A Bit of This and a Bit of That: A Story in Four-Lettered Words or Less

By Michael R. Whitcomb

A Bit Of This And A Bit Of That is the second story told using no word longer than four letters. Like the first, it was spawned from a classroom exercise in Australia where the author taught for almost 30 years.

From the first book This Is As Big As It Gets Jake returns to his friends Paul and Jane who are now married and have a son, Andy. Between them, they help Jake to adjust to the loss of... well, read the book and find out.

Their journey not only takes them widdershins (a colourful word for counter-clockwise) around England but also into a world of birds and a world beyond this one.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 26, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543458060

Michael R. Whitcomb

Michael Whitcomb was born in Brighton, England, during the cold January of 1947. He is proud to call himself a middle child and is equally proud of his English Grammar School education. An unsuccessful art student, he chose to become a career primary school teacher, moving that role to Queensland, Australia, in 1974. He retired there, having taught in schools with student populations ranging from just 4 to over 1,500, but no matter the number, his message was always the same. His students were always encouraged to think, told to be seen to care, and to espouse the value of education ahead of schooling. Today he is living with his third and final wife in Manhattan, New York, where he enjoys discovering the minutiae of this wonderful city.

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Copyright © 2017 by Michael R. Whitcomb.

Library of Congress Control Number:             2017915819

ISBN:                  Hardcover                    978-1-5434-5804-6

                            Softcover                      978-1-5434-5805-3

                            eBook                           978-1-5434-5806-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 10/25/2017

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CONTENTS

Dedication

Introduction

Part One

Aunt Cath And Nana

Part Two

The Bed Of Ware

Part One More Than Two

Sots Hole And More

Part Four

The Wall

Part Five

Ten Q!

Part Six

… And Use It As A Golf Tee!

Part Six And One More

The Bard And A Bomb Site

Part One Less Than Nine

Gods, Bath And A Bit Of Fawn

Part Nine

Surf, Edit, Cut, Save

Part Ten

So Near Yet So Far

Part Ten Plus One

Lyre, Liar

Part Ten Plus Two

An End To End All Ends

Part Six Plus Six Plus One

Free Will Or Sue’s Will

Part Ten Plus Four

An Old Man Of The Sea

Part Ten Plus Five

Oh Darn The Dart!

Part Ten Plus Six

The End Is Nigh

Glossary

Additional Glossary 1: The Bird List

Additional Glossary 2: Places Mentioned

Additional Glossary 3: A Bibliography Of Sorts

DEDICATION

For Leslie.

This story was part of my life before I met you, but without you, it would never have seen the light of day in this form.

So, thank you.

I love you.

MRW

INTRODUCTION

As those of you who have read the first part of this intended trilogy – This Is As Big As It Gets – will know, my original intent was to write a story that contained no E. The discovery that this had already been done promoted other ideas, including writing a passage that contained no word longer than four letters. If this had already been done, I was not aware of such a creation at the time of writing. I have still not found one.

Any limitations imposed on the natural flow of our language, be they lipograms or any other impediment, create numerous difficulties, and not all just for the writer. Problems also arise for the intended audience; the readers.

A text using language that has not been drastically altered by self imposed rules such as the ultimate lipogram or a strict limitation on the length of word, is read the same way. It therefore follows that if the writing is altered, then the reading will be altered too.

I know that when I eventually tracked down a copy of Ernest Wright’s Gadsby, and settled down to a long anticipated read, I was a touch disappointed. The reading was difficult, however the more I read the easier it became, and I realized that as the writing style had been changed by the author’s need to convolute sentences and use language patterns that would successfully lead to a sensible story, with a plot, so my reading patterns had to change accordingly. An essential part of reading, especially when learning, is the skill of prediction. Alas, it is that pattern that requires the most change when faced with ‘unnatural’ language patterns.

By choosing to use no word longer than four letters I found myself doing what, in my mind anyway, Ernest Wright had done in Gadsby, Georges Perec had done in A Void and what Mark Dunn did in Ella Minnow Pea. By manipulating the language during the writing process, the reading process was made more contrived than you, the potential reader, would at first imagine; I entreat you to persevere!

The four-lettered limitations outlined in the introduction to Book One continue. I continue to employ uncommon abbreviations, contractions and the hyphen to overcome troublesome encounters with difficult alternatives. The latter was either prudently used or judiciously ignored according to circumstances in order to aid and abet my writing.

