Hell&related Stuff

A one handed clock on St Nicolas church, North Stoneham, Hampshire. I don't know of any other 'one hand' clocks at all. Apparantly there isn't the mechanism for a second hand.

Dennypoos.................re-visiting the slow worm's churchyard.

PROLOGUE.

The two figures, unheading of the downpour, continued their animated discussion as they walked towards The Platform. Their long shadows reflecting from the wet cobbles. Their tread careful so as to avoid the plentiful puddles. Their raised voices echoing from the town walls.
They had no reason to suppose that they were being overheard or observed, but yet they were.
A slight hooded figure watched from a recess in the wall of God's House Tower as the discussion became animated to the point of virulence. The hooded figure smiled at this and shook the rain from the cape's dripping hood, thus obtaining a better view of the two sodden figures, as unalike as ever a pair of men could be.
The taller of the two figures, lean and spare like a newly released prisoner, was now jabbing his bony finger into the shoulder of the shorter rounder fellow, whom surely had partook of the table a few times too often. He in his turn was prodding his cohort in the lower chest. His short pudgy arms being unable to reach any higher. No distinct words could be heard above the hissing of the rain as it bounced of the cobbles but disharmony was evident.
The hooded figure had seen enough and rummaging under the heavy, sodden cloak found a steel tipped bodkin which was at once notched into the drawstring of the stout longbow that had previously remained unseen.
The light was poor and the aim was made much worse by the rain which now resembled stair rods more than anything else, but the archer took careful aim. At a distance of only fifty yards a hit was certain and the twang, as the arrow was released, was heard by no-one, leastways not by the target or his erstwhile companion.
The tall figure gave a yelp and fell to the ground as the arrow found its target. Writhing in the mud and filth that was a feature of outside of the town walls and yelling that he was dying, evinced no great effect on his porcine companion other than an amount of jigging about as though he was unsure as to what to do, but, as sure as he was covered in his friend's blood that arced from a severed artery, his sole certainty, having witness such wounds on the field of battle was that death was upon his friend and so to avoid any embarassing questions by the watch, he beat a hasty retreat the way he had come, forgetting, in his haste the storm lantern he was so proud of having the foresight to bring only minutes earlier.
The shot was not a good shot as good shots go. The archer had been aiming for the tall fellow's heart and missed by a country mile, but it was most assuredly not a good shot for the victim whose femoral artery had been severed by the yard long arrow which, after doing its deadly deed had exited the leg, skittered off the cobbles and had ended up somewhere in the town ditch.
Unable to retrieve the steel tipped arrow in the darkness, as had been the plan, the archer unstrung the bow so that it looked no more than a stout aid to walking and requiring no aids to walking, youth being what it was, skipped homeward with the newly aquired storm lantern to a warm hearth and the certainty of a cup of mulled wine.
A thin reedy voice could just be heard in the distance, “..tis two o'clock of the morning and all's well”
It was two o'clock of the morning of all fools day, April the first in the year seventeen hundred and ninety-two, and all was well.

Dennypoos............so many strings to his own bow.

Last evening was spent not in self abuse or an alcoholic haze but at the induction course for volunteers at our local hospital trust.

Much as it may sully, or impinge, upon my cred as a cynical uncaring bastard, it was something that I felt I had to do. Well not had to do. Wanted to do would be more accurate. Goodness knows what'll happen when the CRB checks come back, still I'm a free man until then. I hadn't realised that CRB checks have been farmed out to a private company who's major shareholder gave shedloads of dosh to the labour party. Hmm? No cahange there then.

Dennypoos..................he giveth so that others may benefit. ( whaddya mean loads of women?)