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FURTHER
ADVENTURES OF THE LAD FROM SHERINGHAM
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ALBIE’S
PARENTS WERE MOST UNHAPPY at the way he and Suzy, his Norwich
girlfriend, had snubbed them – turning down their offer of
lunch in preference for fish and chips in a sea-front shelter on
Sheringham
promenade. It would be some time before they would be willing
to welcome any of his friends back at Regis Cottage again, they
told him!
 UZY
WAS STILL full of cold when she returned back to work at Jarrold
Publishing and, during her mid-morning coffee break, she went to
see Albie in the Design department in the general office.
“I’m
sorry to hear you’ve been under the weather,” he said,
“but I do hope you’re feelin’ better now...”
“No
thanks to you!” she replied huskily, “tha’s
all your fault, dragging me up that blessèd Beeston
Bump to show me the sights. That was sitting on the damp grass that
done it!”
“And
if we’d gone back to your mother’s for lunch as arranged,”
she snivelled, “instead of those greasy fish and chips in that
damp and miserable sea-front shelter, I wouldn’t have had an
upset tummy either!”
“B-but,”
stuttered Albie, struggling to get a word in edgeways, “I thought
that was what you wanted – after all, you said you didn’t
like my Mum’s salads!”
“Don’t
talk such rot!” Suzy replied, feeling rather sorry for
herself, “anything would have been much better than those
chips – I’ll have you know I was quite bilious
when I got home!”
There
just was no pleasing Suzy, it seemed.
“Life
en’t that bad, is it?” asked Albie, frantically
trying to think of a way to cheer her up. “S’puz tha’s
no good me asking if you’d like a Wimpy and French Fries this
lunchtime?”
“I
may feel just a teeny weeny bit better by lunchtime,”
she replied, perking up at the sound of Albie’s offer, “especially
if you’re buying – I’ll see you at ten-to-one,
if that’s all right?”
A
DELICATE MATTER
The
Wimpy Bar, at the top of Guildhall Hill, was quite busy when Albie
and Suzy arrived, although they managed to find a table for two
and, after ordering hamburgers, fries and frothy coffee, they settled
down to their tasty meal.
Albie
had something on his mind, so, in between mouthfuls of chips
and burger, he decided to tell her all about the Jarrold Car and
Motorcycle Club, and its forthcoming event – the Annual Treasure
Hunt!
“Last
Tuesday I joined Jarrold’s Car Club,” he explained, “and
next Sunday we’re havin’ sort of a treasure hunt with
prizes to be won, so I thought I’d go in for it...”
“But
you haven’t got a car, Albie!”
“No-oo
– but they take motorbikes an’ scooters in the club as
well,” he replied, plucking up the courage to broach a rather
delicate matter with her. “And, I do hope you en’t
gonna mind, but, as I need a navigator I thought of asking my friend
Philip from the General Office...”
“Nonsense!
What about me?” Suzy replied angrily, pushing her plate
of half-eaten Wimpy and chips to one side, and getting up from the
table. “Now look what you’ve done! That’s
spoilt my lunch, that has!”
“But,
I thought, with you bein’ a bit unwell,” Albie replied
as he paid the bill, “I wun’t want you to get cold on
my scooter and make you worse...”
“But
Philip, of all people,”
she fumed, “he’ll get you both lost, he will.”
“Now
– if you had me as your navigator,” Suzy continued,
“we could win first prize, you’ll see – besides,
I reckon being out in the fresh air will do me some good, so it’s
all decided, isn’t it?”
DOUBLE
TROUBLE FOR ALBIE
Later
that afternoon, Philip went to see Albie in the Design department.
“I’ve
just heard the Jarrold Car Club is having a treasure hunt next Sunday,”
he said, drawing up a chair next to Albie. “Are we going?”
“Sorry,
Philip – but, what do you mean by ‘are we
going’?” Albie replied, though half expecting what was
to follow. “I thought you’d be goin’ on your
scooter so I’ve asked Suzy to navigate for me...”
“Suzy?
Surely not? What about me?” his friend said,
voice full of disapproval. “She’ll be no good whatsoever
at navigating. She’ll get you lost, she will!”
“But
with me as your navigator,” Philip continued, getting
up from his chair and tucking it noisily under the desk, “we’ll
be the fastest team on the rally and win the first
prize, tha’s definite, you’ll see!”
Then,
half turning as he left Albie sitting there with his head in his
hands: “It’s all decided now, isn’t it?”
In
the space of a couple of hours, Albie had ‘acquired’ two
navigators – each as forceful and determined as the other –
but which should he choose? Such was his dilemma!
At the start
of the following week, Albie was still agonizing over his choice
of navigator for the treasure hunt. If he chose Suzy instead
of Philip he would never hear the last of it from
his friend – a fellow scooterist. After all, Philip had convinced
him they would definitely win with him as navigator,
and winning was what it was all about – wasn’t it?