No acceptable substitute has yet been found for ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ although my characters do use ‘ta’ and ‘ten Q’ (or ‘tan cue’) and would not feel comfortable using ‘dank u vel’ or some other pidgin or bastardized variant from a language other than English.

‘Said’ continues to be overused and I must apologize in advance to any true Scot who reads this story. I had never realized just how difficult it is to write using a regional accent or dialect; until I tried it. Perhaps the only positives to come from that attempt were the spelling cas’l for castle, the archaic spelling abby for abbey and the use of reet for right.

An advance apology must now be extended to the inhabitants of the many towns, cities, villages and hamlets which to all intents and purposes are visited by my four intrepid travelers in the story that follows. A limited number of English place-names contain only four letters so the others had to be coded, punned, joked about or alluded to in some other form. While some efforts are smoother than others, I am the first to admit that these ‘others’ are woefully artificial. But I guess we have to realize that this is not intended to be a geographically correct tourist guide to England. Nor is it necessarily historically or ornithologically correct, though I tried to make it so. It was an idea which, like Topsy, just grew . . . and grew and grew.

One day I may get the opportunity to follow the route taken by Jake et al and find that I have made major gaffs, like the one in my first draft which saw them crossing the Thames ‘with a view of the Isle of Dogs over to the left’. I had to change that as even I knew that this was geographically and physically impossible. They ended up driving the Dartford Tunnel which was more realistic, but more difficult to pen, and still, I am not sure if this is possible. Dartford has a tunnel and a bridge, and I have a sneaky feeling that one takes traffic from north to south and the other from south to north, and I am not sure which is which. Should any other gaff be of such gargantuan proportions that they make a mockery of even my modest literary attempt, then my pre-empted apology has to be extended even further.

Please remember that this story remains a work of fiction, salted with facts and opinions, and while every effort was made to authenticate road junctions, the local flora and fauna, major town and country landmarks and the like, I cannot guarantee that authenticity. If that is what you seek then you need to visit one of England’s quaint little second-hand bookshops for a copy of In Search of England! H V Morton’s book may be more suited to your needs, or Rides Round Britain by John Byng or even English Journey by J B Priestley.

So, apart from the odd and occasional lapse into using one of the aforementioned cheating modes, all words are real words, correctly spelled and properly used. A comprehensive thesaurus, a good Crossword Dictionary (or two) and the Oxford English Dictionary became tools of trade and some amazing synonyms were found, many of them fairly simple once you wrapped your mind around the task and were prepared to twist sentences and rewrite paragraphs in order to continue with a particular line of thought.

As I laboriously reread, edited and often rewrote passages in this work during the latter part of 2015, through 2016 and into 2017, I realized that the work was already dated. Some of the readers may have never known about roll film and have only known digital cameras and even cell phones as the means to take selfies and other pictures. I have left these references as written, partly because that was my mind set when writing, partly because that is the time frame in which the story is set and partly because changing to digital cameras is just too difficult in the framework of four-lettered words!

Finally, you may wish to criticize and shoot me down in flames for this introduction, for it fairly obviously does not adhere to the restrictions of the story to follow. I believe it is my right as the author to explain that neither my name nor any of the work that book-ends the story are part of the story. What follows is no trick, and despite countless word counts and proof-readings, a five lettered word just may have slipped under my guard. I hope and pray that this isn’t so, but just in case, have a pencil handy and make any necessary alteration(s) for yourself.

When you have done that, read the story again. It may just make more sense the second time around.

Thank you.

Michael R Whitcomb

New York City

September 2017

PART ONE

AUNT CATH AND NANA

It took more than that one time for Jake to feel at home with Paul, his wife Jane and son Andy. When all was said and done he had been away for a long time and they had so much to say, a lot to mend and an idea or two to heal. One such idea was Sue, and her name had to crop up at some time; and, try as hard as they did for it not to, it did. It had to.

Andy was glad that he knew of her, but he had only been told as much as Jane felt was good for him. Now that he had Jake to talk to, he had to fill the gaps. But he had to wait.

In turn they told many a tale: some high, some low, some fast and some slow. Some drew a clap from Andy or Jane. One or two drew an OMG! Are you for real? from Paul or Jake. Some were new, some they knew, but all were met with an open mind.

