Picnic at Hanging Rock

Today I decided I would have a day off from dealing with weighty financial matters and have a picnic at Hanging Rock. Hanging Rock is one of the great tourist attractions, here at Homeward. It is certainly an amazing sight. This stick of rock seems to defy gravity, perched on the side of the Leaning Tower. It is made of sugar candy and nobody knows how it got there. It is not an easy journey - it is somewhat disorientating trying to climb a tower that leans. One is never quite sure of the direction one is going in. I took with me, Goodman, A.B.Fox, the Ferret Princess, Lucy the Parrot, some of the Crookball People (they don't get out much) and, of course, the One-Armed Badger. How can I go on a picnic in the midst of a financial crisis you might ask? Let me remind you that picnics are not only good for your health, all that fresh air, but also very economical. The One-Armed Badger carried buttered biscuits, two casks of ham, a dozen bottles of meat extract, two crates of bananas, blankets, chairs etc; He is an excellent worker - trustworthy and very good at carrying things, although I sometimes wonder at the things he insists on bringing on expeditions. The Ferret Princess brought a flask of Koolvat and a stick of french bread. An odd meal, but then I have found that royalty can be quite eccentric. It was an enjoyable afternoon - apart from the fact that there was a very irritating, persistent, harsh noise disturbing the peace and tranquility. Then a rather disreputable man came around trying to sell us boiled sweets. "What are these comestibles that you are trying to sell us?" I inquired. "Rock chippings mate - they are delicious!" he replied. "Do you mean to say that these are chunks of my rock!" I declaimed. "Oh gawd! your Unc ain't you!" he declared and ran for the stairs. We decided to investigate the droning noise that had disturbed our meal. I was appalled to discover Hitmouse behind the rock - drilling out chunks of it! "Are you mad!" I cried "The rock is held in balance on a knifes edge!" We looked up - the rock was teetering on the brink! "Sir,' cried Goodman "It is about to fall on the Great Hall!" "That's the idea!" screeched Hitmouse "Up the revolution!" "Up Hitmouse, you mean!" I cried as I administered a swift blow to his rear. He sailed off into the air towards the moat. However, the rock was now wildly swaying. "Excuse me, Sir" said the One-Armed Badger, as he produced a giant jack from one of his suitcases. "I'll just place that here, Sir - should hold it until Cowgill can fix a more permanent solution." "Well done, that Badger!" I cried "I shall never call into question your expedition packing again!"