Downshire Diary – (03) What is a Phlebotomist

Her full birth name was Hayley Harriet Hanson but that was before, at the tender age of 21, she made the regrettable decision to marry William Quimby.

After her disastrous marriage ended though she chose to remain Harriet Quimby as she rather liked the name.

Her ex-husband on the other hand remained a complete bastard.

In the years since her divorce she had not remarried or even thought of doing so.

She worked hard in a rewarding job, she had a supportive family and she had a large circle of friends, and she was content with that.

Harriet was not without admirers however and she had not exactly lived as a nun, she had had boyfriends but she had not actively sort a replacement for Mr Quimby, her philosophy was “what will be will be”.

She was a phlebotomist by profession and proud of it but she was really tired of people saying “What’s a phlebotomist?”

And then having to explain her occupation to them, so she made the decision to reply, when asked what she did for a living, that she was a nurse and volunteered no further information, it was just simpler that way.

Which was a shame because she loved her job, and she really was proud to be a phlebotomist, she liked dealing with people and liked engaging with them and she was good at it.

Some of her colleagues favoured the stand offish approach, keeping a dignified distance between themselves and the patients, but that was not Harriet’s way.

Harriet found the pleasant exchanges helped the day pass by, she couldn’t do it with everyone of course, some patients thought they were customers and that she was on a par with a shop girl, but they were few and far between.

 

Nathan Robinson was wearing a brown leather jacket and tan needle cords as he sat in the health centre waiting room amongst the sick and the lame although he was neither.

He was 35 years old and never married, although he’d come close a couple of times, he was medium height, slim build and had thinning sandy hair and grey eyes.

He was however very nervous as he was waiting there for a blood test, not that he was squeamish where blood was concerned but he hated needles.

 

“Mr Robinson” called a willowy young woman with bobbed dark brown hair, wearing a white uniform with red piping.

He stood up and followed her into a small clinical room.

“Good morning nurse” he said

“Hello Mr Robinson, but I’m not a nurse”

“Hello doctor?”

“No I’m not a doctor either” she corrected him

“You’re not the cleaner are you?” he asked

“No” she said laughing

“A vampire then?” he asked

“Don’t worry I’m not going to drain you” she reassured him “You look too pasty already”

“Really, I thought I was palely interesting” he offered in a hurt voice

He looked at her hand, she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring or any other significant rings for that matter, but what he was focusing on was that her ring less hand was holding a needle and he swallowed hard.

“You’re afraid of needles” she said

“I wouldn’t say I was afraid” he responded defensively although in truth he was Trypanophobic.

“What would you say then?” She asked

“I am merely wary of them” he insisted.

“Chicken” she said unsympathetically, she was well used to needle phobe’s and her easy manner and playful teasing would soon put him at his ease.

“Harsh” he responded still focusing on the needle

“Now if you don’t sit still I’ll have to take it from your jugular” she said menacingly

“So you are a vampire” Nathan said

She ignored him and drew the first sample

“So what’s the blood test for?” She asked

“Are you allowed to ask me that?” he asked

“No” she replied “so what’s it for?”

“I have an infection”

“Urgh” she exclaimed feigning horror

“Not that kind of infection” he assured her

“Do I need to double glove?” she asked

“No it’s alright I don’t really have an infection” Nathan said

“Good” she said and drew another sample

“It’s just part of a general medical” he said

“Oh” she said

 

After he’d left the room she chuckled to herself as she remembered their exchange and she thought he was a very pleasant man. 

Nathan was quite taken with the young willowy phlebotomist with her bobbed dark brown hair, wearing a white uniform with red piping, he always liked a uniform.

He was only there for a routine blood test but because he was Trypanophobic he was very nervous.

But she was clearly well used to needle phobe’s and her easy manner and playful teasing soon put him at his ease when she called him a chicken and he called her a vampire.

All of which put his mind at rest to such a degree that he was able to take a moment or two to appreciate the loveliness of the lovely girl with the very large needle.

 

It was just over a week later when she saw him again.

Nathan was on his way to meet friends in Abbeyvale, and took a short cut through St Candida’s park as it was a nice day and he saw a small group of young women sitting on the grass and he recognised one of them.

“Hello nurse Nosferatu” he called and made the sign of the cross when she turned around

“Oh hello chicken” she responded and made it sound like a term of endearment which wasn’t her intent but was not unhappy about it.

“Should a phlebotomist be out in the sunlight?” Nathan asked

“What’s a phlebotomist?” one of the group asked and Harriet shook her head and took it as her sign to leave.

She said her goodbyes and quickly caught up with Nathan who had gone ahead.

“Thanks for that” she said

“For what?” he asked

“For exposing me as a phlebotomist” she said

“Ay?” he exclaimed in confusion

“But you are a phlebotomist”

“I know” she said “but I hate the fact that I always have to explain it”

“Sorry” Nathan said

 

“So what was your medical for?” Harriet asked him as they walked through St Candida’s park

“Blimey you’re even nosey when you’re off duty” Nathan responded

“Yes” Harriet replied “So what’s it for?”

“Oh I’m starting a new job next month so I decided I would get a full MOT before I started” he said

“And what do you do?” she asked

“I’m a University Professor” he said proudly

“A professor?” Harriet replied however she was a little impressed

“Aren’t you a little young?”

“Not in my field” he replied

“I thought professors were intelligent” she said

“And I thought nursing was the caring profession” he retorted 

“So what are you the professor of?” she enquired

“Music” Nathan replied

“Really, what kind?” she asked impressed

“My field of expertise is early 20th century” he replied

“Like Puccini?” She said hopefully

“Like jazz” Nathan said

“Jazz? How disappointing, you got interesting for a second and then wham dull as ditch water again”

“I like jazz” he said defensively “Jazz is very exciting”

“And people study that at university?” she asked derisively

“Of course, as part of a rounded curriculum” he replied

“Do you play or just teach?” she asked

“Yes” Nathan replied

“What instrument? The washboard?” She asked and laughed out loud with delight

“That’s skiffle, not jazz” he corrected her “Philistine”

“What then?” Harriet persisted

“Clarinet” Said Nathan

“Really? But that’s a proper instrument” she said shocked “Are you any good?”

