My ride to the rail station at Wolverhampton was uneventful, though even the dreary pre-spring West Midlands drizzle had no impact on my growing excitement over the fox hunt and a chance to explore the Duke of Portland's underground library slash ballroom.
Presently, however, my coach arrived and my loyal manservant, Sebastian had several of the local urchins assist him unload my weekend traveling trunks. These of course included my 4x5x7ft large steamer dedicated to foxhunting slash explorer slash adventurer gear; my small traveling valise dedicated to non-foxhunting slash non-explorer slash non-adventurer more croquet playing clothes and my 10ft tall armoire filled with my finest evening wear. Subsequently, the hirelings completed their assigned tasks and my gear was on the train; Sebastian having paid the lot 3s/2d.
Glancing about the platform, my fellow travelers were an average sort: a squad of Girl Guides each of which bore a badge embroidered with the slogan "Nonmortouos Quaesivi" and a small Silver Moon.; three aquanauts of the Royal Undersea Service talking uneasily; a bald, Oriental Rakshasa hunter and his assistant carrying the standard crossbow and a solitary gentleman who identified himself as a "Mr. Mixo." Mr. Mixo, it should be noted bore a small medical bag which tinkled with the sound of glassware and the like.
But enough of this narrative, I climbed the step and entered the luxurious "voiture" and settled into a velvet covered, high backed chair decorated with elaborate gold trim. I gazed out of the large picture window, settled in and ordered a delicious lemon squash from the attendant. I'm sure Lady Lime Wedge would have have been delighted to accompany me for she so loves lemon squashes and all manner of drinks however after her swooning attack following our encounter with the Highwayman that the physician ordered her to one months bedrest with daily doses of laudanum to help here relax. Huzzah for modern British medicine! I'm sure she'll be fine in no time.
That said, I began to think ahead for in a mere 12 hours we would be passing within view of Mount Albert, the largest active volcano in Britain! Needless to say I was terribly excited and wondered if my companions in the first class coach (Mr Mixo, the Girl Guides (and their lovely leader) the three aquanauts (officers of course) and the Rakshasa Hunter among them) were as excited?
Dear Woodsy,
ReplyDeleteDid you happen to notice if your engine was anthromophic in any way? Rolling eyes and a friendly smile perhaps? That seems to be a particular affliction of the Southern Coast of Britain and the Isle of Sodor.
Did the aquanauts happen to mention anything about Nemo and the Nautilus? I here she is in the waters near Britain these days.
ReplyDeleteAnd I wonder if Mr. Mixo is related to the fiendish Dr. Emilio Mixo that we've read so much about in the papers lately?