" It's going to rain." said Joe.

" Don't be silly." I said.

I looked up at the clear blue sky, you could not see so much as a puff of cloud. It should have been like this last Sunday, Playing tennis in a thunderstorm is not much fun, never book the court three weeks in advance.

I had heard the weather forecast and wondered if Joe know something the weatherman didn't. Joe simply said he had this feeling. I suggested it was only a feeling of empty space between the ears. A day like this it could not be any more perfect if it tried

" It's going to rain." insisted Joe.

" Rubbish." I said.

I should not have said rubbish so loudly. We stood under the bridge that carries the main road over the canal. The rain was making circular patterns on the surface of the canal as it dripped from the girders of the bridge over our heads. Joe had a big grin on his face as he pointed out yet again that he had said it was going to rain. This was not rain however as I pointed out, this was a monsoon.

A sharp wind started blowing rain underneath the bridge into the only dry bit, the bit which was were we were sanding. We huddled in the ever shrinking dry spot. Joe muttered something about being right again but was not smiling so much, it was beginning to get very cold. I pointed out that if he had mentioned his little feeling earlier in the day we could have brought an umbrella or something. Joe muttered I would not have believed him. A very large drop of water landed on my head.

We could not stay there all day we were getting cold. Joe squinted against the wind and rain coming to the conclusion that we would drown if we tried go out in it. I suggested that we should make a quick dash for the pub, Joe looked puzzled> I pointed 'The Pie and Four Sausages' I explained. It was only fifty yards away, a dark shape only just visible through the lashing rain.

" We can't go in there." said Joe looking horrified " It's a dump, you know its a dump, everyone knows its a dump."

" Have you ever been in it? " I said.

" I don't have to." said Joe. " Just look at it."

" It's either that or catch pneumonia and freeze to death under this bridge." I said.

" Can I think about it." said Joe.

Dump or not it was the only shelter anywhere near.

No one who has ever seen The Pie and Four Sausages would even try to argue that it is not a dump. It consists of one ruined cottage, two old buses, one red OXO van and a wooden shed.

The original Pie and Four Sausages had been the old cottage. This had the unfortunate distinction of having the only bomb to hit the town during the last war, drop on it. The owner one Mr Jabody in the ' we're not going to let a few bombs stop us ' attitude, kept the place open by selling beer from a bus he had somehow borrowed from the local council. This heroic attitude made the landlord very popular and so he continued serving in the bus all through the war, by the end of the war he had even added a second bus he was doing so well.

At the end of the war town planners would not let Mr Jabody rebuild the pub because a new bypass would go right through middle of it. The pub should have been closed down right then, but due to some quark in the licensing laws the council could not close the place as long as it kept serving. In time the road scheme was abandoned and The Pie and Four Sausages just stayed as it was.

We made a quick dash for the entrance managing to get away with only being soaked to the skin. Shaking off the worst of the water on the bus platform we got ourselves two pints of beer and ordered some cheese and pickle sandwiches for our lunch. The place was empty so we went to sit on the upper deck of the number forty seven to Little Didover. That was where the bus must have been going when it was pressed into service as a temporary tavern. It still displayed this proudly on the front, it would never get there now. On a good day you can see the canal to North Windby lock, where the lock keeper grows prize chrysanthemums and covers the flowers from the sun with little brown paper bags.

We watched the raindrops running down the window as we waited for our sandwiches to be made. There is not exactly allot you can do on an empty buss in the rain so we decided to play racing raindrops. My raindrop won three times in a row so Joe declared I was cheating and stopped playing. How one can cheat at racing raindrops I have not quite figured out.

Joe kept muttering that he wished we had been somewhere else when it started raining. I told him that with his amazing feelings for weather forecasting how come he had not arranged it. He simply muttered that he could not think of everything.

There was a rattling and a clattering from the staircase at the back of the bus and the whole place started to rock from side to side. Declaring grub was up in a loud voice Mrs Jabody appeared slowly coming up the steps carrying a tray with our food on it. We turned around to see her rattling down the isle towards us. Much to our surprise she also had her own dinner on the tray, of what else, pie and sausages.

"You two lads don't mind if I join you, do you? " said Mrs Jabody.

" No of course not." said Joe. " Just one point though."

" What's that. " said Mrs Jabody.

" Why only three sausages. " said Joe.

" I'm on a diet. " said Mrs Jabody.

Mrs Jabody is a quite remarkable woman, everybody in town knows her and she knows almost everyone in town. She is a large woman in every possible way, large appetite, large figure, large smile, a large personality and a very large heart. No one would admit to liking the Pie and Four Sausages but everyone admits to liking Mrs Jabody.

Mrs Jabody gave us our sandwiches and then she sat down on the seat behind us. She told us it was such an awful day that she did not feel like eating dinner on her own and since there was no one else in the place we were stuck with her. She give us a big smile then added if we did not mind. Joe told her it made a change to have some other company than mine as he had heard all my stories.

As we ate our dinner Mrs Jabody confided in us that on a days like this she did start to get a bit depressed. I quipped that it was not a day to get depressed on as it had not had rain like this since Noah built his ark. No one paid any attention to my remark however, but I thought it was funny. Joe ask if people still came in. Mrs Jabody said it was mostly fisherman and a few bargees from the canal but it was closed season for fishing and they were mending the lock at Little Diddling.

We sat eating our respective dinners and looking at the rain. The sound of the rain on the bus roof was like somebody rolling pebbles round a large tin can.