From the time Paul got told off by an old lady when he gave up his seat to her on a bus to the time Jake got sick when he ate too much raw fish in Rhyl, they all took care not to let the idea lead to Sue.

But it did!

With the gate open, Jane led the way. She held back a tear as she told of how they met and how she grew to love her. Paul only knew her as one of the four, and he shed a tear as he ‘sang’ a song that she had sung so long ago.

Jake kept most of Sue in his head. He had seen her only a week ago, but how do you tell that to . . . well . . . he told them of the void that she had left in his life and of how he set off to fill that gap, but at no time did he even hint to the fact that she was a big part of his life, even now.

With Sue out in the open, Andy saw that the hour had come for him to find out even more. But he had to wait as Jane and her men had a cry, a hug and were mute for half an hour or more as each put Sue back to her time slot.

It was Andy who got them back on an even keel when he said, So, what was it like?

What do you mean by ‘it’: life in an army at war, the loss of the one you love or life away from your mum and dad? Jake had made a joke of it, but was not in the mood to have to act his age.

Jane left to make a pot of tea and Paul took Andy to one side to say that this was not the time.

Hey, let the boy be! I’m fine with that, Jake said as he lost the fake grin that was his mask.

You are?

Sure! Now, Andy, what ‘it’ did you have in mind? Was it one of mine or do you have one of your own?

Well, Andy was not too sure now, I had your trip in mind, he said much to his dad’s glee. I’m sure that is more apt to the here and now than some boot camp yarn from your life in the army! Ugh! I hate the very idea!

Jake saw a zany side to that and this time the grin was real and the mask gone. Well, he said as an echo of Andy, both are of note, but blow for blow my trip is, well . . . yes, it is as you say, more apt!

So, will you tell me? I’d like to know. What was it like?

Why so keen son? his mum said as she came in with a big tray. It will take some time for you to be able to fly . . .

Huh! Says who? and Andy put his arms out wide and ran over to the door with a ‘zoom, zoom, zoom-a-zoom zoom’. On the way back it was more like ‘mooz, mooz, mooz-a-mooz mooz’, and Jake gave him a clap.

I like that Andy, but that is not what your mum had in mind, is it?

True, said Andy. But that may have been more fun!

As they had tea and cake, Jake left them. When he came back into the room he held out some maps and a note book or four. Here, take them. It’s my log. Have a look and if you’d like to know more just ask me next time I’m here and . . . Is that okay? he said to Jane as he felt her eyes bore into the back of his head. I mean, I don’t want to jump the gun, and I know that what will be will be, but I sort of hope that, well, the next time will . . .

Jane shut him up with, Yes, next time will be fine; or the next and all the rest of them, you know that!

Jake gave Paul a wink and blew Jane a kiss. God dild you my dear. He then saw that not one of them knew what that was so he said, It’s a line from the Bard, as if that made it all fine. Then to Andy he said, Yes, so if you want to know more, I’ll try to fill any gaps next time I’m here, okay? And if you want to know how I feel . . . you know . . . Sue . . . and . . .

Andy gave him a nod and held his gaze. He took the maps with a, I’ll hold you to that!, but did not look at them. He put them with the log on his desk next to his lap top, but only when Jake had gone, did he take them onto the rug and lay them out to some sort of plan.

In one book, with a huge ‘ONE’ on it but no date, he read in a page or five, that Jake had made his home in Hove, not far from the West Pier, and that he had met up with a mad Pole who knew how to say, I’ll ’ave ‘arf!, his wife who knew even less and a dour Scot. The four of them had set off in a hire car with no idea as to what the next day may find for them.

The Pole and his wife knew more than they ever let on, and for them, it was part of a big game. Once they were on the road, the game came to a halt and it was hard to tell them from the folk who were born here. The Scot was much the same or so Jake said, as he had not been able to make out more than one word in five of all Jock had said for some time. They were an odd mob, but the book said that they got on well and as none of them had ever ‘been here done that’, it, as in the trip, was all new!

That is when the ins and outs of the trip were put on file in the log.

Day one: left Hove . . .

Andy took out a map and with it open, saw that for a mile or two, Jake had had the will to plot the trip with a red felt, but only for that mile or two; well, ten, tops, and not even for all of day one, as he was to find out, when the red line came to a halt near Rye Bay.

But that was all that Andy had to have. It gave him some clue as to the lie of the land, and he did not have to look far for Hove as it was one end of the red line. He lay on the rug and read.

