Deep Digger Dan

By Jason Tipple

The simple life does still exist in the twenty-first-century.
Join Deep Digger Dan on the adventure of his life!

Our reluctant hero is a loner, unlucky in love, unemployed, and living in a static motorhome on the beautiful coast of Yorkshire.

All he wants is to be left alone to work, drink beer, smoke a few cigarettes and enjoy the world's most misunderstood hobby – metal detecting.
But everything changes when he’s asked to track down a stolen hoard of diamonds from a famous London jewellery heist that happened fifty years ago...
And so begins a wild adventure that spans the length and breadth of a small part of Yorkshire!

Will Dan finally make something of his life?
Why does he always shout the words ‘Come on, get in?'
Will he find the stolen diamonds and stamp his name on the metal detecting hall of fame?
Why does he always make mental notes to himself?
Will he succeed in turning the heads of the hottest girls in Yorkshire?
Will he become an airline pilot like his auntie wants him to?

All these questions, but probably no others will be answered!

Follow Dan’s hilarious and exciting adventures through life, metal detecting, and trying to fit into a modern world and rat-race that he just can’t relate to.
Adventures aren’t made like this anymore!

Come on, get in!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jason Tipple
• Release date: Oct 3, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311257086

Jason Tipple

Jason Tipple was born quite near the coast in sunny Norwich in the Summer of 1973. He moved inland to the new city of Milton Keynes at the age of the 8. His love of writing began at school where he wrote fun stories about zany characters and letting his imagination run almost as wild as his hair. At the age of 13 he wrote in an essay about Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice that Mr. and Mrs. Bennet's marriage could only be saved by a novelty 'His and Hers' towel set. Suffice to say this didn't go down too well with the English teacher but it set him on a path towards an interest in expressive writing. Four years later, his 5000 word A-level analytical essay studying the literary structure of the Conan the Barbarian novels by Robert E Howard was heavily frowned on by his teacher for not being about an 'author of suitable literary merit.' That moment convinced Jason only to ever write about subjects that he enjoyed applying his creative mind to. Jason soon began to write humorous tales, sci-fi and fantasy purely for his own enjoyment. The birth of his daughter in 2006 introduced him to children's books for the first time in 20 years. Inspired by the likes of 'the Gruffalo' and 'Mr. Gum', Jason ventured into writing children's books as well as an epic psychological thriller of 120,000 words.

Book preview

Deep Digger Dan

Jason Tipple

Copyright 2014 Jason Tipple

Front cover copyright 2014 Amy Hamilton Lloyd

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

See the real Deep Digger Dan on Youtube.com

All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious.

Any resemblance to real events or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Other books by Jason Tipple.

Available on Kindle, Nook, Sony, Apple and all good eBook readers.

Adult Fiction:

The DEAD LOOP

The DEAD LOOP – DARK TIMES

The DEAD LOOP – DELIVERANCE

The DEAD LOOP Trilogy edition

Children’s Fiction:

The Octopus Detective

Twisted Fairy Tales: Little Red Riding Hood

Twisted Fairy Tales: The Three Little Pigs

Twisted Fairy Tales: Jack and the Beanstalk

Twisted Fairy Tales: Toxicoda Reeks

Twisted Fairy Tales: Gruffy and the Bluewort

Introduction by Deep Digger Dan

So here it is, a book about the adventures of Deep Digger Dan! I say Deep Digger Dan as if I write about another person because that is how I have always seen him, as a character I created and not the quiet laid back real life Dan which few of you get to see enough of.

I started metal detecting in April 2012 whilst living close to Berlin. I couldn’t speak German and had few friends out there so to relieve the boredom I wanted a hobby that would keep me occupied without feeling left out as everyone around me carried on in their German language and ways. I’d always had an interest in history and the thought of digging up treasure fascinated and excited me.

When I first picked up a bleeping stick I never realised what was ahead or what amazing history I was about to find. After just a few months I was in full swing (pardon the pun), detecting everyday and unearthing some amazing history, especially WW2 relics. Along with the relics came the bombs, the guns and even hand grenades. Hell I might have even found a tank out there! I hadn’t really seen much of Berlin and to be honest I wasn’t all that interested in the city and its concrete buildings but metal detecting helped me to see the beautiful side of Germany. I started appreciating nature and wildlife like I’d never done before. Nothing is more relaxing than spending a day deep in the forest away from all the problems of everyday life in my book (another pun for you).