“Well I enjoy playing” he answered

“You’re really bad then” Harriet said and laughed

“Why not come and judge for yourself” he said

“When?” she asked

“Now” he replied “we’re playing a set at the Jazz Shack on Finchampton Street”

“Ok” she answered

 

After the gig, if you could call it that, because they only played two numbers, he joined her at her table.

“You were very good” she said “better than you led me to believe”

“Well thank you ma’am” he said in a false American accent

“But I still don’t like jazz” she said shooting him down

 

When it was time to go he said

“Perhaps we can do it again”

“Oh I don’t know about that” Harriet said

“Why not? I thought we had spent a very pleasant afternoon together” he stated

“We have absolutely nothing in common” Harriet retorted

“We share a sense of humour” he said

“That doesn’t count” she responded

“I think a good sense of humour is essential in a relationship if there is a prospect of someone seeing me naked” Nathan replied

“That’s not much of a prospect” Harriet said

“Come on Harriet” he said “what harm could it do”

Harriet was quiet for a moment then she said

“Ok I will come with you to the Jazz Shack to hear you play again, on one condition”

“Name it” he said with enthusiasm

“You have to come to the opera with me”

He went to speak but she silenced him with a look

“And I don’t mean Gilbert and Sullivan either”

“Puccini’s Madame Butterfly, one of the greatest pieces of early 20th century music ever written” she said with authority

“It’s a date” he said

“Yes I suppose it is" she said almost to herself

Downshire Diary – (02) Hiding In Plain Sight

 

The Pepperstock Hills National Park stretched from the bare, and often barren crags of Oxley Ridge in the North to the dense wooded southern slopes on the fringe of the Finchbottom Vale and from Quarry Hill, and the Pits in the West to Pepperstock Bay in the East.

It is an area of stark contrasts and attracted a variety of visitors.

The quarry hill side of the park To the west, as the name suggests, was heavily Quarried over several hundred years, though more extensively during the industrial revolution, the Quarries had been un-worked for over fifty years and nature had reclaimed them and former pits had become lakes and were very popular with anglers and the sparse shrubbery and woodland made it popular spot with courting couples whereas the northern crags and fells were popular with climbers and more hardy folk.

To the south and east was an extensive tract of magnificent mixed forestry and was rivaled only by the ancient woodland of the Dancingdean Forest.

Peter Nesbitt was staying at the White Hart pub in the village of Springwater for a few days.

It was his brother Johnnies idea, a short break in the Pepperstock Hills, a change of pace and some R&R.

Unfortunately Johnnie’s idea of rest and relaxation was the consumption of copious quantities of Mornington Ale.

But Peter, now in his early thirties, was looking for something more than drinking games and hangovers so on Monday morning, bright and early Peter grabbed his backpack and set off for a walk in the hills in the early sunshine.

As he got halfway down the lane he happened upon another walker heading for the same stile from the opposite direction.

She wore stout walking shoes, old fashioned brogues, with long argyle socks, a grey tweed skirt and a drab shapeless sweater and her hair was tied in a bun beneath a tweed cap that matched the skirt and she looked about forty.

If it hadn’t been for the coloured backpack he would have thought he’d stumbled through a portal into the 1930s.

“After you” he said

“Thank you” she replied in a voice much younger that her appearance which was accompanied by a nervous smile.

Once she was over the stile she set off at an impressive pace and was very sure footed as she strode off ahead of him, he had to admit that although her footwear was old fashioned it was considerably more appropriate for the conditions than what Peter was wearing.

It wasn’t the warmest of March days but he’d optimistically elected to wear shorts and in his little back pack he had a waterproof jacket, a drink and a sandwich.

He felt confident on his choice of clothing as the sun got progressively warmer as the morning went on.

Peter was on top of a hill looking out across the valley and could make out the shimmering water on one of the old quarry pit lakes in the distance.

He had no idea which of the lakes it was he was looking at as he’d lost his bearings a bit, after all he wasn’t really familiar enough with the area to find his way around without a map which of course he didn’t have in his pack, there were trails to follow but he hadn’t really been concentrating.

He sat down and opened his pack, ate his sandwich and drank his drink but when he looked at the distant sky he didn’t need a map or anything else to tell him it was coming his way so he decided to make his way off the hill ahead of it as quickly as possible.

The weather in the Pepperstock Hills was always unpredictable, despite the bright sunny start to the day, so it wasn’t really a surprise that by the end of the morning the blue sky had been consumed by grey.

He hadn’t even reached halfway before the low cloud settled a thick mist all around him.

 

Peter had on his light jacket by that time which was getting wet in the mist, he also had good trainers on, but on the damp stony track they were not really fit for purpose and he was slipping with every other step.

The fog came down very quickly and was extremely thick and in places visibility was down to zero.

“You should just sit it out” a soft voice said

“I’m sorry?” He said turning around and seeing the frumpy woman sitting on a large flat stone that was once part of Pepperstock Castle an imposing and impressive fortress up on its hill that overlooked the eastern end of the Finchbottom Vale.

Now it was just a collection of ruins, which could still be clearly identified as having once been a Castle, and Sarah was sat on part of it.

“You should sit it out” she said again

“Is that wise?” Peter asked

“Yes this band of cloud is due to blow through in a couple of hours” she said confidently

“Is it? He asked

“Didn’t you check the weather forecast before you set off this morning?” she asked

“No” he admitted “A bit of an oversight on my part”

“No harm done” she said in a sympathetic tone and he sat down next to her

“I’m Peter by the way, Peter Nesbitt” and offered his hand

“Sarah Hallam” she responded

 

Sarah Hallam was 28 years old, single and happy to be so, she had studied law at University but after three years she decided it wasn’t the career for her.

So she followed a different path and had been a proof reader for a legal publisher for the last six years.

It suited her as she could work from home and so didn’t have to interact with people.

It meant that she spent a lot of time on her own, which she didn’t mind as she was happy in her own company.

Although she lived in seclusion in the country just outside Abbeyvale she still liked to get away somewhere whenever she could to some place beautiful and the Pepperstock Hills National Park was certainly that.

 

Although Peter had ridiculed Sarah’s mode of dress, as they sat on a large flat block of stone in the fog, he would have confessed that she was more appropriately dressed than he was, at which point he shivered.