Day one: left Hove and its red road in the hire car with Guy (the mad Pole), Lara (his wife) and Jock (well what else do you call a Scot?) with no idea as to our next port of call. We had some food, a tent, a gas ring to cook on, a full tank of fuel and Guy’s cash card and Visa. What more did we need, huh?

Huh! Maps, an SLR with zoom lens and film, a lap top, a mob . . . no, a cell as they call them in the USA, or two or even one each, or . . . Oh, wake up Andy! he said to his hand. How long ago was this? That kind of tech . . . He let the idea go with a smug look on his face, and went back to the book.

We left from the West Pier and went east. A good view is had of the sea, and it was kept on one side as we went via Kemp Town and then out of town . . .

What! What of the Eye. They must have past it on the way . . . Oh, come on Andy. Just read! Ask Jake what you like, but for now, JUST READ OK?

. . . out of town to a fold in the land that used to be the home of Clan Rota. When we got to the Ouse we made a left turn then a turn to the east at the main road and left, over the rail link, and into Ripe. It was not a wide road, more of a lane, but we came into town and out, and with a turn this way and a turn that way, then a turn at a tee, past a dam of some kind and back over the rail link as the gate was open (or the boom was up), we came out on a main road near a deer park and then to a view of what they call The Long Man, over on the hill. We took the next road to turn that way, came to a sign, and then a stop. Of the two such hill-men, this one and one a long way to the west, this one is not rude, nor is it the fake! It is old; pre-iron age, but even the lore of the land does not know why he is here or for how long he has been this line on a hill and why he has a long pole in each hand. I’d like to walk on his head, Guy said, but it’s too far off the road and we don’t have time! We knew that to be a cop-out, if not an out and out lie, as time was what we had the most of, and I said so. I said, Look mate, if you get your arse into gear you can be up and back and we can be on our way in . . .

This was new to Guy, who said, Get my . . . oh I get it. I like that. Good idea. He saw his wife give him an odd look. No, not the walk to that man’s head and back, but the idea of . . . and the rest was lost in the wind as he got out of the car.

Lara had to take a snap so in the end we all got out with Guy and went for a walk. It was not a long one but on the way back to the car Lara saw a very old yew tree and went off on her own to look at it. She was made to run back for the car when Guy said, Come on girl, get your arse into gear! She did not like that, and I made a note not to say or do the same.

I also made a note to ask Guy or Lara or both why they had told me that he was a Pole. He may have been born a Pole – he may have, I don’t know – but he was as big a Pom as any I had ever met. As for Jock, I know now that his very fake burr is just an act, so, I hope it won’t take too long for him to drop it. Only time will tell.

I must have had a nap, then, or was too busy with that note, as the next road I saw was the one to East Dean and Went Hill. We did not stop to look at the font but I made a note to be sure to see it next time! But we did see many a red tile on many a roof, even on the inn. We got to ‘The Gap’ and to our left we saw a car park. We went for a good walk this time, up to ‘The Head’ – beau chef – and a snap of, as Lara put it, ‘the low turf on high drop to flat rock and the sea’. It was Guy who said that the best view had to be from a boat out at sea, but as the wind blew cold air into his face, Jock had a moan. C’mon, he said, less ge’ toot o’ here!

We did!

Pity we can no hit a wee ball eh? said Jock as we came to a golf club, or was it two, one on each side of the road.

Aye! said Guy; that is a real pity. And I did not find out for a few days that he was for real.

Jock said to stay on this road, we were on the A259 (two-five-nine) at Old Town, and to look out for how it left town.

Oh, do I have to, I said with a fake sigh.

Aye lad, said Jock in his best fake burr, an’ why nae?

And we two, too? said Lara.

Aye lass, why not yee two, too? Jock said. I don’t take you two, Guy and Lara that is, to be the ones to get in the way.

Well, I am, Lara said, but Guy is not so well read and has no idea what we have just said, do you dear?

And nor have I, I said, but, hang on, isn’t that the road we want?

It was, and the idea was lost as Jock did well to slow down and make the turn.

Andy was lost too. He had the map open but did not see what Jock had seen. He put the log on hold and went out to buy his own map, so that he had one to draw on if that was what he felt he had to do. Now that may seem to be a good idea, but his new map was not the same as the one Jake had left for him. He used his head and saw that the map Jake had used was not just a year out of date nor even five, but ten, and so he used the old one, that way he’d not get too lost, even if he did not know what had been seen or said on the road!

