29 August 2014

Boiled Cabbage

Case 1: The Case of the Missing Turnips (Part 3)

14th June
     
Woke up and felt ill. It was either mums boiled cabbage or the punch to the stomach I got when collared by Clare Flynn's dad on the way home from a disappointing day looking for clues. I had decided to start at the end of the village which happened to be the park, saw that nobody was around and ended up playing on the swings. It gave me time to think, swinging backwards and forwards, without a care in the world. After some 3 hours of swinging, the kids that had been waiting for a go decided to take action and push me off. Slightly annoyed at this I thought about reclaiming the swing, giving up when a number of the kids mums decided to gather around me and vent their anger. I decided it best to get back to searching for clues, although coming up with nothing unfortunately. Getting hit in the stomach upon returning to our house certainly did bring some things up and it certainly wasn't clues about turnips or missing pigs. I tried to apologise to Clare Flynns dad, stating that I was deeply involved in an important mission but he was having none of it. So putting my ill health to this blow to the stomach and not mums boiled cabbages I decided to stay in bed and think about what to do next and also watch the paint dry on my newly decorated walls. Pink wasn't really my colour but I had no say in the matter. Jock the Block as he was known (him being Scottish and a bodybuilder) had done some decorating and being mums "friend" thought that pink would suit me. I just think it's their way of getting me to move out and having a laugh at my expense, thinking I wouldn't want to live in a pink coloured room. I'd show them. So I watched the paint dry, the case could wait.

Then shouting from downstairs shattered the silence. Forgetting to dress and forgetting the slippery carpet, I tripped and fell down the stairs. I flew towards the carpet below. It was a heavy landing, not helped because Jock the Block had been moving cupboards. That too decided it wanted to fall down the stairs at the same time; must have knocked it in the mayhem. We met at the bottom with a loud crash. It was a cupboard no more and I wasn't exactly in tip top shape either. The splinters would take days to remove. Moving all the broken bits of wood away I turned to see that mum was being held hostage. A short woman (well they were wearing a dress and a pair of female slippers so I assumed they were) was holding what looked like a plastic hammer and wearing a balaclava. She/they were struggling to hold mum but she still managed looked at me and in a terrible impersonation of a deep mans voice spoke.

"Sonny!" , she said. I told her my name was John. "John", she said. I congratulated them on getting it right. "Don't work on this case, otherwise you and your mother will be in great danger". 

Wanting to delay her I tried to make conversation.  I told her that mum was past it anyway. I got a stare from mum but that was probably more to do with standing there naked than the comment. The mystery person looked at mum and seemed to agree with her. Seizing her moment she dropped mum to the floor and fled shouting we had been warned. Leaving mum to pick herself up I gave chase. But by the time I reached the gate they had gone, they certainly moved rather swiftly for someone wearing slippers and anyway I needed to visit the loo and being naked didn't help. The days events had taken their toll not only on my body but my stomach, head, arms and toes and I needed to do some explaining to mum. The case felt like it was moving forward somewhat, but who was the mystery person? Were they the kidnappers of the pigs and thieves of the turnips? I was about to find out.

To be continued.....

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24 August 2014

Bringing Home the Bacon

Case 1: The Case of the Missing Turnips

13th June 

Awoke to the smell of cooking bacon. Stood up to see mum finish the last bit off, was curious about why I had woken up in the kitchen? Couldn't think why and was annoyed that mum had had all the bacon. Cornflakes as always then. Sulking I sat and read the Leyhill Echo, our local paper. There was a story about a strange looking man; who smelt of bacon, was covered in muck and had no socks or wellies on. He was seen wondering around shouting it was a rash decision nicking his pigs and he'd fry them if he found out who had done it. Didn't make much sense to me so I thought nothing more of it and looked at the problem pages.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. I ran to answer it, slipping on the doormat and hitting it full in the face. At the doorstep was Mrs Johnson, the local farmers wife. She was crying for some reason. Having just smacked my face in the door I felt it should be me crying. She let herself in...and her dog, two cats and various other creatures that seemed to have attached themselves to her. She went into the living room and settled herself, the animals dispersed themselves into the kitchen and any other place where food was available. After waiting for me to make her a cuppa, several hints were made before I realised, she began her terrifying tale. It was all a little confusing at this point.

"It happened at two this morning. Myself and my husband were asleep, he was snoring. I awoke to hear strange sounds coming from the yard. Slightly scared I woke up Mr Johnson, he was grateful for this as he had been having a nightmare about his wife."

