Just don't ask why I was carrying the chicken I just was, I was also late which is why I was running down the High Street like a demented wombat.

Everything would have been fine if the window cleaner had not been bending down rinsing out his wash leather.

Base over chicken I went, taking the window cleaner and his bucket full of dirty water with me. Water and chicken feathers went flying everywhere.

The chicken flew out my arms clucking and flapping its way into the middle of the main road. With a screeching of breaks the chicken brought all the traffic in the High Street to a sudden halt. I lay sprawled face down on the pavement with a bruised nose and a window cleaner sitting on top of me. I could feel a damp patch as my trousers began soaking up the water from the overturned bucket.

I waited patiently for the inevitable stream of abuse the window cleaner was about to throw at me. Window cleaners seem good at that sort of thing. I wondered if I should strike first and shout at him for bending down but thought better of it. What the window cleaner did said however took me rather by surprise. He looked at me and said. "You're the guy looking for a pub aren't you."

Looking back it was one of those perfect occasions where I should have something very witty like, why has one just passed here. The trouble is I always think of smart answers like that about two days after the event. I know news travels fast in a small town but this was jungle drumming with brass knobs on. It had only been yesterday when me and Joe had met Mrs Jabody who had ask us to look for a pub for her to buy. Now I bump into a complete stranger who knows all about it. I was at a loss at quite what to say by his rather odd question. I simply confirmed it was true with a funny little grunt.

He then went on to ask me if I knew the Griffin and Barge was up for sale. He was still sitting on me so conversation was a bit difficult. I told him that I had not even heard of the Griffin and Barge let alone knew it was up for sale. He informed me it was a great little place just behind Buckums warehouse down by the canal. I was not surprised I had not heard if it.

While we were chatting the chicken had managed to stop all the traffic not only in the High street but in Middle Street, Bellbottom Lane and Berber Street.

Excusing myself from the window cleaner I ran after the thing waving my arms up and down and shouting ' here chuckie chuckie, here chuckie chuckie '. I finally cornered it when it ran up against some ones legs and was unable to get past. I grabbed the chicken as it started to eat one of the shoe laces from one of the shiny black boots.

The shiny black boots somehow reminded me of something, from my stooping position I turned my head slowly upwards. From that position all I could see was policeman's helmet silhouetted against a clear blue sky. As I slowly stood up I found the space between the shiny black boots and the policeman's helmet was filled by a very large, very round and very unhappy policeman. I looked bravely into a large moustache that seemed to covered the lower half the not very happy face of the policeman.

" Are you the owner of this chicken." he enquired.

" Well not really. " I said. " I'm minding it for a friend."

" I've heard that one before." he said.

" I was the lucky one." I said." Bob Dashpot got the Kangaroo."

As I had said before it was just one of those days.

I had a feeling it would be hard to find the Griffin and Barge and it was. We were on the verge of giving up looking for it when we found a small gap in the wall near the canal bridge and some steps leading down to the towpath beside the canal.

Gingerly we went down the steps and followed the path beside the canal. Running along both sides of the canal were large silent warehouses. Walking between them gave you the feeling you were in a horror film where the heroine takes a short cut through a dark dismal passage rather than go down the brightly lit main street.

On our right was the black oily water of the canal looking very still, very deep and very uninviting, on the left rising up six stories was Buckums Warehouse. We knew this because it had ' Buckums Warehouse ' painted in big six foot high white letters half way up the wall.

The warehouse was a huge with dirty brickwork and long rows of small windows with rusty iron bars. It was not the sort of place you would want to throw a party in. I tried to shake off the sense of doom that the surroundings tended to give. Joe looked up at the warehouse as our footsteps echoed against the walls making the sense of desolation even greater.

" I wonder what they keep in there." I said looking up and the big dark warehouse.

Joe looked up thoughtfully at the building. " Dead Bodies." he said.

I really wish he had not said that.

It was a relief to reach the end of the warehouse for suddenly there was a little garden and black and white cottage sitting in an open plot of land between two of the warehouses. The sign over the door declared this was The Griffin and Barge. It was not much of a place but after the warehouse an old army hut would have looked inviting.

We opened the gate into the front garden and went down the path to the door, to be honest we were not really expecting very much as we went in.

"Suffering catfish" declared Joe as we were suddenly hit by the noise of music, chatter and the jumble sounds made by a mass of people having a good time, The place was crowded to overflowing. I suggested to Joe it must be Burns night, I have never been quite sure what a Burns night is but this is how I have always imagined it would be. With some difficulty we pushed our way the small bar.