Whilst bleeping away merrily and videoing my every move I soon started to see just how popular my videos were becoming. I’d been posting videos almost daily on YouTube and people seemed fascinated by what I was finding and my ‘say it as it is’ approach to life. So there I was, having the time of my life, shovelling horse crap in the stables in the early mornings and detecting until dark for the rest of the day. That all came to an end when we moved to Frankfurt. A far more beautiful place where most people could even speak English. There I found a new side to metal detecting... the Romans!

I wasn’t there long as I had to move back to England as things with ‘her indoors’ became, shall we say, a little strained. I did find a few nice Roman relics and treasures in Frankfurt though and was excited about getting back to England and emptying the fields of Roman delights. So back to England and the birth of the Danavan. Basically a caravan, but I renamed it! On the beautiful coast of Yorkshire in the north east of England, where I still am to this day and where I write this message to you. England’s treasures have been few and far between for me but I do get to travel from time to time to different countries in search of that elusive box of treasure. Which brings me onto the author of this book.

When Jason Tipple got in touch saying he wanted to write a Deep Digger Dan treasure adventure novel I was flattered and really excited by the whole idea. I didn’t know Jason, in fact we still haven’t met to this day, so when he said he was fascinated by the character of Deep Digger Dan and wanted to write about how Dan might react in different situations I was intrigued. Hell, I’d like to know how I’d react in different situations because I shock myself at how unpredictable I can be at times!

I had a nosey around the internet and saw that Jason already had a few great books under his belt so agreed to go along with the idea and see if he could pull it off. Now you have to remember that the novel is based on Deep Digger Dan but on fictional events so I was shocked when I read how effectively he managed to get inside my head and take over the character. I felt like I’d written the book myself!

So on that note I’ll leave you to enjoy the story as much as I did. Take it away Jason, or should I say....Come On!!...Get In!!

Chapter 1: A Tale of Two Rings

‘If you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it’s not because they enjoy solitude. It’s because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.’ – Jodi Picoult.

I stare at my scruffy reflection in the mirror. I’m dark haired, averagely blokey looking, not quite six foot tall and I’ve just hit forty. In me own unique way some might consider that I’m handsome, in fact someone once told me I would have been a good face for the Action Man figure. They could have been joking I suppose but none of this matters now because I’m off metal detecting again!

Now Flamborough in Yorkshire where I live is a tiny village on the northeast coast of England with only a couple of thousand people living here. We benefit from a small beach, chalk cliffs, a beautiful white lighthouse, a few holiday camps, and a ready supply of crabs and inexpensive bacon. But like I already said, none of this matters because I’m off metal detecting again. So let’s head out there and get cracking!

Pyke forest near Flamborough is deserted. It’s one of me favourite places to go metal detecting because there’s never anybody here. Now I might not know what kind of trees there are in this forest but I do know that I like them. I like nature in general you see. For me adventuring and exploring the forest with birds chirping in my ears and squirrels shitting in the bushes is like heaven on earth.

It’s a peaceful Saturday afternoon and even the deer aren’t bothered by me presence. But enough with all of this enjoying the views and the smells of the forest, I want to find metal, that’s why I’m here. I’ve only been at it for five hours and I’ve already found three good things. I want more!

I carry on swinging me Garrett EuroACE metal detector in as graceful an arc as I can, just like I’m washing the floor of the national DIY chain B&Q in Scarborough with a broken mop. I actually had to do that the other day after a small boy dropped his ice-cream onto us floor and then knocked over a tub of creosote. On that occasion I blame the parents. I mean who lets their kids eat ice-cream in B&Q whilst they’re shopping for creosote?

