Snippets of Downshire Life – The Shortest Day

 

The village of Clarence is in the Finchbottom Vale, which was nestled comfortably between the Ancient Dancingdean Forest to the south and the rolling Pepperstock Hills in the north, those who are lucky enough to live there think of it as the rose between two thorns.

The Vale was once a great wetland that centuries earlier stretched from Mornington in the East to Childean in the west and from Shallowfield in the south to Purplemere in the north.

There were only three small bodies of water left in the Vale now one in Mornington, one in Childean and third of course was Purplemere, which is where Clarence is situated and where our story takes place.

 

It was the shortest day of the year and it was a cold and grey December morning and there was a biting wind that made Paul Knights skin tingle and take his breath away as he busied himself running errands around the village.
But after all the errands were complete he headed towards The Rose and Crown where he took refuge in the bar and made himself comfortable beside the fire.

Paul was preparing to get on the outside of a pint of Mornington Ale and a large Brandy when his eyes were drawn to the centre of the room where a striking blonde was sitting with her long slender legs crossed.

She had a pen in one hand and a large drink in the other and she was concentrating on something, that made her frown, a crossword clue or perhaps a Sudoku and her bottom lip pursed slightly downward almost like a wilting pink rose petal.
He noted that her eye, kind of crinkled up, and that combined with a slight inclination of her head, gave him the impression she was confused and he assumed her confusion was over whatever it was she was studying.

He took a sip of Ale and turned his attention to his newspaper and then he noticed that the room had got brighter and looked up to find a flash of golden light in the hair of the blonde as if her golden curls had ignited, but it was lit by a shaft of sunlight which had burst through the grey December skies.

He smiled at the sight of the sun, because it was the shortest day and to have that short day full of greyness and gloom was quite depressing and he would have been content with the sun’s appearance for that reason alone, but then Paul’s gaze fell upon the Blonde again and he realised the sun had made her squint and this in turn screwed up her nose and caused her to sneeze.
She sneezed quite indelicately and then again and again and this fit of sneezing had an added interest to him because apart from the obvious effects the shaft of sunlight brightening the room, or setting her blonde curls ablaze, it had also rendered her blouse quite transparent and she had little else on beneath it, and each sneeze caused the contents to rearrange themselves rather delightfully within her non-existent blouse and her sneezing fit had taken on a more sensual quality, he took a moment to look around the room and realised he was the only patron looking in her direction and was therefore enjoying a private show, but alas all too soon the sneezing stopped, but he was pleased to see that her breathing had not and he watched with lustful fascination as she took each subsequent breath, while she was blissfully unaware that her blouse had become translucent.

Of course, he should have done the gentlemanly thing and looked away or at the very least alerted her to her situation but in truth he was enjoying it too much.

Her sneezing fit had obviously rearranged her assets to such an extent that she needed to make some corrections to the dispossession of her assets.
But alas all good things must come to an end and thanks to a thoughtless cloud the shaft of sunlight was snuffed out and the show was over.
It had been a most pleasant respite and had warmed Paul up more than the fire and the Brandy, studying her most wondrous topography and he thought it was amazing how the little things in life, not that they were small by any measure, but little things can brighten up the dullest of winter days and it may have been an un-gentlemanly thing to do, ungallant he supposed not to have averted his gaze, but he preferred to think of it as a Christmas treat, or a gift from the pagan Gods on the Winter Solstice.