“Do you have anything useful in your pack?” Sarah asked

“It’s empty now I’m afraid” Peter replied

“You did come well prepared” She said sarcastically

Luckily for Peter, Sarah’s backpack was filled with a wealth of useful stuff, a thermos full of coffee, Sandwiches, Kendal mint cake and a blanket, all of which she generously shared with him while they spoke candidly about their past.

She wasn’t sure why she opened up to him she was normally a very insular person, maybe it was because they were shrouded in fog and insulated against the world that she felt at ease.

Peter was interested to hear about Sarah’s profession as he and his brother Johnnie were also in publishing as they jointly ran a printing company.

“I don’t mean to pry Sarah” he began “I understand that under our present condition they are indeed practical, but why are you dressed like a….”

“Frump?” she suggested

“Yes” he agreed “I’m sorry”

“Its fine” Sarah said “it’s quite simple really”

Peter listened intently as she explained

“When I was at university, in my first year, I had my heart broken, very badly”

She began

“And again in the third year, and that one nearly cost me my degree”

“I’m so sorry to hear that” Peter said sympathetically “But why the tweeds?”

“Well after the second time I resolved to have no more truck with love”

She said without emotion

“I am single and glad to be so”

She paused for a moment and Peter spoke

“So that’s why you dress to make yourself look fifteen years older than you are?”

Sarah nodded   

“I have found that if you are a shapeless old frump, men tend to leave well alone”

“What a waste” he thought to himself

“And what about you?” She asked

“Well I’ve also had my heart broken” he confessed “just the once for me though”

“Once would’ve been enough for me” Sarah mumbled

“I’ve not given up hope completely” Peter continued “But I’ve not met the “one” yet”

She nodded

“I’ve not found my soul mate yet” was what he meant Sarah thought

“In truth I use work much the same way as you use Tweed” He said

“My brother Johnnie says I work too hard and should get out and have some fun”

“It’s nice that he cares about you” Sarah said

“His idea of fun differs greatly from mine” he said and they both laughed

 

By about three in the afternoon a light breeze got up and started stirring the mist.

“Right on time” Sarah said, though she was a little disappointed, as she was rather enjoying herself

“Perhaps we should wait for another half an hour or so” Peter suggested also in no hurry to leave.

“Good idea” Sarah said

 

Peter Nesbitt and Sarah Hallam sat amidst the ruins of Pepperstock Castle waiting for the mists to clear and were reluctant to depart, but by 4.15 they couldn’t really delay it any longer as watery sunshine was beginning to penetrate the remaining mist so Peter began handing the remnants of their impromptu picnic to Sarah which she packed neatly away.

“Thank you” Peter said

“For what?” Sarah asked

“Sharing your lunch and your blanket” he said “and for your company”

“Oh there’s no need to thank me” she responded and gave him a smile

“It would have been a very dull afternoon had you not happened along”

Peter thought he detected a slight blush on her cheek.

“She’s a very attractive and confident girl beneath the frumpy exterior” he thought

 

It was as they walked down the hill in the weak sunshine that he decided that he would endeavour to get her to re-join the world and if not embrace the waves then at least dip her toe in the water.

They were just approaching the stile they had crossed earlier in the day.

“I was wondering” he said “As you were so generous to me today you might allow me to repay the favour”

“There’s no need” Sarah replied cursing herself for her cowardice

“Just dinner at the Pheasant” Peter persisted

“Ok” she relented and to herself added “Good decision”

“But tomorrow would be better for me” she said as Peter helped over the stile

“Great tomorrow it is” he said smiling “I will look forward to it”

 

Sarah had taken a bold step in her agreeing to the dinner and opened herself up for disappointment again but she didn’t want to hold back now.

If she was going to make the most of it she had to make the most of herself. 

And as she hadn’t packed anything remotely suitable for dinner she had been in Purplemere all day shopping for girl clothes.

 

While Sarah was shopping for an outfit, Peter, on the other hand spent his day fending off questions from his nosy brother Johnnie, about where he was going and who he was meeting.

He loved his brother to bits but his biggest fear was that Johnnie would pitch up at the pub and unintentionally spoil things before they got started.

So he told him he was taking her to The Squirrel in Pepperstock Green, but in truth was actually meeting Sarah at The Pheasant in Quarry Hill.

 

Peter was sat in the bar a full half an hour before he was supposed to meet Sarah and he was insanely nervous, he hadn’t felt like that since he was 15 when he was waiting outside the multiplex for Cindy Brownlow.

However he was thinking it was a mistake to arrive early as his stomach was doing somersaults.

 

While Peter sat at The Pheasant in Quarry Hill while his stomach was doing somersaults Sarah was second guessing herself as she stood in front of the mirror wearing a little black dress.

Her long brunette hair was down, instead of in a bun and her face was subtly made up.

It had been a while since she had given herself the treatment and the face she was wearing was her third attempt to get it right.

The first one left her looking like a mortician’s subject fresh off the slab and the second one made her look like a clown.

She was much happier with the third one, but as time was running out it would have to do regardless.

And all the time she was getting ready she kept say to herself

“Why on earth did I agree to do this” and “what was I thinking?”

“Because you wanted to” she said out loud to the mirror “now suck it up and go and knock him dead”

 

When Peter turned around and saw this brunette in the little black dress coming towards him he couldn’t stop himself from saying   

“Wow”

Sarah smiled and asked

“Will I Do?”

“Comme ci comme ça” He said making a gesture with his hand 

“Charming” she said

“Well I was expecting someone in tweeds” Peter said defensively

And she laughed

“I can go back and change but I decided to make an effort” Sarah said as she sat down

“I thought this might be more appropriate”

“Well I am

 

The evening passed by so quickly, it was like an information exchange, as they found out every detail about each other and filed it away, their likes and dislikes.

Music, movies, TV, travel destinations, favourite pieces of art, favourite book and authors, they discussed everything and anything and as a result they were so absorbed in each company that they completely lost track of time, and to such an extent that they had to be asked to leave.

“Oh dear we seem to have overstayed our welcome and there is so much more to say” Sarah said

“Then we should perhaps consider this an adjournment and pick it up again tomorrow”

She nodded her ascent and he was rather pleased with himself for his legal reference but not as much as the securing of another date.

 

They agreed to meet again bright and early the next morning by the stile where they had first met when she was still yet to be transformed into the beautiful butterfly he had shared dinner with the night before.

The frump he’d met on the hill and among the castle ruins the day before was gone forever.

