A Tight One on Titan, and the Perils of Moon-o-centricity

Who knew?
Geoffrey and I are in the same section of the solar system after all.  Not only that - we're on the same ring!
It only goes to show that you can't make assumptions about where you really are in life. For example, I assumed that because I was on a Moon that it was THE Moon.  Our familiar companion on silent, frosty midnights.  A pale, slender sickle, a silvery gleam, a reminder of darkness on an indigo summer evening.  A sudden light as the wind blows the clouds away in an equinoctial gale, and ships toil across a stormy sea.
How wrong could I be?
No. I'm on Saturn's largest moon, Titan.  Not to be outdone, Geoffrey's also on a moon of Saturn. Or rather, a "moonlet".  He's not on a ring, after all.
Or rather I was, and he was. We've been rescued, and are now - well, more of that later.
"Saturn's rings are made of dust particles and gas Uncle Tuppy.  I read it in the Tupfinder General's Giant Book of Useful Knowledge, which he lent me when I was recovering from my latest dose of 'flu," said Tuppence as he circled me in his space rocket. "You can't possibly sit on them.  You'd fall through."
"Tuppence!  But how did you know we were here?"
"The Tupfinder General happened to be watching for smugglers through his hi-powered telescope at the exact moment you were sneezed out of Kevin Bacon's nose. He saw you as you were blasted into the stratosphere, out of the Earth's atmosphere and indeed orbit.  He said the screaming was terrible and he'll never forget it. After a quick cup of tea, a pipeful of Black Bogey, a brief snooze, a read of the paper and a plate of korn bif sandwiches to revive himself, he flew into action and sent word to me via the heliograph to fire up my rocket toot sweet and head for Saturn with a knee rug and a flask of Madeira.  And here I am!"
"Never mind all that. Do you have the medical chest?" I asked urgently, as my nephew "looped the loop" and fired a salvo from the Bren gun he had fitted to the front of the rocket.
"Ha ha ha!" he laughed, as the "moonlet" on which Geoffrey had been perched was blown to smithereens. "That's for me to know and you to wonder!"
"Nooooo!" I wailed, as Geoffrey plummeted Saturn-wards.
"Why isn't he flying uncle Tuppy?" cried Tuppence, coming to his senses.
"His wings were welded shut by the G force when we were blasted out of Kevin's nose," I snapped.  "I'm surprised the Tupfinder General failed to inform you of that part.  Do something, Tuppence!"
Luckily Geoffrey's wings fluttered into life just in time, and he landed beside me on Titan.  Tuppence threw us a line and, using a mechanical winch, he hauled me on board.
"Good grief Uncle Tuppy.  Even without your fleece you weigh, well, a bit much actually. I haven't allowed for that in my calculations."
"What calculations?" I demanded.
"My time-space continuum calculations.  Essential to our safe return.  We could run out of fuel before we reach home due to the excess weight.  Sorry Uncle Tuppy.  Sheep overboard!"
And with that, a trap door flipped opened beneath me and I dropped into the bottomless pit of Space.
Well, nearly.  Just as the trap door snapped shut I managed to grab hold of the outside handle, and here I still am - clinging on for dear life as Tuppence steers for home.  He keeps looping the loop in an effort to get rid of me but to no avail.  I can hear the engine struggling a bit and I know that I'm threatening the lives of my companions, but I don't care.  All I want is to get home and put my feet up in front of a blazing fire with a massive mug of steaming Madeira and quite possibly a couple of opium tabloids to take the edge off after this humungous ordeal.
Geoffrey's peering at me anxiously from the tiny triangular window - he's just written - "HANG ON TUPY" on the steamed-up glass.

More later.......

(If you like the Tuppy & Geoffrey stories, there are many more in e-book form which you can find here on my Amazon page via this link)

I've built a laser gun

Right. I've built a laser gun, following Tuppence's old blueprint for his TTD. I managed to find a load of tin cans in the bin up at the tourist car park and I fashioned them into a pointy thing with a mirror attachment and magnifying glass at the business end - I simply used Geoffrey's shaving mirror.

