we receive an offer of help from an unexpected visitor

"But why on earth did you sign the papers?" Geoffrey keeps asking me. He can't seem to move on, at all, and I think it's terribly unhealthy. I know that I made a dreadful mistake, signing his incarceration papers, but can't he put the past behind him? after all, it was last week.

"Perhaps you should go to Specsavers, Tuppy," suggested the T-G, who had stopped by for a chat on his daily patrol of the cliffs. Yes, he's still keeping a weather eye on things - when he feels like it. "Whatever THAT might be."

"Never mind that. I'll buy a pair of reading glasses for three pounds, from the mobile shop. It's due round any minute."

Sure enough, we heard the clippetty clop of hooves on the path and the Speedispend "Direct" van drew up, crammed to the gunnels with all sorts of essential supplies/staff of life-style goods. Clippetty clop, you muse? and well you might, because clippetty cloppetting along, drawing the van AND making a healthy profit selling stuff "off the back", was none other than Titus (the horse who bucked Dr "ghastly" Wilson right off in the summer of 2008 - see posts for details as to how and why).

Once we'd informed Titus of Wilson's latest atrocity, we purchased some ointment for Geoffrey's baldness (never mind Granny Sooker - I've the very dab, said Titus, when he caught sight of him) and stocked up on supplies, viz., one jar Chivers Thick Cut orange marmalade, one Mother's Pride loaf, half a pound of butter, three tins korn bif, two tins spam, half a pound of streaky bacon, porridge oats, potatoes, three packets Dream Topping, two tins froot koktale, one pack butterscotch flavour Angel Delight, half a pound of kola drops, half a pound of soor plooms, one box firelighters and a box of Bluebell matches. Not to mention a complete restock of the medical chest - but I won't go into that now. Other essentials such as tobacco and madeira are still...er...procured... via the Tunnels. And just as well too, as the only alcoholic beverage stocked by Titus is a rather attractively-coloured alcopop (bright pink, bubblegum flavour). Geoffrey was tempted, and I must admit that so was I, but as I reached for a bottle, Titus slammed a hoof down on the counter. "No, Tuppy! you'll regret it."

"But why, Titus? I'm sure..."

"Very low alcohol content, combined with dangerously high levels of sugar. If you switch to bubblegum alcopops now, you'll hit withdrawals within the hour, and probably develop type 2 diabetes. Mark my words. Stick to meths 'n' madeira. After all, it's not as if you pay for it. If you're REALLY looking for something different, though, I've some white cider due to fall off the back of the van before the raised minimum price per unit kicks in."

"N-no thanks, Titus."

"Wise decision. Now what's all this about "ghastly" Wilson? what on earth's he been up to, and how can I help?"

I DO rescue Geoffrey from The Old Asylum

Well, Geoffrey's home. But he's in a terrible state - and so am I! the trauma! I've had to step up my intake of sal volatile and madeira, and supplies are running low...but more of that later. I suppose readers will be eager to know how we rescued Geoffrey from the insane asylum. What happened is this.
After filling his pipe with a potent mixture of Old Fogey and gripping it between his teeth, the Tupfinder strapped on a brace of pistols and said, "Rightoh! off we jolly well pop!"
"Er...are you quite sure that you don't want to change into something more...suitable?" I postulated, concerned that the T-G was stiil wearing his dressing gown and slippers.
"I could say the same about YOU, Tuppy! but of course you're quite right."
I blushed, and looked at my reflection in the silver tea pot. Not an attractive sight. While the T-G stepped into his dressing room to change into his tweeds, I decided to rid myself of the satin loons once and for all. I seized the butter knife, jabbed it into a side seam and ripped the stitching down the left leg - one down, one to go...
"Come on Tuppy! no time to waste!" The Tupfinder appeared, dressed head to toe in tweed and carrying a sword stick and a bag of tools. I could see the pistols bulging under his jacket.
"But I..."
"Come ON!"
So off we set, me now wearing half the pair of tight satin loons and barely able to walk due to a terrible attack of pins and needles as the returning blood surged into my appendage.
We rattled along in the Tupfinder's hansom cab and before long we found ourselves at the ivy-covered gates of The Old Asylum. There was an awful creaking sound as the gates swung open and a raven croaked alarmingly from the depths of an old oak as we cantered up the neglected driveway.
As we drew up, a forlorn face peered wanly from an upper window - it was Geoffrey!
The Tupfinder shinned up the ivy in a trice and jemmied the window open.
"Out you pop old son. Can you fly?"
"N-no." Of course he couldn't...poor Geoffrey had had all his feathers shorn off by the asylum attendants...for his own good, they said.
So the T-G carried him back down to the carriage on his shoulder, and we had an emotional reunion.
"Oh Geoffrey, Geoffrey!" I sobbed, "Whatever have they done to you?"
Now we're safely back at the Outcrop, and Geoffrey is in his usual place toasting his toes by the fire enjoying a plateful of "tangy Cheese" Doritos and a hot mug of madeira. I'm sure he'll be back to his usual self in no time.
We're going to have to find some way of making his feathers grow back quick-style, though. It's getting a bit parky of an evening.
Perhaps we might have to consult...Granny Sooker (gulp)....

smell a rat

Geoff and I have been sleeping off the effects of a "lock in" at the Puff Inn - Stormy decided to push the boat out in honour of my and Geoffrey's return last evening, and he fetched an extra couple of barrels of madeira from the cellar - not to mention a few rounds of Purple Peril. I don't remember much after 8pm (we'd been there since lunch) - I know we staggered home eventually around dawn, as I can just recall the dawn chorus being in full cry just as I was dropping off.
I'm not sure if this really happened or if I dreamt it - but I think Granny Sooker made a rare appearance, carrying a basket of plants for sale - absinthe - which she's been growing in her "garden" or rather, outside laboratory. Geoff and me must have purchased a few stems - anyway there's something green, fibrous and slimy soaking in an old zinc bath at the back door - we'll leave it to macerate for a while longer, then distill it down once we've got all the goodness out of it. Might be nice at Christmas - if we can wait that long!
We awoke this morning to an increasingly terrible "pong". At first we attributed it to our own breath, both of our mouths not being in tip top shape after last night's bacchanalia - but after cleaning our teeth and checking our extremities I'm afraid to say the smell was still very much in evidence. We realise we're going to have to track it down - okay, we can often open windows at this time of year, but the weather isn't always this clement - this will undoubtedly mean doing some pulling out of furniture, lifting of lids etc.
Can't face it today - but will have to see if we can find the strength tomorrow. Goodness knows what we will find.