But if
he chose Philip for his navigator what would Suzy say, Albie wondered?
Would her feminine charms be as forthcoming in future? Was winning
a silly competition more important than his continuing friendship
with Suzy? Making the right decision was far from
easy!
With the weekend
of the treasure hunt fast approaching, Albie knew he had to make
up his mind, and fast! In the end it was all down to a quick flip
of a coin...
THE
FATEFUL DAY
Early
on
Sunday morning, 16 June, Albie and the other members of the Jarrold
Car Club met in the Priory yard at the back of the Bindery buildings
at the start of the Annual Treasure Hunt, with their cars, motorcycles
and scooters parked on waste ground opposite St Paul’s Square.
Quickly, a
table was set up next to the back door of the Bindery, and the route
cards – containing travelling directions in cryptic form with
questions to be answered en route – were handed out to the
navigators.
“Oh, God,
please say I’ve made the right decision”
whispered Albie, as Philip, brimming over with confidence, sat astride
the pillion of his friend’s Lambretta scooter, route card in
hand.
“Let’s
go then Albie,” he said, quickly reading the first clues on
the route card, “I’ve got it! Where ‘five ways meet’
– tha’s Earlham, and the road to Colney.”
“Hi-ho,
Silver!” shouted Albie as he wrung open the throttle of his
Lambretta, which, rearing onto its back wheel, sped off at a tremendous
pace with Philip hanging on for dear life. “Tha’s jist
like the Lone
Ranger an’ Tonto hossin’ along, en’t it?”
“Yes,
Kee-mo-sah-bee,”
laughed Philip, spurring him on, “let’s hit the trail
– Earlham Fiveways, here we come !”
ALL
THAT GLITTERS...
All
went well at first, with Philip deciphering most of the clues and
Albie making good time as they sped ever onwards into the heart
of unfamiliar territory. They ascended the ‘hills’ at
Ringland, reflected upon the healing waters in St Walstan’s
Well at Bawburgh,
and discovered the elusive Matty’s
Shawl, draped over the churchyard wall, whilst all the saints
congregated under the majestic church spire.
Wel-borne,
indeed, they were – sitting two-up on Albie’s yellow and
blue Lambretta – tootling along the quiet highways and byways
to the west of Norwich. Gathering from their route card that Runhall
was next, Albie deftly changed gear for a rising incline before
dropping down into a little valley cropped, on either side, with
fruit trees and bushes.
‘Sweep
’em up and barn ’em’, they translated into Barnham
Broom and quickly passing through that quiet little village
with its humpty-backed bridge spanning a swift-moving rivulet, the
infant Yare, they stopped at the crossroads on the top of the hill.
Next
to the village shop, close to the Bell Inn, they became stumped
as the clues on their route card afforded little help at all.
“Now
we’re lorst!” Albie sighed, looking all around
him. “Suzy warned me that’d happen...”
“Oh
no, we’re not – although I’m not exactly
sure where we are! Perhaps, if we went that way?” Philip replied,
pointing down the road.
“Or
that way!” said Albie sarcastically, waving his arms
in the opposite direction. “Arter all, there are o’ny
three roads to choose from – if you don’t count the way
we’ve come!”
“That
says here,” said Philip, taking another look at the next clue
on the card, “head for an old mining settlement...”
“What?
Around here? What are they on about?” declared
Albie, pressing the ‘kill-switch’ on his scooter, turning
the engine off. “Let’s have a look at that.”
“That
say tha’s suffen t’do with ‘gold mining’,”
he continued, looking at the dog-eared piece of paper. “Hang
on a minute, we’re got the wrong end o’ the stick –
that say here tha’s a South African town...”
“Kimberley!”
laughed Philip, pointing at a road sign, “look – Kimberley,
that’s where we’re going, and only two-and-a-half miles!”
END
OF THE WORLD FOR ALBIE?
Sitting
on the village green at Kimberley, beside the busy Norwich to Watton
road, they admired the picturesque, thatched cottages half-hidden
behind trees, and took time to read the next of the clues.
“That
says here we should be have bin lookin’ out for things along
the way,” Albie said, taking the route card from his friend,
“we’re s’puz to git points for everything we spot,
but you hen’t filled nothin’ in yet, hev you?”
Philip
merely shrugged his shoulders before answering.
“You’re
been going too fast on that Lambretta of yours for me to
see anything!” he replied, grabbing the route card from
Albie. “But I know where the next clue takes us, even
if you don’t!”
Detecting
the merest hint of pique in his friend’s manner, Albie
decided it best to follow further directions without question and
set off along a winding road towards a twin-towered church on the
distant skyline.