If my calculations are correct, I reckon that if I face west at sunset, I think the power generated by the dying rays of the sun magnified via the mirror/magnifying glass combo should be sufficient to remove that dratted skin from off of that rice pudding.

I can conceal the whole thing (I think) beneath a cape, and so everyone will think I've actually blown it off.

Then I can collect my winnings and get on with my life.

Anyway I'm setting it up for tomorrow evening - I like a bit of drama. I can't wait to see everyone's faces.

Munny - is it the root of all evil, or what?

Well, it's 10.33, the T-G has arrived for his morning snifter and so it's high time we cracked open the madeira and lit our pipes. Geoffrey and I have been recovering from our recent ordeal in the tunnels, in which the Grim Reaper aided by the Ghastly Dr Wilson attempted to make us part of his "quota". As if.
Anyway, we're none the wiser re. how Tuppence got his digital camera, never mind his "munny".
"But why do people need munny?" mused Geoffrey.
"Nobody needs munny. It's the root of all evil," asserted the T-G, poking the fire with his sword stick. "Take Speedispend for example. You can bet your bottom dollar that's where Tuppence got his camera."
"But we've not got bottom dollars. That's what we're getting at. Should we have? Is munny necessary? Should we be going to Speedispend as well?"
"NO!" shouted the T-G, leaping to his feet and releasing a shower of ash from his pipe. "NEVER darken its doors."
Geoffrey and I exchanged glances. We already did darken its doors, by accident last summer, when the TTD went awry (I think - anyone keen to read that episode will have to trawl back a bit) and we had a dreadful time.

We hatch a plan

"But how did he get a digital camera, Hereabouts? and how is he, er, plugging it in?" mused the T-G earlier this morning over a reviving post-half-ten snifter.
"I don't even know what a digital camera IS," said Geoffrey.
"Modern technology, Geoffrey. All part of the cut 'n' thrust of daily life, for folks Overthere."
"That's it!" I cried. "He must have been travelling Overthere - to Speedispend Hypermarket and Compulsory Health Screening Centre! he must have got hold of some munny!"
"Great Scott! I think you're right, Tuppy! but how - "
"He must have rigged up another TTD (time travelling device). Either that, or - "
"He's smuggling again."
"Let's all calm down for a moment. Let's think about this rationally," said the T-G, puffing thoughtfully on his pipe. "After all, it's only natural for a young lad like Tuppence to want all the latest gadgets."
Geoffrey and I exchanged glances. "We never had any gadgets. And look at us."
"Exactly," said the T-G.
"But Tuppence has turned to crime. He's out of control. He's smuggling, and wrecking ships. He's dealing in contraband, and getting - "
"Munny. I know. Besides, he could make all our lives a misery with that flaming camera, sneaking up and taking pictures willy nilly and without so much as a by your leave. Well, there's only one thing to do now. We'll have to check the tunnels under cover of darkness. I'll bring the pistols, Tuppy, if you and Geoffrey wouldn't mind organising the medical chest, a flask, and a few sandwiches. We'll meet at the witching hour, and take it from there."

heading for home

What luck! turns out Ranald and Sandy had stopped off at Flannan Isle for a breather on their way to "Hereabouts..." ( see gazetteer for info.) , where they've been invited to give Apsley and Cherry's abode, The Old Rectory, a makeover.
"But WHY? Only last year they got it stonecladded and decked and goodness knows what all else." we asked.
"That's precisely why," replied Ranald. "They want all that stripped down now. They're sick of it. They want a different look for the autumn. More rustic, I think, wasn't it Sandy? Log fires and sheaves of dried this and that? Gourds and twig-type stuff, in earthenware pots? Textured fabrics, in natural tones?"
Sandy shrugged. "No earthly idea and frankly I could not care one jot. They're SO tacky, and they won't listen to advice. It's their way, or no way. Frankly I'd rather it was no way, as I've NO interest in working for them, but what with the recession we need the money. Anyway - can we offer the two of you a lift back to the Outcrop?"
"Yes!!" we chorused, clambering on to their enormous backs.
"Hang on!" they shouted, as they unfurled their beautiful white wings, took off into the westering wind and soared homewards.
As we soared skywards, we glimpsed some wreckage. It looked very much like a pile of rusting tin cans - rusting korn bif tins, to be precise. In fact, we deduced that it was Tuppence's latest TTD (time travelling device - see previous posts), which must have crash-landed on Flannan Isle, hence his mysterious presence on the island. As we flew over the Minch, we glimpsed a tiny white woolly figure clad in yellow oilskins, sculling valiantly away, heading for...well, hard to tell really. But I'm sure it was Tuppence.