Only the occasional false beep of the metal detector as it hits a tree stump or a fallen branch spoils the ambient background sound of the forest. This is nature at its purest and it’s bloody beautiful. This is so much better than being in B&Q or some office. There has to be gold here somewhere, a ring possibly or even some silver. I don’t mind digging up anything that’s metal and shiny as long as it’s not tinfoil, a condom wrapper or one of those bottle caps that looks like a Roman coin but then you realise it doesn’t have ‘just after Jesus died’ written on it. Come on I need more good finds please, no more crap. No one will buy crap off eBay any more will they? Well no-one except me I suppose.

Wait a second, Woohoo! This is it baby, a good signal and it’s definitely not iron. I don’t dig up iron any more unless it’s a broadsword with a handle made from Viking gold. The metal detector emits a reassuringly high pitched beep which is quite literally music to me ears and I scan over the spot on the ground twenty times before pressing the pin-pointer button. The Garrett’s dirty and battered screen tells me the find is six inches deep so I already know from experience that it’ll be anything from a surface find to about eighteen inches down!

Kneeling down on the ground I excitedly set to work digging a hole with me favourite spade. Well it’s me only spade really so I guess it would have to count as the favourite. By the way I actually found this spade when I was detecting in Germany before I even had a spade. Yes I dug it up with me bare hands and a piece of broken toothbrush that I found in the woods. Since then I never leave home without it, well unless I’m not metal detecting of course, then I’ll probably not bother taking it with me. I’m not crazy you know, I’m not the sort of man who takes a garden tool out everywhere I go!

It doesn’t take long for me to dig down four inches into the forest ground on the spot where the find should be and luckily there’s only a few thin roots in the way. Out comes me trusty Garrett pro-pointer with the worlds dimmest light on it which incidentally you can only tell is on by turning it to face you and poking yourself in the eye with the muddy end.

Now poking around in muddy holes like a randy badger is something that I must have done about a thousand times before, maybe even a million but the thrill and excitement of a new find never goes away. This is what it’s all about everybody! This is the world’s best hobby, you should bloody well try it I’m telling you. Get out from behind your Kindle book thing and stop reading for a bit. Don’t bother with all that Skyping thing anymore. Chuck your magazines on the fire and give up playing that Angry Candy Birds thing. Get yourself out metal detecting. Come on, go and dig up some history and you’ll soon be finding good stuff like me, I promise you.

The pro-pointer soon finds its mark, beeping and vibrating like a lady’s toy when the husband or boyfriend is out metal detecting. Now what do we have here guys? Yes it’s a coin or possibly a button. Please be a coin, yes, it is – it’s a coin! Come on, get in you beauty! It’s me first coin of the day after over five hours. Let’s get some mud off it and see what we have. It’s not silver unfortunately but it looks old, very old, could be 1600s, 1700s maybe... Actually it’s…oh no, bollocks! It’s a two pence piece from 1989 and in very poor condition I’m afraid. I can’t spend this can I? They do make modern coins out of crap metal, it’s positively battered! Are you listening out there in the Royal Mint or that Treasury place? It’s no good for us metal detectorists if you’re going to be making coins out of this crap is it? What’s wrong with putting a bit of silver into your two pence coin recipe please? Then you could probably charge a bit more for them right, maybe even sell them for three pence instead. Who knows, possibly even four pence. Can you give it some thought please?

I’m sorry, that’s me rant over for the day. I slip the two pence coin into me finds bag and stand up to do a quick scan to re-check the hole. Always recheck your hole guys! No, there’s nothing else there this time so moving on then, let’s find another signal. This isn’t gold, its crap and I want to find gold. I don’t come out here for modern crap, I want some artefacts, some history, treasure, anything come on, please!

Hold on a minute, that’s me mobile phone ringing again. Who is it this time? I’m trying to metal detect here, Jesus! Looking down with annoyance at the phone’s display I can’t believe it’s the girlfriend Maggie hassling me again. Note to self – leave the bloody phone at home next time because she only complains if I switch if off.

‘Hello darling,’ I sigh, as sweetly as I can manage, probably doing quite a good job of it – I can be pretty damn charming when I want to you know.

‘I thought you said you’d be back in two hours,’ Maggie complains loudly down the phone, her words rattling me ear drums.

