It Just Keeps Getting Weirder (OS027)
Previously: Having parked the campervan in the deserted ‘Camp Horated’ campsite we set off on a walk exploring the area and helping to find Warden Den’s Dog Dawn who had ‘Dunna Runna’. Unsuccessful, in our search, we returned to find a scrappy handwritten note.
The note read:
Warden Den’s dog Dawn’s dun running & is back home. She was busy
burying her buffalo bone beneath Barry’s Bridge. Unfortunately, the
bridge seems to be damaged and cannot be used until we repair it tomorrow.
I can show you the area after all.
We were both disturbed about the thought of being stranded in this strange campsite. Pam summarised both our thoughts:
“I’m glad Dawn’s back home but I really don’t want to be shown the area by ‘Ant’. Do you think the bridge really is faulty?”
“I don’t know Pam. How about we check it out in the morning?”
“OK” she replied tentatively.
I put on the light or at least tried to.
“Oh! no. No power, Pam.”
“I don’t like this Oliver.” replied Pam, pulling a multimeter from her bag. “You can check the power supply with this.”
“Nope Pam, completely dead.”
Pam lit a battery lantern and candles pulled from her bag, dimly illuminating the van. Turning attention to my hunger pangs, I opened the eye level cupboard to see what options we have and was showered by cream crackers, bread and tea bags much to Pam’s amusement.
“Darn it. I meant to go to the shops before setting off but we were in a bit of a rush, as you know” I grumbled, removing cream cracker crumbs from my hair and the annoyingly small indentations in my Aran weave sweater.
“It’s not a problem Oliver” she said pulling two marmalade sandwiched from her bag. I told you, “I have everything we need in here.”
Before I tell you about the next bit, I should tell you that Pam’s ‘job’ is an inventor and she just generates idea after idea in the hope that one is not half bad. Usually, they are all half bad if not fully bad. Anyway, she announces:
“I’ve had an idea. You know the water carrier you have. What if it was on wheels to make it easy to bring back from the tap.”
“Been done I’m afraid. They sell something which looks like a barrel with tyres on.”
“OK, how about a toilet which collects all the ‘stuff’ in a box which you can empty down the drain.”.
“There’s one of those under the bench there. You empty it in the chemical disposal, which incidentally is not for leaking disinfectant bottles.”
“I know, a solar panel on the roof which re-charges the spare battery.”
“Done”
“A remote control and electric motor for moving caravans, so you don’t have to push them”
“Done already.”
“How about a picnic table, like they have in pubs which folds away into a suitcase?”
“Done….Done…. why are you inventing stuff already invented?”
“I know. A fridge which runs on gas.”
“Aaargh, stop it. Just go to sleep before I invent an external bedroom.”
“You’re such a pain. Impossible.”
It wasn’t long before we heard footsteps on the gravel path. There was a rap on the door. I don’t mind saying, this was a bit disturbing with us being miles from anywhere, so I will.
“This was a bit disturbing with us being miles from anywhere.”
Then I thought, it’s going to be that annoying Assistant Ant again.
I opened the door. It wasn’t Ant but a uniformed official who announced.
“Eyup, Im’t local Ranger Officer Sir an I wanna warn you not to op’n door as there’s an escaped convict in’t area.”
My suspicions were aroused and I was regretting opening the door to someone who said don’t open the door. The fact that he was wearning a uniform quelled some of my fear.
“Sorry ‘Officer Sir’ but you don’t sound Scottish at all. That’s a Yorkshire accent.”
“Yer dunt ave to call mi ‘sir’, sir, John’ll do. Yer reight though. Sa Barnsly axnt. It’s Author, Eee can’t rite Scotts accent cos ees from Barnsly “.
Suddenly, an ethereal, booming, deep voice echoed from the direction of Ben Evolent.
The stranger sped off towards reception shouting “Wach out Ees bites wus than is bark.”
“Who’s that?”
“T’author. Watch yer back.” said the stranger as he disappeared towards the forest. In the darkness, I could just see him crash heavily into a tractor which I swear wasn’t there before.
Momentarily, he disappeared from sight but then … I couldn’t believe my eyes … he stood up but instead of the uniform, it looked like he was wearing high heels, Khaki shorts, fluffy fur jacket and a flat cap. He stared at himself as if in shock and stumbled into the woods swearing profusely.
“Dun’t cross t’author” said the distant traumatised voice and then, nothing.
Anyway, it’s been a long day so I suggested:
“Time for bed.”
“Oliver”
“No, I mean the bunks. Well, I’m tired anyway. You may want to stay up.”
It wasn’t long before I was well away. I’ve no idea how long I’d been asleep but I was abruptly woken by Pam.
“Oliver, Oliver, there’s a noise outside.
“What, who, where?” I mumbled.
Pam had already armed herself to the teeth (from her bottomless bag) with a torch, nail scissors and Mr Muscle oven cleaner.
“Right Pam, you get ready to shine the torch when I whip open the curtains.”
“Ready, Oliver”
“OK, three, two, one, N O W”.
I whisked back the curtains and Pam illuminated the shadowy figure lurking by the neighbouring caravan.
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