Mrs Jabody commented that she had not seen us in there before and Joe explained that it was not our usual watering hole. Mrs Jabody half laughed and said what we meant was we got caught out in the rain and there was no where else to go. I sort of half denied it. Mrs Jabody snorted that two old busses jacked up on bricks was not the sort of place that one came into unless they had to, the place is a dump.

I was about to tell Mrs Jabody that Joe had just been saying that when my left leg suddenly felt painful just at the place where Joe kicked it. Joe chirped up that it was not a dump. Mrs Jabody wanted to know what it was if it was not a dump.

What followed was not in embarrassing silence because it was filled with munching and slurping sounds, it was quite long enough however for everyone present to realise that no matter what else was said now, the place was a dump.

Joe suggested it was a place of character. Mrs Jabody looked at him in a sympathetic sort of way. A place of local interest and colour Joe added. Mrs Jabody told him not to flannel her the place should have been condemned years ago. Its not that bad I suggested it was a landmark and every one knows where it is.

Mrs Jabody put her knife and fork down and looked at us seriously and stated it certainly was not the sort of place for a widow to spend her final years in.

"You're not a widow." I blurted out before I could stop myself. Joe gave me a hard look and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. I had just put my big size eleven foot in it, both feet in fact.

The whole town knew that Mrs Jabodys husband had gone out for a packet of cigarettes twenty five years ago and apart from a single dirty postcard from Eastbourne nothing had been heard of him since. It is not something one talks about, especially to Mrs Jabody, especially as a certain young blond barmaid from the Ferret and Cheese disappeared at the same time.

" You're a right one aren't you." said Joe.

" Oh don't mind me." said Mrs Jabody. " Its been a long time and I'm well and truly over it. I imagine the whole town knows that story by now."

We ask her why she did not just pack all it in and retire. She said that she did not like being on her own and the pub was company it gave her people to talk to, she liked to hear all the gossip and would not know what to do with herself if she retired.

I wondered why she did not move to another pub something less odd or at least warm and that did not leak. She told us she had thought about it, in fact that was her little dream, a little friendly place, not too big.

Joe said he knew just what she meant, a warm log fire in an open hearth, low ceilings with real oak beams, soft lighting, brass carriage lamps. Mrs Jabody thankfully stopped Joe before he got carried too far away, saying all she really wanted was something made of brick that was not too big for her to handle on her own.

I mentioned that sort of place would not be too hard to find, they often come onto the market these days. She told us it was not easy for her being on her own to get around to see them. She had enough money it was simply that by the time she got to hear of a place that was up for sale it had already been sold. She confessed she getting on a bit so could not flit like she used to. Mrs Jabody waved a sausage around in the air on the end of her fork to demonstrate flitting around. She had to keep the Pie and Four Sausages open or loose her licence and be closed down. She knew that was just what some of the officials at the town hall are waiting for.

Joe suggested that what she need was someone with contacts to look at pubs for her.

I munched away on my last cheese sandwich as we all contemplated the situation. One thing you have to say about Mrs Jabody, she doesn't skimp on the cheese.

Mrs Jabody mused out loud between mouthfuls of pie, some one who hears about these things and could quickly nip round and have a look at it for me. Someone who knows about buildings though I do not want to get sold a pile of old junk I have already got that.

Joe pointed at me and told her that I knew all about buildings. I started to protest knowing that Joe was going to land me in something I would not be able to get out off, but instead started to choke on the remnants of my cheese sandwich.

Joe slapped me hard on the back making me choke even more. After I had finished choking I pointed out to Mrs Jabody that Joe was the pub man, he had been in more pubs than I knew existed.

Mrs Jabody looked at us hard and gave a big hummmmmmmmm, she then said she had a good feeling about us two and ask if we would you consider doing it, all expenses paid and a bit more including all our drinking.

Now the phrase all your drinking echoed round my mind in a very attractive way.

You can have a nice time at my expense she smiled.

I looked at Joe. " It all sounds a bit too good to be true." I said.

" You're always the optimist ready to seize any opportunity by the throat." said Joe. " And throttle it to death, of course we will do it." He agreed.

" You two stop here a minute." said Mrs Jabody

I looked at Mrs Jabody she gave a big smile, she got up and wandered off to the back of the bus disappearing down the stairs. After much of banging about in the distance the buss started rocking form side to side again and Mrs Jabody returned up the stairs carrying a very large tray. Here we are lads she declared and all on the house, it was two helpings of pie and sausages. Joe pointed out that there were actually four sausages. There was also something to wash it down with, a bottle of Champagne. Joe pulled the cork from the bottle with a bang and then poured out three glasses.

" To the enterprise! " said Joe.

" To success." said Mrs Jabody.

" To a little pub with oak beams and a friendly coal fire! " I added.

" And our next Champagne will be in it." said Mrs Jabody.

" I'll drink to that." said Joe.

" I think fate brought you two in here today." said Mrs Jabody.

" I think it was the rain." I said.

" What rain? " said Mrs Jabody.

We looked out the window. Apart from a slight haze of steam rising up from the road below you could not tell it had been raining at all. There was not a cloud in the sky, it was a perfect day. Mrs Jabodys home made pies were absolutely delicious so me and Joe made pigs of ourselves and had second helpings.

We were walking along the canal to try and recover from eating two dinners when Joe said he was not going to eat anything for a week. He always says that and it lasts until the next meal time.

We sat on the long wooden beam that opens the top gate at Windby lock. From here we could see the sunset just beginning to sink below the middle gasometer of the gasworks, not a pretty sight.

" If I stretch my arm out and close one eye." said Joe demonstrating with his left arm. " I can ........ arrrrr "

I never did find out what he was trying to say, he fell backwards off the beam into the long grass below. Life, I have often observed, is like that.