‘I am nearly back. I mean I will be back soon,’ I tell her, ‘you only rang me about an hour ago darling. I’m in the middle of the forest.’

‘It was three hours ago Dan,’ she complains. ‘Why are you still messing around in the woods after all this time? You never find anything there.’

‘I’m detecting, darling,’ I remind her, ‘I’m onto something big here, there’s gold in these woods I’m bloody sure of it! I thought I’d found a silver necklace earlier but it turned out to be a dead worm curled around a bottle top unfortunately.’

‘Only silver? I’d rather have a gold one,’ she reminds me for the twentieth time this year, ‘and not one you pulled out of the fucking ground either.’

Sighing, I cast me gaze around the forest as beautiful beams of sunshine stream down through the canopy. The gently swaying tree branches and the faint creak of living wood being caressed by an early spring breeze make me glad to be alive and alone in this peaceful place. Maggie’s phone call makes me think about being in the caravan park in me caravan – ‘the danavan’ with her. I think I would rather stay here ankle deep in soil and adventure for a little bit longer.

‘Your dinner was ready an hour ago,’ Maggie informs me. ‘You better not come back covered in mud again, I’m fed up of cleaning this place for you all the time.’

Brushing a hand over me ninety seven year old charity shop jeans and scruffy red lumberjack shirt suggests that her warning might be a little bit too late. ‘Don’t worry, at least this gay baseball cap you lent me is still clean!’

‘We were supposed to be eating together,’ she complains.

‘I’ll heat mine up later,’ I tell her. ‘Don’t worry about it, but can you do us a favour and check that I left some cans of beer in the fridge please?’

There must be something wrong with me mobile phone because suddenly the line goes completely dead for no apparent reason. I really do need to get one of those new Galaxy plus Kindle i-Phone things when I can afford one.

Putting the phone in me pocket I stop for a minute to light a cigarette and decide that a drink might be a good idea. After a few drags on the cigarette I finally accept that it’s probably time to get the hell out of here and head home.

It’s one small step for me and one giant leap for a small frog to go inside the danavan. So welcome to my cosy static caravan that’s been kindly loaned to me by me auntie. It’s only got one bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen, a lounge and a fairly muddy carpet but it’s all mine. Home sweet home! It’s late afternoon and Maggie has already drawn the curtains which have a beautiful pattern of flowers on them by the way, chrysanthemums I think.

Unfortunately the kitchen smells of salad. I never even knew that salad had a smell before Maggie turned up. I bloody hate salad to be honest. I hate fruit as well actually. Try spending a day metal detecting after only eating a bowl of salad. Can you imagine an army in medieval times trying to fight a battle after a banquet of lettuce? They’d get bloody slaughtered. That’s probably what happened to the Romans in the end you know. Salad probably became fashionable in Italy and then the once invincible Roman legions got battered and driven back across Europe to Rome, dropping their helmets, spears, and coins on their way for me to find a few thousand years later. Salad was what beat the Romans I’m bloody sure of it. Julius Caesar must be turning in his posh grave, cursing the invention of lettuce and cucumber under his ghostly breath. The Romans even started wearing bits of leaf on their head didn’t they? Or was that the Greeks? I don’t remember.

After taking off me trainers and dumping a Sainsbury’s carrier bag full of the day’s finds by the front door I go into the lounge and slump onto the sofa. The girlfriend is relaxing, her short dark hair falling onto her plump and pretty face as she frowns and squints at me through her glasses. She always wears this navy tracksuit indoors and she fills it up completely, maybe a little too completely if I’m being honest, but there’s nothing wrong with that – I don’t mind. The TV has some soap opera on it with a farmer grumbling about cows and feed or something. Its rubbish but the girlfriend enjoys it which distracts her enough for me to go out metal detecting for the day.

‘Hello darling,’ I say, patting her shoulder affectionately, ‘you alright then? Good.’

‘Yeah,’ she mumbles, ‘but what time do you call this?’

She knows that I don’t always wear a watch outside. Time doesn’t matter when you’re metal detecting, it’s the light and weather that are important. As long as you’re dry and you can still see then you can stay out and keep detecting.

‘I had to make the most of the day,’ I explain to her, ‘but hey check this out.’

