Tuesday, 7 October 2008

Calling All Readers

Readers of this blog will be as distressed as the citizens of Homeward over the recent disappearance of the village of Homesea.

Over the last two days we received two messages from Uncle, the beloved owner of our fair city, by carrier pigeon. However, no further communications have arrived.

The last known location of the village is believed to be in the Atlantic Ocean approaching the Bay of Biscay. A garbled report has come in from a British Royal Navy frigate, HMS Troutbridge, describing a dangerous piece of floating wreckage seen in a sea mist. The Second Mate was locked up in the brig - his sanity having been brought into question after swearing that he had seen an elephant jumping up and down, and demanding to speak to the Queen, on the quayside of a floating village complete with a church and church bells, gasworks and a railway station!

This appears to be the first news that the rest of the world has had of Homesea being sighted at sea.

Cowgill has been scanning satellite imagery, and reconnoitring the area with a spotter plane, using a grid pattern, to try and pinpoint it's exact location.

In order to ensure stability, in these troubled times, I, his brother Rudolph, have assumed command here at Homeward.

We need your help - if you are a member of the fishing fraternity, please look out for this village. If you are a Radio Ham, then we ask you to listen out across all wavelengths for any communications from Homesea. If you live by the sea, or are a regular beachcomber, please be vigilant for any messages washed up in bottles.

Uncle needs you!

By Order of the Acting Owner of Homeward.


Thursday, 2 October 2008

Taken for a Ride

We were having a wonderful holiday here at Homesea, but, my troubles always seem to follow me.

The Old Monkey and I had just had an enjoyable cream tea at the teashop in Mermaid Street, and were wandering around looking at some of the Antique shops, when we were assailed by raucous laughter and singing coming from the environs of the Jolly Smuggler tavern.

I recognised one dreadful voice immediately, wailing a particular vicious shanty.

“Uncle on his holidays
Splashing around in the sea
He is so fat the fishermen mistake him for a whale
Poor old Uncle caught in the net!”

Beaver Hateman!

It transpires that he and his gang have brought the Wooden-legged Donkey here and are offering rides on the beach to unsuspecting tourists.

Once they are on his back he rushes into the sea and refuses to bring them back until they have handed over the contents of their wallets or purses.

I will not let this spoil my holiday – I shall just have a quiet word with the Mayor of Homesea and have their activities monitored.