It was no wonder Peter hadn’t been able to find his soul mate for all those years, she was hiding in plain sight.

The former frump, Sarah Hallam, the woman who was a stranger to him only two days before would be at his side every day thereafter.

Downshire Diary – (01) Meeting Dorcas

 

He had always been a contented person and altogether happy with his lot, though not a wealthy person by any measurement he had everything he wanted, and all was well in his world.

He had a job that he enjoyed, and a family that he loved and got along well with and he lived in his own modest cottage in the pleasant Downshire village of Bushy Down.

He thought he had everything a man could possibly want and he was content, that was, until a few weeks after his twenty ninth birthday when he met Dorcas Fox-Martin.

 

It was a glorious Sunday morning in June and the Village of Bushy Down was looking particularly picturesque.

He was on his way to St Lucy’s Church in the village, not somewhere he was completely unfamiliar with but somewhere he hadn’t been as often as he should have.

Though on that particular morning he had a more pressing need to be there other than the neglect of his spiritual wellbeing.

Because on that morning Ben Overton, was to be Godfather to his nephew Connor.

His sister Helen was three years younger than he was and was the baby of the family and now had a baby of her own who was about to be christened.

 

It was as he walked to the Church, preoccupied by thoughts of pride at his impending Godfatherhood that his life was changed forever.

Having caught sight of Helen on the Church steps he quickly crossed Church Lane and was brought rudely to his senses by the blast of a car horn.

Ben jumped out of the way and reached the safety of the footpath and braced himself to launch a tirade at the impatient shit on the other end of the car horn.

But when he turned to face the driver he was greeted by a beautiful smiling brunette.

Who mouthed the word “sorry” and smiled which completely disarmed him.

 

Helen and her husband Mark, watching from the Church steps thought it was highly amusing that he had nearly been turned into road kill.

He turned around to give them a withering look and when he returned his attention back to the pretty vehicular assassin she had gone and that was the end of that, or so he thought.

 

It was at the end of the main service when the Reverend Hunter began the Baptism of his nephew Connor Innes into the faith that he saw again.

It turned out that “Penelope Pitstop”, the beautiful, if dangerous brunette, was a close friend of his sister Helen and was also to be a Godparent to his nephew.

 

Ben had to confess that as proud as he was to be Godfather to Connor, he didn’t really follow proceedings as closely as he should have as his eyes were constantly drawn to the beautiful girl on the other side of the font.

But at the end he lost sight of her in the melee as everyone decanted from the Church and such was the affect that the beautiful stranger had on him that he drove to his mum’s house in Kiddingstone full of trepidation that she was gone forever. 

 

Ben Overton parked his car in the street outside his Parents house and went inside.

“Hey Ben” Helen said as he entered the kitchen “you got here safely then?”

“Very funny” he countered

“You’re obviously safer as a driver than you are as a pedestrian” She said and roared with laughter.

“Shut up and give me a beer lippy” he replied

She went to the fridge and took out a bottle, opened it and handed it to me.

“Thanks sis,” he said “have you got a glass?”

Ben didn’t like drinking from the bottle, he couldn’t stand it, and it was a bit of a joke within the family because he thought drinking from the bottle was common.

“You are so old” Helen said laughing

“I just have standards” he retorted pompously “Where’s Mark?”

“He’s in the lounge showing Gran the video” She replied.

Their Gran was 91 and quite frail and wasn’t well enough to attend the Christening so the ceremony was videoed by their brother Danny and it was being played back for her so she would feel included in proceeding.   

“You should go and watch it yourself” she added “as you missed most of it as you were ogling Dorcas”

“Dorcas?” he asked playing dumb

“Yes the pretty brunette you couldn’t take your eyes off” she said

“I think you’re imagining it” he answered as he left the kitchen

“I think you’re smitten” she shouted after me and he was about to unleash a witty retort in response but he was suddenly knocked sideways into the wall causing him to slop his drink down his trousers.

 “Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going” a female voice said and he turned around to face his assailant

“That’s…” and that was all he could say as he gazed upon the smiling face of the beautiful girl he knew to be, though they had not been introduced, Dorcas.

He didn’t know how long he stood there staring at her or how long he would have continued to stare had she not broken the silence.

“This is becoming a bit of a habit” She said “my name is Dor…”

“Dorcas” he continued

“Yes” she answered “and you’re Ben”

 

And so the introductions were complete and from the first moment they met she bought something into his world that he hadn’t even noticed he didn’t have, love.

He was besotted with the diminutive young woman with the immense personality and a heart as big as the moon.

 

It is quite reasonable to state categorically that Ben Overton was quite content with his lot in life and he had not felt his life suffered for the want of love, he had not craved it nor coveted it, he just thought it was something that was inflicted on other people and he was immune to it but once he had tasted it he was hooked.

 

Had it not been for the fact that she had almost run him down and had fate not also decreed they both be Godparents to the same child he didn’t think he would ever have dared to speak to her, let alone ask her out but ask her out he did and furthermore she said yes.

 

Having plucked up the courage, at his Godsons Christening, to ask the stunningly beautiful Dorcas Fox-Martin out on a date and as he was bolstered by her positive response to such an extent he very foolishly neglected to cement the arrangement there and then and furthermore left the Christening party without securing either a firm date for their erm….. Date, or for that matter any contact details for her and it wasn’t until he got home that the full extent of his stupidity dawned on him.

In his Defence of course he would argue that he was so taken aback by Dorcas’s positive reply and such was his elation that she had agreed to go out with him on a date that he was not thinking clearly, which is why he not only failed to arrange anything but had also left without any means of contacting her.

Ben had just reached the point where he was well and truly feeling sorry himself when the phone rang.

“Hello” he said forlornly

“Oh dear” Helen said unsympathetically “cheer up”

“Don’t joke” he said “I’ve done something really stupid”

“I know” she replied “you’re a plank”

“Oh don’t” he responded feebly

“Fortunately, your wonderful sister has come to the rescue” Helen said “and I gave your number to Dorcas so she can call you”

“You’re the best sis in the world” he said

“I know” she said immodestly “now don’t cock it up”

 

He had been so diverted by his foolishness that he hadn’t even given any due consideration as to where he would take her.

Given that prior to that morning she had been a complete stranger to him so therefore he had no idea what to suggest.