From here on in it was all too easy and we were well on the road that Jock had said for us to be on when I saw Lara. Her eyes were wide open as an idea took hold. We came to a road on our left with a sign to Hooe. Guy had read it as Hope, and seen it as a good omen, so he took the turn. As we did so, Lara drew a man’s head with a big dart in one eye. Guy gave a nod and said, I’ll stay on this road then!

It was not far down the road that he came to a halt. Jock saw the sign and we all knew that we were near the site of ‘Ten Six Six’, and all that went with it!

We had to pay to park the car or join some club, and Jock got the hump when he saw that this ‘auld hame’ was a flat ruin; all but one wing that is.

What hit me was that, back in the day, so few men took part and that the army at the top of the rise, lost! I went to buy a book at the gift shop, but Guy led me out the door and back to the car. If you buy a book at each stop we make, he said, the car will be full I no time, and we can’t have that now, can we?

Andy was not sure what this had to do with Guy. He felt that if Jake had need of a book, and if it was his own cash then . . . oh well, he’d keep his nose out of it. Then he saw what came next.

I gave him a nod, but made up my mind that if I saw the odd book, I’d buy it and mail it home. In that way Guy may not even know that I had one; not that it’s up to him! The idea of, Oh sod off! did not last long.

Back in the car, as we took the main road to the sea, I told Jock to keep an eye out for a grey owl but gave Lara a wink. When we got to the sea we took a left and came to Ore then went to Rye via Pett. To get to the old part of town we had to go via Land Gate and the one lane road. We had a bite to eat, paid a quid for the ‘Rye Town Walk’ and then went to the Rye Keep! In fact Guy paid for the book, and when our eyes met, all he said was, What?

From the top of the Keep, you can see that all of the town can be ‘done’ on foot as it’s not that big and I was in awe of all the flat land that had once been sea: land that they now farm. I got told that once upon a time the town had its own mint and that each year in May, the guru or head man of the town used to toss a coin or two from the Town Hall into the pack. He does that, even to this day. I was also told that this was a good way to buy a vote: an echo of past sins? You can make up your own mind.

From Rye we took an exit for a view of the bay, Rye Bay what else, and West Road, and a ruin now over a mile from the sea, but it was hard not to look at the eye-sore out to the east! Then, just as we came into Kent and on to Lydd, I saw a chat and the bird star of the film Kes, and my mind was put at ease over the eye-sore, but we did not see the odd wall that was made in the form of a bow and the idea was that it act as ears. Well, that was the idea, but, alas, it did not work.

When Andy had a look at his new map he saw what the eye-sore was, but the wall; he had no clue as to what that was. He also saw that Lydd-on-Sea was on the old map but not the new one, and he was sad at the idea that the town may have died. He also made note of the fact that the thin red line was no more! That idea did not last long, did it!

This was a flat area, and damp! It was also my turn to work, and as I took over I saw a big frog hop over the road and a lone swan over to the left. I had the idea that the swan was old or hurt, or I’d have seen more of them. It was my job, or so I had been told, to take us all the way to Deal, but I did stop on the way as all who take a joy ride must.

One stop was less than half way down the bay on East Road, near a cut in the long sea dyke. We took a turn to the sea, mid-town, and just off the main road is this tiny fort, like a cone with a very flat top and a big gun on the roof. It had been used as a look-out in the last war!

I did not stop, but I did slow down so that Lara got to see both The Leas and East Wear Bay as we went past and I saw a tern with a sand eel in its beak. Nor did I stop for a look at the drop into the sea as the land ends! Lara said that she’d like to, but Guy said that we had done that back near East Dean, and as it was all the same to him . . . Guy won!

Andy shut the book and put away the maps. He was glad to have been able to plot the ‘trek’ as far as he had, but he was in need of a rest as his head was in a spin. That Jake is a card! he said to the maps. I bet that Guy and his wife have more of a feel for what to say than he said in that log; and I bet he can twig a lot more of what Jock says than he lets on to, too. I must ask him. At the back of his mind he knew this was so, and when he read page one to four of the log once more, it sank in that Jake had told him that he felt that way. He had not seen it all. How did I miss that? This ran in his mind for the next few days, as did the log and Lara and ten six six and all that, but he was too busy to look at any of it. Then he woke one day, and mid yawn knew that this was what he had to do. He took down the note book and the maps, old and new. He had to sort them out but was able to find the one with Kent on it and he laid it on the mat, open.

