Posted By Bizzywig on January 28, 2009

My Dear Friend, 

I write this in transit!

“Never before have I heard such productive nasal clearance.”

The Day dawned bright and clear, and the crisp air made smokers of Carstairs, Dervish and myself as we stood, stamping and clapping like children, admiring the hoarfrost and sharing the odd, amusing quip. My excitement could be barely contained – the journey was begun!

My mood sobered somewhat, however, as I recalled the events of earlier; my beloved Mildred and I had shared a tear soaked moment of farewell at the corner of Bridge Street, in the wind-ravaged doorway of the Turf Accountant. As she stood sniffing delicately into a small lace frippery with the early sun twinkling prettily on the frames of her glasses, I was queerly struck again, in the cool light of this frosty morning, by her uncanny resemblance to Stephen Fry. I had occasion to mention this to her once before, and quickly resolved that this was not the time to reopen that festering topic – some scabs are best left unpicked. Besides, the dear girl had packed lunches for my travelling companions and myself and had embroidered us each a handkerchief as a Bon Voyage token. Such thoughtfulness! I waved mine with considerable gusto from the window of the number 46, as we pulled away from the kerb and passed that very Turf Accountant’s doorway. Dervish, too, immediately put his to good use. Never before have I heard such productive nasal clearance - he claimed a cold.

As the bus chugged into Church Drive, a miserable-looking youth held up his hand as if in salute. I thrilled to think that news of our wondrous wanderings had somehow spread and were already being hailed, at the very moment of their commencement, by this workaday-man-in-the-street. I began to comment so to Carstairs, but Dervish’s nose blasting drowned out my words, and the moment was passed.

Carstairs was not listening anyhow, as he gave his full attention to nursing his foot. I had warned him to be very careful with my luggage. I told him I would take a proper look at it when we disembark at the railway station. I do hope nothing is broken. The expedition ahead has taken months of careful, scrupulous planning and I shudder to think that our plans should be thrown into disarray by a nasty accident so early in their progression: By Crypto, if even one of those jars of M & S Piccalilli should be damaged, then all will be for naught. I shall keep you informed.

I hope this letter finds you better and you are enjoying some relief from that ointment of Fanny’s. Her Shiatsu improved significantly.

Kindest Regards,

B

Categories: Bizzywig, Bizzywig Begins, Gentle Humour, Short stories
Tags: Bizzywig, Embroidery, Funny Letter, Handkerchief, Number 46 Bus, Piccalilli, Stephen Fry, Travel