ Right-O,” said Barry, equally enthusiastic. “ Lunch is ready,” called mum, amazingly coincidentally. “ It’s only salad though, coz we’ve got no electricity. Where’s Zed?” “ He had to leave,” said Barry, with a smirk, but meaning no malice at all. “ Such a nice boy,” she started to say, but the men of the house were too busy making their way to the dining room to take any notice.
***
“I’m going to change the circuit board, and I thought about adding a voice program this time,” said dad, over lunch. Barry dropped his fork, which pinned the cat’s tail to the floor. But yet again, the cat didn’t mind. It was the fourth time this week, and today was only Wednesday. “ That would be brilliant,” Barry said, spitting lettuce everywhere. “ Steady lad,” said dad, wiping lettuce from his lap. “ It could take ages, and unfortunately I have to go away next week, so I will do as much as I can during the rest of this week. I may be gone for more than the usual few days. Also,” he added, “ mum is coming with me this time. We’ve arranged for you to stay with Aunt Betty while we’re gone. Shouldn’t be more than a week.” But Barry had already stopped listening. Oh no! he thought, not batty Betty. How could they do this? So close to getting the robot finished. Just not fair. I hate her cooking. The stupid countryside. Cow crap everywhere. Thoughts were rushing through his head. How could he get out of this? “ Do I have to?” Barry asked, knowing what the answer was going to be. “ Don’t be silly, Barry,” said mum. “ You’ll have a lovely time. You can go and see that Penny, at the farm. You came back full of stories about her last time.” That was exactly the point. They were stories. Barry had such a dull time at Aunt Betty’s, he’d invented lots of things that didn’t actually happen. He’d failed to mention the fact that Penny would ridicule him about his clumsiness, and the trouble it had caused. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up the pretence. Oh well, he thought. If he could get dad to send the robot to Aunt Betty’s, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. He’d have something to keep him occupied. He could keep it in the barn, no problem. “ Dad, can you send the robot to Aunt Betty’s?” Barry asked. “ One step ahead of you lad. It’s already sorted.” “ Brilliant,” said Barry, cheering up. “ Ok, I’ll do it.” “ That’s a stroke of luck,” said mum. “ You had no choice.”
***
And then there was Penny. Penny was twelve, eighteen months older than Barry, but ten years wiser. She was every bit a country lass, having worked with her parent’s on the farm since she could walk. Penny was a pretty young thing, with long blond hair and freckles, but you couldn’t call her little. Throwing bails of hay around from the age of four, she had more muscle than an average fish market. Her parents found it hard to keep her in clothes, so they kept her in the barn. She had to make do with her fathers cast off’s because of her size. But she led a happy life and she knew how to enjoy herself. She was fun with a capital F.
She also had a serious side, and a vicious tongue, but the only person to witness this was Barry. She thought he was an idiot, and she had good reason. He cost my folks a fortune, she thought. I won’t forget. I’ll make him pay. Wait until that pillock comes back here. I’ll smash his face in. She was angry over an incident that happened during the last school summer break, and every day she woke up, and threw another dart at a picture of Barry, that she had taken in happier times, before the clumsy one had done his thing. Penny knew that Barry would be back this summer, and she plotted and planned. She was going to get him, good and proper. But in her heart she knew she wouldn’t harm Barry. She wasn’t that kind of girl, and he was just a clumsy prat, she thought. Little did she know that a lot more trouble was on its way. A lot more than even she could have imagined.
Thursday, 26 November 2009
Night Shift News
The box flu pandemic sweeping the building has now blown itself out the main door, and things are slowly returning to Norman, who we believe started it all. Staff levels are higher than normal for this time of year, due to casual's. And the Management are happy with themselves for helping to restore love and goodwill to all men.
In other news, Badger baiting and fox hunting have been banned from the grounds of the car park. This is to fall in line with EU policy dated 1990. Fox baiting and Badger hunting is still allowed.
And more sport updates, badger hunting and fox baiting will only be permitted during lunch breaks and not during office hours. A spokesman for the Badger Hunting and Fox Baiting Trust said, " We're entitled to our breaks you know." The Whale Hunting Jap Death Group are looking for alternatives.
