Well what can I say?
It simply is astounding. Something which I am quite sure hardly anyone with eyes that are vaguely human has ever seen before. Unless of course, those possesing the eyes have actually seen a bus at some point, no matter how distant, in their lives.
I am sitting on the number 82 bus, with a gnome in each pocket of my cardigan. I can feel the tips of their tiny, but painful, sharp pointy sticks digging through the 100% acrylic, nudging sharply against my sides at every jolt of this fusty mode of public transport.
I am being taken to a secret location where, I am assured, I will be shown this fantastical thing/place/person. For what purpose I am being taken to see it, I am as yet, not sure.
As an apparent gesture of goodwill for my seamless compliance, I was allowed to speak to Sidney on a cumbersome looking mobile phone which was handed over to me by a burly gnome who also just happened to be called Burly. The conversation with Sidney was, as you have probably already guessed, rather one sided, although I am sure I heard him purr at least once. It was either a purr or him doing that funny thing he does in his throat when he's eaten too much grass.
Either way, I was reassured somewhat by the gesture alone that Sidney has been released unharmed and uncharcoled.
Judging by the pointed nudging coming from my adjacent pockets, I think we are now arriving at our stop. It seems to be the one by 'Chippies Chippy' and the wasteground where the old cinema was bulldozed by mistake, whilst showing 'Gremlins 2' a few years ago now.
I shall leave this blog entry and get off the bus with my hips being pinned from either side by small gnomes with pointy sticks.
My next blog entry may be one of wonder and amazement, or I may be on another bus.
Oh the excitement that comes with being kidnapped by gnomes is almost unbearable sometimes.
My childhood memories are of an 82 bus that went from outside my Gran's house, to West Bromwich. There were Gnomes working a protection racket on that number 82 and you'd arrive in West Brom bereft of most of your pocket money, having been given all sorts of hollow promises. This has left me with a life-long mistrust of small people with pointy sticks. The Gnomes eventually disappeared. I believe that they took off to sunnier climes with their ill--gotten gains and you may wish to Google the words "Gnomes", "Tax" and "Havens". I have avery bad feeling about this whole escapade and can only imagine the Trauma that poor Sidney is experiencing.
ReplyDeleteI wondered why my small knitting needles kept vanishing. Now I know they're being used to hold you hostage. I take no responsiblity for any damage done to your jumper.
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