Legends from our own lunchtimes

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Finding Frank and Gill

So there we were just south of Chester, I was certain that we were within coo-ee of finding Frank and Gill's place but without a map it was getting a bit hard, so I pulled into the grounds of a nice pub at the cross roads to ask for directions.

The place was empty, if one was to ignore the two patrons enjoying a quiet one in the late afternoon, which given the intent of my visit to the place would have been somewhat counterproductive.

I wandered up to them and inquired if either knew where the lane in question was, and would they be kind enough to let me in on the secret.

The first looked up and said "Aye I can tell you, but where will you be starting from?"

I looked at my feet and pointed towards them. "How about right here?"

"It's a bit complicated", he said waving his arms in a reasonable impression of an agitated traffic policeman, "we should go outside."

Presumably it would make things simpler if he could avoid giving directions from the bar to the carpark, because when we got outside, he pointed to the cross road, and told me to go up there about a quarter of a mile, faltering a little while he made sure I knew what a mile was, coming from a metric world and all, and to make doubly sure that he had my full attention, he summoned all of his will to work out how to describe the rest of the journey.

I braced myself.

"it's the first street on the left", he said.

And it was.


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