The window cleaner was there pressed up against the bar. He patted me hard on the back said he was glad that we had come to have a look at the place. He offered to buy us a drink so we ordered two pints of beer.

I ask him if the place was always this full, apparently it was a special night, tonight it seemed was Boris's barge party. I had not heard of a barge party and wondered if it was that a sort of party where everyone barges in. It seemed it was in celebration of Boris getting his new River Barge. When I enquired what happened to the old one I was told it sank when he hit Bottersford Bridge after a party.

I do not know if every one is like me but there are certain people you meet in life that you take to at once, there are others for some reason you hate instantly, then there are those who you would cross the street to avoid even though you have never seen them before in you life. The barman of the Griffin and Barge was one of the latter ones.

I caught my first sight of the him as he rambled up to gave us our drinks, I had to look twice as I could not quite believe what I saw the first time. He was colossal in all directions, there was also a malevolent aura about him that seemed to forebode doom. A massive red beard and a mob of uncombed red hair did not help. The only way I can think of describing him is, you know some people dress up in gorilla outfits for parties, well the barman looked as if he was a gorilla dressed up in a man outfit. He seemed to fill the entire space behind the bar. I could imagine this fellow lifting barges out of the canal with one hand.

The barman looked straight at me and a cold shiver went down my spine. He ask us if we were the ones that wanted to see round the place. He said this in a very deep low threatening type of voice as he put our drinks down on the counter. I half expected the counter to crack apart. He was the sort of man that would arm wrestle buffalo and pick his teeth with crocodiles.

In a curious sort of squeaky voice I pointed at the window cleaner and told the barman we had heard from him that the place was up for sale. I forced a little smile.

" Come round here." was all the barman said as he opened a little flap in the counter.

Me and Joe squeezed through the flap to the other side, we would not have dared refused, if the barman wanted to show us around then we wanted to be shown round. The barman, whose bulk filled the full width of the bar, grunted at us to follow him. Who could resist such a delightful invitation.

The barman started to make his way towards a narrow door at the other end of the bar, I did not think he would fit thorough it, he did, just. The door led to a small room.

"Kitchen" grunted the barman in a gruff tone that suggested that he was showing us around under sufferance and that he would rather beat our heads in.

I said something pathetic like oh nice, a stupid thing to say because it was certainly not. I looked round the barman had gone. Joe nudged me and pointed to a door on the opposite wall. We hurried through the door only to literally bump into the barman who was standing in the middle of the room next room.

This room was quite a large room but with his bulk in it, it seemed like a dolls house. "Living room" he muttered in a tone that suggested he would like to break my arm. I did not say anything this time, the living room however was nice. Pictures on the walls all seemed to be paintings of barges. I was inspecting these when a thumping sound told us that the barman was on the move again. The thumping sound came from a cupboard near the fireplace.

I poked my head into the cupboard, the barman had started up a very narrow winding staircase that seemed to be inside the cupboard. It was the smallest staircase I had ever seen in my life, how the barman had got up it I don't know. Joe gave me a shove so I gingerly went up the twisting steps, it had all gone very quiet and I half expected the barman to be waiting at the top stairs ready to hit me over the head with a bottle. He wasn't.

I poked my head above the top stair and had a look, the stairs came out onto a long narrow passage and the barman was fast disappearing through a door at the other end of it. Joe and I scampered after him like two little mice frightened of getting lost.

We entered a nice airy bedroom which was surprisingly large, so what did I say, me of many words. "This is a big room" I was on top form today. It was of course not the right thing to say because the barman immediately said, "this is the small one". He was just not going to be my friend.

As it turned out however he was right, the next room was huge. He declared as much as he opened a blue panelled door, "this is the big one" he grunted.

We entered a second bedroom it contained a large double bed, two large wardrobes and a chest of draws, even with this lot and the giant barman there was still plenty of room. The ceiling went up into the rafters and two windows flooded the room with light.

As we looked round the room Joe became puzzled because place we entered by the canal was just not big enough to have rooms of this size. Joe mentioned this to the barman. "It's not" explained the barman in a tone that made Joe wish he had not opened his big mouth because the barman might just fill it in for him. "You'll see" growled the barman.