He did not read the note book but, out of his head came the word Deal. He did not need to pore over the map for long as it was easy for him to find. Okay, Jake! If I were you, what will my next move be?

For half an hour or more, Andy lay on the lush pile and let his mind run. What is an ‘oast’? What is a ‘rill? And do they mine coal in Kent? I must find out, but not now. Now I want to see the path that Jake took. He gave the note book a flip, got to the page, and read.

I’ve not a lot to say, but Deal has a pier, a note on a wall that says that on this site, a man who went on to seek much fame, had said Veni, vidi, vici, and, down by the sea you can see fish nets hung out to dry (or for a mend) from the mast of each boat, oh yes, and it has a cas’l: well, that is how Jock said it! It is a big fort, lots of fun, and like a maze; a good stop if you are in the area. Lara had said that it’s more like ‘Veni, vidi, Visa’; well for some of us it is!

Guy got to meet one of the men as he went to tend his nets – the man’s that is, not Guy’s – and they sat for a chat as the sun went down. The man had on a polo neck, dark blue it was and he had a pipe, but that is all Guy said. He was too full of the idea of a trat line to talk of the man. It was all too easy in Guy’s head and he was keen to try it out, but in the end, as he told us what a trat line was, he saw how much of a task it was and gave up on the idea. All it was was a set line, and you had to fix it at both ends, bait each hook and wait for the tide to come in. Alas, to get any fish, you then had to wait for the tide to go part way out and we don’t have time for that he had said. And that was it. He said no more, just got up and went to bed.

Jock got to play golf, [Day Two] but not snob golf – his term, not mine, for the club not far up the sand dune – and it may have been fine for Mr Bond and a king or two, but it’s too rich for me he went on.

Andy saw the word ‘toll’ on the road. Was this the Scot in Jock, or was it the snob part of ‘snob golf’ that put a stop to a game at that club?

But that was it! Deal was at the end of a fine sand dune, fine as in best, not a name for the size of the sand; and that is its fame!

As Jock took Guy for that game of golf I took Lara and the car for a look at a long boat. I knew of one atop the bay but I did not know that it was here too, that ‘God’ came to swap the zeal and idol of the Celt for . . . well, I’m not sure they got the best deal! Lara was! She said, I like the big sign of God! She also knew of a home – an airy nest – that is what she said, and she also said that she just had to see it. I went with her, and I’m glad I did, as not only did I like the home, but we had some time on our own, and ate at the Thai Four Two. It was the name that got us in, but it was cosy and the food was just the best Thai food this side of Sara Buri. I was told by the girl at the door that near here, a man from Kent once used the ebb tide to get rid of the silt! What a good idea, but why tell me?

As we left, Lara took my arm. I took a peek at her and saw her grin as the girl gave her an odd look. Envy came to mind, but Lara had to tell me why when we rode back to the boys, as I had no idea.

As she told me, the grin on her face was as wide as each oak step that had been cut into the walk down to the sea not too far away.

For the next few days Lara was Boz; and I gave her a ‘Hard Time’ over it! When I told Guy why, he said that her home was in fact as dour and grim as they come. He may have gone on to say more but Lara hit him and said, No more golf for you if you talk like that. It’s not true Jake, not true at all. Not one word of it. I saw Guy wink, and she saw it too. If the word is kind so too is the echo, she said, and you’d do well to heed such news.

I gave Guy a look as much as to say, ‘What the?’ and he said, It’s one of her Nan’s. She has lots of them!

And what does it mean? I can’t see that it is apt in that . . .

See, it’s not just me, Guy said with a hint of a win in his tone. Jake is lost too!

Oh you men! I just knew you’d hit it off. No more was made of it, yet more was left to be said. I had to wait for Lara to go away and for Guy and me to be on our own. That took more than a week, and by then I had lost the plot of a word game and had no idea how to link, or why chad and band and dead and lock were in my head at all. It is true to say that Lara had a Nan who had a word or two to say for any task at any time of day, but that most were not as apt to us as they were for her nan, or, come to that, to Lara. Guy told me that the best way to get a rise out of her was to ask, And what was it your Nana used to say? He went on to tell me that if I ever did say that, then I’d see her best moue and I’d have to duck. I did not need to be told why, but I did have to find out that a moue is a bit more, if not a lot more, than just a pout!!