Other sporting news just in. This years auto level speedway track has been moved to the fuel area. The organiser said that it should make things easier for faster times... " Twice around the pump should be enough to get the adrenalin pumping, and we're closer to refuelling."
And lastly, the Kayak Parking Challenge has had to be postponed for the 49th consecutive year due to weather problems. Pity really, as this would have marked the 50th anniversary.
In other news, Badger baiting and fox hunting have been banned from the grounds of the car park. This is to fall in line with EU policy dated 1990. Fox baiting and Badger hunting is still allowed.
And more sport updates, badger hunting and fox baiting will only be permitted during lunch breaks and not during office hours. A spokesman for the Badger Hunting and Fox Baiting Trust said, " We're entitled to our breaks you know." The Whale Hunting Jap Death Group are looking for alternatives.
Other sporting news just in. This years auto level speedway track has been moved to the fuel area. The organiser said that it should make things easier for faster times... " Twice around the pump should be enough to get the adrenalin pumping, and we're closer to refuelling."
And lastly, the Kayak Parking Challenge has had to be postponed for the 49th consecutive year due to weather problems. Pity really, as this would have marked the 50th anniversary.
Wednesday, 25 November 2009
Justtin - The synopsis
A few years ago I wrote a book called Justtin, but not many people got to read it. So I intend to recreate the entire book here, with a few added bits and a few taken away. And to clear things up from the start, my main character Barry Trotter, was an idea before the Barry Trotter books hit the high street. I can't prove anything of course, but trust me, I could have picked any name. But then, maybe some of the jokes wouldn't have worked as well. And Yes, to start with it was a slight on Harry Potter. I wish I hadn't said that. Sorry JK. Now on with the synopsis....
JUSTTIN - The Synopsis
Barry Trotter has an undying love for his Dad, but when that is taken away, where does he turn?
Where else?
His friends, that's where.
There's Barry's best mate Zed, a 10 year old secret agent. Penny Bond, the farm girl who also has family in the secret service, and Aunt B, ex SAS, who has a passion for cooking everything that isn't good for you, dressing bizarrely, and also has a rocket launcher for a leg.
But first and foremost, there is Justtin. A seven foot tall robot with attitude. If you have a problem, run it past Justtin first, then seek help.
Together they embark on a ridiculous journey, with a cast of just a few others, including Barry's alternative dad, a squirrel, to find what the are looking for, even if it's not exactly where they left it.
Confused? Good! Now i have you on your back foot, read some more.
Eventually you will want to fall over...tired or otherwise.
Justtin says " Get your tins out for the lads".
JUSTTIN - The Synopsis
Barry Trotter has an undying love for his Dad, but when that is taken away, where does he turn?
Where else?
His friends, that's where.
There's Barry's best mate Zed, a 10 year old secret agent. Penny Bond, the farm girl who also has family in the secret service, and Aunt B, ex SAS, who has a passion for cooking everything that isn't good for you, dressing bizarrely, and also has a rocket launcher for a leg.
But first and foremost, there is Justtin. A seven foot tall robot with attitude. If you have a problem, run it past Justtin first, then seek help.
Together they embark on a ridiculous journey, with a cast of just a few others, including Barry's alternative dad, a squirrel, to find what the are looking for, even if it's not exactly where they left it.
Confused? Good! Now i have you on your back foot, read some more.
Eventually you will want to fall over...tired or otherwise.
Justtin says " Get your tins out for the lads".
Night Shift 3
Another night over and it was as busy as I expected. The figures don't lie. Although some would like you to believe otherwise. And whatever happened to teamwork??? Only asking!!
Other news reveals that Dens ear could be worse than originally thought. Box Flu is now sweeping the building at an alarming rate. Symptoms to look out for are, over reacting to the slightest thing, and shouting loudly WHILE TYPING. I'm sure a cure for this can be found, as scientists and medical staff all over the shop floor are taking DNA tests from all boxes, and the occasional auto level, to put a stop to this quickly spreading lurgy.
Meanwhile in sports, Spot The Nutter has reached the semi final stage, but due to new competition rules, we are not allowed to know the contestants, so this years Final will be a somewhat subdued affair.
On a final note, a reminder to all those who have brought their binoculars. Please have them ready for the nights of December 15th and 16th, as we will be trying our best to see the far end of the building.