Me and Joe looked out the window at a garden at the back of the cottage there were some chickens wondering about. A door banged, the barman had gone through yet another door. Quickly we opened the door and followed just catching sight of him disappearing through a door at the end of another passage. We hurried along the passage not wanting to loose sight of him but as we opened the door we were confronted with a blank wall. It took us a few moments to realise that beyond the door was a very narrow passage running in both directions to the left and right.

" Which way did he go." said Joe

" Don't know." I said

We heard a low muffled thump in the distance. I pointed down the passage to the left where we could see a door at the end of the passage. Joe held a sixpence up betting it was the wrong choice.

We crept down the passage in single file which was all you could do down this passage, the barman must have held his breath to get down it. Very slowly we opened the rickety door at the end of the passage, I noticed as we did so it had a funny spring latch.

It was very gloomy on the other side of the door and we could not see much. We took a few paces into the room and listened for any sound, it was all very quiet. The door clicked shut behind us and make us both jump. As our eyes became adjusted to the dim light we cloud see we were in a large room. A very large room, a very very large room.

" Where are we." I said as we looked down a vast open space.

" That's sixpence you owe me." said Joe.

We walked a bit further into the room, we could see there were rows of small windows down each side, these were extremely dirty and were not letting much light in. There were columns supporting large wooden beams stretching far into the distance. A dusty smell of neglect hung in the air.

I suddenly realised we were in the big warehouse next to the pub, Buckams warehouse. Joe looked puzzled until I reminded him it was the place he said they kept bodies in. Joe wished had not said that now. We could not quite understand why there would be a passage into the warehouse form the pub. Joe thought perhaps it was used for smuggling.

"Don't you have to be on the coast to do that sort of thing." I ask Joe, but he simply said he did not know as he had never done any.

We decided we had better get back or we would never catch up with the barman.

We turned round to find the door back to passage we had just come from. The door was in part of a wooden structure in the middle warehouse nearest the pub. Joe ask me what I had done with the door, I told him to stop messing about as we had got to get back.

Pushing Joe out of the way I went to open the door myself only it was not there.

Look as we might we could not find the door. The timber structure was made up of thick boards nailed to a solid framework and from this side you could not see any sign of the door. Even the fact that it was not very light did not account for us not finding the door, we spent a good ten minutes inspecting every inch of wall where the door should have been.

The door was here I assured myself, I looked down the length of the room wondering if we did had come further than we thought. Joe however agreed we had not taken more than five paces.

"It looks as if we will have to find another way" out I said. Joe suggested we scream and bang on the door. This was a good first reaction however we decided we could bang on that structure forever and a day and no one would here us on the other side it was far too solid. I give the timber a thump with my fist, this place was built to last. I also hurt my fist.

We wondered down the large room making our way towards one of the other wooden structures we could see in the corner. Our footsteps made a dull echo in the heavy silence of the warehouse. we were both really hoping there really was a door in the other structure, much to our relief we could see a large double door.

" I'm not going to say it." said Joe.

" Say what." I ask.

" I'm not going to make one of my silly jokes and say I bet it's locked." said Joe.

" Don't even think it." I said.

Slowly taking hold of the door knob I turned it very slowly pushing the door. It did not move, my heart sank, I then had an idea and pulled, the door opened. Behind the door was a staircase with one set going up and one set going down. Well it had to be down.

We slowly descended to the next level seeming to make a dreadful amount of noise on the creaky wooden steps. On floor below there was a door exactly like the one we had come through above. Before opening the door we stood and listened for sounds of any one else in the building, it was as quiet as the grave. A rather unfortunate thought as it turned out.

I pushed the door open and we went in, it took us a few moments to take in the spectacle. This floor was far from empty. "Great cod fish trousers" was the expression Joe come up with.

"It, it, it can't be. It is. isn't it." I looked down the long room.

We stood there in the doorway frozen to the spot, in front of us was the same large room stretching far into the distance, just like the one upstairs, the same rows of dirty windows, the columns and beams. On this floor however there was something more, something rather disconcerting.

We both remembered what Joe had said as we passes the outside of the warehouse. Joe's comment about it being a place where they kept bodies.

Suddenly it was no joke, for here in front of us stretching out to the distant end of the warehouse, were row upon row of rough wooden boxes the size and shape of coffins . When at last we decided to breathe I suggested that perhaps we had better go down to the next floor.

With far less spring in our steps we closed the door and crept quietly as we could down the staircase to the next level. Very slowly we opened the next door into the lower room. Very nervous this time as we went into the large room, there again were more rows of wooden coffins all set out neatly on little trestles. There was rather a peculiar smell in the air. I was really beginning to want to be out of this place rather badly.