I reach into me pocket and pull out my find of the day, a mud encrusted silver ring. It’s battered, dented and the stone is missing but it came out the ground and I found it. I found it! It’s a piece of history, Woohoo!

‘Look at this baby,’ I tell her excitedly. ‘It came out the ground and I found it. I found it! It’s a piece of history, Woohoo!’

Maggie shows a faint glimmer of interest then suddenly reaches over and plucks it out of my hands like a half starved Bear Grylls about to eat a tarantula. I knew she’d be interested once she saw jewellery. It’s a pity that she doesn’t react like that to old pewter buttons or musket balls and then we might actually have a promising future together.

‘It’s filthy dirty,’ she concludes dismissively after scrutinising it like she has a bionic eye made out of a brussel sprout-sized microscope. ‘And it’s not even real.’

‘That’s real solid silver,’ I protest. Most people aren’t very good at identifying metal that’s been in the ground for years. ‘That’s a real silver ring from probably a hundred years ago darling. It’s a shame it’s dented because it looks about your size. I wonder if we can get it made round again?’

Maggie stares at the ring dubiously and wrinkles her nose up in apparent disgust before tossing it back to me with a casual disinterested flick of her wrist.

‘Well I don’t want the bloody thing Dan,’ she scoffs, forming an amused smirk on her face, ‘it’s crap!’

‘It’ll still go on eBay darling,’ I tell her, shaking me head, ‘just like everything else good that I find, don’t you worry about that. It’s a piece of history and is worth a few pounds, at least it will be when I clean it up properly. It’s at least a cod and chips for me, a pot of curry sauce and then maybe some cucumber for you.’

‘Alternatively you could get a decent job,’ she replies. ‘And then you can get a better place to live too. Seriously, why don’t you give up working in that crappy shop?’

‘I don’t want a proper job,’ I remind her. ‘If you want to go and work nine to five in a stale office full of water coolers, plastic plants and people farting that’s all well and good. But I want to be in the fresh air darling, in touch with nature and where only the squirrels fart. Metal detecting is the hobby of the future I’m telling you!’

‘Out in the fresh air but with no job? You mean like a homeless person?’ she suggests sarcastically.

‘Of course not, but you know what I mean,’ I reply. ‘I would just love to work outdoors.’

Maggie suddenly seems to notice something about my trouser legs that she doesn’t like. ‘Look at the state of you again,’ she grumbles. ‘You already look homeless. I’m surprised people don’t give you money when you’re out or even try to buy a Big Issue from you.’

‘I don’t see any people when I’m out. And anyway this is what happens when you’re treasure hunting,’ I tell her. ‘It’s a... what do they call it now... an occupational hazard. That’s what it is. Clean clothes aren’t important when you’re knee deep in adventure like I am.’

Maggie makes a quick lunge towards me and plucks her gay pink baseball cap off my head with the speed of an Olympic rattlesnake. ‘Well at least you kept this clean,’ she says, ‘even though you probably stretched it again with your fat head.’

I lean over and kiss her cheek but she pushes me away and mumbles something about muddy clothes and a shower.

‘Do you want to see what else I found?’ I ask doubtfully, pointing towards the Sainsbury’s carrier bag over by the door.

‘Well if that ring is your best find then not really,’ she says, turning back towards the TV where some old lady is milking a cow and warbling to some even older lady about ‘tut shop not selling tut right ham’. ‘Why don’t you go and have a shower and get those clothes changed before you make any more mess in here?’

‘Oh you’d like me out of me clothes wouldn’t you?’ I tease, ‘has all that salad got your animal passions stirred up?’

‘In your dreams,’ she retorts. ‘Oh I just remembered, when you were out there was a jiffy bag delivered in the post for you. I forgot to tell you, it’s by the sink. Probably someone sending you more junk, or have you ordered another coin cleaning DVD for your sad collection?’