His normal first date experience, limited though that might have been, consisted of either a drink, a meal, the cinema or bowling.

Well a drink didn’t sound substantial enough for his liking and as he was somewhat nervous he imagined that he may end up drinking too much and make a complete dogs breakfast of it, so he ruled that out.

A meal on the other hand was fraught with dangers of its own, food preferences, allergies and intolerance’s and it went without saying that it was an absolute given, to rule out any food that required the wearing of a bib.

The cinema he had always found to be a difficult area date wise,

Sitting in the dark with a girl and spending most of the film weighing up the options of when it would be appropriate to move in for a cuddle or a kiss.

Not that that would be of concern with Dorcas, after all they were both past the age of the back row groping scenario.

The problem inherent in the cinema was knowing her taste in film that was the issue there, so he ruled out the cinema as well.

He also crossed off tenpin bowling but for no other reason than that he was really crap at it.

 

After a couple of fruitless hours of deliberation he still had no idea where to suggest that he and Dorcas should go on their first ate and then the phone rang.

Ben took a deep breath and reluctantly picked up the receiver.

“Hello” he said timidly

“Ben?” a voice asked

“Speaking” he replied

“It’s Dorcas” she said

“Hi” Ben said weakly

“We didn’t make a date” Dorcas said hesitantly “At the Christening, for the date”

“No I…” he faltered

“Did you still… erm want to?” she asked

“Of course” he said firmly almost shouting

“Good” Dorcas said with a giggle

“I thought you might have changed your mind”

“No not at all” he stated “But...”

“But?” she said falteringly

“I don’t know where to suggest” he said

“Is that all?” she asked and laughed

She had had a similar struggle as he had to find a suitable venue/activity, they had however reached totally different conclusions which he found out when she announced she had the perfect date in mind.

“A Tree Top Trail”

“What’s that?” he asked genuinely oblivious

“It’s a trail through the tree tops with Tarzan swings, rope bridges and Zip Wires” she said excitedly

“It sounds like great fun and I’ve always fancied having a go”

Well he had no great expectation when he first asked Dorcas out and he thought she would soon tire of him, after all he was one of life’s spectators while she was the type of person who was up there on center stage.

But how wrong he was, she knew that they were cut from different cloth but she didn’t care that they were so different.

Ben had always been content to look on from the sidelines whereas Dorcas was in there participating with all her might, she was a “joiner in” while Ben was an applauder of other people’s efforts, a holder of coats.

But no more, and despite the fact that the thought of walking through the tree tops 30 feet above the ground scared him to death he said.

“Me too”

 

It was a bright Sunday morning in June, just one week after they had first met, when Dorcas picked him up in her Mini outside the Railway Station in Bushy Down, the very same Mini she had nearly run him over a week earlier. .

It was probably a little unconventional for the first date but after some discussion it was decided that she would pick him up as he lived in Bushy Down which was between her home in Finchbottom and our destination in the Dancingdean Forest.

 

Despite his apprehension he was still very much looking forward to his first date with Dorcas and was praying it would go well.

Ben’s trepidation was far removed from the normal first date nerves, which were bad enough, his main fears stemmed from the fact he had to contend with the death defying heights of the Tree Top Trail, with all its incumbent hazards such as Tarzan swings, rope bridges and Zip Wires, all at a height of 30ft.

He wasn’t good with heights at the best of times, he never had been, not because he suffered from vertigo or had an irrational fear of being up high.

In fact he liked high places, Airplanes, the London Eye, Canary Wharf or the Empire States Building, as long as there was something between him and oblivion.

What scared him to death was gravity and the belief that it would at any moment pull him screaming to the ground.

But I couldn’t show it, not to Dorcas, he had to put on a brave face for her benefit as he didn’t want her to think he was a wimp.

 

It was about an hour’s drive to the Dancingdean Forest, but the time seemed to pass by very quickly as they chatted about something and nothing, always a good sign when there are no embarrassed silences.

Once they arrived his trepidation deepened as he looked up and realized exactly how high 30 feet was.

As if sensing his reservations Dorcas took hold of his arm.

“Come on then” she said steering him in the direction of a large timber shack.

 

There were 12 of them in their group, 11 first timers and one jovial leader called Gaz who was determined they all had a “great experience”

And on the whole they all did, although there were moments when Ben was almost scared to death.

Though they were never in any real danger, they all had harnesses and protective gear but he was still scared up in the tree tops.

But at the end of it, thanks to Gaz, the whole group had a great experience, but it was still nice to get back to terra firma.

After divesting themselves of their safety gear they all made their way to the café for a well-earned coffee.

As he and Dorcas sat either side of a picnic table discussing how much they had enjoyed the experience she announced

“I wouldn’t want to do it again”

“What?” he said with alarm

“The tree top stuff” she assured him, but she continued with more than a little smugness, knowing that she had him hook line and sinker

“I’m up for another date though” she continued

Then after a minute or two she suddenly said

“I have a confession to make”

“Oh” he responded fearing the worst, she was married or engaged or something.

“I would have enjoyed it much more if I wasn’t scared of heights” she confessed

“I only finished the course because I didn’t want you to think I was wet”

After hearing her confession Ben laughed

“It’s not funny” she said crossly

“I’m laughing because I was scared to death myself” he said “I just gritted my teeth and got on with it because I didn’t want you to think I was a wimp”

On hearing his confession she laughed as well.

When the laughter had subsided they both concurred that it had been a good first date.

 

It was early evening when they finished their coffee and said fair well to their fellow adventurers and the weather was still lovely.

They were both getting peckish and as neither of them were ready for the date to end and as were only an hour or so away from the coast they headed off to Sharpington where they ended the momentous day eating fish and chips out of the paper on the sea front and talked enthusiastically about the day.

Their first kiss came in true romantic style as the sun slowly sank beyond the horizon and afterwards on the journey home they planned their second date.

Tales from the Finchbottom Vale – (99) Christmas in Sharpington – Jenny’s Tale

 

The traditional seaside resort of Sharpington-by-Sea with its Victorian Pier, seafront hotels, crazy golf, The Palladium ballroom, well maintained gardens, promenade, theatre and illuminations, has all the usual things to have a great time by the seaside, as well as amusement arcades and of course the Sharpington Fun Park and 55 year old  triplets, Alex, James and Jenny Wardle live together in the huge house they grew up in, in the grand neighbourhood of Granite Hill, which in a nod to San Francisco, the locals had nicknamed Nob Hill.