Joe ask if I thought there really were bodies in them. I said I did not know and I was certainly not looking in one to find out. Joe called me a coward so I told him to look. He then thought we ought to try the next floor down.

Just slightly wondering if we would ever get out this place we descended down the staircase yet again.

Could all these bodies be people who accidentally went through the secret door never to return again. I wish I had not thought of that.

Things were not helped by the strange smell which got worse as we descended. Joe opened the door into the next level, at least we are on the ground floor. Joe ask how I knew that as we could not see much, I tapped my foot brick floor.

As we peered into the gloom of the big room there was again, stretching into the distance, row upon row of wooden coffins, each standing on two wooden trestles.

On this floor however we could see half way down the side wall were two big double doors. At the far end was a wooden hut with a small dirty window and a door, a faint yellow light was struggling to be seen through the grime on the little window.

" Signs of life." I whispered.

" Don't be too sure." said Joe softly. " Perhaps the last grave digger to leave forgot to turn the light off."

" We'll try the big door first." I said. " We might be able to sneak out without being noticed, after all we were not supposed to be in here.."

We crept quietly along the side wall of the building trying to keep as far away from the coffins as possible, we reached the doors and I could see we were in luck. In the middle of one of the big doors as a small wicket door, this was only held shut by two large bolts. We looked round, all was quiet, very quiet, quiet as the grave, what a thought.

Very slowly I took hold of the top bolt, it was very rusty and squealed as I slowly rotated it out of its keep. It might not have been much of a noise really but to us it was enough to waken the dead.

I wish I hadn't said that. Suddenly the bolt came loose but was so heavy it slipped through my fingers hitting the bottom stop with a loud clunk which seemed to echo round the room forever.

Me and Joe stood frozen to the spot our hearts pounding, we listened. There was another noise, the door from the wooden hut at the far end of the room opened. A finger of yellow light threw itself across the floor, over several rows of coffins and hung menacingly from the low beams of the ceiling. The shadow of a man appeared in the doorway, a large ugly shape. A deep menacing voice bellowed out who's there.

Now any one else would have been frightened by this time, however I took solid command of the situation.

" Wwwww we gggggg got llllll locked ...." my concise reasoned explanation was cut short somewhat by the most deafening howl I have ever heard. This howl was produced by what must be most fearsome looking dog in the entire universe. The dog came bounding out the office baying for blood, ours.

It leapt over the first two rows of coffins without even noticing they were in the way. Phrases like 'what a nice dog you have' did not even come to mind as me and Joe just turned on our heals and ran.

As we started to run I did a quick mental mathematical calculation using velocity, weight, acceleration, muscle power and worked out that even if me and Joe were riding very powerful motorbikes that dog would catch us up in about three seconds.

As we ran passed the last row of coffins however Joe's coat caught the corner of one boxes. The box spun off its stand and crashed to the floor shattering into a thousand splinters, the noise of this echoed though the silence of the room stopping the dog in its tracks.

It also stopped me and Joe, we stood horrified as the contents of the box spilled out onto the floor. It was, it was, it was bananas.

The whole place was full of boxes of bananas. Me and Joe looked at each other feeling somewhat silly, we then looked up at the dog. I could see in the eyes of the dog it was beginning to remember what it was doing before it was startled by the noise.

Me and Joe quickly ran back into the staircase enclosure and shut the door shut behind us. Within a second there was a big thump against the other side of the door and the whole wall where we were standing gave a definite lurch, then the barking started.

" I hope he's not one of those cleaver dogs that's been taught how to use a door knob." I said.

Me and Joe looked at each other, then started to ran up the stairs as fast our legs would carry us. We went right up to the top of the building. We slammed the door shut and leant on it panting and gasping for breath. We must have come up five flights without stopping. I listened for any sound of the dog but all I could hear was my heart pounding like a large base drum.

This floor of the warehouse was like the one we had entered from, totally empty and gloomy. Half way down one side and again at the far end were timber structures just as we had seen on the other floors. We decided there must be another way out avoiding the large dog, probably another staircase at the other end suggested Joe.

If the dog is busy at this end he reasoned we might be able to sneak down the other one without getting attacked. We decided it might be prudent to wedge this door first. I found a large peace of wood on the floor shaped just for the purpose of wedging doors.