The sarcastic bitch! The jiffy bag is very thin but sealed with lots of packing tape. It’s true that I do sometimes get stuff through the post off eBay but I’ve not bought anything recently. I rip open the package and find a letter and a small bundle of kitchen roll inside. The letter is written in that curly and shaky scribble writing that very old people use, you know the kind that takes forever to read. It’s alright though because me auntie writes exactly the same so I’m pretty good at deciphering it:

Dear Deep Digger Dan,

Please accept my apologies for writing to you completely out of the blue. I would like to introduce myself before I explain why I am writing, then I shall tell you a story that you probably won’t believe. My name is Kenneth Jones and I’m 83 years old. I live not far from you in Wakefield. You don’t need to know my address but you could probably find out if you tried to. I’m an honest man who used to work for the railways until I retired. But back in the 1960s I was a bit of a scoundrel it shames me to say. That is where my story begins.

In 1964 there was a robbery from a famous jewellery shop in central London called Straffords Diamonds. It was probably before you were even born. The men escaped with £35,000 worth of high end gold and diamond jewellery. It was headline news at the time but the thieves escaped and the diamonds were never recovered. It’s time to confess Dan that I was one of the two men who pulled off that heist.

You probably won’t believe me, but we buried the stuff in a forest in Yorkshire – and to this day they still haven’t been recovered. The reasons for that don’t matter but what does matter is that I want you to go and get those diamonds for me. They’re buried inside a metal box in Ross Farr forest, a few miles northeast of Wakefield. Unfortunately I can’t tell you the exact location of the box but it’s definitely there somewhere. I filled in the hole myself in 1964 and I remember it like it was this morning.

You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you this story and why I picked you. Do you wonder why we never retrieved the haul? It’s not for lack of trying – I spent a considerable amount of time looking once, but couldn’t find the right location. And I chose you because I’ve heard about your metal detecting videos on YouTube and you seem to have a talent for finding things that others can’t. And finally – I’m dying, and would very much like for those jewels to be returned to Straffords where they belong.

I turned my back on crime a long, long time ago and went straight, but I wasn’t going to confess to an unsolved robbery. But it’s irrelevant now, even if you gave this letter to the police they could never prove anything against me. I am too ill to go on trial anyway. I would never be made to spend my last few months in prison.

Consider it a dying wish to get that stuff out of the ground and back to its rightful owners. I’d love to see it on the news and finish the story of a famous successful heist. By the way, only two rings were taken out of the box before we buried it and I’ve included one of them here as proof of what I’m telling you.

I dearly hope you’re willing and up for it Dan. I know you can do it. My phone number is on the bottom of this letter but please don’t ring it until you have succeeded in what I ask.

Yours Sincerely,

Kenneth Jones.

With trembling fingers I carefully unwrap the little bundle of kitchen roll that was inside the jiffy bag.

‘What is it Dan?’ asks Maggie inquisitively, more than a hint of intrigue in her voice.

‘I don’t bloody believe this!’ I exclaim as I open the tissue. ‘Unbelievable! Would you look at this thing? Jesus, it’s bloody beautiful!’

‘What the heck is it Dan?’ Maggie asks.

A single shard of late afternoon sunlight suddenly spears its way through a gap in the danavan’s curtains like that laser beam from Goldfinger and shines onto the surface of what I hold up in front of Maggie’s face. The thing twinkles in me girlfriend’s eyes as her mouth opens in slight awe and surprise at what I have in my filthy fingers, it’s just like our first date really. The golden colour contrasts with my dirt encrusted nails that look like they belong to a Stone Age woodsman from ten million years before Jesus Christ supposedly did all that stuff he did. Right now at this moment I hold the battered silver ring that I found this morning in one hand and in the other, something very different. It’s only the most magnificent looking bloody gold and diamond ring that you have ever seen!

Chapter 2: Lattice not Lettuce

‘Can you help me please?’ asks the portly middle aged man who looks a lot like former British Prime Minister Gordon Brown.

‘Certainly, what can I do for you pal?’ I reply.

The man briskly rubs his hands together. ‘Do you sell covers for chimeneas?’ he asks. ‘I bought one last week but want something to protect it from the elements.’

‘Yeah, we got covers,’ I inform him, ‘follow me please, they’re down this way.’