summer visitors

Now it's summer we're getting lots of visitors, and we're so flattered because they do like to leave stuff behind, perhaps as a little keepsake/thankyou gift? Very generous of them whatever the reason. The socks are particularly brilliant, just the very dab once we'd brushed the earth and crustiness off them. Even the lavvy paper can be "re-used" once it's dried out a bit! it's so expensive, lavvy paper, nowadays - and I think this is the soft kind! (what a treat - we usually buy Izal!!) We've got it hanging on the line as I speak and I'm sure the brown stains will fade in the sun. We're keeping the lager cans and used BBQ tray in case Tuppence wants to make another heatshield for his new time travelling device (see last summer's posts for diagram of previous TTD, and details of its destruction). And as for the sauce bottle - well! we were ecstatic when we saw there was actually some left in it - and it's barbeque flavour! our fave - plus, it's a "brand name", not the Somerfield value kind which we usually buy - so we can take it along to Apsley and Cherry's next BBQ party and not feel ashamed! Thanks, whoever you were!!

no go with the camper van

Cherry got a lucky break this week, vis a vis her diet (see previous posts). Somerfield have got Nik Naks on special, so she's been buying them up by the pallet-load.
Geoffrey and I had a swatch at the camper van ( see two posts ago). Sadly it is a very rusty piece of kit indeed, so virtually unsalvageable, and certainly no use as a TTD - it would never, ever withstand the rigours of being blasted into another dimension. To be honest, Geoff and I are quite relieved - the amount of sanding down and "filling" we'd have had to do doesn't bear thinking about. We were also a bit nervous about the time travelling part, to be frank. Last time out, Tuppence had the helm, and we didn't really pay much attention to what he was doing with the theodolite and the sextant - so, we were far from certain that we would be able to navigate without his assistance. Goodness knows where we might have ended up. Geoff's always wanted to visits his relatives in the Southern Ocean, but it doesn't appeal to me.
We did have a look inside the thing, but in its fragile rusty condition it wouldn't take both our weights and the innards dropped out. I think there's a chemical toilet left in there, which someone might find useful, and we managed to find some old tins of this and that - sardines, Granny's tomato soup, All Day Breakfast, and so forth. There were pineapple cubes as well, but we left those.
So, we're going to have to transfer our allegiance from Fisher and Donaldson to somewhere else - we're thinking of trying Goodfellow and Steven, and then the Tower bakery.

we decide to resurrect the TTD

Geoffrey and I have decided we can't live without Fisher and Donaldson pies and cakes. Obviously Cherry Fulmar feels the same way - and by the look of Apsley's waistline, he does too.
So, as we sipped a glass of madeira while watching the sunset last evening, puffing steadily on our pipes and listening to the reassuring crackling of the fire, an idea popped into our heads - mine and Geoffrey's, that is. Viz., we think that if we can manage to resurrect the time travelling device - or TTD - it could prove most convenient for travelling back in time, just a week or two to when Fisher and Donaldson were still open Hereabouts. We could then pick up fudge doughnuts and steak pies whenever we felt like it. Another advantage popped into MY head - we could probably get away with not paying for them as well. But I kept that to myself - meantime.
Readers will remember that last summer Tuppence made the original TTD out old korn bif tins. It got powered up by sunlight reflecting on to the panels and causing a combustive reaction with the poofoo valves. We were then able to effect a rescue of all the sheep and other animals stranded on the hulks half way between Hereabouts and Over there. After that, we had to invent a milking device...but readers will have to go back and consult previous posts for use thereof, diagrams etc.etc.
ANYWAY - word from the Puff Inn tells me that there's an abandoned camper van up in the tourist car park - quite an eyesore and it needs to be removed anyway - Geoff and I reckon we could fix it up into a new and improved TTD. We wouldn't even need the poofoo valves - we could power it up using the Fulmar's generator.
That's if we can be bothered of course!!