“So it’s Christmas time again” Alex said as he looked out the window.

“As if anyone could fail to notice” James added as he and Jenny joined him at the drawing room window.

Even without leaving the house they could see more than half a dozen houses decorated to the hilt.
Every coloured light imaginable, Santa's on the roof or climbing a ladder, sleighs, elves, snowmen, bells, stars, baubles and last but by no means least standing almost four feet high that perennial favourite Winnie the Pooh.
Alex was taken aback, what the hell did Pooh have to do with Christmas? And later as he and his siblings walked down to the seafront he noticed that every other house seemed to have one, there was even one on the pier so he guessed there must be something in it.
He didn't recall mention of him in the bible and in all of the many nativity plays he had seen over the years Winnie the Pooh was conspicuous by his absence and although there is a donkey in the story it wasn’t Eeyore.
The stable did not house Piglet and the wise men did not travel from the east with Tigger bearing gifts of Huney.
Nor in any of the Christmas traditions around the world is there a single reference to Pooh as one of Santa's helpers, there was Black Peter, and the Jolly Elf, there was even the devil figure Krampus, but no Pooh, but it appeared to him, that the people of Sharpington were giving him pride of place on their lawns that Christmas.
As they turned left onto the promenade the early winter sun broke through the mackerel skies exposing patches of the bluest sky and if he had had any remaining doubts that Christmas was coming to Sharpington they were soon dispelled as the promenade was decked in its Christmas garb.

Inflatable Santa’s climb the walls of the Fun Park and the pier was draped in LED icicles.

Then when they passed the Seaview Hotel they saw what looked like a cheery red-suited burglar hanging from one of the balconies and they all laughed before they went their separate ways.

 

Jenny had never married and had spent all her adult life in the halls of academe at the University of Downshire teaching medieval history, but when she turned 55 the academic fire went out in her so she retired.

She also decided it was time for her to try different things, things she had never done before or indeed had never had any regret at not having done it, so it wasn’t a bucket list.

Nor was it really a list, she didn’t write down what she might try and then tick it off afterwards, it was more a case of stumbling across something she had never done before and diving right in.

The new experience that week was ice skating, which she had never done, nor roller skating for that matter, she had a terrible sense of balance so the thought never entered her head at any time in her life that she should give it ago until she moved back to Sharpington.

 

The new experience that week for Jenny was ice skating, which she had never done, nor roller skating for that matter, she had a terrible sense of balance so the thought never entered her head at any time in her life that she should give it ago until she moved back to Sharpington.

 

In the 18th and early 19th Century the pond up in Jubilee Park regularly froze in winter and the well healed of the town would don their skates and take to the ice, but it rarely froze after that, the hard winter of 1962 was the last occasion.

During the industrial revolution the enterprising folk of commerce used ice from the fish processing factory to make an artificial rink and charged people to skate on it but that ceased when the fish factory closed.

But in the 21st century the technology existed to produce and maintain an artificial outdoor rink at a relatively low cost, so Sharpington had one on the promenade by the pier every December and it proved very popular.

And that was where Jenny was headed after she separated from her brothers.  

On that bright sunny morning the flashing skates of hundreds of brightly clad figures made zigzag patterns on the frozen blueish white surface of the ice.

She actually felt quite excited as she approached but as she got nearer and it appeared that all the other skaters on the ice were clearly not novices she started to have doubts.

But then she caught sight of a tall angular man of similar maturity to herself who was struggling with grace, style and gravity and she felt heartened so she went and hired some skates.

Once she had donned her skates she made her first tentative steps on the ice and her courage began to desert her again so she stuck close to the rail and inched her way forward.

Before she got going she looked across the ice and admired the skill and confidence of the other skaters but when she joined them she had to focus all her attention on what she was doing, which was why she didn’t see the tall angular man until he bowled noisily past her and ended up in a crumpled heap on the ice in front of her.

“My goodness, you’re worse than me” she said laughingly “and I’m rubbish”

“Then you are a good judge” he said and laughed

“Let me help you up” she suggested after getting a firm grip of the rail, and after few comic near misses, that almost had them both on the ice, they managed to get him upright again where he too grasped the comforting rail.

“Thank you” he said “I’m Paul”

“Jenny” she responded

“Is this your first time?”

“The first time for many years” he replied “What about you?”

“No this is my first time ever” she retorted and laughed

“Then you’re doing extremely well” he said and then he nearly fell again.

“How about we do it together” she suggested and offered her arm and they moved off rather ungracefully together.

As they circumnavigated the rink they chatted almost oblivious to their surroundings and they found they had a shared love of history.

 

Paul Morfett was not a native of the town but had lived in Sharpington for ten years since the death of his wife, they had lived in Abbottsford all their lives up until her passing, and after it everything in the place was a hurtful memory of her so he moved somewhere neither of them had been and so held no such memories.

As he was a writer by profession his location did not hamper his career and it had actually aided it, and he had written an additional four novels in his “Cross of Kings” series while he was there.

His historic books used material from a number of text books which gave his stories an authentic feel and he considered the academic authors as allies and although he didn’t know it at the moment she helped him to his feet she had been an ally in his writing because he had referenced the books of Professor J W Wardle on many occasions but by the time they stepped off the ice he hadn’t made the connection that his Professor and his companion were one and the same person.   

 

They curtailed their ice skating duet about half an hour after the clouds began to gather and when they finally relented it was only because the expected rain arrived.

But by the time they had reclaimed their footwear the rain had turned to snow and the snow fell thick and fast as smoke from the red-hot coals of the barbeque filled the air with mouthwatering smells as fat dripped onto the charcoal.

“That smells good” she said

“Are you hungry?” he asked

“Starving” Jenny replied

“Well allow me to treat you to lunch” he offered “do you like Italian? I know a great restaurant called the L'uccello canto?”

“That’s my favourite” she said “So yes I’d love to”

 

As they walked briskly to the restaurant through the snow they passed Doily’s bookshop when Jenny stopped in her tracks.

Because in the shop window was a pile of books in front of a cardboard cutout of her lunch date.

“You’re Paul Morfett” she said “I know you told me you were a writer but you didn’t tell me you were a good one”

“Well I do ok” he said “have you read me?”