There was a momentary pause and after picking her nose she continued. "Anyway, I told him what was happening. He climbed out of bed. Putting on his wellies and picking up his shotgun, he decided to head straight to the yard, telling me to be quiet, which was a bit of a cheek considering he snored so loudly. Bravely he walked down the stairs, treading on the cats tail. The cat bit him. He bit the cat. After a brief scuffle he walked outside and found footprints in the mud. So he followed them and eventually arrived at the pig sty, after a terrible journey. He fell into the water trough, walked into the tractor, tripped and landed in the cow dung, also losing both wellies in the process. At the pig sty he found the gate was open. Some swine had stolen the pigs! and upon further inspection our supply of turnips had gone missing." 

So that was what the Leyhill Echo had been rabbiting on about. Mrs Johnson had stood up at this point and was shaking me violently, pleading for my help. She eventually put me down, what with her being taller than me. I told her I would think about it, wondering why she had come to me in the first place. I mean I pretended to be a detective but had actually never done any detecting of note, apart from when I had lost my wellies and discovered through elimination of the shoes on the shoe rack that mum had borrowed them.

"You have PI on your front door" she explained. 

I gave her a puzzled look and after she had gone, and the various animals she had brought with her as well a trail of pig muck on the carpet I checked the front door. Sure enough it said PI, although upon closer inspection I found that a slug trail had turned the number 1 into a P. Thus my detecting days started. I ran back inside eager to get going. Gathering my bits and pieces together I ran for the door. Mum was leaving at the same time (some ale tasting afternoon at the cricket club!) and I tried to beat her to the door. She won, slamming it shut in my face. 

Fully recovered I got to the front gate meeting our neighbour Mrs Wilcox. She had a strange look about her, perhaps the balaclava was a bit of a giveaway, and she was holding a large amount of money. I knew that because the bag had swag in large letters all over it. I asked her where she had got the money from.

"Selling some animals and vegetables I had acquired" she replied rather sheepishly.

I didn't know she had a vegetable patch and found this a little strange. She walked off shaking her head and muttering under her smelly breath. Turning away from my house I suddenly got a wack to the head from a hard object. It was from our other neighbour, Clare Flynn, who had been playing cricket. Picking up the bat I threw it back, hitting her right in the stomach. She ran home crying, I had a case to solve, so little time for sentiment. I needed to find a clue as to who had stolen the pigs and why anyone would want to nick some turnips? The case was well and truly up and running. 

To be continued.......


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19 August 2014

The Adventures of John Wilson the Countryside Detective

Case 1: The Case of the Missing Turnips

12th June

Woke up and fell over. Had got my pyjamas in a twist, been sitting on the loo and dropped back into sleep, in a moment of panic had tried to pull them up. Lack of space and dreariness were contributing factors . There was a coldness about the place. Maybe that had something to do with it being 5am and the toilet being at the bottom of the garden. I stumbled back to my room, pyjamas still twisted, deciding that breakfast would be first on the agenda. The life of a detective was full of difficulties and tough decisions. I put on my tuxedo and shorts and then tiptoed down the stairs, trying to avoid those bits of carpet that are worn and slippery and can take you on a tumble downwards to the floor below. I got away with it this time. 

I moved swiftly towards the kitchen table, sliding onto a chair and nearly sliding off the other end. Suddenly I felt breathing behind me. Whoever it was had bad breath. Slowly I turned, picking the small water pistol from my array of weaponry concealed within my tuxedo. I was ready for the unexpected. Turning quickly I discovered it was Mum. 

"Your Breakfast will be ready shortly, so be patient", she barked. 

I sat back, tipping the chair too far. Falling over was becoming something of a regularity it seemed. After my cornflakes I washed, which wasn't easy when wearing a tuxedo. Changing from my now soaking wet clothes into my more casual detecting gear; long dark coat and shorts. I set about the day in a positive frame of mind, all be it with a slight headache from the events of earlier. I had a feeling that today was going to be a good day, a day were my detecting skills would make me the talk of the village and it's surrounding areas. I'd be in the local paper, perhaps even the county news letter? I'd be a hero. 

I abruptly came back to reality, as a whiff of something horrible hit my nose. I had been daydreaming and found myself outside the toilet once again, mum was inside. Turning sharply to avoid any further stench from the toilet I returned to the house. I looked at my watch. It had stopped. In fact time seemed to have stopped and the day passed uneventfully as most days did. I went to bed that night unaware of the events that were about to change my life for at least the next week. The Case of the Missing Turnips was about to begin.  


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