B.O. becomes less of a threat, and Tuppence sends us a note

No go with Tuppence and the TTD blueprints. We managed to get a message to him via Razor Bill the postman, and we got one back quick as you like, with just the two words written on a piece of torn lavatory paper. Not surprisingly one of them was "off". It was actually quite hard to read, due to it having been written in felt pen and the paper being the posh quilted variety. But we got his drift. Quilted bog roll! Tuppence is clearly doing quite well for himself! whereas Geoffrey and I are enduring the rigours of whatever cheap "value" range we can find. Geoffrey does favour Izal, but honestly, at my age that's not on at all.
So, back to square one with the reaper. We've decided to consult the Tupfinder general about it all. He's bound to have encountered this problem before. We also need his advice about Baby Orca - Tuppence has been revelling in it all and egging him on to ever greater heights of slavering revenge - it's pathetic really. Why can't he let bygones be bygones. Anyway, apparently I was mistaken about the bounty on my head being a real bounty as in bar. However, word from the Puff Inn is that nobody's interested in capturing me and flinging me into the sea to be consumed by B.O., as it's well-known that he - Baby Orca - hasn't got any cash and wouldn't be able to pay out. His mum died broke (in more ways than one - see previous posts), and he just lives from one meal to the next. A bit like me and Geoffrey at the moment, so I've no sympathy.
Obviously, he was counting on yours truly being on the menu before too long, but although I'm "most unpopular" Hereabouts ( see previous posts) it looks like there's not enough money on the table, so nobody can be "arsed" to use one of Tuppence's favourite words, getting mixed up in it all. Specially at this time of year - the weather isn't half "parky" and nobody wants to be scuttling around kidnapping folk unless it's absolutely unavoidable. So, that's one less thing to worry about.
Tonight we've invited the Tupfinder round for madeira and crisps - Geoffrey's scouring the bins as I write - and we hope to come up with a solution re. the Reaper.

we decide to remove Death

Geoffrey and I have decided to play the grim reaper at his own game: we're going to remove him - or she, or it. How to do it? well, of course we discussed murder - a pretty radical solution, because as we all know, or most of us anyway, murder isn't pleasant, or even justifiable, usually, but there's a moral argument here, viz. an eye for an eye. Or a life for many lives, in Mr. G. "thinks he can get away with anything" Reaper's case. Better by far to kill one, and save many.
That's what we concluded after a nightlong discussion. A dilemma which hasn't been resolved quite so tidily is the use of the word "kill". It isn't, well, very nice. It's a bit kind of in your face. A bit of a bald statement. The word "murder" is little better. We hit upon "remove" as a temporary fix - but really, it won't do either, as we don't want to remove him/she/it. Remove implies removal, or shifting, to somewhere else, and we want to get rid of him/she/it altogether.
Anyway, it'll have to do meantime.
So, to the actual nuts and bolts of removal. How to "remove" the Grim Reaper? well, we've seen many a resident from Hereabouts "going over the top" (see previous posts), but we didn't think that would suffice for the Reaper. We defo. wouldn't want to to see him clambering back up over the cliff edge again, probably in a foul temper, and therefore felt that a more stringent solution would be required.
After a badly needed whiff of sal volatile at 5.15am., we had a joint brainwave, viz. capturing him/she/it, possibly in a tungsten net, and "removing" him/she/it via a revamped TTD (time travelling device - see previous posts from ages ago - Tuppence made one from old luncheon meat and korn bif cans)
The only thing is, we're not sure we can lay our hands upon the blueprints for the old TTD, so we might have to track down Tuppence and see if we can bring him on board. But he's so young that he probably isn't bothered one way or t'other about the old G.R. and his constantly whizzing scythe.