“Occasionally, I like that you do your research” she replied

“I like to get it right” he said

“Come on” she said and pushed open the door “I want to show you something”

They went to the back of the shop to the reference section and after perusing the history shelf she withdrew a tome and handed it to him, with the back cover on display.

“Do you recognize anyone?” she asked referring to the author’s photo

 

“I can’t believe that I’ve actually spent the afternoon with my favourite history academic and it turns out she’s not a crusty old professor” he said with the candle light dancing in his dark gipsy eyes as they peered at her from behind the flame.

“Well I’m releived to know that you don’t think I’m crusty” she said

 

They spent all afternoon in the restaurant as the snow continued falling outside and along with their favourite Italian food, a liberal amount of wine and a number of liqueurs were consumed and when they left they were merrier than the season.

They stepped outside and their shoes crunched on the snow covered pathways and they braced themselves against the cold and tried to draw themselves deeper into their coats as a promenade tram went by with its windows steamed up.

“Where to now?” she asked when they reached the corner

“I think I should get you home” he said

“But I don’t want to go home” Jenny retorted

“Well my apartment is just along the promenade” he suggested

“Will there be wine?” she asked

“There can be” he replied

“What about kissing? Will there be any kissing at your apartment?” she asked brazenly

“There could be kissing now” he pointed out

“Yes there could” she agreed and they passionately kissed as the snowflakes fell around them.

Tales from the Finchbottom Vale – (98) Christmas in Sharpington – James’s Tale

 

The traditional seaside resort of Sharpington-by-Sea with its Victorian Pier, seafront hotels, crazy golf, The Palladium ballroom, well maintained gardens, promenade, theatre and illuminations, has all the usual things to have a great time by the seaside, as well as amusement arcades and of course the Sharpington Fun Park and 55 year old  triplets, Alex, James and Jenny Wardle live together in the huge house they grew up in, in the grand neighbourhood of Granite Hill, which in a nod to San Francisco, the locals had nicknamed Nob Hill.

“So it’s Christmas time again” Alex said as he looked out the window.

“As if anyone could fail to notice” James added as he and Jenny joined him at the drawing room window.

Even without leaving the house they could see more than half a dozen houses decorated to the hilt.
Every coloured light imaginable, Santa's on the roof or climbing a ladder, sleighs, elves, snowmen, bells, stars, baubles and last but by no means least standing almost four feet high that perennial favourite Winnie the Pooh.
Alex was taken aback, what the hell did Pooh have to do with Christmas? And later as he and his siblings walked down to the seafront he noticed that every other house seemed to have one, there was even one on the pier so he guessed there must be something in it.
He didn't recall mention of him in the bible and in all of the many nativity plays he had seen over the years Winnie the Pooh was conspicuous by his absence and although there is a donkey in the story it wasn’t Eeyore.
The stable did not house Piglet and the wise men did not travel from the east with Tigger bearing gifts of Huney.
Nor in any of the Christmas traditions around the world is there a single reference to Pooh as one of Santa's helpers, there was Black Peter, and the Jolly Elf, there was even the devil figure Krampus, but no Pooh, but it appeared to him, that the people of Sharpington were giving him pride of place on their lawns that Christmas.
As they turned left onto the promenade the early winter sun broke through the mackerel skies exposing patches of the bluest sky and if he had had any remaining doubts that Christmas was coming to Sharpington they were soon dispelled as the promenade was decked in its Christmas garb.

Inflatable Santa’s climb the walls of the Fun Park and the pier was draped in LED icicles.

Then when they passed the Seaview Hotel they saw what looked like a cheery red-suited burglar hanging from one of the balconies and they all laughed before they went their separate ways.

 

James returned to Sharpington for the first time in twenty years after his brother Alex lost his wife and he found it very welcoming so as he was divorced and his son was living in America he decided to move back to the old family home and as he had independent wealth and plenty of time on his hands he took to doing voluntary work.

 

After he parted company from his siblings he made his way to Jubilee Park which was playing host to Santa’s grotto in the pavilion.

When he first walked in a week before, he found the place in disarray as a group of volunteers were putting the grotto together and his eyes were drawn to the throne in one corner where jolly Santa Claus would be sat next to his sack of gifts.

James had always been fascinated by the genesis of Santa Claus.

St. Nicholas was a Bishop in 4th century Turkey and became a giver of gifts to orphaned and poor children and James liked that such a wonderful tradition had begun as acts of kindness.

The second thing he noticed in the “work in progress” grotto, was the diminutive figure of a pretty middle-aged brunette called Charlotte Morley who was to be his Elf in chief, and when she turned and smiled at him he was hooked, and he wanted to get to know her better.

And he got to know her very easily because when she turned and smiled at him she liked what she saw and set her little pixie cap at him.   

Because she was to be Elf to his Santa they worked closely together and apart from their mutual attraction they bonded over their dislike of the “Overlord” of the Grotto operation, Sharpington Council employee Amanda Rawlings, who was an officiously obnoxious control freak, which would have been ok, had she been any good at it.

During their first week they were beset with problems while they were getting ready for the big event there were problems everywhere.
Some of the other expected volunteers were no shows due to illness, the donated gifts were late, and were unwrapped and they were all feeling the pressure of being massively behind schedule.

Then, a day before his debut as Santa they discovered a problem with the throne which necessitated getting in a carpenter at great expense which was the last straw for James, so when Amanda walked in moments later dressed as an Angel and holding a Christmas Tree he snapped.

So when she said cheerfully,

“Isn't this a lovely tree? Where would you like me to stick it?”

James looked first at Charlotte then turned to Amanda and said

“Up your arse”

Charlotte laughed as Amanda stood open mouthed and added

“Well that is the tradition isn’t it? To have an angel on top of the Christmas Tree”

They didn’t see much of her after that which suited them down to the ground because with her absence everything began to run like clockwork.

 

But on the day he walked in to Sharpington with his brother and sister things took an interesting turn.

The grotto opened to the first child at 11 o’clock and there was a pretty constant stream, almost non-stop until 3 o’clock and then the visits became more sporadic as the weather had deteriorated and heavy snow was falling.

With James wearing his red suit sitting on his throne, Charlotte was dressed as an Elf and escorted the excited or apprehensive child in from the ante chamber.