We walked across the empty room to the other end where it seemed there must be another staircase like the one we had just come up. There was a large door so I turned the door knob and pulled, nothing happened, I pushed, still nothing. That was just our luck this one was locked.

I wonder if this one is locked as well said Joe going over to a door on the side wall. He slid back a rusty bolt and pulled at the large handle, the door opened a fraction. Success shouted Joe and pulled the door wide open.

The light that flooded in and almost blinded us after as we had got used to the gloom in the building. For a moment we could not see anything. As we regained our sight we were in for yet another surprise, it was, well nothing. There was absolutely nothing on the other side of the door.

It took a few seconds to realise that what were looking at was the sky. The door lead directly out the side of the building from the fifth floor. Joe went to the edge and looked down. Joe shouted that you can see the pub down there and the barman was the garden. I slowly made my way to the edge of the floor where Joe was standing and holding very tightly to the big solid door I looked down.

Indeed you did get a good view from up here. This was probably because it was thirty thousand million miles up. I moved back to a safe distance from the edge, heights to say the least are not my strong point.

" Hay we're in luck." said Joe. " Look there's a rope from the hoist going all the way down to the ground."

" What's lucky about that." I said.

" We can slide down it." said Joe.

" Pardon."

" We can slide down it right into the garden of the Griffin and Barge." said Joe leaning out over the edge to grab hold of the rope.

" Y o u m u s t b e j o k i n g." I said almost physically frozen at the mere thought of it.

Joe tried to be reassuring explaining that we slid down enough ropes when we were at school on a single rope and that this was a double rope, there was even some sacking to wrap around our hands. Joe went over and picked up some of the sacking that was laying near the staircase door.

Joe had suggested some pretty dumb things we do from time to time but this must take the biscuit, he knew I hated heights. Any ropes we had slid down at school were not fifteen mullion miles up in the air and they had things like rubber mats at the bottom. Joe leaned out the opening again and explained it was all right because it was onto grass.

I could not see why jumping fifty thousand feet onto grass made it any better. Just then there was a very loud thud from the other end of the room, it sounded like two tons of meat being hurled against a wedged door. It was either the ropes or being din dins for the wild beast of the bananas.

I told Joe to go first, Joe knew me and that I would freeze on the edge and never go, he made me go first. I edged towards the infinite drop as Joe wrapped some sacking around the rope and handed it to me.

I held firmly onto the rope ready to swing out and wrap my legs round it as we had done at school, it was a reassuringly thick rope. I looked down it was not as far as I had first imagined, it was quite pleasant really, you see the pub the fire station the canal and the lock keepers cottage at Winderby. Joe said he knew I was trying to make the fun last but it might be prudent to be going as the dog was eating the door.

Within a few seconds of terror I was in the back garden of the Griffin and Barge. I looked up and saw Joe swung out on the rope above me, he managed to shut the loading door before he descended down, a prudent move I thought as I could well imagine that dog leaping out into space after us and simply squashing us flat on the grass by his sheer bulk. As we dusted off the bits of sacking which had all but disintegrated on the way down, the barman turned round.

" O there you are." he growled. " I thought you had got lost."

" Heavens no." I said, reassuringly and smiled.

The barman was explaining how you could see the whole building from the garden. We did not know quite wait to say, we were still a bit dazed by our little adventure in the warehouse. The barman did not seem to have noticed that we had been gone at all.

Looking round at the buildings we thought we should make some comment, "it's big" Joe managed and I said something like "quaint". This was really a intellectual conversation this, the barman must have thought we were a pair of loonies.

From here we could see the whole of The Griffin and Barge and to say the least it was an amazing sight.

The small cottage was only a small part of what one can only describe as a retirement home for old buildings. The large bedrooms were part of an old wooden water mill, the water wheel sitting half buried in concrete where the mill stream must have been. Next to this were some stone outhouses with solid oak doors, one of these had a large barking dog in it, for a moment I thought it was the one who had chased us around the warehouse, but this one however was bigger. It must have belonged to the barman.

The dog was growling and barking at us through a small broken window, it had an expression on its face which seemed to say, you look tasty. I just hoped the door to the dog house was as strong as it looked. The barman saw that we were rather nervous of the barking dog.

" Don't mind him." said the barman. " He's a big soft old thing really."

I somehow did not want to test that theory. The wooden mill was leaning up against Buckums Warehouse towering overhead, the warehouse formed the last side of a courtyard round the garden. Opposite the cottage was the wheel house of some long lost barge, this had chickens in it.