Jock had no idea of this and was left in the dark! We like it that way, and so does he, most of the time!

It was not far away, but none of us had any wish to go back and look at the long drop into the sea. Not even from the end of the pier, or the big dock to the west of the last town we had seen as we made our way here to Deal. Lara said that she’d like to see a blue bird, as in the song sung by Vera Lynn, and the ‘Live and Let’s Spy’ Expo, but it was not top of her list, even if the cas’l was one of the best that Norm made! Jock told us that.

Jock also said that on a good day, when the air is hot and the sea is cool, you can see Cap Gris Nez from here, but that he’d not shed a tear if he did not go to have a look.

Guy was the one who said that he’d like to stay one more day and take a look at what had been the end of the road for the guys who had a tale (of the sort told by a none too tidy dog) to tell a long time ago. I felt that Lara had put him up to this as he had no idea who the Wife of Bath was and even less that she was one of the crew, or that a monk, a cook and a Man of Law had each told a tale too. So the next day [Day . . . oh, I don’t care what day it is] we went for a look.

One stop has to be to see Cath, Lara said with a dead pan face. Look, on the map, here, it says, Cath!

You are one daft lady, Jock said. So Cath is not an aunt that you have to see, it’s just a big kirk!

True! she said, a home for the Holy, but we have to stop all the same. Okay?

It was, and we did!

Jock had a word or two to say when we were told we had to pay to get in, but Guy shut him up when he paid for all of us. Even Lara got her back up when told the fee was for the area past the gate as well as the area past the door, but Guy had a way to shut her up too!

If you have seen it on a post card you have yet to see it. You have to go and feel it. The hair on the back of my neck has not gone down even as I set this in my log, and that is a big deal as I don’t go in for this type of holy area as a rule, but this one . . . was . . . look, when I find a word that fits I’ll use it, okay!

Andy made a note to ask Jake if that word had come to mind yet.

He put ‘good for what ails you’ on the page, but knew it had to be just one word! He also knew that both ‘good’ and ‘kind’ did not fit, and nor did ‘cool’, nor ‘holy’ or ‘pure’ or ‘warm’ or ‘meek’; well, they all did in a way, but he was lost for just one word, also.

We also took a boat trip, saw a bird ‘park’ and got a shot of the West Gate. I knew that this town had a past as rich as any in the land, and you miss a lot if you try to do it on your own, so I made a vow that next time – and I bet I say that a lot as time goes by – next time, I’ll take a tour and hang the cost.

Most of the ‘old town’ is shut to cars and it’s not only safe but lots of fun to walk up and down. I got up Guy’s nose a bit when I took near to an hour in a used book shop in Beer Cart Lane and then more time in a ‘gift’ shop, but I had to; that is who I am! It was my kind of ‘gift’ shop too. It sold a heap of junk, loot from past eras, that was so easy to look at but hard to buy. [I did buy Guy a book, a copy of The Nun’s Tale, but he’ll not get it yet! I plan to give it to him when we get back to Hove, with some cash as a book mark. I mean, let’s face it, when this is all over I can’t let Guy foot the bill can I! Can I? Oh, don’t be like that! No, I can’t!] Up town we came upon the Café des Amis, and luck was on our side as they had room for us. Mind you we got told that next time, on a busy day, we’d have to book or wait. It was not my cup of tea as I was made to feel old, or was it that my mind was a long way away!

Well it had to be for me to say ‘not my cup of tea’! I had not said that for a long, long time, and it made me sad when Paul, and then Sue, came into my head.

Andy made a note to ask his dad if this was a big idea; a key to this man’s mind, and went back to the book. But he put it down and also made a note to say how glad he was to see that Jake was his own man and had not been in awe of Guy and his word over the sale of a book.

Then he went on.

It had been a good day, and now it was time to move on.

Day Four (?), oh blow it, call it ‘Day the Next’ or ‘Day Plus One’: When we left Deal I had made up my mind that it’d be Jock who’d link the town of Ham, we saw the sign on our left, in a bad food joke to all the sand ‘wich’ we had seen. He did not let me down.