Other news reveals that Dens ear could be worse than originally thought. Box Flu is now sweeping the building at an alarming rate. Symptoms to look out for are, over reacting to the slightest thing, and shouting loudly WHILE TYPING. I'm sure a cure for this can be found, as scientists and medical staff all over the shop floor are taking DNA tests from all boxes, and the occasional auto level, to put a stop to this quickly spreading lurgy.
Meanwhile in sports, Spot The Nutter has reached the semi final stage, but due to new competition rules, we are not allowed to know the contestants, so this years Final will be a somewhat subdued affair.
On a final note, a reminder to all those who have brought their binoculars. Please have them ready for the nights of December 15th and 16th, as we will be trying our best to see the far end of the building.
Tuesday, 24 November 2009
UFO'S. Another answer
During an online Astronomy lecture that i listened to a few years ago, as part of my Astronomy 101 course, the question came up about UFO'S. The existence of life on other planets etc etc. One of the Professors I had contact with at the the time at Berkeley University , (English guy, but forgotten his name) made it very simple for me to understand. UFO's are exactly that...Unidentified Flying Objects or even easier, Unclassified Flying Objects. He went on to say, " Imagine the Universe being born out of the same stuff, where all life itself begins at the same time. Now imagine that the Earth is created with all it's meteor strikes, volcanoes and earthquakes, and then it finally settles down and becomes a haven for life. Then after millions of years we get dinosaurs, and they are wiped out, by what we assume to be a massive meteor strike. And then life started all over again, but this time man became the dominant race, then we lead up to present day.
If you put all these equations together and assume that life everywhere has had the same problems as Earth had back then, then we can also assume that life elsewhere will be on a level par to us. The result being, simply, that yes, life exists on other planets, but given the time scale, they are technologically about the same as we are and therefore UFO'S are a figment of someone's imagination."
Most UFO sightings have been explained away quite easily, as either a plane or a weather balloon, and as no concrete evidence has been put on the table for everyone to stare at, I have to go along with the Professor.
I would love to believe in the little green man, but the guy has a point. Contact???... I doubt it for a very long time.
If you put all these equations together and assume that life everywhere has had the same problems as Earth had back then, then we can also assume that life elsewhere will be on a level par to us. The result being, simply, that yes, life exists on other planets, but given the time scale, they are technologically about the same as we are and therefore UFO'S are a figment of someone's imagination."
Most UFO sightings have been explained away quite easily, as either a plane or a weather balloon, and as no concrete evidence has been put on the table for everyone to stare at, I have to go along with the Professor.
I would love to believe in the little green man, but the guy has a point. Contact???... I doubt it for a very long time.
Night Shift 2
Not a lot to report about last night. The subject of Den's ear came up in Work Time Learning, reported as an official accident, ( you heard it here ( ear ) first folks). It was such a slow long night. I mean, Mondays are generally slow. Always have been, but last night more than usual. The worrying thing is, how much work are we going to be hit with tonight. Tuesday night is generally our heaviest night. ( One extreme to the other.) And the chances of getting away early fade into the distance, at an incredible speed. Such is life. We do what we do, and we get paid.
Saturday, 21 November 2009
Night shift 1
This will be an on going blog about life at work. Tonight was a bit dull. I didn't get the chance to read any of Douglas Adams Hitch Hikers Trilogy of four books. His funny, not mine. I can be funny, don't get me wrong, but Douglas Adams is in a different class. So apart from the Flat sorting machine breaking down a lot, the highlight has to be the box that damaged Dennis's ear. I didn't actually see it happen, otherwise there would be more to this blog, but the box drew blood. And not on the outside of his ear, but the inside. I'm a bit baffled by that. At least I'll have something to think about next week when I go back to Webby's domain. Must remember to fill up my Ipod.
Friday, 20 November 2009
Hello, and welcome to my blog
Hi. I'm new to all this, but I'm sure it won't take me long to get the hang of it. Firstly, I have no idea what to blog about, so I will just ramble on until I get the hang of it. Oops, said that already. Well I guess I'm going to have to be careful what I say until I get the hang of it. Can you see a pattern emerging? Never mind. I'll get the...and there it ended. Someone shot me.
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