After standing in silence for a few moments taking in the sight, the barman started to wander off.

" Lets look at the other kitchen." he said and explained that this was the part of the cottage and the one they lived in.

For once I did not feel threatened by his voice, perhaps he liked the open air. He led the way through a door into the dimly lit kitchen where a lovely smell of freshly baked bread hung in the air. This kitchen I decided was nice. There was a big table at the far end of the kitchen near a large coal fired stove which gave the whole place a warm inviting feeling. It was how one imagines on old farmhouse kitchen to be not a tatty pub by a dirty old canal.

" Who have you got there." The voice seemed to come from nowhere.

The barman replied that it was a couple of blokes who had come to look round the place and were going to buy it. He said this in a manner that suggested that he would personally strangle us and throw us in the canal if we didn't.

"So you're interested in buying a pub are you." The voice came from a rather plump lady who had been standing in the shadow beside the cooker.

The barman told her he had shown us around, he said this in a tone that indicated that he had hated doing so.

The plump lady smiled at us as said she hoped the barman have not frightened us to death, she gave a big smile.

"You mustn't mind Morris." she explained, "He had been a professional wrestler before back trouble made him give it up, which was when we had bought the Griffin and Barge." She laughed explaining that his manner tended to be somewhat intimidating if you did not know him, she then went on, he's an old softy really.

I remembered that being said about the wolfhound barking outside in the shed.

" I wish we'd known that before." said Joe.

" Oh I am sorry." said Morris, " I thought everyone knew."

" Never mind." said Joe. " We hardly noticed."

" I'll bet." said the Plump lady. " Anyway do you want some tea and freshly baked scones." she said.

Joe brightened up at the sound of food and we all sat down at the large table while the plump lady told us about Morris, herself and how they came to own The Griffin and Barge. It turned out that she was Morris's mother and they were leaving to live with her sister in Blackpool so they could help run a boarding house.

Joe declared that the scones lovely as he put too much of jam on his fourth one. I declared that they are the best scones I had ever tasted and told Joe not to make a pig of himself. Morris's mother told Joe to enjoy himself there are plenty more scones and she thought he looked as if he could do with putting a bit of weight on.

Morris thought we were a bit young to be looking for a pub so we explained that it was not for us we were looking for Mrs Jabody who owned The Pie and Sausages and that she wanted to find somewhere a bit more permanent.

It turned out that Morris's mother knew Mrs Jabody quite well, she was an old friend and not surprised she wanted to get out of that dump. She was surprised she has stuck it for so long.

It was generally agreed, over the time it took for Joe to make a pig of himself with another three jam scones, that the Griffin and Barge was not the right place for Mrs Jabody to run. However it did seem that there were a couple other places we should look at, that Morris had heard about. After tea we went back through the large lounge into the bar to find that every one was leaving.

" Is it something I've said? " asked Joe.

" It must be closing time." I said.

" No it's not that." said a man picking up a crate of beer and taking it outside. " Boris's new barge has arrived."

We followed the crowd as everyone went out into the cool evening air and stood on the tow path looking at the new brightly painted barge. The barge was tied up to a bollard on the towpath. Boris's new barge was a big barge, a very big, very new and very flat, some kind of cargo barge.

Everyone from the pub was climbing a board, pushing crates of beer and bottles of whisky onto safe corners in the hold. Boris or what I assumed to be Boris, was standing in the white painted wheel house at the back of the barge, Boris was looking very happy and was I thought just a little bit drunk.

All aboard who's coming aboard shouted Boris leaning out of a side window of the wheel house, he then tweaked the whistle, weigh anchor and avast there he shouted almost falling out of the window. The deep throb of twin diesel engines filled the air around the wharf and echoed off the side of Buckums warehouse.

Joe wondered if we should we join in Boris inaugural barge trip, it was a lovely evening for a boat ride and it looked is if they had got enough beer for everyone.

I suggested that would not be a very good idea.

Joe thought I was a spoil sport, hadn't I got any sprit of adventure, captain Drake, Nelson, must go down to the sea again and all that. Joe gets carried away at times, but alas not far enough.

I pointed out my not wanting to go had nothing to do with Drake or any of that, but more to do with which way the barge pointing.

" Pointing." said Joe.

" Which way is the barge pointing? " I said.

" That way." said Joe.

" Which is." I said.

" Oh." said Joe.

" Towards Bottersford...." I started.

" Bridge." finished Joe.