Lara was in the work seat and as she had seen Long Nose Spit and that ‘Dour Home’ she made a left turn and took us to Ash and then Ware, at the edge of many reed beds and the home of tits with face hair. That was Lara who had a glow in her eyes when she had said it. And then to me she said, Not like the tit that we saw; with the long tail and the high, thin note as part of its song. You’d wipe the dust from the tree with that one, eh?

Once more Jock was glad to stay in the dark but Guy got told as Lara went her way to West End, past some huge old oaks to Pean Hill and on to Oare. As we came to Pean Hill Lara said, Isn’t this the road to that bird park?

It was, or may have been, but I have no idea how she then got from Pean Hill to Oare, but she did. We did not get to see the old wall that she had said she’d like to get the feel of, but we were both glad when we saw knot, teal and an owl. ‘Did you see that owl’s tiny ears?’ she said to me as she left the work to Jock when he took his turn, and as she put a tick next to the owl on her bird list.

Then, So what is that? I said.

What is what? Oh, that! That is what they call an oast. Lara said.

And what is it for?

Well, now it’s a B&B . . .

But it used to dry hops. Guy cut in.

And it had a big kiln with a room over the top, said Jock, not to be left out.

It also had a room for the hops to cool . . . said Lara, in turn.

And one to keep them in . . . Guy went on.

. . . in bale form . . . Jock said on cue.

. . . as they wait to be sent to the inn, Lara had to prod Guy for the next bit.

. . . that will brew the beer, Guy said, and then to Lara, Will that do?

. . . that we sup at the bar! Jock said with an air that told us all that he had it sewn up and that that was that.

So now I know; and stop with the song! But why is the roof a huge cone?

One more time guys, Lara said, and got the nod from both of them. Ah, well, you see, the bits at the top . . .

. . . each one is a cowl . . .

And they move to get the best of the wind so that . . .

. . . so that the air can flow to the fire.

Is that it? I said, but knew by the tone that it was.

Andy put the book down and gave a sigh. What more do you want? he said to the end of his nose. But he was glad that he now knew what an ‘oast’ is, too.

Well what more do you want? Jock said as he put his foot down. Just shut up and let me get on with it, okay?

We all saw from the grin on his face that he dug what we had just done and it was a very rapt Jock who took us down the road and on our way. I did not envy him this part of our trip as I had seen the cars in the city. She’s fine, he had said. I’m used to it! That had been good news for the rest of us.

We let him go his way and his way took us to Blue Bell Hill and on to the M2, but, just a spit away from Blue Bell Hill, to the west of the A229 (two-two-nine) at a bend in the road, is a path. Not far away Jock came to a safe spot by the side of the road to pull over and park. We all got out, went back to the path and took it to the top of the hill. It was not a hard walk, nor a long one, but Jock was out of puff by the time we got up the hill and saw on the left an odd, old, pre-iron age tomb. Its name was Kit’s Coty and it used to sit at the end of a long east to west sill. Is that what we came to see? Jock said in a mock huff. Next time I’ll not stop or I’ll stay with the car!

Then Andy saw a note down the side of the page. It read, ‘He was all talk as he did not stay with the car once; he came with us each time and did not miss one! Well, he may have done if a game of golf was in the air, as it was from time to time.’

At Blue Bell Hill Guy also saw a tree or two, but no girl, and we had to tell him that they were in fact ash and yew, and not like the oaks we had seen only an hour or so ago. Aye, said Jock with his eye on the road, and if you ask me, they make the best bows you know, yews that is, not ash! The ash is used to make bats and oars, and they say that . . . hey, and he lent on the horn as some fool did not obey a stop sign.

. . . Odin made man from an ash tree! Well, I mean, why not? It is the tree of time and life and . . . oh you norn! he said as a car did not give way to him.

Lara had shut her eyes and gone grey. She now sat with Guy’s hand in hers. I got the idea that she did not feel safe when Jock did not have his mind on his job. What was he to do, not say a word, even when he had one to say? That was not fair, and I knew I had to talk to both Lara and Guy, and I knew it had to be asap! As I went over this idea in my head, I did not hear a word that Jock said from the time he had lent on the horn. I hope it was not one of his gems.

We got back to the M2 and Jock made us all wave at Aunt Cath. Oh, and that used to be a busy base for the navy, but not any more, he said, and we all had to look to the sea.

Then the M2 was the A2