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| SEVENTEENTH
CENTURY MARKET CROSS |
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“I’ve
been here before,” Philip told him, as they rode along a narrow
street past an ancient inn, blackened by age, before turning into
the market square dominated by a medieval Market Cross. “I
came here once to get a spare part for my Vespa from Bird’s
Garage, next to the Green Dragon.”
What
a quiet town Wymondham
was, thought Albie, so full of old-world charm with its half-timbered
houses in the Market Place, and so very different to Sheringham
on a Sunday with all the noisy daytrippers, visitors and fishermen
congregating by the Town Clock to listen to the Salvation Army band.
Then,
upon hearing the church bells summoning the faithful to the mid-morning
service, he turned to see the twin towers of Wymondham
Abbey standing, as if sentinel, overlooking the town.
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| WYMONDHAM
ABBEY WAS FOUNDED IN 1107 |
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“Pity
they din’t build two towers the same!” he laughed, pointing
over distant rooftops to the oddly-sized towers. “That woulda
looked much more nicer, don’t you think?”
“There’s
a story behind those,” Philip told Albie, “but, if we’re
to have any chance of winning this treasure hunt, we’d better
press on.”
Taking
the route card out of his pocket Philip then attempted to decipher
the next clue. “It says here: ‘go south, young man, past
the London Tavern to a row of kitchen implements...”
“What
on earth does that mean? Don’t get it, do you?”
“No,
try another one, Philip.”
Scratching
his head, Philip looked further down the column of cryptic clues.
“How about this one: ‘Jimmy Stewart exercised
his wings here during the war’.”
“I
reckon that must be James
Stewart, the film star,” he continued. “But, just
where did he come from, do you know, Albie?”
“Hollywood,
wun’t it?” replied his friend, having seen some of his
films. “Wha’s that got to do with stretchin’ his
wings?”
“Let’s
try another – what about: ‘turkeys
walked through here on their way to London’?” said
Philip, trying to solve another clue. “Any ideas?”
“I
wonder if that wuz them a-stretchin’ their wings?” laughed
Albie, being just as stumped as his friend. “Mind you, that
woulda bin quicker fur them to a-gone by train!”
“Talkin’
of turkeys,” he continued, rubbing his stomach, “I dun’t
know about you Philip, but I’m blimmin’ famished!”
“So
am I – and thirsty,” said Philip, and they both
decided they’d had enough ‘treasure-hunting’ for
one day, and it was time to at least solve where they should
be for lunch. “Let’s see where we’re supposed to
end up...”
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| MARKING
SIXTY YEARS OF QUEEN VICTORIA'S REIGN |
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“That
say here,” said Albie, looking over his friend’s shoulder
at the route card and clues, “we hatta look out for ‘Queen
Victoria standing by the crossroads, then follow her to the end
of the world’ – what a load o’ squit! D’you
reckon tha’s a pub somewhere?”
“It
just has to be the World’s
End pub at Mulbarton,” Philip replied jubilantly. “There’s
an old Victorian monument on the way, so it has to be right!”
So,
with hunger and thirst getting the better of them, Albie and Philip
gave up any hope of winning the treasure hunt, instead unofficially
affording themselves the distinction of at least being the first
competitors to enjoy the intoxicating delights to be found at the
World’s End, opposite the duck pond and sprawling village common!
With
a pint of bitter in front of them and a couple of bags of salt and
vinegar crisps to munch on, Albie and Philip soon began to feel
refreshed after their tortuous journey through the wilds of southern
Norfolk. Soon, it was half-past midday and still no sign of the
other competitors.
“I
think I ought to be going, Albie,” Philip announced suddenly,
“I don’t know about you, but my Mum’s expecting me
home for Sunday lunch!”
ALBIE’S
EARS BEGIN TO BURN...
Deciding
he’d waited long enough for the other members of the Jarrold
Car Club to turn up, Albie set off for home again, dropping his
friend off on the way.
On
the way to Sheringham he had plenty of time to reflect over the
events of that Sunday morning. Suzy had been almost right
in what she had said. Whilst he and Philip hadn’t actually
got lost on the treasure hunt, there was a time when they weren’t
too sure exactly where they were!
All
the time ‘Lone Ranger’ and ‘Tonto’ were gallivanting
about – vainly attempting to decipher all the clues –
Suzy was pacing up and down the road outside her house waiting for
Albie to pick her up, for, as far as she was concerned, she
was to be his navigator that Sunday morning and not Philip!
“I’ve
been on tenterhooks all morning,” she told her parents, storming
into the house just before midday, “waiting for that Albie
to turn up! Wait ’til I see him first thing Monday morning
– I’ll give him a piece of my mind I will!”
Already,
Albie’s ears were burning!
NEXT:
Suzy is rather ‘miffed’ and, at work, things take
a turn for the worse! It’s enough for Albie
to take to drink, and making a new friend does little to help!
 Please
sign Albie’s guestbook as I would love to hear your comments
–
or email:
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