The child would then climb up on to Santa’s lap and while Santa had a quick chat with them and gave them their gift, and a man called Owen would take a photo.

Charlotte then escorted the happy child back out to their parents and this well-oiled machine kept operating like that for the duration of the day and when Charlotte escorted the final child back to their waiting parents, Owen followed them out.

 

James sat on the throne and gathered his thoughts before he got up and changed and just at the moment he prepared to move the lights went out.

“Oh bugger” he exclaimed and then the door opened, spilling light into the room and a figure appeared but disappeared again when the door closed.

But he heard footsteps in the darkness which grew louder with every step and when they stopped the owner of those steps sat on his lap and kissed him.

It was a long and lingering kiss and when it was over he said

“And what would you like for Christmas little girl?”

“Some more of that would be nice” Charlotte replied

 

After an unhurried passionate embrace they left his chair with the intention of going for dinner with the prospect of more kissing to follow.

But when they left the darkness of the grotto they found the rest of the building was also in darkness.

Whereas Charlotte had plunged the grotto into darkness for her own ends, the other volunteers had assumed it to be empty when they left, which they did promptly because of the snow.

Charlotte turned on the lights and they soon realized they were locked in, all the windows had bars on them and the doors were padlocked and chained from the outside

“Well it looks like we’re here for the night” she said and James thought about being stuck in the grotto with an Elf ten years younger than him and he said

“Happy Christmas”

Tales from the Finchbottom Vale – (97) Christmas in Sharpington – Alex’s Tale

 

The traditional seaside resort of Sharpington-by-Sea with its Victorian Pier, seafront hotels, crazy golf, The Palladium ballroom, well maintained gardens, promenade, theatre and illuminations, has all the usual things to have a great time by the seaside, as well as amusement arcades and of course the Sharpington Fun Park and 55 year old  triplets, Alex, James and Jenny Wardle live together in the huge house they grew up in, in the grand neighbourhood of Granite Hill, which in a nod to San Francisco, the locals had nicknamed Nob Hill.

“So it’s Christmas time again” Alex said as he looked out the window.

“As if anyone could fail to notice” James added as he and Jenny joined him at the drawing room window.

Even without leaving the house they could see more than half a dozen houses decorated to the hilt.
Every coloured light imaginable, Santa's on the roof or climbing a ladder, sleighs, elves, snowmen, bells, stars, baubles and last but by no means least standing almost four feet high that perennial favourite Winnie the Pooh.
Alex was taken aback, what the hell did Pooh have to do with Christmas? And later as he and his siblings walked down to the seafront he noticed that every other house seemed to have one, there was even one on the pier so he guessed there must be something in it.
He didn't recall mention of him in the bible and in all of the many nativity plays he had seen over the years Winnie the Pooh was conspicuous by his absence and although there is a donkey in the story it wasn’t Eeyore.
The stable did not house Piglet and the wise men did not travel from the east with Tigger bearing gifts of Huney.
Nor in any of the Christmas traditions around the world is there a single reference to Pooh as one of Santa's helpers, there was Black Peter, and the Jolly Elf, there was even the devil figure Krampus, but no Pooh, but it appeared to him, that the people of Sharpington were giving him pride of place on their lawns that Christmas.
As they turned left onto the promenade the early winter sun broke through the mackerel skies exposing patches of the bluest sky and if he had had any remaining doubts that Christmas was coming to Sharpington they were soon dispelled as the promenade was decked in its Christmas garb.

Inflatable Santa’s climb the walls of the Fun Park and the pier was draped in LED icicles.

Then when they passed the Seaview Hotel they saw what looked like a cheery red-suited burglar hanging from one of the balconies and they all laughed before they went their separate ways.

 

Alex was the only one of the three who had lived his whole life in Sharpington, having married a local girl with whom he Managed the Palladium Ballroom and raised two children and with both children married and settled he and Natalie looked forward to their retirement together but it wasn’t to be, as she had a massive heart attack only two months before their leisurely life was to begin.

He considered himself very lucky that he had his siblings to support him in his hour of need and they had helped him when he didn’t want to leave the house, when he couldn’t see a future, when he couldn’t function.

But two years later he went out, in fact he went out often and he began to enjoy life again and part of that enjoyment was being with James and Jenny and another part was Tracy Whitehouse.

He had known Tracy since he was at school but she was Tracy Gurney back then and he had reconnected with her at a bereavement group at the Jubilee Community Centre.

 

When he parted company with the others he didn’t have any definite plans he just set out to enjoy the respite in the weather.

That was until he caught sight of Tracy going into the café and he decided there was something better to do than enjoy the weather so he went to the café to join her, even if it meant he would have to have breakfast number two of the day.

It was busy in the café with lots of chatter and he hears Tracy order a bacon sandwich and a coffee above the hubbub, so he ordered the same and walked over to her table and said

“Do you mind if I join you”

“Oh yes that would be lovely” she said when she turned around for the first time.

“So what are you up to today?” he asked

“Nothing much” she replied “I’m just enjoying the winter sunshine before the rain rolls in again this afternoon”

“So what about when the rain does come back?” Alex asked

“Back home I suppose” she said “What about you?”

“Well there showing “Shop Around The Corner” at the Tivoli” he said

“Oooh I love James Stewart” Tracy said

“Why don’t you join me then” he suggested

“I’d love to” she replied and smiled

So they finished their breakfast and then they stepped outside and went for a walk in the sunshine, firstly on the beach and then as the clouds began to gather they walked along the pier because there were plenty of places to shelter should the rain arrive early.

As it turned out the rain held off but the temperature dipped so they spent a lot of time out of the wind keeping warm and they lost track of time and had to forgo lunch or miss the start of the film so they pigged out on popcorn instead while they watched the classic film.

 

By the time they left the theatre the expected rain had turned to snow and there was quite a lot of it.

“Oh dear I wasn’t expecting this” she said

“It’s just like the film” Alex said

“It is rather” she agreed

“Although Sharpington isn’t quite historic Budapest”

“No that’s true but it has its pluses” he said looking at her, and made her blush

“And in the film the girl got her man” she said coyly  

“Well I’m game if you are” he said and took hold of her hand

“Life imitating art”

“I think that would be rather nice” she replied blissfully unaware of the bustle of film goers around them.

But she was very aware of Alex kissing her gently on the lips.