Avatar confusion....

[CHIFF FIPPLE]

Picardythirds avatar

This one is Smeagol (aka Slinker)...




Gary Kellys avatar.

... and this one is Gollum (aka Stinker).

All clear now?

Not realy

[izzarina]

good grief, Stacey!! You're looking rather sinister there. And I could have sworn you had much more hair than that.

[Joseph E. Smith]

...and it looks like you have been dieting a little too hard...girl, you're skin and bones!

[GaryKelly]

Where's the Manchester pics??

Slan,
D.

Well, I had them on a USB pen drive, and while I was heading for the railway station to catch the late-night train from Bolton to Manchester, I was approached by a very attractive young lady (wearing strangely inappropriate clothing for the weather, though she did have an umbrella) who asked me for a light...

Naturally I obliged. Huddling under her brolly, I flicked my trusty Zippo into a rather impressive conflagration which made the poor girl jump. This initiated a rather hypnotic, not-quite-perpetual-motion effect on her rather ample upper body parts which, though held in place by a tightly-laced bodice, were in danger of succumbing to the worst effects of a wet and chilly northern night. As I said, rather inappropriate attire for a cold wet night in Bolton. Her boots were sturdy enough, but the shorts were hardly suitable for the climate. Poor girl must have been a tourist, like myself, quite unused to the caprices of the weather "oop nurth."

Anyway...once the shock of the conflagration died down, we managed between us to get her fag going, and shared the kind of nervous laughter that people do when they've just narrowly escaped an unexpected incineration.

Just then, a stray dog ran up, and making an odd sound (something akin to "Yoink!") whipped the USB pen-drive right out of my pocket by its strap and made off with it! I was agog, I can tell you.

Fortunately, about 3 seconds later, a Black Mariah swung 'round the corner, lights off and kerb-crawling. That took me right back to my old days in the Force, I can tell you. They seemed to know the young lady, and she seemed to know them, for they pulled over immediately (kind of 'em to offer her a lift, I thought, young girl alone on a cold dark night like that).

I told the copper driving the van about the dog, and about the USB pendrive with all my photos on. He seemed strangely unsympathetic, and pointed out how fruitless it would be for a wagon-load of bored coppers to try chasing a dog all over one of Bolton's industrial estates in the middle of the night, on a Sunday, when it was raining. That took me right back to my old days in the Force, I can tell you.

"You're a sergeant, aren't you?" I said, knowingly.
"Yes sir," he said, in that instantly wary way sergeants do when they think they're being spoken to by an undercover Inspector. "How did you know?"
"Ex-job." I replied (heh, that's police-speak for "former police officer").
"Well then you'll know we ain't getting out the van to chase a dog."
"Yeah. Give us a lift to the railway station?"
"Bugger off." he said smiling, in the way sergeants do when they realise you're not an undercover Inspector.

So. That was the last I saw of the oddly dressed but fair young maid of Bolton, and the dog, and the USB pendrive. Five minutes later I was standing on Platform 3 waiting for the train to Manchester Picadilly, and pondering how strange the twists and turns of Fate can be.

Back at the hotel, lamenting my loss, I remembered my camera! I checked the compact-flash card. Deep sadness. I'd transferred almost all of the photos to that pendrive. I do, however, have a couple of shots of JohnS playing a .... no I shan't say it, it might be worth money not to. And a few of some pipers, and fiddlers, and guitarists, and whistlers... but, dammit, all the ones with me in were on that pendrive!

Somewhere in Bolton there is a dog who got away with it, thanks to those lazy idle useless beerstuds in blue, just because they didn't want to smell like wet serge all night.

And somewhere else in Bolton there's a young lady with a singed umbrella and a strange (yet curiously appealing) dress-sense. It's comforting to think she got home safely thanks to those wonderful lads in blue.

[jbarter]

Oh dear Gary, there were so many cries of "Oi, wot you laughing at?" here in the office that I had to email your reply to everyone. I will of course pay the appropriate royalties (should be about a pint).

[Martin Milner]

A touching story, Gary, and I admire your generosity in keeping a young girl warm on a cold damp night.

I would say more, but I'm off down to King's Cross with a packet of Camels and a box of matches.

[dubhlinn]

Where's the Manchester pics??

Slan,
D.

Well, I had them on a USB pen drive, and while I was heading for the railway station to catch the late-night train from Bolton to Manchester, I was approached by a very attractive young lady (wearing strangely inappropriate clothing for the weather, though she did have an umbrella) who asked me for a light...

Naturally I obliged. Huddling under her brolly, I flicked my trusty Zippo into a rather impressive conflagration which made the poor girl jump. This initiated a rather hypnotic, not-quite-perpetual-motion effect on her rather ample upper body parts which, though held in place by a tightly-laced bodice, were in danger of succumbing to the worst effects of a wet and chilly northern night. As I said, rather inappropriate attire for a cold wet night in Bolton. Her boots were sturdy enough, but the shorts were hardly suitable for the climate. Poor girl must have been a tourist, like myself, quite unused to the caprices of the weather "oop nurth."

Anyway...once the shock of the conflagration died down, we managed between us to get her fag going, and shared the kind of nervous laughter that people do when they've just narrowly escaped an unexpected incineration.

Just then, a stray dog ran up, and making an odd sound (something akin to "Yoink!") whipped the USB pen-drive right out of my pocket by its strap and made off with it! I was agog, I can tell you.

Fortunately, about 3 seconds later, a Black Mariah swung 'round the corner, lights off and kerb-crawling. That took me right back to my old days in the Force, I can tell you. They seemed to know the young lady, and she seemed to know them, for they pulled over immediately (kind of 'em to offer her a lift, I thought, young girl alone on a cold dark night like that).

I told the copper driving the van about the dog, and about the USB pendrive with all my photos on. He seemed strangely unsympathetic, and pointed out how fruitless it would be for a wagon-load of bored coppers to try chasing a dog all over one of Bolton's industrial estates in the middle of the night, on a Sunday, when it was raining. That took me right back to my old days in the Force, I can tell you.

"You're a sergeant, aren't you?" I said, knowingly.
"Yes sir," he said, in that instantly wary way sergeants do when they think they're being spoken to by an undercover Inspector. "How did you know?"
"Ex-job." I replied (heh, that's police-speak for "former police officer").
"Well then you'll know we ain't getting out the van to chase a dog."
"Yeah. Give us a lift to the railway station?"
"Bugger off." he said smiling, in the way sergeants do when they realise you're not an undercover Inspector.

So. That was the last I saw of the oddly dressed but fair young maid of Bolton, and the dog, and the USB pendrive. Five minutes later I was standing on Platform 3 waiting for the train to Manchester Picadilly, and pondering how strange the twists and turns of Fate can be.

Back at the hotel, lamenting my loss, I remembered my camera! I checked the compact-flash card. Deep sadness. I'd transferred almost all of the photos to that pendrive. I do, however, have a couple of shots of JohnS playing a .... no I shan't say it, it might be worth money not to. And a few of some pipers, and fiddlers, and guitarists, and whistlers... but, dammit, all the ones with me in were on that pendrive!

Somewhere in Bolton there is a dog who got away with it, thanks to those lazy idle useless beerstuds in blue, just because they didn't want to smell like wet serge all night.

And somewhere else in Bolton there's a young lady with a singed umbrella and a strange (yet curiously appealing) dress-sense. It's comforting to think she got home safely thanks to those wonderful lads in blue.

Just thought I'd ask....

Slan,
D.