I lead the customer from the outdoor section of the store, back inside to where the lawn feed and weed killer is kept. He seriously does look like a lot like Gordon Brown and I consider asking him outright if it’s him, but think better of it. I do remember some of me customer service training you know. Don’t give opinions on paint colours, always walk the customer to what they’re looking for, don’t flirt with customers, don’t drink when you’re working and most importantly of all don’t suggest members of the public might be former prime ministers.

‘Here you go, they’re right here,’ I tell him, pointing to the chimenea covers. ‘Do you need anything else Sir? Some grass seed or tomato food maybe?’

‘No thanks Daniel,’ he says, reading the name tag on me uniform and picking up a chimenea cover from the shelf. ‘That’s great.’

‘You’re very welcome,’ I tell him. ‘Have a nice day pal.’

At least I tried to get an extra sale, it’s the least I can do when it is so quiet in here. He really does look like Gordon Brown but what would us former leader of the country be doing in Scarborough B&Q anyway?

The only reason I wear a watch to work is so that I know how long is left until me shift ends. The hands crawl towards four o’clock like a homeless snail looking for a new shell and I’m bored beyond belief. I’m sure the government must have invented a medical cure for boredom at work but they just don’t want us to know about it. Scientists are always finding cures for something or other and not telling us, I’m sure of it. Somehow us not knowing makes them more money, I just haven’t worked out how yet. I’ll be on the nine o’clock news when I figure it out. I wonder if Gordon Brown was ever let in on the secret. I could have asked him if I’d thought about it but it’s too late, he’s gone, taking the chimenea cover and all the secrets with him.

I don’t mind B&Q really, I’ve been working here three years now, but it’s just not as exciting as metal detecting. Maybe me girlfriend is right about doing something more interesting than serving as a wandering customer service operative in Scarborough B&Q. There are hardly any customers in here on a Monday afternoon to talk to or share me knowledge of our extensive range of quality home and garden wares.

I stroll back outside into the garden section and start straightening flowers whilst keeping a sharp look out for any customers who might need my advice on where to get a trolley or what characteristics to look for in a good spade. Quite a few of the staff that work here don’t like to be outside in the garden area. Most of them think it’s too hot in summer and too cold in winter. There’s maybe only one month in late spring when everyone wants to be out here but I like it all year round. And I know me garden stuff, I did me auntie’s garden for her.

I’m just squaring up a small stack of patio slabs that someone has moved when I hear a voice behind me. It’s the store Assistant Manager, Jonathan. He’s not a bad lad really, he must only be in his late twenties and still young enough to carry off his wavy surfer dude bleach blonde hair. I can’t believe the strapping lad has much luck surfing on Scarborough beach though but I suppose it’s a better hobby than sitting behind a computer in your spare time.

‘Alright Dan,’ he says cheerfully, ‘much going on out here?’

‘Not much buddy,’ I reply, ‘it’s more deserted than me bank account.’

‘Same in there,’ he replies, pointing his thumb towards the sliding glass doors that lead inside the store. ‘There’s only one till open and I’ve let Sally go home early.’

‘Welcome to a Monday afternoon in Scarborough B&Q,’ I reply.

Jonathan nods and stifles a yawn.

‘Hey, wait a minute,’ I say with a grin, ‘I read this joke on Facebook the other day, listen up.’

‘Go on then,’ Jonathan replies, sitting down on the pile of paving slabs, something I’m sure they told us in customer service training never to do.

‘So I went into B&Q the other day,’ I begin, ‘and this bloke in orange and black asked me if I wanted decking... but luckily I got the first punch in!’

Jonathan chuckles. ‘I’ve never heard that one before,’ he says smiling. ‘I must remember that.’

It’s my turn to yawn now. ‘It really is dead in here this afternoon, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah,’ Jonathan agrees. ‘Look, do you fancy a ciggie Dan?’

He doesn’t have to ask me twice and we leave the store together and head out into the almost empty car park where there’s a small smoking shelter. I never quite understood the need to smoke in an open sided shelter to keep the smoke that goes into the sky in one place for a few seconds before it spreads out all over the world.

Jonathan offers me a pre-rolled cigarette and I light up using his cheap Zippo lighter. I must have found a few dozen of these whilst metal