BELLE GETS
LOST IN MK
So there I was in the ladies’ loos in the
Milton Keynes shopping centre at 8.30am on
a Sunday morning, coffee dripping from my
jeans, trying to dry off my sweater in the
‘dive in’ hand-dryers. Not the best way to
start the day. Actually, if I had said yes to a
cooked breakfast in the B&B an hour earlier,
I might not have felt the need to dash into
Costa and spill coffee all down myself as
soon as I got there; but it’s no good falling
back on ‘if only’.
The Costa chaps (sorry – baristas) were
very kind, supplying me with wet cloths, and
asking if I was scalded. I thought, rather
ungraciously, a little later, that maybe they
were terrified I would sue. Since I had
caused the accident by trying to force paper
napkins and packets of brown sugar in
between two unsecured cardboard cups in
the holder, thus tipping the cup towards me,
I could hardly blame them. (Any ambulancechasing lawyers reading this, please feel
free to contact me if you think I have a case).
Regular readers will have worked out by
now that I was there at a two-day event to
support my personal handyman (PH) in his
bid to dominate the world of war-gaming with
his dinky little heraldic transfers. My job, as
described in a previous edition, was to pose
and point winningly at the products.
Unfortunately, this was not so much a trade
fair as a gaming competition, and the traders
were mostly noticeable by their absence.
Had it not been for the enormous shopping
centre surrounding me, I don’t know what I
should have done to cheer myself up.
Once round the tables the previous day was
enough to convince me that I’d seen
everything worth seeing. However, I was
very impressed by the ‘balloon’ game, an
aerial battle: the French (with air balloons)
versus the English (with Congreve rockets
and aerial mines). The balloons were
creatively assembled using ballcocks, and I
wanted to take one home with me, but the
organisers wouldn’t let me.
On to a ‘terrain’ type game. I was delighted
to see that cornfields were represented by
squares of sisal doormat, so realistic, it
made me start thinking what I would do.
Then I gave myself a shake. It was time to
be on to the shops, where yes, after much
research, I found a couple of bargains.
A day and a half later, packing up, I set off
carrying two unwieldy revolving display
stands, to follow PH to where he’d parked
the car. Stopped to say goodbye to a
neighbouring trader, and lost sight of PH.
Those who frequent shopping centres, with
their multiple entrances, will know where this
is going. I stood in the nearest doorway,
staring at the pouring rain, unwilling to
venture further until I had my bearings. I
asked a passing Sealed Knot member of my
acquaintance (full cavalier get-up, sash,
long hair and all) if he’d seen him. No. The
brown paper carrier containing our ‘iron
rations’ got wet and fell apart, strewing dried
fruit and yogurt-covered raisins all over the
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